Wicked Lies

by Lora Leigh

  “I hear she and Vinny aren’t getting along well,” Jessie said. “She should have never accepted his proposal so soon after his wife’s and daughter’s deaths. Now she just seems so unhappy.”

  Luce had married Vincent “Vinny” Maddox less than a year after his wife of over twenty-five years and his sixteen-year-old daughter had died. What had the woman expected? Though there were those who swore Luce and Vinny had been having an affair long before her sister, Sierra Maddox, had been killed.

  “And there’s nothing you can do to help her either way,” Slade reminded her. “Let the Maddoxes take care of themselves, sweetheart, it’s better that way.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not like Luce listens to anyone anyway.” Jessie shrugged, her gaze resigned.

  Thankfully, Jessie dropped the subject of the Maddox clan. It was a subject better left lying at the moment.

  Kenni finished her coffee and the sweet rolls she’d ordered as conversation turned to less controversial subjects. Namely, whether or not Jessie could convince Kenni to help her clear out her schoolroom. Before they left the café, Kenni couldn’t help but laugh with Slade as he tried to convince them that cleaning out the classroom could wait a week or two, then groaned in male resignation when Jessie told him to just give it up.

  She enjoyed visiting with both of them, though they didn’t talk as freely, nor did Jessie give her quite as much gossip on the locals, with Slade there. It wasn’t often he joined Jessie, though with the pregnancy he had become very protective.

  As they left the café Kenni looked around as though simply enjoying the view and the weather. Eyes narrowed against the sunlight as she looked for any possible threats. That earlier sense of being watched returned the second she stepped outside, stronger now than it had been before.

  “Let us give you a ride home, Annie.” Slade stopped her as she moved to the edge of the curb and prepared to cross.

  “I enjoy the walk,” she assured him as she glanced along the street for oncoming cars. “Besides, I have to do something to rid myself of the calories from those sweet rolls you insisted on ordering more of.”

  Slade chuckled at that as his arm curled around his wife’s shoulders.

  “If you’re sure.” He watched the street as well, his gaze sweeping the area in a way Kenni recognized well. He could probably describe everything he saw in exact detail this time tomorrow, she knew.

  “I’m sure.” She stepped from the curb, throwing her hand up in a careless wave.

  As she stepped from the curb a sedan pulled out from a side street. In the second it took her to reach the halfway point, it was nearly on her. The acceleration was fast and as quick as she could move, Kenni didn’t know if she could make it.

  As though in slow motion she glimpsed the driver, flat dark eyes, carelessly grown beard and long hair paired with sunglasses. She would know him if she ever saw him again.

  If she survived.

  If she could just get across …

  Her foot slid on the blacktop as she tried to push herself out of the way. It was too far to jump. She couldn’t get enough traction with her sandals to get out of the way. She was too short to clear the distance otherwise. She made a mental note, if she lived, never to wear the damned things again.

  She could feel the summer heat like a brush of fire against her flesh, hear the car speeding closer, and knew she wasn’t going to make it. She couldn’t make it …

  A manacle latched around her waist, the hard jerk of her body taking her breath as she felt herself flying through the air, held so close to a hard, powerful body that when they hit the pavement she barely felt it. He cushioned her against his chest before he rolled them both behind a truck parked at the side of the street.

  The car hit the curb, drove over it, then sped away with a scream of tires as Kenni stared at the brick facade of the building no more than a few feet from her, and listened to Jazz curse like a sailor only wished he could, behind her.

  The hiatus was over, she thought fatalistically. They knew she was here now. They knew, and they wouldn’t stop until they killed her, just as they had killed her mother and her uncle.

  And she still hadn’t figured out who it was or why they wanted her dead.

  * * *

  Fuck him. He was shaking.

  Jazz could feel the pure terror that sent him tearing across the street to lift Annie from her feet and all but throw both of them across the distance to the front of the truck parked several feet from the end of the curb. He’d felt the vehicle as it brushed past them, missing them by scant inches as it swerved to catch them.

