Until We Say Goodbye

by Jane Drager

  “Today, Lauren. I’m on limited time.”

  “Tomorrow or not at all.” She didn’t give a damn if he were dying.

  Silence. “Okay. I’ll text you the address. Thanks, honey.”

  Honey, my ass. Wincing at the endearment, she disconnected and stared at her phone. “Somehow, I get the feeling Jo-Jo will screw me all over again.”

  ****

  She and Deems spent a wonderful night together—in bed and without sex. They talked, watched some television, and enjoyed a few laughs. She couldn’t believe she was in bed with a billionaire. Not that his money made any difference. Even if he butchered beef for a living, he’d still be the same Deems—without the pricey suits. Then, he held her while she slept. She was so much in love she could cry.

  In the morning, Lou drove Deems to the office then returned for her trip to the cafe. Deems refused to hear of her taking a cab, so she relented. After all, she looked like a used and abused punching bag. No acute pain today. Just a steady throb everywhere. If she had an ounce of common sense, she’d force Jo-Jo to meet her in Arendtsville, but urgency strangled her. She wanted him out of her life, and the sooner the better.

  As she stood outside the condo entrance waiting for Lou, she let her gaze follow the traffic while she sucked in the cool air. The day was beautiful with clear skies and the scent of forsythias blowing from the park. Johnny, the security guard now on day shift, stood beside her. He had direct orders from Deems to glue himself to her side until Lou arrived. Since Eric still remained on the loose, he might return and make good on his promise to take her with him.

  Lou glided the limo to the curb and, acknowledging to Johnny with a nod, hurried to open her door. As if she was incapable. But Lou was so sweet, gently taking her elbow like she was a frail, little old lady. He drove with hardly a sway, and a short drive later, he slowed the limo and pulled over to the curb.

  With a quick glance into the rearview mirror, he waved toward the front windshield. “This area is notorious for poor parking, so I’ll drop you here. When you’re done, just text me.”

  Traffic was too heavy for Lou to run around to her door so she grabbed the handle. “That’s fine, Lou. Thank you.” She alighted and waited for him to drive off before continuing toward the cafe. She had absolutely no desire to share a cup of coffee with Jo-Jo. If truth be told, she’d rather have all her teeth extracted. But since her ex made the effort under the pretense of keeping his job, he’d have to carry out one hell of a sales pitch for her to believe him. Nearing the cafe, she drew in a deep breath, slowly released, then squared her shoulders and opened the door.

  The coffee shop was simply called Mom and Pop’s Coffee Nook, a cute, little place with small round tables big enough for a cup of coffee and bagel and not much else. One wall had square tables with people staring into open laptops, oblivious to everything except the contents on their screen.

  Jo-Jo sat at a table by the window, sipping from the standard paper cup.

  Her gut clenched at the sight of him as anger threatened to explode, and she purposely splayed her fingers to prevent fists from forming.

  Catching her entrance, he raised a hand then froze as his blue eyes grew wide. “What happened to your face?” He stood to pull out her chair. Within seconds, fire burned in his gaze. “Did Lambert hurt you?”

  “Good Lord, no.” She flopped onto the seat. “Long story.” His display of concern touched her but too little too late.

  He reclaimed his seat and slid a covered cup of coffee her way. “French vanilla, the way you like it.”

  She popped the plastic lid and sipped. Delicious. He hadn’t changed much. Same wavy blond hair, pale eyebrows, and sky-blue eyes. A classic California look that captured her attention the second he walked into the school cafeteria. For as long as she remembered, she listened to his dreams of one day being the town big shot with his own business and tons of money. She hadn’t doubted his success either, except she preferred he’d achieve his goals in a different way. “Why’d you keep your interview with High-Rise a secret?”

  “Aw—” He rubbed his palms on his thighs, his gaze intent on the passing foot traffic by the window. “I wasn’t sure they’d hire me.”

  She leaned across the small table. “We were engaged, Jo-Jo. You should have said something, but obviously, you planned to skip town without me.” Gad, how she wished she could get up and leave. Why the hell should she listen to his sorry excuses just so he could keep his job? She owed him nothing, dammit.

