by Debra Webb
Dear God, Harry hadn’t meant to kill him. It had been an accident. The old fool had tried to force Harry to give him more money—for an operation he’d claimed he needed. But that wasn’t true. He’d have spent on liquor whatever Harry had given him. They’d argued and the crazy man had charged Harry. What else could he have done? He’d pushed the man off him. He hadn’t realized they were standing so close to the edge of that bridge.
Now he was dead. And Stevie, as well.
Agony swelled inside Harry. Sweet, innocent little Polly was likely dead, too.
Dear God, this was all his doing.
He was a monster who didn’t deserve to live.
“It’s best that we don’t see each other again.” His empty words echoed in the confined space.
Carol stared at him. He didn’t have to look at her to know. He could feel her gaze upon him. She was as devastated as he was. Except none of this was her fault.
“You can’t mean that,” she whispered.
“You’ll only be hurt when the truth comes out.” He closed his eyes to block the painful image of that doll floating in the water. The doll kept morphing into Polly. Lord, just strike him dead now.
“I don’t care.” She held more tightly on to him. “Reed will retire and move to Gatlinburg. I’ll stay here with you. We’ll get through this together.”
Harry shook his head. “There won’t be any getting through it.” He turned to her. “Go with Reed, Carol. He’s a good man. You deserve better than me.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You promised we would be together. Finally. After all this time.”
“No one will ever know about us.” He turned his attention back to the road. “That’s the way it has to be. It’s the only way to protect you. I’ve hurt too many people already.”
“I won’t let you do this,” she cried. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She couldn’t. She wasn’t a monster like him. She couldn’t possibly know.
“You believe everyone will be better off without you.” She shook him. “That’s wrong, Harry. You’ll just hurt them all the more. You did what you thought was right—what would save Will. You had no idea this would happen. Rayburn messed everything up.”
“No.” Harry let go a weary breath. “I messed everything up. This is my doing.”
“Will and Melissa will forgive you in time,” she urged.
“They won’t.” They shouldn’t. He didn’t deserve forgiveness.
“Then they don’t have to know.” She reached up and caressed his jaw. “Why should any of them ever know? There is no evidence linking you to what happened. No one ever has to know.”
If only it were that easy. “I’ll know.” And he couldn’t live with it.
“I won’t let you do this, Harry.”
He patted her hand. Carol meant well, but she didn’t understand. He had hurt the people he loved most. He had caused that sweet baby’s death.
There was only one thing to do now.
Even if by some miracle Polly was found unharmed, he had caused three deaths. No matter who pulled the trigger, he was responsible.
He had to pay.
Chapter Twelve
4:30 p.m.
The team dragging the river had found nothing so far.
William had just delivered the news, but he still refused to leave the scene. Harry, he told her, had left hours ago, but every time she called, he didn’t answer his cell phone. Melissa was really worried about him. She wanted to go and find him, but William made her promise to stay with Presley. Finally giving in to the effects of the medication, she was sleeping soundly.
Jonathan had been back and forth. He called or came home every hour or so to check on her. He was the single reason she felt comfortable staying behind. She knew that Jonathan would do whatever needed to be done.
Melissa peeked in on Presley again. She was out. Most folks couldn’t understand the patience and sympathy Melissa felt for Presley. They didn’t comprehend how hard her life had been. Other than the Johnny Ray thing, Presley had come a long way. She tried hard. Some people just weren’t strong enough to stand up to someone like Johnny Ray. Presley had been used and abused by him. Her childhood had deeply instilled in her that she didn’t deserve any better. She’d once told Melissa that she didn’t know why Will loved her. Johnny Ray had exploited that doubt.
Whatever pain he suffered as a result of the beating he’d taken from William, the bastard deserved.
Melissa picked up the phone and tried both Harry’s cell and his house phone. Still no answer.
“Dammit.” Where was he?
A soft rap at the front door snapped her from the troubling thought. Fear fired through her. Wouldn’t Jonathan have called if there was news?
Not if it was bad.
Fear sucking at her composure, she trudged to the front door. She checked past the curtain.
Her heart battered her chest wall as she saw Jonathan. She opened the door. Her gaze collided with his and she wanted to ask—to demand—what he’d learned, but terror held her tongue.
“They’re still searching,” he explained, “but they haven’t found her. That could be a good sign.”
Relief made Melissa sway. “Thank God.”
“The team leader said that with the lack of strength behind the current, even a small body wouldn’t have been carried far. They’re cautiously optimistic that she isn’t in the water.”
Melissa fell against him. She couldn’t help herself. She needed his strong arms around her. And she cried. Her niece was still missing but at least she wasn’t in that damned river.
Jonathan led her back into the living room after he closed the door. “The thinking now is that she may have run. The chief’s broadening the search grid in hopes of finding some trace of her in the woods.”
“Then there’s still hope.” The weather wasn’t a real issue. She’d been well fed, based on the evidence found at the shack, and clothed. There was reason to hold out hope. But searching the acres and acres of those woods could take too long.
