by Desiree Holt
"I don't intend to. It's not like I'm putting down roots or anything."
Zane grinned at her. “Of course not. You have a number of other places to go, right?"
"Damn it.” She curled her hands into fists. “I don't even know what's going to happen tomorrow anymore. Right now, the first thing I need is a table to eat at and a bed to sleep in."
"Whatever you say, darlin'.” His face sobered. “Have you got that kind of money right now?"
She stuck out her jaw. “You mean, since I'm not gainfully employed?"
"I only meant—"
"I'm not a charity case yet, Sheriff.” Why did she let him get to her like that?
Zane took off his hat, raked his fingers through his hair, and put the hat back on. “God, I hate it when you do that."
"Do what?” She had to hang on to her anger, or she'd fall apart completely.
"Children, children,” Kit broke in. “Play nice. Jamie, I've got it covered. I'm not hurting for cash and I have a credit card with an ungodly spending limit. You can pay me back when you're able to."
"Kit, I can't—"
"Shut up. It's settled. Like you said, you don't need to fill up the house today."
"I ... thank you.” She rubbed her face with the heels of her hands.
Zane cleared his throat. “Just a word of warning. You can probably expect the whole town to be gossiping about this shopping expedition. No one expected you to come back here and actually live."
Jamie grunted. “Like I give a shit what anyone thinks. And who says I'm living here? So screw them."
She saw a muscle jump in his cheek.
"You better clean up your language, little girl, or I'll have to wash your mouth out with soap,” he told her. “Life in the big city didn't do you much good, did it?"
"I just need a place to regroup,” she insisted. “That's all."
"Regroup, huh? Is that what you're calling it?” His strong hand cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I'd say you and I are doing a lot more than that, Jamie.” He dropped his hand. “Think about it."
"Ahem.” Kit stepped between them. “About cleaning up this mess and hauling away the trash?"
Zane just shook his head. “Duke's coming with his big truck, and he's bringing the two high school kids who help him sort trash. They'll haul all this stuff out of here pretty fast.” He looked over at Jamie. “Is there anything you'd like to keep?"
"No.” She shook her head vehemently. She wished he'd move back a little. His presence was overwhelming her, and she needed space. This whole thing with Zane was getting too complicated. “Nothing. I don't even want my clothes since someone's grubby hands have touched them."
"Jamie,” Kit began.
"No.” She stood up and glared at both of them. “I'll figure something out. I couldn't stand to put anything on my body that some grubby stranger had pawed through. Forget it."
Kit looked at Zane and just shrugged.
Zane waited with them until Duke and the two boys arrived, making terse phone calls in the meantime and barking orders. As soon as they walked in, he gave them a rough picture of what was going on and led them upstairs.
Kit drew Jamie aside while Zane was out of the room. “You know you can't start throwing that money around, idiot,” she warned. “If that's what they were looking for, they'll come after you. Besides, it would only make Zane suspicious."
Jamie swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I know, I know. I just hate for you to have to do this."
"No problem. I've got it all figured out.” She grinned. “You can just give the cash to me. No one will ever know."
Jamie gave a hiccupping laugh. “Okay. I'll slip it to you in the dark where no one can see us. Maybe we'll wear disguises."
Kit's laugh rolled out with the same boisterous sound as before. “I have to hand it to you, Baby Bear. You are the queen of absurdity. Someone's practically destroyed your house and maybe even wants you dead, and instead of heading for the hills, we're going out to buy furniture.” She kissed Jamie's cheek. “You are definitely one of a kind."
Jamie dug out a faint smile. “I'm glad I can provide so much amusement."
Zane was back beside her, this time barely a whisker away, his big warm hands on her shoulders. His face was etched with worry lines. “One more time, darlin'. I don't think you should stay here. It isn't safe."
"I already told you—"
"I know, I know.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, seemingly oblivious to Kit's presence.
Jamie jerked her head away. “Zane—"
"In that case, I'll be staying here, too."
