Worth Dying For

by Beverly Barton

  “Because you’re not a permanent type of man? Because you don’t want me? Or because Eddie Jay Nealy is my child’s father?”

  Damn! No beating around the bush. She’d laid it all out there for him. The three most obvious excuses. And there was only one he could deny.

  “I want you, honey. God, how I want you.”

  The corners of her full, pink mouth lifted in a hint of a smile.

  “But I’m not a guy who forms permanent attachments. Not since Amy.”

  “You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?”

  “Part of me probably always will be.” No need to lie to Tessa. She had a way of seeing right through him.

  “And no matter how much you like Leslie Anne, no matter what you’re willing to do to help her, you can’t look at her without remembering—”

  He grabbed Tessa and covered her mouth with his to silence her. Surprised by his actions, she tensed at first, but within seconds her body melted against his and she returned the kiss with equal passion. She tasted like peppermint, zesty and sweet. So sweet. Had she used a breath mint right before she’d knocked on his door? She lifted her arms and draped them around his neck while he deepened the kiss, taking them one step further, arousing himself unbearably.

  Clinging to him, hungry for all he could give her, Tessa whimpered with need. He eased his hands down her spine and cupped her buttocks, lifting her up and against his sex. He was hard and hurting. She was willing.

  He skimmed his lips across her cheek, down her jawline and to her throat, then whispered in her ear. “If I make love to you, it doesn’t come with any promises. No commitment. No forever after. Do you understand?”

  Tilting her head back, she gazed up at him. “I understand.”

  He grabbed her by the shoulders. “Look at me, Tessa, really look at me.” And you look at her, he told himself. She’s not Amy. She’s Tessa. Amy’s dead. “Your daughter has put me up on a pedestal and I don’t belong there. I don’t want either of you making me out to be some glorified white knight. All I am right now is a guy who wants to fuck you real bad.”

  She stared at him, searching for the truth. Had he blown it by being too honest with her? Who was he kidding? He hadn’t been totally honest with her. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her, but there was more to the way he felt about her. And it was that something more that scared the hell out of him.

  “You’re trying to run me off, aren’t you? And by doing that, you just contradicted your own declaration that you’re no white knight.” She eased out of his loose grasp. “Maybe we should wait—” the words “until you want more” sizzled between them “—until we have more time. It’s already nearly nine and if we’re catching a helicopter ride to—”

  “What do you mean we?”

  “I’m going with you, Dante. It’s my past you’re going to be digging around in and it’s my daughter whose sanity is possibly at stake.” She focused on him, a determined look in her eyes. When he didn’t respond immediately, she said, “We’ll call Leslie Anne to tell her we’re going out of town together and that when we return, you will come out to the house with me to see her. I want you tell her that she can count on you, that she and I can both count on you.”

  “Tessa, honey—”

  “You don’t have to mean it,” she told him. “Just tell her what she needs to hear. I’ll deal with any fallout later on. Right now, you seem to be her lifeline, and I’m sorry if that’s difficult for you, but I know you’re the kind of man who can put his personal feelings aside long enough to help a girl in desperate need of your kindness.”

  “Lady, you give me more credit than I deserve.”

  Tessa reached in her coat pocket and pulled out her cell phone, flipped it open and dialed. Dante stood by and waited.

  “Aunt Sharon, is that you?” Tessa asked. “I assume you’re answering Leslie Anne’s phone because she wouldn’t.”

  Dante listened to Tessa’s end of the conversation and drew the conclusion that neither Sharon Westbrook nor Lucie had been able to talk sense to Leslie Anne.

  “Tell her that I’m here with Dante and he wants to talk to her.” Tessa held out her cell phone to him.

  He took it. Reluctantly.

  “Dante, is that you?” Leslie Anne asked, her voice suspicious, yet edged with hope.

  “Yeah, kid, it’s me.”

  “Please, come back,” Leslie Anne said. “I need you. You’re the only person I can trust.”

