Delicious Torment

by Linsey Lanier

  “It happened so fast. My heart broke the moment I saw him crumple to the floor. What had I done?” She gasped as she put a hand to her mouth. “I left the loft and drove home in a panic. But on the way, I thought of the party you gave last weekend. You were so stunning, so handsome. Just as you had been in high school. And then I realized the truth. It wasn’t Ferraro I truly loved. It was you, Wade. I’ve always loved you.”

  “Delta.”

  “But you refused me, too. Just like Ferraro did.”

  The woman was crazy. A raving lunatic. Miranda peered over the handrail. Parker looked like he wanted to strangle her on the spot. But he kept calm.

  “Delta,” he said. “I never knew you had such courage.” He took another step toward her.

  She lifted the gun. “Get back.”

  “If I had known what you were really like—”

  “Are you saying you’re changing your mind about me? About us?”

  “I’ve never seen you like this.”

  Man, that was a good act. Could Parker pull off the deception? Too easy.

  “Do you really think I’m so stupid as to believe you, Wade? You’ve had your chance.”

  “Give me another.”

  “Oh, no. Now it’s my turn to refuse you.”

  “You can’t refuse me, Delta. Put that gun down.”

  Good try, Parker, but this bitch was too insane to charm.

  “Stay back, I said. I’ve thought it all out. I’ll say you came out here looking for evidence. I thought you were a prowler. You tried to take my gun before I could recognize you.” Without taking her eyes off Parker, she moved to the wall and grabbed a riding crop. She waved it ominously. “And then the horse spooked. It was an accident. A dreadful, horrible accident.”

  “Three accidents in a row? The police will see through that, Delta.”

  Her stomach in a vice, Miranda stooped to shut off the recorder. The cops Chambers was sending would find it here. Slowly, she rose, grasped the handrail with both hands, and swung a leg over it.

  “You know the connections my father has. Besides, it doesn’t matter what happens to me. What matters is that those who hurt me are punished.” Delta gave the whip a snap.

  Calypso whinnied, began to prance on his forefeet.

  Medea, Miranda thought. Usher had hit the nail on the head. She watched Delta maneuver herself within shooting distance. There was only one way to stop her.

  She swung the other leg over and held tight to the rough boards. She shook a little as she steadied her heels on the ledge.

  “Delta, think what you’re doing.”

  “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  Miranda’s breath hitched. Don’t lose your nerve now. Hell, she’d worked on skyscrapers in New York. But she’d had a vest to protect her from falling then. She looked down. The loft was low, only about eight or nine feet high. There was lots of nice, soft hay on the floor to land on. Several bales were stacked up just beside Delta. She’d hit them dead on, if she got the angle right…

  “I’ll miss you, Wade. It could have been so beautiful for us. I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my delicious torment. But this is goodbye.” She raised the pistol.

  “Like hell it is,” Miranda yelled.

  Delta glared up at her just as she let go of the railing. She sailed through the air like Superman without his cape. Downward. Fast.

  Her aim was good. She landed right on top of the bitch. She grabbed at her arm, trying for the gun. They hit the floor. Miranda heard Calypso neighing with nerves. Delta twisted. Her arm curled under her.

  “No.” The shot exploded in Miranda’s head as pain shot through her legs, her arms. Beneath her, the woman was still.

  She lay stunned for a second, then heard the horse’s frenzied cry. She looked up and saw the hooves coming straight for her head.

  Roll. She rocked, swiveled herself away just before Calypso’s deadly hooves came down. They landed with a sickening thud on top Delta’s body. Once, twice, three times, battering it like a limp rag doll. Then the stallion reared up again, came down on the hay, and bolted out the open door.

  Her head spinning, Miranda grabbed her arm. It felt like it was on fire. The bullet must have gone straight through Delta’s body and into her. With all the strength she had, shakily she got to her feet.

  She looked down. Her forearm was soaked in blood. She strained her head to the side, despite the pain. There was a hole in the side of the stall.