Her jaw dropped. “What? You can't! I refuse to let you."
"Too bad.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Just watch me."
"My god.” She waved her hands at him in frustration. “That's all we need. What will people think? You can't stay here with the town pariah. You're the sheriff."
He chuckled. “Worried about my reputation?"
"Your reputation? That's bad enough. What about mine? And your mother. She'll have a fit."
He captured her head between his palms and placed a very gentle kiss on her lips. “I can weather the storm. Don't worry. And my mother doesn't make decisions for me. It's been a long time since I turned twenty-one."
"But Kit—"
"Is ignoring everything,” her friend broke in.
"I'll take care of the locks, too.” Zane started toward the door, then called over his shoulder, “By the way, make sure the bed you buy is nice and big. I take up a lot of room."
Jamie stamped her foot. “Damn you, Zane Cameron."
But she knew—and he did, too—that her reaction was nothing more than habit. They'd crossed some kind of a bridge and the going would be unsteady, but it was laid and there was no going back. How had she let this happen?
"I told you to watch that language.” He grinned, then his face sobered. “And don't try to get your friend involved in any of your crazy theories about Frank's accident. Let Duke haul that piece of crap truck back to his yard and pay you for the parts."
She balled her hands into fists and planted them on her hips. “You may want to discount the whole thing but don't expect me to. My father may have been drunk out of his mind, but so what? He was like that every single night of his life and still made that curve. And those dents didn't come from tumbling sideways.” She was infuriated. “Some damn sheriff you are if you don't see a connection between that and what happened here today."
He was in front of her before she could draw her next breath, his anger as hot as hers. “I'm telling you. Don't start imagining things. Leave it alone. Right now you've got enough trouble without conjuring up more."
"You leave me alone, then,” she spat and turned away from him.
"Not much chance of that.” She heard his booted feet as he moved away. “See you tonight."
She picked up a plastic cup and threw it at him. “You go to hell."
"Probably will,” he called back.
Duke, who had just come downstairs, was doing his best to swallow a grin. The teenagers behind him would have gawked all day if he hadn't told them to get moving. “I'll just let the tail down on the truck, and we'll get at it,” he told Jamie.
She leaned her elbows on the counter and dropped her head into her hands. “I'm going to kill him."
"No, you're not.” Kit squeezed her arm. “You're going to learn to appreciate him."
"In a pig's eye.” But even she knew they were just words, and so did Kit.
"Jamie, the man cares about you. It's as plain as the headline on a newspaper. And aside from everything else, he's the investigating officer on your break-in and seems to be going out of his way to help you here. Cut him some slack."
Jamie blew out a breath. “I don't know. Maybe. I'll see. But he's sure not sleeping in my bed tonight."
"Uh huh.” Kit urged her toward the door. “Come on. Pity party's over. Let's go shopping."
[Back to Ta
ble of Contents]
Chapter Eleven
Manny Alvarado took out a handkerchief, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and settled his cell phone more comfortably against his ear. This whole thing was turning out to be a major clusterfuck. He'd made himself as inconspicuous as possible, watching Jamie and her friend do their thing at Palmer's then trundle off to Barbara's Boutique.
At the moment, hidden across the road and using his binoculars, he watched Duke and two teenagers carrying the last of the trash out of the house and dump it into the big scrap truck.
"Mess things up a little, that's all they were supposed to do.” Gray's voice was sharper than a kitchen knife. “Now you tell me they wrecked the house, and she's out buying new furniture. How the hell is that supposed to get her out of town?"
Manny patted his face with the damp square of white linen. “I guess they got a little carried away."
"Understatement, Manny. Big understatement. What they did was make her dig in her heels. If she's buying new furniture, she won't be leaving town any time soon."
"I'm sorry, padrone. I'll make sure they understand what a huge mistake this was."
There was silence for a moment. “I'm guessing they didn't find any money, either."
"Nada. And like I said, they really took the place apart."