  You can’t trust me and neither can your mama. I haven’t been completely honest with either of you.

  “I want to make a deal with you,” Dante said. “How about it?”

  “What sort of deal?”

  “Your mother and I need to go out of town to track down some leads on who sent you those newspaper clippings, so while we’re gone, I want you to let your aunt Sharon and Lucie Evans do what they can for you. Don’t fight them about everything. And I want you to think seriously about starting therapy sessions with Dr. Barrett.”

  “And if I do all that, what do I get in return?”

  “When your mother and I return from our trip, I’ll come out to your house and stick around here in Fairport for a while.”

  “For as long as I need you?”

  Dante chuckled. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “I learned from Granddaddy and Mother. They’re both tough negotiators.”

  “Okay, I’ll stay as long as I think you need me.”

  “You changed the wording of our deal just a little.”

  “Just a little. So what do you say?” Dante asked.

  “Okay. We’ve got a deal.”

  “Now, talk to your mother,” Dante told Leslie Anne. “And be nice to her. She loves you a lot, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  He handed Tessa the phone.

  “Dante and I won’t be gone too long and I’ll be only a phone call away,” Tessa said. “Are you sure you’re all right with my going away?” When Leslie Anne said something to her, Tessa laughed. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. I love you, sweetheart.”

  Tessa closed her phone and dropped it into her coat pocket.

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  “She told me that if I was half as smart as she thought I was, I’d seduce you.”

  “Are you sure she’s only sixteen?”

  “Sixteen going on thirty. She’s become a little too worldly-wise to suit me.”

  “It’s not your fault,” Dante told her.

  “No, not entirely. But I should have done a better job of protecting her.”

  “What more could you have done?”

  “I could have told her the truth sooner,” Tessa said.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  HOW OBLIGING of Tessa to leave town. But how inconsiderate of her to instate that redheaded Amazon to protect Leslie Anne. Then again, Lucie Evans being assigned to guard duty won’t make much difference in the grand scheme of things, not now that I’ve revised my plans somewhat. I’ll simply work around the Dundee agent, as I will any obstacles thrown in my path. I still have to get rid of Leslie Anne, but I’m more convinced than ever that the best way to do that is to persuade everyone that the girl is suicidal. It shouldn’t be too difficult to push the little brat over the edge. A nudge here and there. Subtle but deadly. If I can make her believe that there is no hope for her, that she will never be able to overcome her heritage, then perhaps she’ll come to realize that she should end it all—before it’s too late and she exhibits some type of deviant behavior. Or at least before everyone finds out the truth and they believe it’s only a matter of time before she zones out and commits some terrible crime.

  Naturally, the death of her only child will devastate Tessa. She’ll never be able to recover from such a loss.

  Oh, yes, that would be the ideal outcome, wouldn’t it? Poor little Leslie Anne Westbrook, so overwrought finding out her biological father was a serial rapist/killer that she takes her own life. And then her mother has a comple
te nervous breakdown. Two birds with one stone. Eliminate the daughter and the mother self-destructs.

  Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

  And if Leslie Anne doesn’t do the job herself? Considering that stubborn streak she inherited from G.W., as well as the grit, determination and strength that G.W., Anne and Tessa passed on to her, it’s possible she’ll resist the idea of doing away with herself. In that case, she’ll leave me no other choice than to arrange for her suicide. After all, how difficult could it be? A goodbye-cruel-world note left on her computer, after days of erratic behavior, should cinch the deal.

  I must put my plan into action immediately. If I work things just right, those closest to Leslie Anne will see just how disturbed the child really is.

  LESLIE ANNE woke with a start. She thought she heard someone calling her name. A strange voice. Neither male nor female. Just eerily jarring.

  She sat up on the side of the bed and listened. She heard only the rapid beating of her heart, the rhythm strumming in her ears. Not fully awake and halfway convinced the voice hadn’t been part of a nightmare, she scanned her bedroom.

  Get real. There’s no way anybody could have gotten into the house and be hiding in the closet or under the bed.

