by Dale Mayer
Somewhere in the last few months, Billy’s visits had become fewer and further in between. She’d not really noticed.
“Did you two breakup a few months ago?”
“We never really had a thing to breakup. It was more a friends with benefits type of thing.”
Typical of where she was at in her life. Perl was determined to never get serious with another man.
Jazz shrugged. “Interesting. I’m sorry he’s missing or possibly dead, but tonight was horrible and I hope to never have to go through that again.”
“Well, if it’s him, I’d really like to know,” Perl said. “He meant something to me once.”
“I’m sorry, Perl,” Jazz softened her voice. There was no point in being mad at the situation and taking it out on her friends. “I’m in a shitty mood. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Good enough.”
Jazz stared down at the phone in her hand and winced. Perl’s voice was definitely clogged with tears. Shit. She quickly phoned Roxy and brought her up to speed.
“Holy shit. I leave the store early for the first time in months and all hell breaks loose.” Roxy waited a long moment then asked in a low voice, “Are you okay?”
Jazz knew what she meant. “I’m fine.”
That same thick silence filled the space between them. Damn, Roxy knew her too well. “Okay, it was tough. Seeing Morgan, the body. Damn, it was just a lot to sift through at once.”
“So take it easy and have an early night. If you’re lucky, that will be the only time you see him.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think he is going to let it go so easily. He really seemed to think that was my tattoo, and it bugged the hell out of him.”
“Of course,” Roxy said calmly. “Think about it. That tat was what…close to a year old? When did the two of you breakup? Maybe he thinks you went from him to his kid brother.”
“That’s gross,” Jazz snapped. “I’d never do that.”
“I know, honey, but that doesn’t mean Morgan does. You spent all your time in the sack with him, how well do you know him? How well did he know you?”
Gloomy and hating the memories that were trying to overtake her common sense, Jazz walked to the window and stared out into the night. “I don’t know. At the time, I swore I knew him inside and out. God, I loved him.”
“Ha. You’re still in love with him, and that isn’t good. He wasn’t there for you back then or now.”
“I know. I think the number was added to give it the air of being newer.”
“So?”
Jazz shrugged, and still in a confused state of mind, said, “Hell if I know. I’m going to pour a second glass of wine and have a hot bath.”
“Good idea. See you in the morning.”
Jazz rang off and walked through her small home. Something felt off. Wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it. Then again, it had been a shitty day. There was no reason to think her sense of wrongness had anything to do with something else after Morgan and the shit she’d been through already. She prowled around her house and couldn’t settle. She walked into the bathroom and bent to put on the taps, then straightened again. “I don’t want a damn bath.”
She stopped and groaned. She did want a bath. She didn’t want a bath right now. She didn’t feel…safe. How stupid was that? Her momma didn’t raise any fools and her daddy would have taken his belt to her for ignoring that intuitive sense of something being wrong.
The trouble was her instinct was getting worse. Making a fast decision, she grabbed her purse and keys, raced out the back door, and slammed into a broad chest.
Instinctively she went into self-defense mode. Something else her daddy drilled into her. Her knee went up and her elbow headed for this throat.
Only she was blocked at every turn before having her arms yanked back behind her. “Shh…it’s me, damn it.”
She stilled, recognizing that for all the forcefulness of the arms restraining her, she wasn’t being hurt and that voice – of course it was Morgan.
“What the hell are you doing here,” she hissed in low tones.
“What the hell are you doing running out of the house like you were being chased?” he countered in equally low tones. “Are you going to hit me again? If not, I’ll let you go.”
True enough, he let his arms fall away. She rubbed her wrists. “How long have you been here?” she asked.
“A few minutes. Why?”
“Just a sense of being watched.”
“Did you see anyone?” he said in sharp tones, all business now. He shoved her behind him and spun around, looking for an intruder. “I didn’t see anyone, but there was an uneasiness to the air.”
“Inside too. That’s why I bolted. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong and then decided I wasn’t going to stick around and wait for it to get worse.”
“Let me go in and check out the place.”
She snorted. “I already did. Whatever or whoever it was, it was out here.” She shrugged, starting to feel foolish. “I don’t know, maybe I sensed you out here.”
Instantly the air charged with heat. He slanted a look down at her. Thankfully, in the dark he couldn’t see the heat rising on her cheeks.
“We always had an extra sense between us, didn’t we?” His voice smoothed out, warmed up, and started to slide deep inside her heart, as if looking for the rest of him where she’d kept him stored.
She shuddered. “I’m not going there.” She stepped back out of range, but that deep melting voice followed her.
“Afraid?” he asked, then added in a persuasive tone, “What we had was good. Fantastic even.”
“Yeah, until one of us took off without warning,” she shot back.
“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he murmured. “It was deadly hard on me too at the time.”
She snorted in disbelief. “Really. So tough on you that you just had to get up and walk away. No explanation. No goodbye. No, hey, thanks for the great fucks, I’m outta here.”