"So. No money and they definitely put the Randall woman on notice.” Ballou grunted. “Just what I need. All right.” His sigh was loudly audible. “Get rid of them."
A sour taste filled Manny's throat. “Excuse me?"
"You heard me. We have a deadline coming up, and you know what that means. Miss it and the whole thing falls apart. I don't intend to lose that kind of cash pipeline. We can't afford to have anyone around to screw things up. Dealing with the Randall woman is bad enough."
"But—"
"I don't care how you do it. Just do it. And don't leave anything around for someone to find. Do you understand me?"
"Of course, padrone."
This thing was getting out of hand. Damn that stupid old drunk, anyway. If not for him, none of this would be happening.
Manny sat with his eyes closed for a moment. When Grayson Ballou's voice took on that tone, there was no choice except to do as he asked. No, demanded. But Manny didn't have the stomach for the killing himself. That meant another call to the only person he ever trusted in situations like this.
Manny punched a number into his cell phone, then loosened his tie and collar. He had the distinct feeling a noose was tightening around his neck.
* * * *
The shopping trip had proved to be an exhausting experience. Sally Palmer had come out to handle things herself, apparently unwilling to believe what her salespeople ran into the back to tell her. Jamie Randall wanting to buy a load of furniture in her store. For that rat trap of a house her father left her.
By the time Kit and Jamie had finished making their selections, it looked like everyone in Amen who wasn't working was window shopping at Palmer's.
"Bloodthirsty ghouls,” Kit commented as they sipped cokes in Jamie's car in the parking lot of the Gas ‘n Go.
Jamie scowled. “I'm sure they wondered where I even got enough cash to pay for this. And watching you hand over your credit card, they're sure of it. I might as well have a sign on my back that says Charity Case."
Kit sucked on her straw noisily. “Since when did the opinion of people like that matter to you?"
Since I grew up here with people not even wanting to spit on me.
"Anyway,” Kit went on, “you're probably the most exciting thing that's happened in this town in years."
Jamie shrugged.
Kit stared at her. “Wait a minute. You're actually thinking about staying here, aren't you?"
"Where the fuck else would I go?” Jamie sucked up the rest of her drink, crushed the cup, and stuffed into the car's litter bag. “It's not like I have a big choice."
"Honey, sooner or later, this mess will get cleared up and you can have your life back."
Jamie made a face. “Like I'd even spit in the faces of those assholes who kicked me to the curb."
"Oh, wait.” Kit snapped her fingers. “I get it. The sexy sheriff. He's what's keeping you here."
"Puhleeze."
"At least I know why you won't sell. Won't go stay at a motel. Why you're buying all this new furniture. You did the deed with him, sweetie. You can't get away from it."
"I told you.” Jamie shredded the napkin she was holding. “This is where I live now. A bunch of shitheads saw to that."
"And the sexy sheriff is going to paddle your ass if you don't clean up your newly-acquired potty mouth.” Her eyes danced with mischief. “Or maybe that's what you're angling for."
Jamie tossed the napkin shreds in the litter bag. “Let's get out of here."
"I'm just telling you,” Kit said. “You can't fool old Kit. I see what this is about."
Jamie burned rubber as she pulled out of the lot. “What I'm doing is taking a stand. Putting people on notice that they can't push me around. I'm not about to cave in to their tactics, whoever ‘they’ are. They can turn up their noses at me all they want. Jamie Randall isn't going anywhere, sheriff or no sheriff."
"Good attitude. Let them see you doing it well dressed, too. Come on. We're not done shopping."
She tromped on the accelerator, and they flew down the street, narrowly missing a van pulling out of a parking space.
They managed to take care of business at Barbara's Boutique, despite the arrival of the rubberneckers who seemed determined to follow them all over town. Jamie picked out enough clothing to carry her over until she and Kit could find someplace anonymous and out of sight to shop. And where she could use some of her cash.