  She spun back around. Parker. Where was Parker?

  She saw him fall to his knees in the corner. My God, what had that bitch given him?

  Her whole body aching, her arm blazing, she rushed over to him. She reached him just as he tumbled over.

  “Parker,” she screamed. Sirens blared in the distance. At last, Chambers had come through. Thank God.

  She ran her hands over his face. Was he breathing? Frantically, she knelt beside him, pulled his mouth open, pinched his nose with her fingers and blew into him.

  Slowly, she told herself. It was hard to control her own quivering breath, but she had to. She couldn’t lose him. She couldn’t let him die.

  On the third breath, he sucked in air, pulled away. He opened his eyes groggily. Did he even recognize her?

  Then he smiled that gorgeous sexy smile of his. “My guardian angel,” he said. And pulled her to him in a bold, hard kiss.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Miranda pulled her old blue Lumina into the long drive of the Parker mansion and turned off the engine. She sat there awhile, watching two blue jays hop along the lawn, squawking and poking the ground together.

  It had been four days since the shooting. Her forearm had a bandage and still ached from the bullet that had grazed the inside of it. They’d kept her in the ER for twenty-four-hour observation, but the shot hadn’t done any nerve damage. There’d be a scar, of course. But it went well with the ones on her chest. Battle wounds.

  The ambulance and local police had arrived just after Parker came to. Chambers had been with them and took charge. EMTs took Parker away, pumped his stomach, treated him for an oxycodone overdose. They’d put her in a different ambulance.

  They’d also pronounced Delta Langford dead.

  There was the usual lengthy police questioning. She had explained what happened and told them where she’d left her recorder. They’d found Parker’s in his pocket still running. When they played them both, there wasn’t much left to do except write up the paperwork.

  And bury the dead.

  Delta Langford had been a pitiful case. Neglected by her father, scorned by the men she fell for, she was desperate for anyone to love her. Miranda would have felt sorry for her…if she hadn’t killed her sister. Or tried to murder Parker. Or been responsible for what happened to Laura Turner.

  She hadn’t called Parker in the hospital, but she learned they’d released him yesterday. Now that he was home, she’d said goodbye to Fanuzzi and come here to pick up the rest of her things. It was time to be off.

  Nothing had changed between them. She knew better than to trust that big juicy kiss he’d planted on her on the floor of the barn at Aquitaine Farms. The man had been delirious.

  But she hoped to tell him about her plans to become a private investigator. He’d done so much for her, after all. He’d given her a start in the business.

  She gazed at the big, beautiful house. Good memories here. She’d carry them with her.

  Might as well get it over. Taking a deep breath, she opened the car door.

  * * *

  When there was no answer at the big front door, she used her key and went inside.

  “Parker?” Miranda called out, stepping into the big, echoing foyer.

  There was no answer.

  Well, she wasn’t going to hunt him down. She’d just pack and go. She started up the carved mahogany staircase, heading for the master bedroom. If she didn’t see him again, it would make things that much easier.

  Still, the thought of
being in the bedroom where they’d slept together made nerves dance in her stomach. But it had to be done. Hoping he wasn’t asleep up there, she hurried down the hall.

  “Parker?” she said again, stepping through the open door.

  Still nothing.

  He wasn’t in one of the lounge chairs, or at the bar, in the walk-in closet, the bathroom or the bed.

  To hell with it. She marched to the closet and started pulling out the boxes she’d stored there. First load. She lifted two and took them down to her car.

  When she came back up, she grabbed her spare duffle bag and put it on the bed. She pulled open a dresser drawer. She’d left a lot of stuff here when she’d gone before. She’d been too angry to be methodical. And she’d accumulated more than she usually carried since she’d gone to work for Parker. Maybe she’d leave some of it.

  She folded some underwear and T-shirts and laid them in the bag. She turned around, ready to tackle the next drawer…and saw Parker standing in the doorway.

  “Hello, Miranda.”