  She’d imagined the voice. Either that or dreamed it. She should forget all about it.

  But instead of putting the voice out of her mind, she suddenly remembered that the voice had spoken more than her name. Think, Leslie Anne, think. What did it say?

  Leslie Anne. Leslie Anne. Who’s your daddy, little girl?

  Oh, God, that’s what the voice had said. Not just her name. And it hadn’t been a dream. It couldn’t have been, not when it had been the sound of that voice that had awakened her. Someone inside the house had come into her room and—

  Leslie Anne jumped out of bed and searched high and low. Under the bed. Behind the drapes. In her huge, twelve-foot-square closet. Inside the shower enclosure. When she dropped to her knees and peered into and up inside the fireplace, she fell back onto the floor and laughed. What an idiot she was, searching for an intruder up the chimney. Who did she think the weird voice belonged to—Santa Claus?

  “What’s so funny?” Eustacia asked as she walked into the suite carrying Leslie Anne’s breakfast tray.

  “Nothing you’d understand.” Leslie Anne scooted around on her bottom and staying put on the floor, looked up at the cook. “What time is it? I suppose everyone else has had breakfast already.”

  “It’s ten ’til eleven, young lady,” Eustacia said crossly. “Mr. G.W. insisted I bring your breakfast to you by eleven o’clock, but I’m telling you right now—” she placed the tray on the round table flanked by two striped silk chairs “—this had better not become a habit. I’m too old to be toting your meals up here to you when you’re perfectly capable of coming downstairs to eat.”

  “I’m sorry you had to bother with this.” Leslie Anne bounced to her feet, then went over and gave Eustacia a hug. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Of course you’re forgiven.” Eustacia swatted Leslie Anne’s backside. “I don’t know why, and I don’t want to know what possessed you to run away. All I know is that you’re worrying your granddaddy to death. You ought to make a point of calling him at the office right now or maybe even—”

  “He went into work today?”

  “Sure did. Some reason he shouldn’t have?”

  Leslie Anne shook her head. “No, of course not. I guess the house seems pretty empty with Granddaddy and Mama both gone.”

  “It would, even with Miss Sharon home, but we’ve got a houseful today, not counting that Lucie Evans person.”

  “Who else is here?” If they had visitors, wasn’t it possible that the strange voice that had awakened her with such a hateful taunt belonged to one of them?

  “Your great-aunt Myrle and Miss Celia came to visit Miss Sharon and naturally Mr. Charlie came along. I swear that man is here more than he’s at work. It’s a wonder Mr. G.W. doesn’t get on to him about that.”

  “Charlie’s just Charlie,” Leslie Anne said. “And nobody, not even Granddaddy, would change him, even if they could. Besides, when he and Celia get married, he’ll be one of the family for sure and you know how Granddaddy is about family.”

  “Family means everything to Mr. G.W. and if that Miss Olivia has her way, your family will be expanding even more. That woman has set her sights on your granddaddy and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if she doesn’t finagle a marriage proposal out of him before Christmas.”

  “Hush your mouth.” Leslie Anne frowned. “Granddaddy isn’t going to marry that awful woman.”

  “Well, if he doesn’t, it won’t be for her lack of trying. Her and that worthless pup of hers is downstairs, too. Just showed up about twenty minutes ago. Unannounced and uninvited. But you know Miss Sharon, she made them welcome.”

  “If Mama had been home—”

  “Where’s your mama gone off to anyway?” Eustacia asked. “And what would she think about your missing school again today?”

  “Mama’s off on business over in Louisiana. I expect she’ll be gone several days. And as for school—I don’t care what anybody thinks. But fall break starts next week, so I just got a head start on it. Believe me, my missing a few days of school is the least of Mama’s worries.”

  “Just what do you mean by that?”

  Leslie Anne groaned, shook her head and clicked her tongue. “I didn’t mean anything, just that she’s busy. That’s all.”

