by Jeanne Adams
A faint dust cloud was the only other clue that anyone had gone that way.
It was enough. It had to be enough.
“Tibbet, you still there?” Paul picked up the phone.
“Yeah. Black and white’s closing in on your location.”
“We’re turning off onto a dirt road. There’s nothing marking it, but I saw taillights. I’m pretty sure it’s him.”
“Wait for the black and white.”
“No. He’s got Torie. I can’t. I just can’t.” He let Tibbet’s protests fade into the background as he focused on the bumpy, pockmarked, and narrow way. Mike doused the lights as he rounded a bend.
It was his worst nightmare.
Torie in her glorious dress, with her blond hair cascading over her shoulders, was silhouetted in the glare of the other car’s headlamps. The shadows concealed her kidnapper, but it was obvious that she was afraid. She wobbled where she stood, and he heard an indistinct shout of anger.
“Go back to the road, flag down the cops,” Paul ordered.
“I’m trained—” Mike began.
“Shut up. I think I know this guy, and I have a chance to talk him out of this. I hope. You don’t. Go back, make sure the cops find the damn road.”
Reluctantly, Mike agreed, and like a ghost, he disappeared into the darkness. When Paul tried to slip out of the car the same way, the sound of the door opening gave him away.
“I’ll kill her, Paul. I know it’s you. Only you would have come looking. You’re such an idiot. Get over here, and let me do it properly and kill you both.”
He sprinted to her side, as well as he could in the patchy light, turning his ankle as he did. He stood in front of her, blocking the gun he could see. It was steady, held firmly in the gloved hand of Melvin Pratt Jr.
“Are you okay?” he asked her, reaching back to grip her hand.
“Woozy,” she slurred. “He drugged me. Horrible taste. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Quit bitching,” Melvin ordered. “Now kneel. I want to get a clean shot.”
“No.”
“Paul, you’ve gotta run.” Torie was still slurring but her voice was stronger. “It’s me he wants.”
“Oh, no, that’s where you’re wrong, beautiful Victoria. I want you both dead. I originally thought I could kill Todd and marry you, which would let me finally claim the money Todd stole from me. But nooooooooo,” he mocked like a teenager would. “You weren’t ready to date, you said. But you were,” he accused. “You dated that nasty Trey Buckner. It’s no wonder you got labeled a slut and a black widow. He’s trash, and you lowered yourself to his level.
“So I planned something else. I knew I wouldn’t get the money, but it didn’t matter. I’d get my revenge.”
“Revenge?” Paul baited him, hoping he’d get a chance to overwhelm the angry man, get the gun. “For what? Todd won that money fairly. He lived fairly and gave back. That’s more than anyone can say about you.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Melvin shouted. “You don’t know. You never saw what he was. What he did.”
“He never did anything but help you.”
“He hated me, despised me. Called me Weaselboy.”
Paul betrayed himself with a glance at Torie.
“You knew, you bastard. I should have killed you first. You knew it was me, didn’t you, back then, in college? I could have had her then, if it hadn’t been for you.”
“At the fraternity house? You drugged her? It was you all those years ago?” Rage nearly overwhelmed Paul as he realized that he’d never seriously considered Melvin. All those years…
“Nothing too strong,” Melvin chuckled, and a shudder ran up Paul’s spine. With all of this, he knew Melvin was crazy. Now he knew Melvin was capable of worse things than killing. His next words drove the point home. “She was so easy to drug, so willing. She has a beautiful body. I’ve never forgotten it.”
“How could you? How could you pretend all these years?”
Keep him talking; Paul’s thought was scattered, nearly panicked as he felt Torie sag onto his back. “Hang in there, honey,” he muttered, trying to get her to respond.
“Pretend? I’m not the pretender, Paul. You are. I found out where you came from. You’re the son of a trailer trash whore and a deadbeat father. You’re nothing next to me, do you hear me? Nothing.”
“I never made any secret of that, Melvin. I never lied. You lied. You’re still lying.”
“I am not,” Melvin nearly screeched. He hated to be called a liar.
Behind Melvin, Paul saw the barest movement. If it was help, he needed to be sure Melvin didn’t know it was there.
“Shut the fuck up, Weaselboy,” he taunted, keeping Melvin’s attention directed his way. “You were never up to the standard. How you ever pledged Delta Phi, I’ll never know.”
“You shut up,” Melvin screamed, and the gun wavered, then steadied. “Stop it, Paul. You think you’re so clever, baiting me, trying to get me to lose my temper. Uh uh uh.” He waggled the gun like a scolding finger. “I’m not falling for it.
