by Sandra Owens
It had done wonders to her battered heart that Jamie would just as soon have put a bullet between Rodney’s eyes than put her though what she was about to do. If only he’d said he loved her. What if he didn’t want her when this was over?
The door swung open, and she almost bolted at the sight of her husband.
“I-I’ve come home.” The words tasted sour and vile on her tongue.
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside. The deadbolt clicked with a solid thunk, sounding like something out of a Stephen King novel. Before she could speak, he pushed her against the wall and grabbed her breasts so hard it brought tears to her eyes. He thrust his thumbs over the vee of her bra, digging them into her skin. When she tried to pull away, he wrapped hard fingers around her neck and forced her chin up.
“You wearing a wire, Hannah?”
“No. No, I’m not.” It was difficult to talk with the pressure of his hand against her throat.
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
With that, he spun her around and began a thorough frisk of her body. She tasted bile at the back of her throat from his touch on her skin. It took every ounce of her willpower not to cringe. He had to believe she had returned willingly and was prepared to stay. Seeing his face badly scratched by Junior gave her some satisfaction. She eased air out of her lungs, and did her best to stay calm.
“What are you up to, Hannah?”
Because Rodney’s mouth was inches from her ear, his hot breath crawled over her cheek. She smelled the cologne he always wore, hating the heavy sweet scent with a passion. Her face pressed to the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears burning in them. She could stand a little roughness if it meant putting an end to the nightmare named Rodney Vanders, but his closeness, his touching her, made her feel sick.
“I told you. I want to come home.”
Blunt fingers dug into her shoulders and jerked her around. “Bitch. You’re lying through your teeth, Hannah. I can always tell.”
He was right. Hannah didn’t know how to lie, especially to Rodney, and from the minute he’d opened the door, she’d been Hannah. No way Hannah could manage what needed to be done. Sugar mentally wrapped her arms around Hannah and led her away to a safe place, tucking her into a quiet corner.
Then she thought of Jamie and how strong and self-assured he was, visualized his strength and courage flowing through her veins, and thought of all the training the team had put her through. She raised her eyes to Rodney, reminding herself not to overplay her role. The last thing she needed was his suspicion . . . rather more suspicion.
“I’m not lying, Rodney, I swear. No argument I’m not the same girl who ran away, but it was a stupid thing to do. I thought . . .” she looked away. She had to do this right or he wouldn’t believe a word she said. Settling her gaze back onto him, she let her expression go shy and uncertain, and a little fearful. It was what he’d expect from Hannah.
“I thought you killed Mrs. Lederman for her money. But you killed her for me. It took me a while to realize that.” She commanded her hand to lift and cup his cheek. “You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”
Uncertainty flashed in his eyes before he hid it. Damn, she’d almost screwed up. Hannah would never have been so confident. “You don’t need to answer.” She let her hand fall from his cheek, sliding her fingers just under his throat—where she’d like nothing better than to squeeze the life out of him.
“I’m sorry, Rodney. I just . . .” She lowered her gaze, hoping he’d think she was too afraid to look at him. That was what he wanted, for her to be in fear of him. “I just forgot you knew what was best for me.”
Let him be in control, Sugar, or at least let him think he was. The cruel mouth that had abused every part of her curved into a smug smile, and she fisted her hands to keep from adding her own scratches to Junior’s.
“You forgot a lot of things, Hannah, but I’ll take great pleasure in reminding you.”
Still digging his fingers into her shoulders, he marched her into the kitchen. Dirty dishes were piled up in the sink, and burnt food was crusted on the stovetop. No surprise as Rodney considered housework beneath him.
What did surprise her was seeing her father sitting at the foot of the kitchen table, a bottle of beer in his hand, and several empty ones pushed to the side. Her knees buckled, and she grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself. How had they not considered he’d be there? The two men were drinking buddies, partners in crime, and thick as thieves.
“Daddy.” The word—one she hadn’t used in years—slipped out, and she hated how she sounded like a little girl begging for her father’s attention. Rodney pushed her down on a chair and then sat at the end of the table. He’d positioned himself so she was sandwiched between him and a father she no longer trusted.
The urge to jump up and run almost had her doing it. Instead, she gripped the seat of her chair and stayed put, stayed quiet, stayed still. They had things to say to her, and if she were lucky, it would involve the things they had done. If not, somehow, she had to lead the conversation toward admitting they had committed a murder.
“We need to know where you’ve been the last two years, and what information you shared that wasn’t anyone’s business,” Rodney said. “And I want to know where my damn money is.”
Here goes. What would Hannah do right now? A no-brainer. She’d stare a hole through the wood of the table as she struggled to answer. Sugar focused on the pine, narrowing her gaze on a darker knot of wood. If she didn’t play this just right, someone would get hurt. If it came to that, she prayed it would be her and not Jamie.
“I-I’ve been in Pensacola the whole time. I-I . . .” she lifted her eyes in embarrassment. “I don’t have any friends to tell anything to.” She glanced away, hoping her guilty expression was believable. “That’s not really true.” Returning her attention to Rodney, she shrugged in defeat. “I told Junior everything.”