  Eustacia gave Leslie Anne a skeptical look, then said, “That Evans woman wanted me to let her know when you woke up. She came down around seven for breakfast and since then she’s checked on you I don’t know how many times. Just what’s she doing here anyway? I couldn’t get a straight answer out of your granddaddy or your aunt when I asked them.”

  “She’s my guard dog.” Leslie Anne offered the cook a genuine smile. She loved old Eustacia, who was for all intents and purposes a member of the Westbrook family, just as Hal was. “Lucie’s here to make sure I don’t run off again while Mama’s gone.”

  “If that’s the case, I’ll be especially nice to her.” With that said, Eustacia left, waddling out of the room as quickly as her short, fat legs would carry her.

  Leslie Anne walked over to the table, lifted the white linen cloth that covered the tray and studied the neatly arranged items. A bowl of her favorite cereal, Sugar Pops. A cup of two-percent milk. A glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Two slices of cinnamon toast. Silverware, a linen napkin and—What’s that?

  Leslie Anne dropped the white linen cloth to the floor, then reached out and touched the piece of folded paper stuck inside her napkin. Her heartbeat accelerated. She shouldn’t be so afraid. After all, it was only a piece of paper. Before she had a chance to think about it and chicken out, she grabbed the sheet of paper and yanked it away from the napkin. She held it in her hand for a couple of minutes before she managed to gather up enough courage to open it and take a look.

  What she saw turned her stomach. Her hand trembled, but she held the paper tightly and continued staring at a computerized splicing of two pictures so that it looked as if both had been only one newspaper photograph. This photo of her had been snipped out of the Fairport Journal, the town’s weekly newspaper. When she’d been elected sophomore class president at the beginning of school, her photo, and those of the other class presidents had appeared in the Journal, along with a brief article on each of them. The other photo in this spliced picture was one that had run in a Texas newspaper and showed Eddie Jay Nealy the day he’d been arrested on murder charges.

  Above the spliced photo was a typed caption.

  Who’s Your Daddy, Little Girl?

  Oh, God, she hadn’t imagined the voice. It had been real. Someone had actually been in her room, whispering to her. And that same someone had managed to put this damn little message on her breakfast tray. Without thinking what she was doing, Leslie Anne ripped the photo into pieces and threw the
fragments down on the floor.

  A loud knock sounded at her door. She jumped.

  “May I come in?” Lucie Evans asked.

  “Yeah, just a second, okay?”

  Should she or shouldn’t she tell Lucie about the voice that woke her and about the photo? Leslie Anne glanced down at her handiwork lying on the floor. Damn, she’d destroyed the evidence. But what difference did it make? She didn’t need to show Lucie the photo or ask her help in figuring out what it meant. It hardly took a genius to figure out that whoever had awakened her with cruel taunts and had managed to sneak the photo onto her breakfast tray had to be someone inside her house right now. Someone who was visiting. Someone her family trusted.

  Oh, God, what if it was a member of her family?

  If only Dante was here, she would tell him what had happened. He would know exactly what to do. But she didn’t trust anyone else, not even Lucie. She would do a little investigating on her own and maybe by the time Dante and her mother got back into town, she would have some real evidence to give them. But maybe she should call them to let them know there was no point in searching in Louisiana for the person who’d sent her the newspaper clippings because he or she was here at the Leslie Plantation right now.

  No, I can’t do that. Not yet. Mama needs time alone with Dante so they’ll both realize how perfect they are for each other.

  Okay, so maybe snagging Dante for a stepfather was an impossible dream, but didn’t she and her mother deserve someone great like Dante Moran? If she were his kid, he would never let anything bad happen to her ever again.

  “WELL, THAT DIDN’T amount to anything,” Tessa said as she and Dante left the Rhymes Memorial Library on Louisa Street. “After searching through months of seventeen-year-old newspapers, we found only two small articles that might or might not have been about me.”

  Dante opened the door of the rental car for Tessa. Then after she was safely inside, he rounded the hood, opened the driver’s side door and slid behind the wheel.