“You need to die quickly, and so does she,” he said, pushing back the top of one of the gloves to check the time. “My father should be loading into the ambulance about now. I’ll get back to the mansion in time to speed off to the hospital. Oh, gosh—” he pretended to be shocked and appalled—“whatever happened to dear old Dad? Heart attack?” he roared with laughter, but the gun never wavered.
“Now, do as I say. Move aside so I can kill her first. A nice little murder-suicide, I think.”
“Drop the gun,” a voice called out of the darkness.
How the cops had crept up so quietly, Paul had no idea. He didn’t care. All he knew was that the cavalry had arrived, and he could tend to Torie.
“Don’t move,” Melvin ordered. “You come any closer and I put a bullet through both of them. Come out into the light where I can see you.”
“I said, drop the gun.” The disembodied voice was insistent.
“I’m never going to jail,” Melvin said, as if they were having a conversation over lunch. “I’d rather die. Hell, my father would rather I die before I disgraced his name.” He laughed. “Oh, if he only knew.”
“Drop it, Pratt,” a new voice called. Tibbet was over to Paul’s left, beyond the circle of light made by the headlights. How he’d gotten through the city and out to them that fast, Paul didn’t even want to know.
“I’m taking both of you with me,” Melvin said, calmly. “These bullets are a little special. They’re Sampson bullets. They’re loaded hot. They have enough extra oomph to penetrate your body and kill her, too. You made a mistake, Paul. You should never have put her behind you.”
“Drop. The. Gun,” Tibbet ordered again.
Everything happened in slow motion. Paul saw Melvin smile, and knew the shot would kill him.
But it didn’t have to kill Torie. With a wrench, he tossed her down, throwing himself over her body just as Melvin fired.
Shots rang out and he heard a scream, but he didn’t look up.
“Paul? Jameson? You okay?”
He felt Tibbet’s hand on his shoulder.
“Oh, God, Torie? Torie?” He rolled off her as Tibbet turned on a high-beam flashlight. “Torie?”
“Paul?” She put her hand up to shield her eyes from the glare. “Are you okay?”
She struggled to sit up, far more quickly than he could have guessed, and launched herself into his arms.
“Torie,” he breathed, holding her tight, stroking her hair over and over. “Oh, I thought I’d lost you.”
“No, Paul, no. You’ve found me.”
Epilogue
“We’ve got to stop hanging around in ambulances and hospitals,” Paul quipped, sitting on the seat in the back of the emergency vehicle, wrapped in a blanket. He had no idea why they’d given him the blanket, since he wasn’t cold. He was glad, though, because it gave him something to hold onto as they loaded Torie onto a stretcher, and readied
her for transport to the hospital.
“You’re right,” she managed around the muffling oxygen mask. “This sucks. And I didn’t get my dance.”
He laughed, but felt tears rise up as well. The emotion was so new, so raw, it choked him as he looked at her. Her sexy dress was dirty now, and her hose torn.
Her shoes sat in a bag at the side of the stretcher. It seemed so odd.
“He was so angry,” he heard her whisper. Tearing his gaze away from the strappy dancing shoes, he nodded.
“Yeah. How could he have gotten that twisted up?”
“Don’t know,” she whispered.
In the hospital room, Dev, Pam, and Paul perched like birds around the small space. Pam had the lone chair, but Dev, still looking battered, sat on the arm. Paul was as near to Torie as he could get, one hip on the bed itself.
“You,” Torie said as she pointed at her cousin, “have some ’splainin’ to do, Lucy.” She put on a Ricky Ricardo accent.
“To a lot of people,” he drawled. “We’ll get to that, you know?”
“Yeah.” She focused on Paul. “When are you getting me out of here, hmmmm?”
“Doctor has to clear you. Besides, Tibbet wants to talk to you.”
“I’ll bet.”
“He should be here any minute.”
“That’s what they all say,” she joked, then sobered. “How’s Mister Pratt?”
Paul’s face fell, and his eyes were sad. “Whatever Melvin gave him kicked off a massive heart attack. He’s still unconscious. They won’t tell me anything else, because I’m not kin.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.” She reached for his hand, both giving comfort and seeking it.
“Did you get any sleep, Torie?” Pam finally spoke. She looked happy, in spite of the circumstances. Torie had to smile at the possessive hand Dev was keeping on her shoulder.
“Some, once I stopped, well, you know.” She didn’t really want to talk about how much she’d thrown up. The drug Melvin had used made her sick. Between her first bout with it after the fire and now, she’d thrown up more in the last six weeks than she had in the past eleven years.
“Yeah. What—” her question was aborted as Tibbet knocked and came in.
“Good morning. Looks like you’ve drawn a crowd again,” he said with a smile.
“Yeah, but it’s my crowd, so I’m okay with it.”
