Beg to Die

by Beverly Barton

  The phone on Jazzy’s desk rang. Without thinking she lifted the receiver, then thought, What if it’s Caleb?

  “Jasmine’s,” she said. “This is Jazzy Talbot. How may I help you?”

  “You’re a bad woman. You deserve to die.” The voice over the phone sounded strange. Muffled.

  “Who is this?”

  “Someone who is going to make sure you pay for your sins.”

  “Look, whoever the hell you are, get a life, will you? And don’t bother me again.”

  Jazzy slammed down the receiver. When she saw her hand trembling, she balled it into a firm fist and pounded her fist on the desktop. Pain radiated from her hand to her wrist and tingled up to her elbow.

  It’s just some nutcase, she told herself. There’s no need to get all torn up about a silly phone call. But it wasn’t silly. It was threatening. The person had said that he—or she—was going to make Jazzy pay for her sins.

  She jerked the phone into her still unsteady hand, then punched in the numbers hurriedly. As she waited for him to answer, she made herself breathe in and out slowly, hoping to calm her nerves.

  “Sheriff Butler,” Jacob said when he answered his phone.

  “Jacob, it’s Jazzy. I—er—I just got a crank call. At least I think it was a crank.”

  “Okay. Tell me about it.”

  “The voice sounded muffled, maybe disguised. I don’t know.”

  “Man or woman?”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  “What did this person say?”

  “He said—or maybe it was a woman—that I was bad, that I deserved to die and that he—or she—was going to make sure I was punished for my sins.”

  Jacob was silent for what seemed like forever, then he said, “I want to put a tap on your phones.”

  “Why? What good would that do? He didn’t talk more than a minute, if that.”

  “If this person calls again, you can try to keep him on the phone long enough for a trace.”

  “You don’t think it was a crank call, do you?”

  “Could have been,” Jacob said. “But it just might have been Jamie’s murderer.”

  “Oh, my God!” Jazzy’s mind wrapped itself around the thought that Jamie’s killer had called to threaten her. “Then it was a woman. And she said…she’d make me pay for my sins.”

  “Where’s Caleb?” Jacob asked.

  “Caleb? Over at Jazzy’s Joint.”

  “Where are you?”

  “At Jasmine’s, in my office.”

  “Go over to Jazzy’s Joint and tell Caleb about the phone call. Do it now. And make sure he keeps watch over you. I don’t want you alone from here on out. Not even alone in either of your offices.”

  “You think it really was her and that she—”

  “Let’s not take any chances. Okay?”

  Jazzy nodded, then realized she hadn’t spoken. “Yeah, okay.”

  When she hung up, she sat there for a couple of minutes and let the realization sink in. If her caller was Jamie’s killer…

  She had to tell Caleb. Jacob had told her to make sure Caleb kept watch over her. But with the tension between Caleb and her right now, could she go to him? Did she have the right to expect him to stand by her side?

  No time like the present to find out, she told herself.

  Caleb felt her presence the minute she entered the bar. God knew it wasn’t that he could smell her perfume in this smoky jungle. Too much smoke, liquor, and human sweat to ever distinguish one distinct odor. And he couldn’t see her from where he was standing, but more than one set of male eyes focused in a particular direction—straight at the most gorgeous woman in the world. Jazzy Talbot. His Jazzy.

  Yeah, that was right—his Jazzy. Damn Jamie Upton to hell. Caleb chuckled to himself. That was just about where Jamie was right now—burning in hell. Or maybe because he’d suffered through torment before he died, the good Lord had taken pity on him. Who knew? Who cared? He sure didn’t. But one thing he did know, one thing that did matter to him was not allowing Jamie’s ghost to come between Jazzy and him. He’d never been the kind of guy who gave up when he wanted something bad enough. And he had never wanted anything more than he wanted Jazzy’s love.

  When he turned around, their gazes met across the room and he felt as if he’d been hit in the head with a sledgehammer. If this wasn’t love—honest-to-goodness, forever-after love—he sure as hell didn’t know what else it could be. He held her gaze, silently beckoning her to him. She took several tentative steps, then paused. Was she waiting to see if he’d meet her halfway? Knowing Jazzy as he did, he figured that’s why she’d stopped. Okay, no problem. He’d do his part. Caleb walked toward her, then waited when about ten feet separated them.