“There’s hope.” He caressed her cheek and offered a smile. “The thrust of the investigation now is determining how Price and Rayburn were connected. There has to be a motive for their actions. If we learn the motive, we’ll be far more likely to find her.”
Melissa gave herself a shake. Jonathan looked exhausted. She hadn’t considered that he’d scarcely had any sleep, either, much less anything to eat. “Would you like coffee? Or tea?” She really knew better than to ask about the tea. Jonathan didn’t go for the Southern tradition of iced tea.
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” She searched his face, her pulse skipping at the memories of all they had shared. So many nights she had lain beside him and watched him sleep. She’d loved him so much...still did. But she would never admit that out loud.
“I need to talk to you about Rayburn and the accusations he made when he approached me.”
The memory infuriated her all over again. “I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Scott Rayburn loved spreading rumors. Rumors,” she reiterated. “That’s what his accusations were about. I know my uncle Harry. He would never do anything like that.” She blocked the memory of the perfume she’d smelled on his shirt. That didn’t prove anything.
Jonathan guided her to the sofa. “Think about your uncle’s reaction last night and this morning.”
Now Jonathan was making her angry. “Last night he was exhausted and worried about William. This morning he was in a state of shock. We all were.”
“Last night when Presley announced what she’d done,” Jonathan recapped, “Harry said nothing about her leaving Polly alone. His anger was directed at the idea that she’d cheated on her husband.”
“Jonathan.” Melissa didn’t know how to make him understand this. “All of us have already gone through a range of emotions that would put lesser folks down. Harry has been strong through all of it. But even the strongest breaks at some
point. The idea that Presley was unfaithful was far less painful to latch on to.” She’d witnessed it often enough as a nurse. She supposed Jonathan couldn’t understand that because he was one of those rare people who had no breaking point. If she’d doubted that fact, what he’d shared with her last night about his military history confirmed her conclusion.
“Maybe so,” Jonathan allowed. “I’m not so sure.”
“Scott always liked being the center of attention,” she said again.
“You trust your uncle that much?”
“I trust him with my life.”
Jonathan’s gaze held hers. “There was a time when you trusted me that much.”
She had to look away. If he saw the feelings that still simmered inside her... She couldn’t let that happen. Last night she’d drifted far too close to breaking down. She couldn’t risk doing it again. Unlike him, she did have a breaking point.
“I need you to trust me now,” he murmured. “I’m not trying to hurt you or Harry. I’m only trying to find the truth.”
His soft words kicked her defenses right out from under her. “I do trust you, Jonathan.” She met his searching gaze, pushed aside all the frustration. “I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”
He didn’t respond, just stared at her eyes, and her lips.
She wished he would say something, anything, to break the tension building between them. But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers.
Melissa warned herself not to cross that line—the very one he had drawn himself. But she just couldn’t help it. She was so tired. So afraid. So desperate to feel his touch. No man had ever owned her heart, but him. No man had ever made her want to grow old with him, but him. No matter that he’d left her once already, broken her heart into a million pieces, she wanted his touch. Wanted his lips against hers—just like this—as long as it would last.
So much for standing firm. She was a lost cause when it came to this man.
He kissed her slowly, softly. Just a meshing of lips. A dance of wills to see who would give in first and open in invitation.
Melissa couldn’t help herself. She parted her lips, invited him inside. His tongue slid over her lips, touched her own. Her hands glided up his chest and into his hair. She loved the feel of his thick hair. Soft and silky. Such a contrast to his hard, lean body.
He drew her to her feet, without breaking the contact of their mouths. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her into the hall.
“The last door on the right,” she murmured between kisses. She didn’t know why she bothered; after all, he’d spent last night here. She wasn’t thinking, only feeling.
This was going to a place it shouldn’t, one that would bring immense pain. But, right now, she wanted to go to that forbidden place. As much as it would hurt when he left her again, this moment—his touch—would be worth the pain of losing him a second time.
Their lives were worlds apart, their desires for the future in completely different universes. But when they made love, that all vanished. There was only her and him, coming together in such a beautiful way that she couldn’t possibly resist.
Taking his time, he unbuttoned her blouse, slid it over her shoulders and down her arms. She shivered when he reached for the waistband of her jeans, which landed on the floor next to her blouse in no time. He urged her hands to do the same to him.
Button after button, she opened his shirt. When her palms slid over his smooth, warm skin, she shivered in anticipation. Her fingers fumbled with the closure of his jeans. He tried to help, but she pushed his hands away. She could do this.
She pushed his jeans and boxers down his thighs. He fumbled with shoes, finally got them off, then tugged the jeans and boxers free of his muscled legs.
As unladylike as it was, she couldn’t help staring at his body. She’d loved all that muscled terrain. Every single scar was dear to her. His time in the military had taken a physical and mental toll on him. But he’d survived. No man she’d ever met was as strong as Jonathan. Not nearly.
