Bourbon Creme Killer: Book 9 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  Norm nodded.

  “All right, but if either one of you boys try anything, pretty boy here is a dead man.”

  “Deal,” Janssen nodded.

  Spencer locked his fingers behind his head and allowed the older man to rest the barrel of his gun between his shoulder blades as they walked back to the cabin. When he got to the door, Norm told him to open it, leaving the gun firmly in place. The Marine opened the door, and his heart pounded with relief when he saw Izzy, sitting near the small wood stove in a crude rocking chair.

  “Friend or foe?” Norm demanded when she looked up and stared at Spencer, wide-eyed.

  She stood up, her eyes meeting Spencer’s, and he had no idea how she’d answer Norm’s question.

  “Friend,” she whispered, a lonely tear trailing down her cheek.

  At last, Norm lowered his weapon, standing it in a corner of the room.

  “You okay?” Spencer asked in a low voice, keeping a tight rein on the emotions that were flooding through him. Izzy was thinner, and a bit unkempt, but she was alive.

  She nodded and held up her left hand, her pinky wrapped.

  “I know,” he said, closing his eyes briefly, his heart contracting with grief at what the missing digit might mean to the author’s career. “Can you travel?”

  “She’s a mite weak yet,” Norm interjected.

  “We can move slowly if we need to. You’ve taken good care of her, but we need to get her to a hospital and get her checked out. I’m going to go tell the others that she’s safe, then we’re going to meet up with a float plane and get her out of here.”

  The Marine turned back to Izzy.

  “I’ll be right back, I promise. We’re going to get you home,” he said, his blue eyes earnest.

  Izzy nodded again, tears flowing freely now, and Spencer left the cabin.

  “Take Steve back to the compound, and do whatever you have to do to achieve the objective,” Spencer directed. “Contact your buddy and let him know that we’ll be at the transport spot in about four hours.”

  “Roger that,” Janssen nodded.

  “What objective?” Steve narrowed his eyes, less than pleased at the prospect of being left alone with Janssen.

  Neither Marine dignified his question with a reply.

  “See you on the other side, brother,” Janssen stuck a fresh toothpick in between his teeth.

  “Sooner, rather than later, I hope,” Spencer shook his hand.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The physician’s assistant in the first town outside of the Primitive Area checked out Izzy’s injured hand and nodded, impressed.

  “Well, it’ll still need to be evaluated by a specialist, but you’ve done a good job of cleaning and treating the wound. I’ll set you up with some antibiotics and you should be more than okay to travel back home,” he smiled professionally.

  “Thank you,” Izzy murmured, and slid off the exam table.

  “No problem, just stop by the front desk on your way out, and the nurse will meet you there with a ten-day supply.”

  The PA left, leaving Izzy and Spencer alone in the exam room.

  “Can I take you to the airport?” Spencer offered, his eyes filled with concern.

  She shook her head.

  “No, it’s fine. I can get a cab,” she said quietly, unable to meet his gaze, and face the naked pain in his eyes.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” he murmured, turning to go.

  “Spence,” she called out, causing him to stop in his tracks and turn slowly to face her.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you,” her lower lip trembled and her eyes welled.

  His shoulders slumped and he nodded. “You’re welcome, Izzy.”

  Spencer Bengal was a stranger in a strange land. He couldn’t go back to Calgon­—he didn’t want to put Missy and Chas in danger if Steve had anyone out looking for him, he couldn’t go back to the compound, because he wasn’t sure that he wanted to witness the tactics that Janssen might be using to secure their freedom, and he couldn’t go back to the Beckett estate in New York, because that would be the first place that Steve’s watchdogs would look for him, so, for the first time in a very long time, he was on his own. He checked his watch, and knew that Izzy would be boarding a plane back to Florida in about an hour. He’d wait until he was certain that she was gone, then he’d head to the airport, passport in hand, and choose a random destination where he could wait for word from Janssen. The swamp rat would find him… he always did.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “I’m a terrible person, Echo, I really am,” Missy shook her head.

  “Oh stop it, you are not,” Echo peered over the top of her tea mug at her stressed-out friend. “What would even make you say such a silly thing?”