  She smiled and, heaven help him, he wanted to run to her, grab her and…tonight he wouldn’t say good-bye at her door the way he’d done last night. He’d needed time to think, time to clear his head. And being near Jazzy made that impossible. All he had to do was look at her and he wanted her.

  Be honest, McCord, a part of you wanted to punish her for daring to whisper another man’s name in her sleep. Yeah, okay, so that was part of it. But who had he really punished? Jazzy, maybe. But he’d punished himself, too. There was no place on earth he wanted to be except with her.

  She moved toward him slowly. He headed in her direction, one easy, unhurried step at a time. They came together in the middle of the bar, between the dance floor and the tables scattered throughout the room. From the jukebox, Willie Nelson and Julio Iglesias crooned about all the girls they’d loved before. Beer bottles and frosty glasses clinked. Pool balls clanged together. The din of hushed voices blended with rowdy laughter.

  Caleb and Jazzy stayed focused on each other, not breaking eye contact for even a millisecond. She smiled at him again. He grinned at her.

  “Want to dance?” he asked, desperately needing to take her into his arms.

  She nodded.

  He held out his hand. When she placed her hand in his, he walked her across the bar to the dance floor and eased her into his arms. They moved to the music, a couple of inches separating their bodies.

  “I missed you last night,” she said.

  “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

  “Do we need to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Probably.” He pulled her closer, aligning her body to his. “But not tonight.”

  “No, not tonight.”

  She seemed to melt into him, all soft femininity and womanly heat. He brushed his chin against her temple and thought he’d lose it when she sighed. This was where she belonged, in his arms. They were right for each other, and he figured she knew that fact as well as he did.

  One song ended and another began, this one a loud, bawdy melody not meant for slow dancing. Caleb kept his arm around her and whispered in her ear. “Want to sit this one out?”

  She nodded. He released his hold on her, but she didn’t move away. She stayed close, her shoulder brushing his arm. “How about later tonight, after this place closes, we dance on upstairs to my place?”

  He wanted to touch her again, but figured they’d already brought enough attention to themselves without him doing more to prove what a fool he was over Jazzy. “There’s nothing I’d like better.”

  Her broad smile said it all. Everything was going to be all right. Whatever lingering problems Jamie’s memory might cause, they’d deal with them. Together.

  Caleb slipped his arm around her waist and led her toward the bar where Lacy stood smiling as she watched them approach. “How about a Coke?” he asked.

  “With lemon,” Jazzy said.

  “Two Cokes,” Caleb told Lacy. “One with lemon. One straight.”

  “Coming right up.” Suddenly Lacy looked beyond them to someone or something on the far side of the room. “Well, I’ll be damned. I never thought I’d see the likes of him in here.”

  “Who are—?” Jazzy turned around to see who Lacy was talking about. “Big Jim Upton in Jazzy�
�s Joint. If that man’s here to cause trouble, I’ll—”

  “Let me handle it,” Caleb said, his gut telling him that Big Jim was here to see him.

  “I can fight this particular battle myself,” Jazzy told him as she marched away from the bar.

  Caleb grabbed her shoulder. “Wait up, honey. I don’t think he’s here to see you.”

  “Who else would he be here to see?”

  “Me.”

  Jazzy eyed him curiously. “You? Why would—?”

  “Evening,” Jim Upton said as he came up to Caleb and Jazzy.

  Jazzy glowered at Jamie’s grandfather. “What do you want?”

  “I want to speak to Caleb,” Jim said.

  Jazzy looked at Jim, then at Caleb. “What’s going on here?”

  “Look, honey, I need to talk to Mr. Upton alone, if you don’t mind?”

  “Well, what if I do mind?” She fixed her gaze on Big Jim. “So who’s going to tell me why you’re really here? Why do you want to talk to Caleb?”

  “Personal business,” Jim told her.