  A strong sense of power filled her chest. She’d never seen him so nervous, and with good reason. She held the key to his future…assuming she had a vindictive bone in her body. If anything, watching him squirm brought her enough pleasure. She cocked her head and smirked. “You didn’t expect me to come here all forgiveness, I hope. You left me so broke, I had to borrow money in order to survive.”

  He met her gaze. “But you hit pay dirt, Lauren. How’d you meet Mr. Lambert?”

  “I happened to be living with his sister.”

  Shifting forward, he cocked his head. “Lambert’s face glowed when you walked through the door the other night. The man’s definitely in love.”

  “And I’m in love with him.”

  He smiled. “He’s a very wealthy man. He’ll buy you anything, even the art studio you’ve always wanted.”

  As if money mattered. She sneered. “I haven’t agreed to our meeting for a lecture on my love life.” She tilted her head forward and lowered her voice. “Why’d you take my clothes and art supplies?”

  While swirling the contents, he stared into his coffee. “I told the movers to pack everything. They cleared the apartment in under two hours.”

  If she hadn’t stopped to see her mother, she’d have walked in and spoiled his plans. How fortunate for him. “What made you so desperate? I know damn well you don’t have creditors breathing down your neck. Why weren’t you brave enough to tell me you wanted out?”

  He shifted his gaze toward the window. “I had to make a clean break, Lauren.” He met her gaze. “No more of this small-town stuff. I wanted a bigger life, and High-Rise International gave me the opportunity to finally leave my roots.” He gulped a large amount of coffee and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I also needed a lot of cash to start a new life. I knew you’d be all right.”

  If her knuckles weren’t so damn bruised, she’d strangle him right here in the cafe. And to think we were engaged. Friggin’ fool. Her blood hot, she seethed. “Well, I wasn’t okay. You left me with rent due, no clothes to wear, and no money for either.” She wiggled her left hand’s fingers in his face. “In case you’re wondering where the engagement ring went, I sold it to pay the back rent.”

  He reached across the table to touch her hand.

  She retracted her arm and lowered both hands to her lap.

  Sighing, he tugged on his shirt collar. “Look, Lauren, I told Mr. Lambert I had heavy debts because I had to say something. Don’t spoil my chances with the company. I intend to repay every dime stolen.”

  “Commendable.” Not like she believed a word. She twiddled her thumbs under the table. “You still haven’t explained why the necessity for a clean break.”

  Shrugging, he draped an arm over the back of his chair. “You told me from the get-go about your brother inheriting the farm, but I never truly expected your parents to follow through.” He stared out the window. “In my opinion, you and your brother should have received an equal split, and then, I planned to convince you to sell your half.” Dropping his arm, he sat forward and wrapped both hands around his cup, his gaze intent on the contents. “To make matters worse, you got laid off. With Antonio’s class delaying your job search, another school year would pass before you found work.” Avoiding eye contact, he shook his head. “I couldn’t afford to wait.”

  Her muscles tightened. Dear Lord, give me strength. She narrowed her gaze. “That’s why you left, because I didn’t inherit part of the farm and lost a good-paying job?” S
he wanted to kill him or toss him into a vat of used coffee grounds so he could choke to death. How had she fallen in love with this asshole? She obviously missed all the clues—whatever the hell they were.

  Drumming all ten fingers on the cup, he glanced her way. “Don’t you see, Lauren? Your unemployment set us back a few years. I applied for this job, hoping to put us on track again.”

  She placed her palms flat on the table, nearly ready to lunge. “But we had the money for a sizable down payment on a house, yet you delayed—” Eyes wide, she gasped. “You purposely waited to see what my parents did with the farm! Jo-Jo, how could you?” Chest tight, she scraped her chair across the linoleum and stood.

  He reached for her arm but stopped. “Keep this between us, Lauren. I don’t see any purpose in telling Mr. Lambert. If I make good on all the trouble I caused, I’ve a cushy job waiting in South America. If you don’t want to stay with Lambert, come with me.”

  Staggering from his words, she clutched the chair for support. The man had a way of taking away her breath and not in a good sense either. “Are you out of your mind?” She leaned close. “I was yours, Jo-Jo, but you tossed me to the wolves.” She turned to leave then whirled back and glared. “If you’re planning on retribution, don’t forget my family. They loved you, and you hurt them as much as you hurt me.” Too hell with his self-centered attitude. She fully intended to tell Deems verbatim about this eye-opening conversation.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Lauren rushed through the coffeehouse doors as if the place was on fire. She couldn’t get the hell out fast enough. She felt smothered and desperately needed fresh air. “Come back with me,” Jo-Jo said. Of all the gall! To think she’d drop everything and pretend nothing happened.