  He’d find that bastard and when he did he’d make damned certain he was the one who skinned the man alive.

  Fuck.

  With his arms wrapped tight around the little imposter he held to his chest, cushioning her against him, the thought of the damage that could have been done to her delicate body caused his guts to cramp. He didn’t think he’d ever been so damned scared in his life.

  The second he’d seen the car accelerate toward her he’d known what was happening. There was no hesitating, no pause; he’d just run for her. If he had to take the hit to throw her across the road then by God that was what he’d do. The thought of seeing her broken …

  He was sweating.

  Adrenaline was pounding through his veins, rushing through his senses, and the horror of what could have happened flashed through his mind.

  He could have lost her.

  “Jazz! Fuck!” Slade knelt in front of them as Jessie rushed in behind him. “Goddammit, are you okay?”

  “Did you recognize the son of a bitch?” Jazz hadn’t had time to look. He’d been moving too fast, a haze of red in front of his eyes as the certainty of the fact that if he didn’t move faster, then Annie would die, descended upon him.

  “No tags on the car.” Slade’s gray eyes were dark, filled with anger and concern as he stared at Annie. “Annie, sweetie, are you okay?”

  He reached out as though to touch her.

  “No!” She flinched before trying to pull herself from Jazz’s arms. Twisting toward him, she stared up at him, enraged. “Let me go now!” she hissed.

  “Settle down, dammit,” he growled. “Let me get you the hell out of here, then we’ll fight it out…”

  “Someone call an ambulance,” one of the onlookers called out.

  “No ambulance…” Panic was edging into her voice as she began struggling harder. “Let me go.”

  “Settle down, Annie, or you’re going to draw more attention than you have to. Is that what you want?” Jazz snarled as he moved quickly to his feet, pulling her up with him.

  “I’ll get the truck,” Slade muttered as more onlookers began crowding around them.

  Jazz didn’t bother waiting. He wanted her away from the gathering crowd now. He could feel the tension in her body, her muscles tightening to the point that he knew she’d begin fighting to be free if he wasn’t very careful.

  Instinct was a bitch. Especially a well-honed instinct for survival. She was primed to run, to hide and watch, to reassess the danger and relocate. That relocating part was what he intended to put a stop to.

  “I’m right behind you,” he bit out. Anger was building inside him, surging through him with the force of a tidal wave. His protective instincts were going crazy, rioting through his senses and sending pure, raw fury tearing through him.

  Lifting Annie into his arms he held on firmly despite her attempts to get free and moved quickly across the street. He was aware of Slade standing in the middle of the road watching to ensure there were no other speeding vehicles turning onto the street.

  Once Jazz had Annie safely across and was striding toward the maroon king cab pickup parked in the café’s lot, Slade hurriedly escorted Jessie across the street—all but dragging her to the truck parked beside Jazz’s.

  “Let me go before I brain your damned ass.” Annie’s fist struck at his shoulder as he shoved her into the front seat of the truck. “I don
’t need you to carry me.”

  He caught her fist on the second swing; her aim would have plowed dead-on into his face. The little witch. Did she actually think he was going to let her just merrily continue on her way and walk home? It wasn’t happening. He’d tie her to the damned truck seat if he had to.

  She wasn’t in shock. A quick look at her furious expression and he knew that wasn’t a problem. Hazel eyes burned with green sparks of anger.

  “Would you settle the fuck down?” he growled, glowering at her as her eyes narrowed up at him, instincts battling to run even as other, primal senses demanded she submit.

  Submission just wasn’t a part of this woman’s nature evidently.

  “Take. Me. Home.” She might be crazy mad at the moment, but he could glimpse the fear in her eyes.

  “Take you home?” he asked her softly. “Someone just tried to run you down and you want me to just drop you off at your house, by yourself, and drive away like a good little boy?”