By late afternoon they were in Jamie's kitchen, waiting for the truck from Palmer's and admiring their handiwork. With all the debris removed, they'd scrubbed the floor in the living and dining rooms. Kit cleaned the woodwork while Jamie washed the windows.
"Not too bad,” Kit commented. “I wish we had time to slap a coat of paint on the walls, but that can come later."
"Forget it.” She glared at Kit. “I'll take care of it. You have a life to get back to."
Kit laughed. “I'm on vacation, didn't you hear me? And no way am I going home and leaving you in the middle of this mess. Someone wants something, and they don't care what they have to do to get it."
Jamie leaned against the counter and brushed stray hair off her forehead. “I just wish Zane would take me more seriously. He still doesn't see anything wrong with my father's death. Just another rollover by another old drunk."
"But you don't believe that."
Jamie shook her head. “Not for a minute. I covered enough accidents to know what a vehicle looks like in that kind of situation. And I don't care how many dents there are in that old truck. The right ones aren't there."
Kit shrugged. “Maybe Zane just thinks you're in denial."
"About what? I have no illusions about my father. I'd be the first one to say that's what happened if I didn't see signs that told me otherwise."
Kit pulled a cold soda from the fridge and popped the top. “What if you got someone else to take a look?"
Jamie frowned. “Like who? I can't exactly call in another cop, can I?"
"No, but I know someone we can ask a favor of. Remember that insurance investigator I used to date?"
Jamie burst out laughing. “Mickey the Moustache?"
"You are too unkind,” Kit chided. “So what if he thought more of his moustache than he did of me. At least he was good for a night out now and then."
"All right, all right. What about him?"
"His big thing is investigating auto accidents. Have you still got your digital camera?"
"Yes, I do. Why?"
"Because we're going to take pictures of that decrepit old truck, and tomorrow, when you get your Internet set up, we'll send them to Mickey and get his opinion.” She dug in her purse and pulled out her cell phone.
“In fact, I'm calling him this minute to set it up.” She grinned. “But if it costs me another date with him, you'll have to come to New York and go with me."
The heat of the day was finally starting to fade by the time the furniture was delivered and put in place. Jamie and Kit were sitting on two new patio chairs in back, sharing the bottle of wine they'd bought, when they heard the crunch of tires in the driveway.
"That'll be the sheriff,” Jamie said. “Come to do his good deeds."
"Honey, he can do any kind of deeds he wants to with me,” Kit teased.
A door slammed, then booted footsteps echoed through the house and the back door creaked on its hinges.
"God damn it, Jamie.” Zane's voice was harsh and angry.
"And good evening to you, too, Sheriff,” Jamie said sweetly. “Care for a glass of wine?"
"You left the front door unlocked and wide open.” His voice was impatient and accusing. “Whoever tossed your house could just walk right back in."
Jamie glared at him. “I'd say they did about all the damage they could, wouldn't you? I don't think they're in the business of looking for new furniture to destroy. They've already done what they came to do."
He clamped his hands on her arms and lifted her from her chair so abruptly wine sloshed over the rim of her glass. “If you aren't concerned for your safety, at least I am. What if they didn't find what they were looking for and decide to come back?"
She refused to let him see that his words frightened her. “Protecting your piece of ass, Sheriff?"
For a moment, she thought he might shake her like a doll, the anger in his eyes burned like a living flame. Instead, he captured her mouth in a kiss so hot it burned straight through to the soles of her feet. When he lifted his head and set her down on her feet, she could hardly breathe. And the anger had been replaced by something a lot different.
"You might have been right about that a couple of days ago, darlin', but let's get this straight. You are far more than a piece of ass to me now. And yes, I'm protecting what's mine, even if you don't acknowledge our situation yet."
For once, Jamie couldn't think of a smart remark. The kiss hadn't been about sex; there was too much emotion in it. She wasn't sure she knew how to handle it, but Zane was right. Despite the barriers she kept trying to throw up, somewhere along the way they'd crossed a line. It scared her to think she'd reached a point where there was no going back. She was nowhere near ready for this.