  She looked at Caleb. “Tell me now or tell me later, but if we’ve got a snowball’s chance in hell of making it, we can’t keep any secrets from each other.”

  “I know, honey. And I swear, I’ll tell you everything. Later.”

  “Okay.” Jazzy nodded and started to walk away.

  “Are you and Jazzy a couple now?” Big Jim asked.

  “Yes,” Caleb replied. “We are.”

  “Then why haven’t you told her that you’re my grandson?”

  Chapter 27

  Jazzy whirled around, her eyes huge with astonishment. “What the hell did you say?” She glared at Big Jim Upton.

  Caleb rushed to her, grabbed her arm and said, “Let’s not do this here.” He scanned the room hurriedly. “This is private business. Personal.”

  She stared at Caleb. “Did you hear what he said?”

  Damn, why hadn’t he already told Jazzy? Why did she have to find out this way?

  “Yeah, honey, I heard what he said, but before everybody here at Jazzy’s Joint starts wondering what the hell’s going on—”

  Jazzy looked back at Jim. “You have some nerve coming in here, in my bar, and spouting off such stupid nonsense. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress since Jamie died and Miss Reba had a heart attack. But you don’t have the right to go shooting off your mouth with some wild notion you’ve concocted about Caleb.”

  “I apologize,” Jim said, his gaze fixed on Caleb. “Look, son, I didn’t mean to cause a problem for you with… are you two really together? I mean is she…important to you?”

  Jazzy tensed. Her eyes flashed green fire. Caleb tightened his hold on her arm. “May we use your office?”

  “What?” She stared at him, a dumbfounded expression on her face.

  “Let’s go to your office—you, me, and Mr. Upton,” Caleb said. “So we can finish this conversation without an audience.”

  “By all means.” Jazzy got right up in Jim’s face. “Follow me, Mr. Upton.” She emphasized the Mr. when she spoke.

  When Jazzy sashayed off toward the back of the building, Caleb motioned for Big Jim to follow her, which he did. Within a couple of minutes, the three of them were cocooned in Jazzy’s small, cluttered office. Caleb closed the door, then glanced from his grandfather to the woman he loved. She was going to be mad as an old wet hen when he told her the truth. God damn it, why had he kept her in the dark about why he’d actually come to Cherokee Pointe in the first place?

  “Start anywhere,” Jazzy said as she sat down on the side of her desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “Start with Big Jim’s crazy statement. Or start with who the hell you really are. Or even start with telling me you haven’t been lying to me for months now.”

  “Jazzy, honey…please—”

  “Don’ t you ‘please’ me,” she told him. “Somebody had better start talking right now!”

  Jim cleared his throat. “I believe that’s your cue, son.”

  “Stop calling him son!” Jazzy screeched at Jim.

  When Caleb tried to approach Jazzy, her deadly glare warned him off. He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. Who am I? My name is Caleb Upton McCord.” The moment Jazzy heard his middle name, her shoulders stiffened and she sucked in her breath. “My mother was Melanie Upton, Big Jim and Miss Reba’s daughter.”

  Speechless, her mouth parting on a silent gasp, Jazzy sat there staring at him.

  “I had no idea my mother had any family,” Caleb said. “Not until right before she died fifteen years ago. She told me about her parents, but…well, I was a wiseass kid who thought he didn’t need or want a family. It was only a few months ago, after I resigned from the Memphis Police force, that I decided I wanted to find my mother’s family.”

  “That’s the reason you came to Cherokee Pointe—to find the Uptons?” Hugging herself nervously, her eyes downcast, Jazzy shook her head in disbelief. “You’re Jamie’s first cousin. And you knew all along who he was, who Big Jim and Miss Reba…you’ve been lying to me since the first night we met.” Lifting her head, she glared at him. “Damn you, Caleb. Damn you for making me care about you, for letting me think things would be different with you.”

  “Things are different with me. I swear, honey. I swear—”

  She flew off the desk, rushed toward him, and slapped him soundly. “What was it? Did you want everything Jamie had—including me? Was getting me in the sack some sort of prize?”