The light was just enough that she saw him wince. Good. He should feel like shit. Any painful blow she could deal him didn’t compare to the pain she’d been through.
“I know it sounds inadequate at the moment, but I’m rethinking all that I thought I knew back then. My reasons were sound at the time,” he insisted. “At least I thought so then.”
She listened, waiting, hoping for an answer to solve the mystery of his exit, but he held back. Damn. Frustrated, she spun back to her house and walked back inside. What had happened to her nice, orderly life?
Right. Morgan had happened.
*
He should have brought it up. The moment, lost now, might have been the right time. He was still so confused himself, grief clogging his throat. He knew it was his brother there on that damn cold table. He’d nothing more to go on than instinct. They would have to wait for the DNA results to confirm. Dave had taken several pictures of Morgan’s left cheek, chortling away at the time. The conversation was still running through his mind…
“She’s a looker, Morgan.”
“Yeah, she is.”
“Bet she’s a wildcat in bed.”
Morgan had shot him a warning look, enough for Dave to realize some things were not up for discussion and his sex life and Jazz’s bedroom activities were definitely off the plate.
Dave chuckled. “Still, a girl that brands you as her own. Interesting concept.”
And not one Morgan had considered before. How many others had that witch covered with her brand? When he’d seen his brother, the anger inside damn near had him choking Billy.
Jesus Christ. He hadn’t known about their relationship. Had not realized he’d horned in on his brother’s girl. Had felt torn and like shit at the time. When Billy had begged him to back off, citing all the girls in Morgan’s life and asking him not to make Jazz yet another one, he’d hated himself.
He’d not thought of Jazz as another girl in his long history of other girls. Things had been so hot. So
damn good. He’d been a happy camper. Then he found out about his brother’s busted relationship with Jazz because of Morgan.
He’d given his brother one month to fix things or he’d be back and take Jazz away from him permanently.
“It’s not fair to have you here at the same time. She’s my girl. Always was. I don’t know that I can stand to know that she went to you instead of me, but if you leave, she’ll come back to me,” Billy had pleaded.
How stupid he’d been. Morgan thought back to that one day a long time ago. Billy had always been the best at emotional blackmail. Letting Morgan know how badly he betrayed his kid brother. How much Billy had loved Jazz and if Morgan were not there, he’d have Jazz again.
Morgan had believed him.
Particularly after the one argument. When Billy had yelled, “If you love her, then marry her. Otherwise, walk away and let me back into her life. I will marry her. I’ve loved her forever. She was mine before she was yours. So back off.”
There had been that note of desperation in his voice that had been new. That worry inside that he might do something stupid.
“One month,” he said. “I’ll give you one month, and she better be back in your bed and wearing your ring or I’m stealing her away.”
“Ha,” Billy had said bitterly, “You already did.”
He’d walked out that day, hating himself for being such an ass, knowing he couldn’t go back to her again or he’d have to tell his brother to fuck off, Jazz was his and his brother could go find someone else. He’d been looking after Billy since he was just a kid and knowing he’d unwittingly stolen his girl…yeah, he’d felt like shit. He’d walked out and desperately tried to make that okay in his mind.
Now seeing her pain, her ire, he wondered at the mindset he’d been in when doing as Billy had wanted had seemed okay.
His brother. The best at manipulation even for those who knew him well. The best at making others do what they would not normally do. His kid brother, who knew every trick in the book to bring Morgan to heel. Billy was a user, but he was Morgan’s baby brother. And he’d let Billy yank his chain for a long time. Damn if he hadn’t done it all over again with Jazz.
Morgan had returned exactly one month later. He walked into the shop ready to face whatever he needed to face; brother, lover, or ex-lover and brother. Only there had been a gathering of some kind. That wasn’t news. There was always some kind of get-together. Jazz in the middle, as always. His brother leaning over her and dropping a kiss on her cheek. Her glance upward and a beaming smile.
Morgan had walked back out of that door and out of both their lives.
Until the damn phone rang with someone asking him to identify the body. The body that held his brother’s wallet, wearing that same dragon tattoo Morgan had seen before on his brother’s butt when he’d shown it as proof to his brother of his relationship with Jazz.
Now Morgan wondered, what the hell had happened?
How many of his brother’s lies had he believed that he shouldn’t have?
Who was telling the truth? Billy?
Or Jazz, who appeared to not recognize the body of a lover and who said she’d never inked the tattoo on the dead man’s butt. For the first time in a long time, Morgan realized he might have made a mistake. A huge mistake. More than just walking away. For believing she’d been unfaithful to boot. He stared at the woman he loved more than anything—and had only realized after he walked away what a fucking huge mistake it had been. Damn his brother and the lies he’d sported as truth. One there might be no fixing – ever.
Chapter 5
Stupid. She was back inside her house, and damn if Morgan wasn’t there, too. Why? How? She didn’t want this.
She tossed her keys and purse on the table and stared at Morgan. “Why are you here?”
“We need to talk.”