“I can see that. I’ll make this brief and get out of your way. The warrant on Melvin Pratt Jr.’s home was served, and we were able to find enough evidence to link him not only to Todd Peterson’s death, but to the fire at your house, Ms. Hagen. He kept journals in a funky shorthand, but it only took our guy a few minutes to figure it out. Had ’em in a safe, too, but that was easy. Evidently, he’s also partially responsible for the computer crash at your office.” He directed the last bit to Paul.
“He was,” Torie said. “I was in and out in the car, but he planned the thing at the frat house. The one we discussed? He wanted to marry me.”
“Ah.” Tibbet flicked a glance at Pam and Dev. “You said something last night about the lottery as well?” The ubiquitous notebook was out, and Tibbet was jotting things down.
“Yes, he had been the one to buy all the tickets that day for everyone in the office. He said that Todd stole the money from him, since he had been the one to actually purchase the winning ticket. He believed Todd got me to marry him as a slap, in addition to the money.”
“Ah, okay. That makes more sense when you put it that way.”
“I guess I wasn’t all that coherent last night.”
“You did fine,” Tibbet praised. “I’ve just got a couple of other questions. Do you have any idea what he might have given his father?”
“No.” She paused, trying to remember exactly what Melvin had said. “But I’m sure it was him. Melvin said that he’d kill me and get back to the hotel in time to ride with the old man to the hospital.”
“Hmmm. Very good.” He closed his book, looked over at Dev. “What about you, Mister Chance?”
“Me? I’m living life, Detective.”
“Uh huh.” Tibbet didn’t look convinced. “You now think the attack on you was unrelated, you said.”
“Oh, yes,” he drawled. “Totally unrelated. Nasty coincidence you might say. Worried my poor cher cousine half to death, though. I scolded the people responsible quite harshly.”
“You did, eh? You know you shouldn’t tell me that.”
“No, I reckon not. But you’re okay, for a damn Yankee Philly boy,” he fired back. “You come down south to the Big Easy, I fix you up with the best meal and the best time you ever had. Payback for taking care of my girl, here.”
“I may take you up on that.” Tibbet grinned. “I had family down there, once upon a time.”
“You ever had roots there, they still there, you know?”
“Detective?” Torie asked. “Do you think you could find out about Mister Pratt for us? They won’t tell us anything.”
“I think I can make that happen,” Tibbet said. “Why don’t you two walk over to the nurse’s station with me,” he said, pointing to Dev and Pam. “We’ll find out and you can relay. Ms. Hagen, I can’t say it’s been a pleasure, but I appreciate all the help you’ve given me. I’m sorry for all the trouble you’ve had.”
“Thank you, Detective. I appreciate you as well.”
“A regular lovefest,” Dev drawled, getting to his feet. Torie could tell he was sore; he was moving more slowly than usual. Pam rose as well, and shot her a smile.
“We’ll be back.”
They trooped out en masse, and Paul rolled his eyes in mock relief. “I thought they’d never leave.”
“Oh, stop.”
“Never.” He bent down and kissed her. “I need to tell you something. I don’t want it to change anything between us, but we’ve had too many unspoken issues, over so many years, that I can’t not say it.”
“What?” Torie frowned, worried now that things would turn upside down yet again.
“With Pratt in the hospital, the meeting on Monday may be postponed.”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought it was something serious.”
“It is. You’re Todd’s sole heir.”
The words registered, and Torie’s mouth dropped open. “I’m what?”
“Other than a few charitable gifts, you inherit everything,” Paul said.
“Ah.”
“I don’t want it to make a difference between us. And I don’t want you to think that, like Melvin, I want you for—”
“Shhh.” She rested a finger on his lips, stopping the flow of words. “You’re nothing like him and never have been. In fact, you’re the opposite in so many ways. If it will make you feel better, I’ll give it all away.”
“I could help you start a foundation.”
“How about we do it together?” She waited, hoping to see the truth in his eyes. He gave it to her in the gleam in his eye and the smile that blossomed on his face.
He bent to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. “How ’bout we do that? How about we do a few other things together, too.”
“Like what?” she asked, not really caring what he said, as long as he kept looking at her that way—and kept kissing her. It made her feel so alive.
“Like buy a house, get married, play with the dogs, go on vacation. Stuff like that.”
“Wait.” She tuned in to his words between kisses. “What did you say?”
“I said—” he began.
“The middle part.”
“Ah, I, uh, well. What would you say to getting married?”
“I’d say yes.”
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2009 by Jeanne Adams
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.
Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 1-4201-1068-3
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
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Document creation date: 1.4.2011
Created using: calibre 0.7.52 software
Document authors :
Jeanne Adams
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