“What did you tell him, Hannah?”
“What I just said, everything.” Sugar hated how he kept saying her name, like he could control her by reminding her of who she used to be. Rodney’s jaw was going to break if he clamped it any tighter. She sincerely hoped it would. A darted glance at her father to see how he’d reacted to this news didn’t give her encouragement, nor did his shuttered look warm her heart.
Rodney snaked his fingers around her throat. “Everything? Just what is everything?”
Swallowing past Rodney’s iron grip, she tried to jerk away, but his hold was firm. “I can’t talk,” she managed to gasp out, inhaling deeply when he loosened his hold. “Everything means everything. I told him how I was forced to marry you. You remember that part, right?”
One blunt finger pressed hard against her skin. “That’s not the way I remember it at all.”
Damn, she was making him mad, not a good thing to do if she wanted to get a confession out of him.
“Actually, we did force her to marry you, Chief.”
Shocked, Sugar stared at her father. He hadn’t stood up for her since the day her mother died. Oh, God, please let my watch be recording this. It would be something she’d listen to over and over. If she managed to get out of this alive. The man she’d once called daddy with affection refused to look back, instead keeping his attention on the bottle of beer he twirled on the table.
“A minor detail and long past,” her husband said.
Being forced to marry a man one hated was far from a minor detail. But her father had spoken up for her, and her heart—the one that remembered having parents who loved her—forgave him, just a little.
“I’m waiting, Hannah.”
Well, screw your waiting, Rodney, dearest. Since that wouldn’t be a wise thing to say, she lowered her chin to her chest in what she hoped he would take as defeat.
“I told Junior how you put a pillow over Mrs. Lederman’s face.”
When all five of his fingers bored their way into her neck, she commanded herself not to show how much it hurt. “’Cause that’s what you did.”
Rage flickered in his cold brown eyes, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. But the only way to get Rodney to admit to anything was to force him to lose his cool. The belief he owed no one an explanation for his actions had been ingrained in him, and the only time she had seen him lose control had been the night he’d tried to drown her. Each time he’d dragged her—coughing and spitting—out of the water, he’d yelled all the reasons she should be afraid of him, chilling her to the bones with his confession of two previous murders. There hadn’t been the slightest doubt he could kill her and get away with it.
If he was to be believed, he’d gotten away with murder three times if she included Mrs. Lederman. She had believed him then and did now. Back at K2, they had agreed that to get a confession, she had to anger him so badly that he spoke before he thought.
“You’re trying my patience, Hannah. You know what happens when you do that.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She probably knew what he was capable of better than anyone who’d survived Rodney’s displeasure. As she tried to think of the best response that would spur him on to that coveted confession, Sugar caught her father’s intent focus on her watch.
Shit. Did he realize everything said was being recorded? His blue eyes—a shade lighter than hers—lifted and for a few heartbeats she imagined she saw her daddy. The one who had once loved and protected her, but that was only wishful thinking. He’d forgotten he had a daughter long ago.
“Give her a break,” her father said, darting a quick glance at the watch again. “She came back, didn’t she? Why piss her off and send her running again? It’s just the three of us sitting here, and all of us know you did smother the old woman, Chief.”
Sugar sucked in a breath, not quite believing her ears. It was almost as if her dad did know they were being recorded and was making sure the facts were clear. It was almost like the father who’d once loved her was back. Across the span of a kitchen table, her eyes met her father’s and for a moment too soon over, she saw her beloved daddy again.
“Daddy?” she whispered.
“So I fucking killed the bitch,” Rodney said, drawing her attention, his mouth thinned into a harsh slash. “She was too old to live anyway.” He turned an enraged glare on Sugar. “This Junior person. Was that the man with you the other night?”
As much as she wanted to look back at her father to see if what she’d seen in his eyes was true and not her imagination, she kept her attention on Rodney. Wasn’t wise to turn one’s back on a venomous snake. “Why, so you can kill him, too? What, you find cats a threat now?” She snorted. “Junior’s my cat, Rodney. The one who did that to your face.”
She’d finally gone too far. She knew it the minute he grabbed her hair and yanked her out of the chair. The blood rushed to her head, the pounding in her ears so loud, she felt faint.
“Where’s the fucking money you stole from me?” he snarled, then backhanded her, knocking her to the floor.
Gray tinged her vision when her head hit the tile.
At Vanders’s words, Jamie eased down the hall. Breaking in had been easy, and now he wanted Sugar out of there. With the man’s admission, they had what they needed, and it was time to get her out of danger. Wearing soft-soled shoes, he followed the sound of their voices. His intention to slip up on them ended when the crack of a hand on skin resonated in his earpiece.
Sprinting toward the kitchen, he pressed against the wall and peered around the corner. His heart took a nosedive at the sight in front of him. Sugar was sprawled faceup on the floor, gasping for breath. Vanders stood over her, his shoe pressed down on her neck.