He lifted her into his arms and settled her on the bed. She gasped when he dragged her panties down her legs and off. He cuddled in close to her, allowing her to feel the desperation in his body. He wanted this just as much as she did.
As a nurse, she understood firsthand the importance of protection. But this was Jonathan. She didn’t want anything between them. He was far too responsible to risk himself or anyone else to unprotected sex if there was any danger.
She trusted him. She’d never trusted anyone the way she trusted him. With her body, her heart...her soul.
He kissed his way down her body, pleasuring her breasts with his lips and teeth. She gasped again and again. It had been so long. Three years. She hadn’t been with anyone else since they first met. He’d ruined her for anyone else.
His fingers traced her hips, slid between her thighs until they found that hot, damp place that throbbed with need for him and him alone.
As much as she wanted to revel in every sensation he elicited, she wanted him to feel those same wondrous sensations. She touched him everywhere. Kissed the scar on his forehead that had first brought them together. Then his broad, muscled shoulders. That strikingly taut abdomen. His tight buttocks. Lastly she wrapped her fingers around his large sex. She shivered, felt herself moving toward release before he’d even entered her.
It had been too long.
He nestled between her thighs, nudged his way inside, one thick inch at a time. She wrapped her legs around his, dug her fingers into his hot, smooth skin. By the time he’d filled her completely, she was too far gone to slow the spiraling sensations. Climax swirled and quaked through her. Before she’d caught her breath, he found a new way to take her back to that glittering edge of release.
His mouth, his fingers...all of him played her like a concert violinist touching those precious strings. He brought her to climax again and then again before succumbing to his own.
For long, long minutes after that, he lay beside her, holding her in his powerful arms.
He kissed her cheek, her earlobe. “You are so beautiful.”
She blushed. “Not so much.”
He smiled, his lips stretching against her skin, making her smile, too. “You should look in a mirror occasionally. I mean really look. You’re very beautiful.”
“And you’re very handsome.” It was true. More true than she’d wanted to admit these past three years. It had been easier to deny he’d been the man of her dreams than to own out loud the suffering she’d endured with the loss of him.
“We were good together.”
The words vibrated against her ear, making her heart ache. “We were.”
“I don’t want to hurt you again.”
She turned to him, studied those gorgeous eyes. An epiphany had dawned during their lovemaking. “You can’t hurt me that way again, Jonathan. That’s a once in a lifetime sort of pain. It’ll be hard when you go this time, but it won’t ever hurt like that again.” Never.
The revelation appeared to startle him, but he didn’t draw away. He held her close as if he feared she would take off and he might never see her again.
He tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t be what you needed me to be. What you deserved,” he explained. “I still can’t. You deserve better than me. As much as I want you, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”
She laughed softly. “That’s a cop-out, you know that, right?” Men always said that crap when they had commitment issues.
He smiled. “I guess it is.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose. “You were as close as I’ve ever come to that place.” He drew back, toyed with her hair. “As much as I hurt you by leaving, it would have been far worse for me to stay. I couldn’t bear seeing you suffer.”
She searched his face even as she looked for the truth in his words. “Do you still have the nightmares often?”
“Too often,” he confessed.
She had nightmares, too, only
they were about coming home from work to find him gone.
“I should be stronger,” she admitted as long as they were confessing. “Giving in to this wasn’t such a smart thing to do in the long run.” Regret, she realized, had barged in, stealing the beauty of what they had just shared.
“You didn’t exactly drag me into your bed,” he reminded her. “I seem to recall carrying you into the room.”
Melissa laughed. For the first time in nearly a week, she just wanted to laugh. It felt good, chased away the agony for a few moments. “What do you do now?” She skimmed her fingers over his bruised abdomen. “Seems like a tough job.”
“It can be.” He left a trail of kisses down her belly. She shivered. “Investigative work. Nothing interesting.” Before she could ask any more questions he had her ready to climax yet again. She sank into the pleasure, drew him to that hot, fiery place right along with her. This time he couldn’t hold out so long—maybe because he’d missed her just as much as she’d missed him.
But he would never say as much.
He was far too secretive. Far too unbreakable.
She lured him to the shower for a few minutes more of mindless pleasure. This escape was only temporary, she knew, but she needed it so badly.
Afterward, they dried their bodies and kissed some more. Then they ate. She hadn’t been hungry in days. But she was definitely hungry now. She’d barely touched the omelet he’d gone to the trouble of preparing earlier. Anything sounded good at the moment. Cheese and crackers and the chocolate cake a neighbor had brought over. In times of crisis, Southern neighbors always brought over food. It was tradition.
For a little while, Melissa enjoyed a reprieve from the misery that had overtaken all their lives just six days ago.
There was no one else she would rather have enjoyed that time with. But as the heat of their passion receded, the glare of reality filtered in.
He would leave.
She would be hurt again. And this time there’d be no one to blame but herself.