by Lori Foster
“Then that whacko is still running loose, because despite a lack of evidence to convict me, the world isn’t looking for anyone else to blame.”
“Well, I’m looking. And you’ll hire some PIs to look. And—”
“You’ll stay out of it, May.”
She blinked at him, startled by his ferocity, but not deterred. “You didn’t do it, so we need to find out who did.”
The greatest unease imaginable coursed through him. “There’s no we, damn it. Not in this, not in some half-baked manhunt. I mean it, May. If anyone realizes you’re poking your nose around, it could stir up new trouble.”
“I might not have to poke around.”
Icy terror gripped him. May seemed oblivious to any danger involved, just as she seemed oblivious to his insistence that she butt out.
“Let’s go over what we know.”
His hands fisted. “Let’s don’t.”
“The murder happened in the short amount of time it took for you to walk to the cola machines. That means someone had to be close by to throw the bomb. But it was late at night, the roads all but deserted, and you didn’t see anyone there at the rest stop.” She looked directly at him. “So maybe… Maybe it was someone in the car.”
Chapter 18
Water splashed when Jude jerked in disbelief. What the hell was she suggesting? Voicing pure reaction, he said, “Don’t be idiotic. Blair was unhappy, but she wouldn’t blow herself up. She wouldn’t kill an innocent driver.”
Rather than take offense at his insult, May persisted. “Did you know the driver?”
So that was her train of thought: not Blair, but Sid. He scoffed at her. “Yeah, I knew him. Not the brightest bulb around. Dumb as a rock, in fact. But a nice enough kid. He wanted in the SBC, only he sucked as a fighter. He had a glass jaw, a wide swinging punch, and no control. Didn’t matter how many times he heard the rules, Sid couldn’t remember them when he got excited.”
“Like in a fight?”
“Exactly.”
“You never fought him?”
“Hell, no. It would’ve been a massacre. In the SBC, you have to earn certain fights, and he hadn’t even come close to beating a contender in my league.”
“So he wasn’t happy.”
“He wasn’t so depressed that he’d blow himself up. Hell, he was getting his life turned around. I told him I couldn’t use my influence to get him in the SBC, but I did give him a job as my driver.”
Like a dog on a meaty bone, May jumped on that. “He asked you to influence the right people to get him fights, and instead you hired him?”
“Yeah. Sid liked the deal. He made good pay and he didn’t have to get his brains bashed in. He accepted the fact that he wasn’t cut out as a fighter.”
May mentally chewed that over before asking, “Did he know Elton?”
“How the hell should I know? Before the trial, I barely knew Elton. Some of us hung out in his clubs, and he’d sponsored a few of the guys in the SBC.”
“Sponsored them how?”
“Paid for some of their training and stuff in exchange for them wearing Tshirts and shorts that advertised his nightclubs. But after all his accusations, they cut him off. They boycotted anything that Elton touched. They stopped going to his places, and during the matches”—Jude smiled, remembering—”a few of the fighters made a point of ripping up the shirts or shorts with his logo on them. With the cameras and reporters around, that made one hell of a statement.”
May scooted closer and again cupped his face. “Jude, what if the driver didn’t know the bomb would explode on impact? What if he thought he could toss it in the backseat, and then leave the car and get away before it blew?”
“That’s an awful lot of ‘What-ifs?’ isn’t it? You’d have to assume Sid was a murderer, and that he had some grudge against Blair.”
“Not Blair, you.” She sank her teeth into that theory. “Think about it. You just said he was desperate and not too bright. He wanted to fight, and instead you made him your lackey.”
“I made him a driver,” Jude clarified. “He liked cars, and he made a hell of a lot more than he ever had as a half-ass fighter.”
“I understand the generosity behind what you did—but maybe he didn’t. Maybe someone else was able to twist things around and impress his thoughts in a negative way.”
“You mean Elton?”