  Growing up, he was the one boy in class who skillfully talked his way out of a situation and threw the bullshit like no tomorrow. She should have realized he’d eventually throw the crap her way. More likely, he’d been throwing her shit all along, and she wore blinders. From the beginning, his sweet-talking attitude made for a successful salesman, and he had a good career ahead—with the emphasis on had. Unfortunately, he followed her out the door. Aggh!

  Arms outstretched, he jumped ahead and walked backwards. “Lauren, please don’t go away mad. I’m doing what Mr. Lambert requested.”

  She couldn’t give a crap anymore about Jo-Jo’s future with the company. Snarling, she faced him. “I seriously doubt he wanted you and me to couple-up again.”

  “Well, no. I blurted that, because I still love you.”

  More bullshit. Do I have ‘sap’ stenciled to my forehead? While sending a quick text to Lou, she scooted around him and headed down the street. Her muscles revolted from the stress and threatened to incite an analgesic overdose. When would this friggin’ nightmare end? She glanced over her shoulder to find him following like a puppy on a leash. “Leave me alone. Do what you must to keep your job, but don’t ever call me again. We’re through, Jo-Jo.”

  Silence followed. Maybe he fell down an open manhole. When she arrived at the street corner, she looked over her shoulder, but Jo-Jo disappeared. Like a puff of smoke. Poof. Good.

  Her hands hurt. She held out her palms to see nail indentations imbedded into the skin. All she wanted was to get the hell away and return to Deems. She’d fall into his arms and tell him everything and not give a damn whether he fired Jo-Jo. She owed her ex absolutely nothing.

  Rotating her head, she scanned the busy thoroughfare. Lou wasn’t in sight yet. With traffic being so heavy, he probably circled the block just to keep moving. She stepped closer to the corner store building to wait.

  Why must her life be so complicated? Despite her dire circumstances, she thought she was doing quite well. Now, Jo-Jo re-entered to bring back all the anger and hurt. She wouldn’t trust him even if he solved world peace.

  A strong grip on her arm slammed her against the brick wall. Gasping at the roughness, she met Eric’s wild-eyed gaze. He had a black eye and a cut lip, but his snarl sounded more like an animal than a man.

  Jutting his face close, he jammed a hard object against her ribs. “I want the keys.”

  Well, his appearance just about makes my day. Pursing her lips, she squirmed against his grip. “Let go of me.”

  “Not until you give me the keys. They weren’t in the pack.”

  The keys? Why did he want her keys? The last she remembered she stuffed them into her jeans’ pocket before she answered the door. Now, where the hell were they? “I don’t have them, Eric. I’m not even sure they came home with me from the hospital.”

  His growl deepened. “I need those keys, Lauren.” He twisted his grip.

  The man was bound and determined to bruise every inch on her body. Damn him. “I can’t make them materialize out of thin air, Eric.” She tensed her muscles and yanked her arm free. Whirling, she shoved on Eric’s measly chest. “What the hell do you want? You plan on shooting me right here on the street corner?” Lou, where are you?

  Several passing people heard the tone of her voice and turned to stare. Of course, no one stopped. Heaven forbid anyone should get involved. If Eric confronted her on the streets of Arendtsville, he’d be strong-armed to the ground by a cluster of farmers.

  Shoving the gun into his jacket pocket, Eric growled close to her ear. “I need those keys, Lauren. One of them is mine.”

  “And the key unlocks your precious necklace. Yes, I know all about your heist, Eric. Every cop in the city is looking for you.” She adjusted her jacket sleeve. “Why don’t you surrender?”

  Shifting his gaze up and down the street, he jammed her against the wall. “Keep your damn voice down.”

  Like hell. Gun or not, she had her limits. Lifting her knee, she hit him dead center in the crotch. He buckled and put his face in a perfect position for another knee jerk. Swinging hard, she caught his nose, and blood spouted. Not finished yet, she clamped her hands together to form a tight fist and struck the side of his head, shattering her pinkie splint in two. Ouch. She shook her hand to ease the pain.