  “Stop talking like that.” Caleb ignored the stinging pain throbbing through the left side of his face. “I wanted you the minute we met. Before I knew anything about your relationship with Jamie.”

  Jazzy zeroed in on Big Jim. “How long have you known?”

  “This is all my fault. I didn’t know that you and Caleb had anything serious going on.” He looked to Caleb. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “How long?” Jazzy demanded.

  “Caleb told me yesterday,” Jim said. “But I didn’t believe him. Not at first.”

  “Apparently you believe him now.” Jazzy kept her gaze fixed on Jim. “Got yourself some sort of proof, didn’t you? You wouldn’t have come here to claim the new heir to the Upton fortune if you weren’t pretty damn sure he was your blood kin.”

  Jim glanced at Caleb. “I hired the best PI firm in Tennessee, Powell Investigations, to do a thorough check on you, boy. Every indication is that you’re definitely our Melanie’s son. My grandson.”

  “Well, isn’t this nice?” Jazzy crossed her arms over her chest as she smiled sarcastically. “A warm and fuzzy reunion in my office. Aren’t I lucky to be witnessing such a heartwarming event?” Jazzy gasped mockingly. “My God, I’ll bet Miss Reba is thrilled. Lose one grandson, gain another.” Narrowing her eyes to mere slits, she fixed her gaze on Caleb.

  “And once she finds out about me—” Jazzy laughed. “She’ll be fit to be tied. You see, I’m not good enough for an Upton. Jamie would have married me years ago if it hadn’t been for his grandmother.”

  “Jazzy, don’t do this,” Caleb said.

  She tapped him in the center of his chest, each punch a little harder than the one before. “It doesn’t even matter if you really do care about me. Hell, it doesn’t matter if you love me. And you know why? Because you’re the Upton heir now. You’re Miss Reba’s grandson and she’ll move heaven and earth to keep us apart.”

  “It won’t be like that.” He looked to his grandfather. “Tell her. Tell her that Miss Reba doesn’t even know and that when she does—”

  “Miss Reba doesn’t know yet?” Jazzy shouted the question.

  “No, Reba doesn’t know,” Jim said. “I had hoped Caleb would meet me at the hospital in the morning so we could tell her together.”

  “Ah…how sweet.” Jazzy marched across the office, swung open the door, turned and aimed her gaze on Caleb. “Take your grandfather and get out of my office. And while you’re at it, get out of my bar. You’re fire
d.”

  “Jazzy, we can work through this. It’s not as bad as you think.” Caleb held out one hand to her.

  “Get out. Now! Out of my office. Out of my bar. Out of my life!”

  “Jazzy…”

  She stood there trembling, her cheeks flushed, anger boiling over inside her. He knew when to accept defeat. But this was only one battle, the first skirmish. This battle might be lost, but, by God, he intended to win the war.

  “Let’s go.” Caleb laid his hand on his grandfather’s shoulder. “I think the lady has made her feelings perfectly clear.”

  Without saying another word, Jim exited the office and Caleb followed. The very second they entered the hall, Jazzy slammed the door shut.

  “Jazzy’s always been high-strung and temperamental,” Jim said. “The girl’s got grit.”

  “You sound as if you almost admire her.”

  “I do, in a way.”

  “Then why—”

  “Miss Reba hates Jazzy,” Jim admitted. “If you’ve got serious intentions where she’s concerned, you might as well know your grandmother isn’t going to like it one little bit.”

  “Meaning no disrespect to Miss Reba, but my relationship with Jazzy—or any other woman—is none of her business.”

  Jim slapped his hand down on Caleb’s back and laughed. “Damn, boy, you sound just like me.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Caleb asked.

  “Neither. It’s just a fact.” Still chuckling, Jim walked down the hall beside Caleb.

  Once they reached the smoke-filled hub of Jazzy’s Joint, Caleb said, “Wait for me outside, will you? I need to talk to Lacy, the bartender, before I leave.”

  Jim nodded, and as soon as he headed for the door, Caleb walked over to the bar.

  “What’s up?” Lacy asked when he leaned over the counter.