She shrugged. “It’s possible. You said Sid wasn’t smart. You said the fighters hung out in Elton’s clubs. You’re certain Blair wouldn’t do such a thing, and we both know you’re innocent. That only leaves the driver.”
“Jesus.”
“It’s worth looking into.”
Jude hated to admit it, but she had a point. “I know for certain that Elton never sponsored Sid. He only picked the most visible fighters, the sure bets.”
“The crowd pleasers.”
“Yeah.” Jude’s mind churned. “I can have Denny check into it. He’d know how to ask around without alerting anyone to our suspicions.”
May grinned. “So now it is we?”
“No.” He grabbed her shoulders. “It’s me. It’s Denny. It’s professionals. You will keep your sexy little ass out of it.”
Her nose went into the air. “My ass isn’t little.”
“Your ass is perfect, and I’m not about to put it on the line. So you either give me your word that you’ll leave it to me, or it ends right here.”
Her expression went flat. “What ends?”
“This whole theory, damn it.”
“Oh.”
“What the hell did you think I meant?”
Lifting one shoulder and avoiding his gaze, she muttered, “I don’t know. Our association?”
Jude shook her—not hard, but enough to get her attention and to let his disgruntlement be known. “Our relationship, damn it.”
Her smile came and went. “Okay. You have my word—if I can have yours that you won’t give up on this, that you’ll follow every lead, that even the tiniest hint will get your undivided attention.”
“Deal.” He looked down at her breasts. “Why don’t we seal this with a—”
A voice crackled over the intercom, saying, “The bank official is here.”
“Shit.”
May giggled again, and that lightened Jude’s mood enough that he didn’t mind the interruption.
Stretching out an arm to press the intercom button, he said, “Give him coffee, Denny. We’ll be down in five.”
“Will do.”
“Hey, Denny, you alone?”
“Just me and the intercom.”
May blinked, then whispered, “He can’t hear in here, can he?”
Jude chuckled. “Not unless I push the button.” He did just that to say, “Do me a favor. Check around, discreetly, and find out if Sid knew Elton in anyway.”
For several seconds, Denny didn’t reply. “Sid, the driver who—”
“Yeah.”
“What are you thinking?”
“May has a theory, and I promised to check it out.”
“A theory, huh?” With warm sincerity, Denny said, “Damn, I knew I liked that girl. Consider it done. And Jude? Tell her I said thanks.” The intercom went dead.
Jude looked at May, naked in his tub, her skin and hair wet, her dark eyes consuming. Her smile made him feel powerful. Along with gnawing sexual awareness, he detected the warmth of her concern, her trust, and her caring.
He whispered, “Thank you,” before giving her a lingering kiss that promised things to come. “Now, wash up and get dressed so we can get this business settled. The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can show you around, then drag you back off to bed.”
May laughed. “A wonderful plan.”
———
The best laid plans, Jude thought later, as May stared into the monitor with dismay. “It’s my parents.”
Not another photographer or deliveryman, not the idle spectator? Jude’s interest quadrupled. “Really?” He joined May at the monitor. “Well, D
enny, buzz them through.”
Not minutes ago, Tim had stormed off, full of blustering annoyance over being “forced,” as he saw it, to sign the loan papers. Jude didn’t give a damn how Tim felt about it, but he knew Tim’s behavior had shamed May, and he hated that
Both he and Denny had seen enough cocky young men to take it in stride. In fact, Denny had half grinned while watching Tim put his signature on the paper and seeing it all notarized. Denny saw it as a step forward, a way to force Tim into being the man he could become, instead of the boy his relatives had allowed him to be.
Now, May’s father was here, and as she stared in horror at the monitor, Jude slipped his arm around her.
“Tim must’ve called them.”
Her tension was a live thing, practically putting her hair on end. Jude tugged on one soft, light brown lock resting against her shoulder. “Why do you say that?”
“They’re here because of the loan.”
“Maybe they’re here because their only daughter is living with a man they don’t know.”
Turning on him in amazement, May said, “I’m not living with you.”