  Eric hit the pavement with a thud.

  Feeling like a prize fighter who just won the golden belt, she swung a foot into his rib cage. “That’s payback, Eric, for damn near killing me Saturday.”

  A crowd gathered. Cell phone cameras clicked away so she suspected she’d be on the six o’clock news. Slightly breathless, she faced them. “Is someone calling the police?”

  With a phone to her ear, one woman held up her hand.

  Before long, two patrol cars arrived followed by a silver limo. All three vehicles blocked traffic on Madison Avenue. The cops immediately cuffed Eric.

  Lou jumped out and ran toward her. “You okay, miss? I circled the block as fast as I could.”

  “I’m fine, Lou. I got him good.” She beamed at the groaning Eric. Hauling bushels of apples finally paid off.

  ****

  Deems met her at the police station, and all her fears and anger at Eric dissipated. The man’s arms were magic, and his embrace eased every tight muscle, including the sore knuckles on both hands. Medics re-splinted her pinkie and stopped Eric’s bleeding nose, but she was proud to watch Eric’s right eye swell to match his left. The man resembled a raccoon.

  She joined Baylor, Jan, Eric, and Deems in a small conference room, along with Jan’s female attorney and a male police officer who stood directly behind Eric’s chair. Deems sat by Lauren’s side, holding her hand. Jan sat opposite, biting her lip and stealing glances at Eric who paid her no mind. Baylor had his chair closest to the handcuffed Eric, who grumbled obscenities throughout.

  Opening a folder, Baylor spread papers across the table and read. “Eric Drummer, you are being charged with aggravated assault on Lauren Howell, attempted murder on the security guard, Robert Hecker, and second-degree murder of Carl Morris, the insurance investigator.” He glanced at Deems and Lauren. “Mr. Morris died three hours ago.” He leaned toward Eric. “Want to confess to the murder of Rafael Torres? All I need do is
match your DNA to the wounds on his corpse along with blood traces on your knife.”

  Eric answered with another string of obscenities.

  Obviously, the man had no desire to make Baylor’s job easier. Lauren cleared her throat. “Eric confessed to murdering Rafael to me, Detective.”

  “He wanted to cut me off,” Eric growled. “He shouldn’t have been so damn greedy.”

  Baylor grinned. “I’ll take your statement as a confession. Where’s the necklace, Drummer?”

  “I ain’t telling you nothing.”

  “The necklace is locked up,” Lauren said. “He wanted my keys.” Come to think of them… She turned to Deems and jerked back to see his fire-and-brimstone glare directed at his sister. She patted his thigh to break his focus. “My key ring was in my jeans pocket. Do you know where they are?”

  Snapping his focus onto her, Deems softened his gaze and nodded. Standing, he extracted her key ring from his trouser pocket. “For some reason, I grabbed them along with my keys before leaving for work.” He dangled the ring.

  Baylor held out his hand. “I’ll take them, Mr. Lambert.” He slammed the keys on the table in front of Eric. “Which one?”

  “I want a lawyer.” Eric snarled at Jan. “I’ll beat this wrap, honey. Don’t you worry.” He winked at the woman behind Jan. “How about lending me that pretty lawyer of yours?”

  Deems coughed into his hand. “Mrs. Carmichael works for me, Eric, and she will not take your case.”

  Frowning, Baylor motioned to the officer behind Drummer. “Lock him up and notify the public defender’s office.”

  Scraping his chair as he stood, Eric cussed all the way out the door.

  The man definitely had a limited vocabulary today. Lauren glanced at Baylor. “Well, that was fun. What now?”

  Sliding the key ring toward her, Baylor pointed. “One of the keys belongs to him. For the sake of procedure, please identify each key out loud, Ms. Howell.”

  Taking the ring, Lauren separated two keys from the others. “These belong to my parents’ house—front and rear doors. This next one is for my room over the garage. This one is for the storage shed where I keep my paintings and important papers.” Frowning, she paused to hold up the two remaining keys. “These two are identical in size and shape.” She showed them to Baylor. “One belongs to our apple warehouse. My dad recently changed the lock so the key looks as new as the other one.”