  She stared at him. He was handsome as ever. Alive as ever. Strong, well groomed, not a hair out of place.

  But something wasn’t right. He was dressed in jeans and a light blue short-sleeved knit shirt that set off the steel of his eyes. It was open at the neck, showing off the beginning of his delicious chest. She’d never seen him dressed casually before. He’d always been either in a suit or naked. For some reason, his clothes made her uncomfortable.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “You didn’t,” she lied and gestured toward the bag. “I just came by for the rest of my things.”

  “I see that.”

  “Hope this isn’t a bad time. Maybe I should have called.” Her heart was full, melting at the heat he radiated just standing there.

  “No need. I believe your name is still on the lease.”

  She smiled sadly. She would swing by Mr. P’s office after she’d packed and cancel her agreement.

  He folded his arms and leaned on the doorpost. “Do you intend to leave town?”

  Opening another drawer, she nodded. “I’m better now. It’s time I started looking for Amy again.” She looked up at him as she gathered her socks, raised her chin. “I’m going someplace where I can become a real detective.” She turned back to the bag.

  His voice came low and strong. “But you are a real detective.”

  Her heart leapt at his words, but she couldn’t imagine what he meant after the things he’d said to her. “I’m going to a state where the licensing requirements aren’t so stringent. Someplace like Idaho or Wyoming.”

  He stepped toward the end of the bed, stared down at her bag. “Are there many high-profile murder cases in Wyoming?”

  Bristling, she put a hand on her hip. “If there are, I’ll find them and solve them.”

  He nodded, scratched his handsome chin. “You might have to do some background checks to make ends meet.”

  She brushed past him as she went for her jeans in the next drawer. “Uh huh.”

  “And then there’s the clerical work of running your own office.”

  She stood up and exhaled loudly. “I’ll do what I have to. At least I’ll be calling the shots.”

  “Something you’re good at.”

  Now he was starting to annoy her. She went to the bed, stuffed the stack of jeans into the duffle bag. Instead of a smart-ass reply, she decided to be civil. After all, she’d be a business owner soon.

  “Parker, I want to thank you for getting me started on this career.” She had wanted to sound warm and sincere, but the words came out stiff. She picked up one of the shirts she’d laid out on the bed and folded it. “I’ve come to realize it’s in my blood. Something I was born to do. I’ve never felt that way before.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Are you?”

  He was quiet.

  She put the shirt in the duffle and turned around.

  He stared at her a long moment, studying her. She couldn’t read his face.

  “Oh. I almost forgot.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out his mother’s ring. “I need to give you this back.”

  Pain colored his expression, stinging her with guilt. “Keep it,” he said in almost a whisper.

  She scoffed. “I can’t do that.” She held it out to him.

  He refused to open his hand. She laid it on the dresser. “Here.”

  She reached for the next drawer. His hand stopped her. “Don’t.”

  She looked up at him. “What?”

  Parker’s jaw clenched tight as he studied her. Those sharp blue eyes, that wild dark hair that matched her wild spirit. He had almost lost her twice, three times, depending on how you counted it. He wasn’t about to let her walk out of his life now. But it wouldn’t be easy to change her stubborn mind. “You don’t need to pack the rest of your things,” he said darkly. “I’ll have them sent to you.”

  Miranda stared at him. Was this a way to get her address? But he could get it anyway. Maybe he just wanted her out of here. “You don’t have to—”

  “If you’re resuming your search for Amy, I have something that might help.”

  She frowned at him, confused.

  “Come downstairs. I’ll show you.” He pointed toward the bed. “Oh, and bring that bag along. You’ll need it.”

  What kind of game was this? She stepped to the bed, zipped the bag and slung it over her shoulders. He was in an awful hurry to get rid of her, wasn’t he? Her heart sank as she followed him through the hall and down the staircase. Maybe she shouldn’t have lost her temper the other day, but God, he could be such a hardass.

  It didn’t matter, anyway. He’d obviously come to the same conclusion she had. That it would never work between them, no matter how much they wanted it to. There was no use to argue about it. It was high time to say good-bye.