Jude cocked a brow. She sounded aghast. “That offends you? Should I say visiting for an extended period?”
Hands to her cheeks, May whispered, “This is getting worse and worse.”
“What is?”
“Don’t say anything. Let me deal with my folks. In fact, maybe you and Denny could just go downstairs—” She tried to shoo them on their way.
Jude planted his feet. “Not on your life.”
When she looked to Denny for help, he scowled. “I ain’t budging.”
Looking like she wanted to kick them both, May grouched, “Fine. Suit yourself. Stay and suffer it all. But don’t say I didn’t offer.” Grumbling, she started around them to open the front door.
Jude shared a look with Denny. Just how bad could two parents be? Okay, so he knew they weren’t the type to win mother or father of the year. Ashley had given him enough clues for him to suspect they’d be difficult to deal with.
But he wasn’t without some expertise in that area. He’d trained with fighters who carried chips on their shoulders the size of a wrecking ball. He’d placated sponsors, and pleased announcers. He’d worked with temperamental producers and directors.
He’d gone through a grizzly trial that would have destroyed most men.
Without a doubt, he could handle two overbearing, disapproving parents.
A silver Jaguar screeched to a jarring halt at the end of the drive. Car doors slammed. Not a good sign.
Two people stepped out, a short, garish-looking woman and an overly polished man in reflective sunglasses. As if in physical pain, May groaned.
Wishing he could spare her, Jude propped his chin on the top of her head. “Relax,” he told her, “I’m good with parents.”
“Ha!”
Denny patted her shoulder. “Stop your fretting. Things’ll be just fine.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “Keep telling yourself that while you still can.”
Palpable hostility preceded her parents’ approach. Jude looked first at May’s mother and wanted to wince. Short, bloated, and with hair an unnatural shade of blond that needed touching up two months ago, she looked nothing like May. Her clothes, the total opposite of what May usually wore, looked comfortable to the point of being sloppy, as if she’d worn them for two days, even to bed. A lit cigarette hung from her lips, and she carried a traveler’s mug of something in her left hand. She squinted eyes of an indistinguishable color, as if she hadn’t seen daylight in some time. Her gaze roved over May with screaming disapproval.
Her father, on the other hand, wore well-tailored casual slacks and a designer polo shirt. Tall, lean and toned, with an air that shouted “on the make,” he couldn’t have been more opposite of his wife.
They got as far as the bottom of the porch steps—and stopped.
A strange disquiet rolled over Jude.
“Hi, Mom, Dad.” In a preposterous show of enthusiasm, May stepped farther out to greet them. The second she started to chatter, Jude realized how truly nervous the visit made her. “You just missed Tim. I think he’s coming back here, though. He said he only planned to go by the lot to check on things and to—”
“Good God,” her mother interrupted in a rusty smoker’s voice. “Where did you get that ridiculous outfit?”
Her mother’s cutting criticism obliterated any good will Jude had affected. May looked incredible, and anyone who couldn’t see that had to be blind.
“I bought it for her.” Wearing a false smile and keeping his anger in close check, he stepped in front of May. “Hello. I’m Jude Jamison.” He held out his hand.
Her father pulled off reflective sunglasses. “You’re the one trying to do some fast moves on our Tim.”
Obviously, there’d be no handshakes, so Jude switched his attention to May’s father—and went mute. Good God, he looked exactly like… Well, like May. Sort of. But more like…
Only that didn’t make any sense.
“No, sir,” Jude explained politely, while wild suppositions came together in an awful possibility. “Actually, I’m helping Tim.”
Flipping ashes onto Jude’s porch, her mother said, “Help him by bankrupting him?”
“No.” May tried a smile. “You’ve got it wrong. Jude only—”
Her mother lashed out. “I don’t want to hear from you. Do you think I wanted to come here today? Do you think I enjoy this crap? You dragged your brother into this god-awful mess and now I have to fix it.”
Denny sidled up next to Jude, saying in a low voice, “Un-fucking-believable.”