  “Well, honestly, with everything that’s been happening around here lately, I just have no desire to plan Grayson and Sarah’s wedding,” she confessed, feeling awful about it.

  “While that’s entirely understandable, we don’t exactly have a choice in the matter. The invitations have been sent, girl. We’ve got to pull this together for that young man whom we both love.”

  “I know, it’s just so hard to get into it. I worry about Spencer all the time,” Missy sighed.

  “Look, I miss Spencer too, honey, but we both know—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that that boy can take care of himself. I know he’ll be back some day. He didn’t just walk away from here, never planning to return. We owe it to Grayson to focus our attention right now on the beginning of his new life with Sarah. We’ve got to support him in this.”

  “I know you’re right, my heart just hurts,” Missy admitted.

  “Mine too, but the best way that we can deal with that is to make sure that Grayson and Sarah have the most amazing wedding ever.”

  “Okay, let’s talk about logistics, then,” Missy said, brushing at her eyes and getting back to business. “The inn is full, so I’ve given everyone on the guest list a list of nearby hotels. We can shuttle them back and forth if we need to.”

  “Good, when do Grayson and Sarah get in?” Echo asked, glad that her friend had switched gears before they’d both turned into blubbering messes.

  “Next week. Sarah wanted to be here early enough to be involved in the decorating, and Grayson insisted upon making the cake himself. It’s going to be so much fun having them around again.”

  “Yes, it will. Are Ben and Cheryl going to be able to make it out here for the wedding?”

  “Unfortunately, no. It’s too close to Cheryl’s due date,” Missy replied ruefully.

  Ben and Cheryl had managed Missy’s cupcake shops, one in LaChance, the other in the nearby town of Dellville, in Louisiana, when Grayson first started working there, and the three of them were like siblings. Grayson was terribly disappointed, but completely understanding, when he’d heard the news. Knowing how badly the couple had wanted to be involved in their “little brother’s” wedding, Missy and Chas had bought plane tickets for the newlyweds so that they could fly to Mexico for their honeymoon, via California, where they’d get a chance to visit with Ben and Cheryl for a few days. The gift of the honeymoon was a surprise that would be revealed at the reception.

  Missy and Echo were poring over the wedding planner book, when the chimes over the door to Cupcakes in Paradise jingled, signaling a customer, or so they thought.

  “Well, if it ain’t Melissa Gladstone-Beckett and her little hippie friend,” Petaluma Myers’s nasal voice emphasized each syllable of Missy’s name. The hateful twang seemed to bounce off the walls of the cozy little shop.

  “Petaluma… what a… wonderful surprise,” Missy rose and went to hug Grayson’s mother, holding her breath against the wave of alcoholic fumes radiating from the woman. “The wedding isn’t for another week…”

  “Oh, I know,” she nodded, looking around the shop as though she were casing it. “I just thought that y’all might need some help with wedding stuff, so I caught a ride with a truck driver who wa
s headin’ down here and showed up early. You’re welcome,” she proclaimed, patting her ratty, bleached-blonde hair with grey and brown roots.

  “We’re pretty much finished,” Echo broke in, finally finding her voice, once the shock of seeing the woman had subsided. “Maybe you could spend some time on the beach,” she suggested.

  “Nuh-uh, no way,” she shook her head, knocking her a bit off balance. “This is my baby boy’s weddin. I’m gonna check through everythin that y’all have done and make sure that there ain’t nothin that got screwed up or left out,” said the woman who hadn’t provided food or shelter for her sensitive son for years, even when he was in school.

  “Well, how kind of you,” Missy said quickly, before Echo could shoot off the reply that immediately came to mind. “I’ll be happy to sit down with you and show you the plans. Maybe after dinner tonight? Where are you staying?”

  “Thought you owned the hotel over there,” Petaluma pointed a knobby finger at the inn.

  “Oh… well, yes, Chas and I do own the bed and breakfast, but we’re full from now until well after the wedding is over. You didn’t check into a hotel yet?”