  Oh hell no. She must really believe he was some dumb mountain hick if she thought he was actually going to do that.

  She was the most aggravating woman he had ever met in his life.

  “That would be my preference,” she snapped, lips tightening at she glared at him.

  “I’m really not concerned with your fucking preference,” he bit out furiously. “I’m more concerned with keeping your pretty ass intact at the moment.”

  Her eyes narrowed, lips pursing just slightly as delicate little nostrils flared.

  Fuck. God, for just a moment …

  A hard shake of his head forced the thought back before he glared down at her again.

  “Sugar, you’re just mad as a hornet right now, aren’t you?” he accused her, amazed at the fact that she was angry with him. “Some bastard just tried to run you down and damn if you don’t act like you’re pissed because I saved your ass.”

  Her gaze flickered then with a hint of uncertainty. How he’d managed to knock her off guard, he wasn’t certain, but he’d love to keep her there for a while.

  “I’m pissed because some drunk asshole tried to run me down in the middle of town and nearly killed both of us,” she retorted. “I want to go home, take a hot bath and some aspirins, and try like hell to forget it happened.”

  He almost laughed at the absurdity that she’d just spilled from those pretty lips. Like hell. She wanted to figure out if it was time to run yet.

  Jazz shook his head, buckled her seat belt, then stepped back and closed the door before loping to the driver’s side.

  “I’m heading to my place,” he muttered as he passed Slade.

  “I’ll meet you there.” Nodding, Slade moved around the back of the truck. Within seconds they were both pulling from the parking lot and heading out of town.

  “Jazz, I really don’t want to go to your house,” she stated as she realized they were heading in the opposite direction of her house.

  “Sweetheart, right now, I really don’t give a damn,” he warned her. “I nearly watched you die in front of my eyes and that’s going to take me a minute to get over. You can just suffer and put up with my company until I can get a handle on it.”

  It was going to take far more than a minute to do that. He didn’t think he’d ever felt fear like he’d felt it as he’d watched that car bearing down on her.

  “You want to tell me why someone decided to run you down in the middle of town?” he asked, certain he knew what her response was going to be.

  Turning his head, he caught the telltale stiffening of her body.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she retorted a second later, her expression actually confused. “It must have been a drunk or something. I’m a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake. Who doesn’t like kindergarten teachers?”

  God bless her heart, he was going to spank her for that one. A lie, wrapped in deception and practicing deceit. And she did it with such incredible sincerity. He’d known she’d pull something like this.

  “Whoever was in that car,” he countered instantly. “That was no drunk, so don’t take me for a damned fool. He knew what he was doing and he knew who he was trying to do it to. So why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”

  He tried to keep from raising his voice. He wasn’t a man who yelled often, especially at women. A loud man was too intimidating, his foster father Toby Benning had told him more than once. A nice even tone would get more results.

  Well, he wasn’t getting any results.

  “And you think I know what’s going on.” She was trying to deceive him with her voice, her eyes, her very expression.

  Damn her, she was lying to him with such convincing sincerity that he found himself wanting to believe her. Unfortunately, he hadn’t believed in fairy tales for a lot of years. He wasn’t going to start now.

  “Sweetheart, you and I are going to start butting heads here soon if you can’t be honest with me.” It was the most sincere warning he could give her, because at the rate she was lying to him, he was going to be spanking her before nightfall.

  “Jazz, what reason do I have not to be honest with you? How would I know who was driving that car or what they were trying to do?” she exclaimed as she pushed her fingers through her hair and avoided looking him in the eye as she tried to avoid a bald-faced lie.

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel. It would probably be a really bad idea to pull over to the side of the room and spank that pretty butt.

  Still, lying to Jazz was a very bad idea.

  CHAPTER 6

  “When we enter the house be prepared.” The heavy note of warning in Jazz’s voice had Kenni turning to him, wariness stiffening her body even more than the near miss in town already had.

  “For what?”