“Mother, you know that’s not true. If Tim hadn’t lost the money gambling—”
“He has an illness. The doctors told you so. When he drinks, he loses good judgment.”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Denny interjected, “Then he shouldn’t drink.”
May’s father redirected his disdain. “Who the hell are you?”
Before Jude could try to get a handle on things, May again thrust herself into the spotlight.
“Let’s start over with introductions.”
“It says a lot,” her father pointed out, “that we’ve never met either of these men, and yet you’re living with both of them.”
The suggestive slur staggered Jude.
“Visiting,” May corrected, taking the awful insult in stride.
Her mother snorted. “Whatever you call it, you’ve aligned yourself with them against your brother.”
Jesus, Jude thought. May’s parents were beyond horrible. They bordered on insane.
Smile slipping, May said, “Mom, Dad, this is Jude Jamison. He’s lived in Stillbrook for about a year or so now. He buys his artwork from me.”
“Makes one wonder why,” her mother sneered.
“I enjoy art,” Jude told her.
“You’re enjoying something, all right.”
Jude opened his mouth, but May quickly said, “And this is Denny Zip, a close friend of Jude’s.”
Denny nodded. “Not quite a pleasure, but—”
Jude elbowed him.
“Jude, Denny, this is my father, Stuart, and my mother, Olympia.” Trying to play the good hostess, May stepped aside and indicated the door. “Why don’t we all go in and get comfortable? We can discuss everything over coffee, and maybe clear up some—”
“Tim isn’t signing your goddamn papers,” her father said, “so you can just forget that.”
Jude took evil delight in saying, “He already did.” Wearing the impersonal, blank mask he’d perfected for necessary confrontations, Jude expounded on that, to make sure there’d be no misunderstandings. “The terms of repayment are spelled out. My banker notarized everything. It’s official.”
“You bastard,” her mother hissed, and she threw down the burning butt of her cigarette without regard to where it landed, or the damage it might do.
Jude stared at it, watchin
g it burn, knowing it’d leave a mark. Gasping, May started to bend to get it, but Jude caught her upper arm and held her still. He’d let the whole damn house burn down before he’d let May retrieve that butt.
“Don’t you have enough money?” Olympia continued, and with every accusatory word, she further revealed herself as a crude, uncouth, and fanatical person. That she had birthed and raised May sickened Jude. “How dare you take advantage of poor Tim that way? How greedy and conniving do you have to be?”
May had been trembling beside him, but she suddenly went rigid.
Only for her did Jude keep from lashing out. “Understand, Olympia, I don’t want your son’s money, and I don’t want to take advantage of him. He put himself in this fix. My only involvement is to assist him with buying himself out of the immediate trouble.”
Stuart laughed. “By stealing the car lot from those of us who worked damned hard to build it?”
“I neither want nor need your car lot.” Jude transferred his attention to the male half of the dreadful duo, and again, the dark eyes and similarity of features struck him. “As long as Tim repays the loan as stipulated in the contract, there won’t be a problem. I can promise you that the terms for repayment aren’t unreasonable and shouldn’t cause Tim any hardship.”
“Fancy words to mask your greed.”
“I made the loan official in the hope that paying the money back will teach Tim responsibility. If he learns from mistakes, he won’t keep making the same ones.”
“Don’t preach to me about responsibility! Just because you bought yourself a not-guilty verdict doesn’t change who and what you are.” May’s father uttered that dig with a curled lip and an expression of loathing that detracted from his GQ image. “I don’t want Tim anywhere near the likes of you.”
That gibe infuriated Jude, leaving him at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. If these people weren’t May’s parents, he’d dismiss them from his thoughts and have them thrown off his property. But he cared for May. From the beginning he’d wanted to protect her.
Now he realized she needed protection most from those who should have loved her.
“How dare you.”
Everyone started at the quiet ferocity of the words, no more than a whisper, but infused with so much anger that they cracked like a whip.