  “Nope, that good for nothin son of mine told me that I could stay with y’all,” the skinny forty-something in a bubble-gum pink tank top and jean short-shorts insisted.

  Grayson had called Missy weeks ago and specifically requested that if his mother should choose to attend, she was not to stay at the inn, because he didn’t want her upsetting the other guests.

  “Oh, I’m sure there must have been some misunderstanding. Would you like me to help you find a hotel room?” Missy offered, her stomach sinking with a premonition of doom.

  “I ain’t got no money for no dang hotel. Grayson should be putting me up, it’s his weddin,” Petaluma pursed her lips and tossed her tangled mass of hair over one shoulder.

  Missy looked helplessly at Echo, who was clearly simmering at Grayson’s mother’s attitude.

  “Let’s deal with that later. Petaluma, how about we treat you to a nice dinner, and then we can talk about your accommodations later,” Echo suggested, desperately trying to think of a polite way to send the woman home.

  “That’s right, y’all need to show me a good time, I’m a guest after all,” she sniffed.

  “Do you have any luggage?” Missy asked.

  “Just this,” Petaluma swung a dingy backpack down from her shoulder.

  Missy saw the bedraggled bag and made a mental note to give the shop a thorough cleaning when Petaluma departed.

  “Okay, Echo, can you go introduce Petaluma to Paddy? He can show her how to use the shower in the pool cabana so that she can freshen up and maybe have some coffee before dinner,” Missy gave her friend a pointed look.

  “Petaluma, you’re more than welcome to borrow something from my closet to wear to dinner if you’d like,” she offered. “Echo would be happy to grab a dress for you.”

  “Ya got anything that doesn’t look like you stole it from June Cleaver? No offense, honey, but if I had a rack like you’ve got, I wouldn’t be hidin it under those cutesy little blouses. Gotta accentuate the positive, know what I mean?” she cackled.

  “I’m sure she’ll find something very becoming,” Missy smiled tightly.

  “Becoming,” she mocked. “Well I’ll feel like I’m just havin lunch with the queen. Ta-ta,” she waved, weaving her way out the door behind Echo.

  Missy rubbed her temples and sniffed the air, deciding that she was definitely going to close the shop and clean. It was shaping up to be one heck of a pre-wedding week already.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Missy and Echo opted to have their “girl’s night” with Petaluma at a seafood shack on the beach which didn’t serve alcohol. Echo had found a sleeveless blue dress in Missy’s closet that she thought Petaluma might like, and she rejected it after trying it on, saying that it “hung on her like a sack, and didn’t showcase her assets.” So, she sat slurping down a hotdog, with a side of onion rings, wearing tight white denim shorts, chewed-up flip flops, and a stained, skintight grey tank top with the words “Git Some” emblazoned in white across her “assets.”

  “So, Petaluma… I called every hotel in town, and everything is booked right now because it’s wedding season, and there are a couple of conventions happening. Do you have any friends or family down here who could take you in?” Missy asked, halfway hoping that the woman would just give up and go back to Louisiana.

  Petaluma’s cheeks were stuffed full of food and she chewed with her mouth slightly open, making Missy wonder how long it had been since her last meal.

  “Conventions, huh? I like conventions… lotsa guys around who can appreciate a good woman,” she nodded, swallowing, then taking another huge bite of her hotdog.

  Missy looked at Echo, eyes wide.

  “So, where can we drop you off after dinner?” Echo asked bluntly, hoping they’d get a straight answer this time.

  “Wherever,” she shrugged, talking with her mouth full. “It ain’t like I got someplace to go. Weather’s nice, so I’ll probably sleep under a bridge or somethin, no big deal.”

  Missy was horrified. “Oh, absolutely not, that’s not safe,” she exclaimed. “Echo, does Kel maybe know someone… ?”

  “Seriously?” Echo blinked at her friend. Her fiancé was a pampered member of a privileged class. It was doubtful that he’d know where a drunken vagabond could safely flop for the night.

  Missy pleaded with her eyes. “It’s for Grayson,” she mouthed, as Petaluma sucked cola loudly through her straw.