  She followed him out to the kitchen. He opened the door to the garage for her as they reached the far end.

  “So what are you sending me off with, Parker?” She couldn’t imagine what he’d been talking about upstairs. Or what he could have that would help her find Amy.

  Then he switched on the light. She stopped dead in her tracks and sucked in her breath.

  Two shiny new Touring motorcycles sat next to Parker’s Mazda. One blue. One red. Matching helmets hung from the handlebars. Stunned, she eyed the bat-wing fairing, the fancy windshield for wind and rain protection, the cast aluminum wheels, the gleaming exhaust pipes. They were absolutely gorgeous.

  “I bought them the day after your party. They’ve been sitting here waiting for you to open the garage door.”

  She turned to him, dumbfounded. “Are you saying I can use one of these to search for Amy?”

  “Mobility is always an asset, when the weather is good. Of course, you’d have to get a trailer for your Lumina.”

  She scratched her head. Seemed like a stretch. How would a cycle help her search for Amy? Might attract some kids.

  He nodded toward the red bike. “There’s room for some of your things in the saddlebag.” He pointed to the compartment under the seat as he strolled over to the blue one, slung a leg over it, started it up.

  The purr of the motor gave her goose bumps. He reached for the remote and opened the garage door. With a grumble from the engine, he shoved off and took a turn around the drive.

  Damn, if Parker couldn’t ride a cycle.

  When he came back, he eased the bike inside the garage again and studied her as he turned off the motor. “I’ve been rethinking our last discussion.”

  Discussion? The one they had the day she stormed out? She folded her arms. “Oh?”

  He inhaled slowly. “I’ve decided you had a point. My position at the time was more personal than professional.”

  Her mouth opened. What was he saying?

  “This business of ours can be a dangerous one. Risk comes with the territory. If I don’t give you your head in some situations, you’ll never be complete.
You’ll never realize your full potential. You’ll never become a ‘real’ detective, as you call it. With your strength, your intuition, your desire, that would be a terrible waste.”

  Her knees went weak beneath her. Did he mean it?

  “Besides, since that bold, brash spirit of yours saved my life the other day—for the second time, I might add—I’ve come to the conclusion that it might not be wise to suppress it.”

  She laughed softly, her heart filling with warmth. “Guess we are two for one.”

  “We are,” he conceded. Then she saw a flicker of that wry grin. “So here’s the way I see it. If you really want to open your own office, you can take that bike and go off to Wyoming. Or, once you finish your training at the Agency, you can study for licensing exams. The Agency has many resources to help you.”

  Her mouth dropped open again. Stay at the Agency and get licensed, too? If he was going to be reasonable, maybe she could stick around until graduation. The Parker Agency’s training was top notch.

  “And after that?” she asked cautiously. Did he still intend to keep her chained to a desk doing background checks?

  His eyes sparkled with that familiar admiration. “We’ll see what comes along. You’ve proven the Taggart case wasn’t a fluke. And that you’re too good to sit in an office. In fact, Erskine said what you did at Aquitaine Farms was amazing.”

  She swallowed hard. “‘Amazing?’ Erskine said that about me?”

  “He did.” Parker’s brows knitted in a handsome, deliciously amused expression. “He also said I was damn lucky to have someone like you on my staff to save my ass.” His heartfelt chuckle warmed her.

  She laughed out loud at the thought of the brusque Lieutenant saying that to Parker. “Well, it’s a very nice ass.”

  “Thank you. And I’d prefer to keep it. Oh, and your new-found friend, Officer Chambers, has been promoted to assistant detective.”

  “Really? Cool.”

  “It was very smart of you to solicit his help.”

  She turned her head away, trying to hide the blush at his barrage of compliments. If she was supposed to be so bold, why was she shaking? “What about looking for Amy?”

  He sighed as his expression grew sober. “You know I’ve been trying to find her since you told me about her, don’t you?”