The only reason he’d finally agreed to allow Sugar to get the cop on tape admitting to murder was because she’d sworn the first thing Vanders did on arriving home was put his gun on his night table. But there was the unexpected problem of her father, who was still in uniform, thus still armed. That hadn’t been part of the plan.
As he’d listened to the conversation through his headset, it appeared the man was trying to help his daughter, but Jamie still didn’t trust him. He aimed the barrel of his Glock between Vanders’s eyes, ignoring the weapon aimed at him by the second cop.
“I assume you’re Jeb Conley, her father?” At the affirmative nod, he gave a grunt of disgust. “You should be ashamed of yourself for not protecting your daughter from this man. You can shoot me,” he said, then turned his gaze on Vanders, “but your chief will die first.”
Vanders pushed harder on Sugar’s throat and glared at her father. “Shoot the fucker,” he said.
Jamie kept his gaze focused on the man he wanted to kill more than anything, hoping the bastard would give him reason to. “Mr. Vanders, you have exactly two seconds to remove your foot. Less if your friend here tries something stupid.”
Vanders turned a murderous glare on Sugar’s father. “Pull the Goddamned trigger, Conley.”
Sugar, obviously still trying to inhale air, beat on Vanders’s legs.
“Time’s up,” Jamie said, lowering his gun and aiming it at Vander’s leg. As much as he longed to kill the man, he didn’t want Sugar to witness such a thing. But he had no problem putting a bullet through the wife-beating, murdering, sorry excuse of a man’s kneecap.
Suddenly, Conley swung his arm, pointing his gun at Vanders. The ear-splitting crack of a gunshot sounded a split second before a hole appeared between the police chief’s eyes.
“Jesus,” Jamie whispered as a line of dark red blood flowed down Vanders’s nose. The cop who’d forced a girl closer to childhood than adulthood to marry him crumpled to the floor as if in slow motion.
“He did tell me to pull the trigger,” Sugar’s father said, almost sounding as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.
Ignoring the distress in her father’s voice, Jamie rushed to Sugar. He slid his arm under her back and pulled her against his chest, hiding the sight of her husband, dead on the floor beside her.
“Are you all right?” Nothing. “Damnit, Sugar, talk to me.”
“You cursed.” Her chest heaved up as she took a deep breath. “Jamie, I’m so sorry.”
He’d never again be a man who cussed freely, but the damn woman just might be the only one he’d do it for. “Jesus, Sugar, why the hell are you sorry?”
Her eyes blinked up at him in confusion. “Stop saying bad words, Jamie. They just don’t sound right coming from you.” She crawled onto his lap, straddling his thighs. “I don’t know why I’m sorry,” she said, then lowered her mouth to his lips.
“Do you love her?” The gruff voice of her father penetrated Jamie’s brain.
Jamie wrapped his arms around Sugar, and with his hand at the back of her head, he pressed her face against the side of his neck. He then met the gaze of the man standing over him and nodded.
“You’ll take care of her?”
“Always.”
Conley nodded back as if satisfied, then walked toward the back door. Before leaving, he turned and looked at his daughter. “I’m sorry, Hannah, for everything.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then opened the door and stared into the dark. “You know what they do to cops in prison. I can’t . . . I can’t go to prison,” he said without looking back at them. Then he disappeared into the night.
Sugar reached a hand out. “Daddy?”
Knowing he wouldn’t get far, Jamie didn’t go after him. The team had been listening in and by then would have taken to the air. They would find the man, and soon enough, Jeb Conley would be behind bars.
The crack of a gunshot sounded, startling both of them. It was stupid of him not to realize what Conley meant when he said he couldn’t go to prison, but Jamie had been so focused on Sugar that he hadn’t thought of anything past her.
Sh
e put her hands on his shoulders and tried to push away. Shocked eyes met his, then she twisted her head toward the back door. Jamie wrapped his arms around her waist to keep her in place, his heart breaking at the tears rolling down her face.
“Daddy!”
It was the very word he’d once screamed upon realizing he’d killed his father. “Oh, baby, I know. I know.” He gently rocked her, doing his best to absorb her pain even though he knew better than anyone it was an impossible endeavor.
“Daddy,” she whispered with her mouth pressed against his neck, her hot tears burning his skin. Because he could remember as if it were just yesterday how it felt to lose a father, he cried with her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sugar. Hold on to me, sweetheart. You can’t help him now.”
Jamie’s soft voice sounded a hundred miles away. Needing to find her father, she fought the dizziness and struggled to get away. “Please, Jamie . . .” Swallowing against the hurt in her throat from Rodney’s attempt to suffocate her, she tried again. “We have to find him. I-I have to see him. Please.”
With ease, he lifted from the floor with her still wrapped around him, keeping his hand on the back of her head so her face stayed pressed to his neck. It took a few seconds before she realized he was shielding her from seeing Rodney’s body. She didn’t give a damn about her husband—dead or alive—she just needed to see her father.
He walked them to the back door and then stopped. “Are you sure, sweetheart? Maybe it’s enough to know that in the end he did right by you.”