  Echo sighed and rolled her eyes. “Hey Petaluma, tell you what… I have an extra room at my house. You can stay there tonight and hopefully we can find other arrangements for you tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

  Petaluma stuffed an onion ring, dripping with ketchup, into her mouth. When a blob of the red sauce landed on her leg, she swiped it up with her finger and sucked it off.

  “Dunno,” she shrugged. “Got a comfortable bed?”

  Echo’s mouth dropped open in astonishment, and before Missy could intervene, she blurted, “Well, I suppose it’s more comfortable than sleeping under a bridge.”

  “Hope so,” Petaluma was unfazed. “You gonna eat the rest of that?” she asked, eyeing the remains of Missy’s lobster roll.

  “No, feel free. Somehow, I don’t have much of an appetite,” Missy sighed, looking at her friend with gratitude.

  ***

  After dinner, Petaluma tried to wheedle the girls into taking her to a local bar for a drink, but Missy claimed a headache, and Echo was pregnant, so they were able to avoid that particular activity. Missy dropped Echo off at her house, with Petaluma trailing behind her, and mouthed “Be Nice!” to her friend, who wrinkled her nose.

  “Howdy neighbor,” Echo heard an all-too-familiar voice call out from the house next door.

  Her neighbor, Loud Steve, who was known for blasting the music in his compact pickup truck so loudly that he could be heard from blocks away, was standing on his front porch, a beer in one hand, and a can of bug spray in the other. Echo sighed inwardly, having no patience for the obnoxious man who never failed to hit on her.

  “Hi Steve,” she replied wearily.

  “Who’s that hot little thang you’ve got there with ya?” he asked, raising his beer and eyeing Petaluma.

  “Well, ain’t you sweet?” she called back with a wave.

  “Why don’t y’all come over here and hang out for a bit,” he invited, having eyes only for Grayson’s scantily clad mother. “I got beer and bug spray, and I can light us a bonfire if ya want.”

  “Tempting, but no, we have an early day tomorrow,” Echo replied, heading up the steps to her cozy cottage.

  “Says you,” Petaluma shot back, making a beeline for Steve’s cooler. “I’m on vacation, honey, and I sure as heck got time to have a beer with this fine-lookin man.” She settled into a lawn chair that he unfolded for her, and held her arms and legs out for him to spray her down
with bug repellent. Echo shuddered and pitied any bug that would venture close to those two anyway.

  “Suit yourself. Guest room is down the hall, second door on the right.”

  “G’night,” Petaluma trilled, mocking her and waving.

  She looked at Steve and he looked at her and they cracked up.

  ***

  When Echo got up the next morning, her living room smelled like a brewery, and Grayson’s mother was passed out, fully clothed, on her couch, reeking of beer, smoke and bug spray. Sighing and shaking her head, Echo left the snoring woman where she was and headed out the door to the cupcake shop.

  “Oh no, what’s wrong?” Missy asked, when she saw her friend’s face.

  “Petaluma got together with Loud Steve last night for an impromptu beer party and is now sleeping it off on my couch,” Echo replied, reaching for not one, not two, but three of Missy’s vanilla bean vegan cupcakes.

  “Oh sugar, I’m sorry. I just hated the thought of her sleeping under a bridge,” Missy bit her lip.

  “At this point, I’m thinking that the bridge is an excellent option,” Echo muttered crossly.

  “Let me go make you some herbal tea,” Missy offered, watching her friend wolf down the cupcakes, barely pausing for breath.

  When she returned to the front of the cupcake shop, Missy was rather surprised to see Timothy Eckels, the mortician and medical examiner, timidly entering.

  “Well good morning, Mr. Eckels,” Missy greeted him.

  “Hey Tim,” Echo chimed in.

  She knew him better than Missy did, because his house was on the other side of hers. Loud Steve lived on the left and Timothy Eckels on the right.

  “Uh, hello,” he raised a hand in greeting, hating to have to draw from his limited reservoir of social skills. “I don’t want to be a bother, but, may I talk with you for a moment, Miss Willis?” he asked Echo.

  “Of course, have a seat,” she patted the chair next to her. Tim was an odd duck, which Echo found utterly endearing.