“Screw that. You had your chance to talk. Not now.” She pulled her kitchen chair out and sat down, dropping her head onto her crossed arms on the table. She was too upset for this.
“I’m sorry.”
That did it. She lifted her head, ready to shriek, when something moved past her open door. He hadn’t closed it behind him.
She raced to the door and looked outside.
“Damn. What’s wrong?” Morgan asked, close on her heels. With a hand up for silence, she slid around the corner of her house. She’d no idea what she was going to do when she caught whoever was prowling around, but she needed to know who and what was going on. That sense of wrongness still had not abated. A full circle around the house and she couldn’t find what she was looking for.
“Shit. This is ridiculous. What the hell are we doing?” Morgan said in exasperation.
She shook her head. “I thought I saw someone.”
He pulled her into the halo from the light on the small porch. He studied her intently. “Seriously?”
She nodded, rubbing her arms nervously. “Been a weird day.”
He nodded, spun her around, and pushed her inside. “Inside and let’s lock up.”
She went, but more because she couldn’t figure out what to say instead. At this point, she wanted everything to go away. Her life to get back to where it was a few days ago. Before Morgan. Before the body. Before the weird evening. She ran a hand across her temple. She didn’t know what to do.
Back inside, Morgan asked, “What did you see?”
“A shadow. Or I thought I saw a shadow.” She walked over to the counter where she’d placed the bottle of wine she’d brought out earlier. She popped the cork and poured herself a second glass. As she went to place the bottle down, she warred with the idea of not offering him one. But she couldn’t do it. She reached for a second glass and filled it. Turning, she handed him one before taking hers into the small living room. Anything to put some distance between them. His presence was too big, the memories too hard.
“Have you had any problems lately?” he asked curiously. “Any reason why there’d be trouble right now?”
She shook her head. “No. Everything at the store has been great.”
“Personal life? Disgruntled lovers? Any hate mail, people who may have found you through social media?”
“No. Nothing.” Talk about a horrible concept. She lived a peaceful life, not this kind of nastiness.
“So you think the shadow tonight was what, a random person looking to see if you stored beer cans on your back porch?”
“Maybe. How do I know?” She threw her hands up in the air. “Until you phoned, it was a completely normal day. Maybe you brought out the weirdos.”
He persisted. “Any new staff? Clients who didn’t like your work?”
She glared at him. “No, and no. The only staff are Roxy, Perl, and myself. You know that. Roxy and I have worked together, been best friends for years, and Perl has worked for us for over a year now.”
“I thought I heard Billy say you had a new artist on staff?”
She stared at him. “Billy told you that?” At his nod, she shrugged. “About six months ago, we tried out a couple but they didn’t work out.” She added, “We decided to stay smaller and more exclusive than have other artists who didn’t fit in.”
“So there were problems?”
“No. Okay, maybe a few, but they were months ago.” She stood up and paced. “I interviewed two artists. Hired one. But he wouldn’t stop hitting on the customers, so I let him go. I called the second guy to give him a shot and he’d already heard that I’d hired the first guy, and he was pissed that he’d come in second place so he didn’t want the job anymore.”
She turned to study his face. “See? Like I said…it was nothing.”
“How upset was the guy you let go and what was his work like? Could he have done the dragon tattoo on the body we saw today?”
She stopped and stared. Then swallowed hard. “I have no idea. He’d have to know the design to be able to copy it and which men wore it to understand the significance.”
Morgan stared at her. “I know I’m
going to hate myself for asking this, but just how many men are sporting one of your special dragon tattoos on their ass?”
She knew what he was asking. How many lovers had she marked as hers? It never occurred to her when she started the practice a decade ago that she’d be in this position right now. If she’d known, chances were good she’d never have started.
“Not very many,” she snapped. “As for the actual number, it’s none of your damn business.”
*
He couldn’t help himself. Morgan reached over and snagged her up into his arms. “Stop sniping at me, damn it.”
He glared down at her, her eyes wide and defiant, staring back.
“I’m not the enemy,” he said, pulling her rigid body closer. “I just want to give you a hug.”
“I don’t want a hug,” she snapped, but her head rested against his chest. He’d take what he could get for the moment. They had a ton of history to get past, a dead body to get around, a missing brother to find, and themselves to sort out. He needed the last one to happen soon. He’d been lost without her. Had hated himself and his brother for what they had done. And if his brother was dead…with no chance to fix things between them…
Jazz was caught in the middle, through no fault of her own.
“This is stupid,” she muttered. But she didn’t move.
A low laugh rumbled through him. “It might be stupid, but it’s still nice.”
She shook her head, the long waves of hair clinging to his shirt. “No.”
“Not nice? Or not stupid.”
“It can’t be nice,” she muttered. “There was never nice with us before. It was all heat and cold, there was never anything in between.”
“There could be,” he said gently, calmly striving for a collected mess he didn’t feel. “We could try being friends first and lovers second.”
At that, she snorted and stepped back. “What? I have no intention of being your lover again.”