  He gripped the steering wheel with both hands as a grimace contorted his face for just a moment.

  “I mentioned the puppies a few weeks ago, remember?” The rueful amusement she saw in his face now had her curiosity aroused despite her best intentions.

  “I remember,” she answered, wondering what puppies could have to do with any of this.

  “They’re Rottweiler puppies.” He almost grinned.

  She could only roll her eyes. “Well, Jazz, I didn’t peg you for the Pomeranian type,” she assured him mockingly. “But I’m still not certain why Rottweiler puppies come with a warning.”

  “They’re six-week-old rotties with more energy than a dozen Tasmanian devils,” he said then. “The second you step into the house they’re going to break away from their sire and dam and come after you like a herd of mini elephants. They love attention. Three of them especially love female attention. And they don’t take orders real well just yet.”

  She remembered when the puppies were born, Jessie had been nuts wanting to claim one and Jazz had kept putting her off.

  “Jessie hasn’t gotten one yet?” she asked as he made the turn onto the gravel road leading to his house about half a mile into a valley.

  “They’re not weaned yet.” The hasty, obviously practiced excuse would have been amusing if not for the fact that someone had just tried to kill her.

  “Has Jessie picked out which one she wants yet?” she asked then, pushing the subject. Anything to take her mind off the memory of that car bearing down on her.

  Blowing out a hard breath, Jazz reached back and rubbed at the back of his neck for a second before returning his hand to the steering wheel and muttering, “Not yet.”

  “Has she seen them yet?”

  “Not in a few weeks.” He frowned. “I’ve been busy.”

  He was lying. From Jessie’s bitching she already knew Jazz had no intention of giving up one of those babies.

  “You’ve been possessive,” she corrected him absently as she watched the forested land outside the pickup. “What are you going to do to put her off now?”

  Slade and Jessie were right behind them and if Kenni knew her friend then she knew Jessie would be on those puppies s
o fast it would make Jazz’s head spin.

  “I’m going to have to talk to Slade,” he breathed out, the sound filled with resignation. “He’ll tell her.”

  Kenni shook her head. “We’re talking about Jessie’s husband, Slade. Right?” she retorted. “Slade ain’t going to tell her crap if it’s going to upset her right now, Jazz. Stop fooling yourself.”

  His lips pursed in a display of male uncertainty. Seeing Jazz in the least bit uncertain was surprising.

  “When I’m ready to let one go, then she can have first pick.” He shrugged. “I’m not ready yet.”

  “You’ll never be ready.” She was certain of that.

  “So?” That one word said it all. He simply wasn’t going to worry about it. They were his puppies and he wasn’t giving one away.

  “Tell her Essie would be upset if you let one go right now,” she suggested as she turned back from her perusal of the woods surrounding the truck. “That should help.”

  As she spoke the surrounding forests and mountain parted to reveal the valley and Jazz’s two-story brick-and-wood home. The sprawling farmhouse was gorgeous. Red brick and red wood siding, green tin roof and a wide wraparound front porch.

  The valley spread out below the house, a pond so large it was almost a small lake. A dock extended out into it with a canoe tied up to it. On the bank a covered, enclosed gazebo sat.

  Green, green grass grew like a lush summer carpet, inviting bare feet and giggling children, summer cookouts and family reunions.

  It took a minute to see what she was looking at, though, and when she did, it was all she could do to breathe. She hadn’t been to Jazz’s place since returning to Loudoun. But she’d been here when she was younger with one of her brothers when he’d stopped to talk to Jazz. The house hadn’t been here then, just a single-story home that looked more like a shack. The valley had been here, though, and the pond.

  She’d been sixteen. While Sawyer had looked over a car he was interested in, she had informed Jazz of exactly what the valley should look like. The house, the boat dock and canoe, and the gazebo.

  She wondered if there was a bed in the gazebo as she’d told Jazz she wanted. A big soft one with lace sheets and pillowcases, surrounded by a mosquito net.