Wilde Nights in Paradise

by Tonya Burrows

  Did she dare take the risk of loving him again?

  Really, did she even have a choice?

  She wouldn’t think about it. Not tonight. She’d just feel. Enjoy. And pretend he didn’t already hold her still-fragile heart in his hands.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Jude half-woke to the sound of his phone bzz-bzz-bzzing on the nightstand and slapped at it to shut it up. It stopped. Satisfied, he rolled toward Libby and nuzzled the back of her neck. She gave a contented sigh, but otherwise didn’t stir.

  They’d wiped each other out last night, making love until he barely had enough energy left to drag the blankets off the floor and cover them before sleep overtook him. He, for one, was one-hundred-thousand percent okay with that. He wasn’t hearing any complaints from her either, and he thought he might even be ready to do it all over again.

  Make love.

  That was exactly what they had done last night. It transcended sex and had proved more satisfying—and more exhausting—than anything else he’d ever experienced in a bed. His cock couldn’t wait for more and stood at rigid attention, prodding at the cleft of Libby’s lovely ass, ready for action as a good soldier should be. But the rest of his body was so not on board, still too physically exhausted to act on the urge. Another hour of zzzs, he told his lower half, and then all bets were off because he definitely needed to be making love to Libby again soon.

  He nuzzled his face in the long silk of her unbound hair, inhaled her scent, and drifted toward sleep with a smile—until the phone started ringing again.

  “Goddammit.” He reached for it and rubbed his eyes before checking the screen. Camden. Grumbling, he answered. “Man, you know what time it is?”

  “No idea,” Camden said and he sounded exhausted. “But listen, K-Bar’s dead.”

  Jude blinked, his mind running sluggishly, still fuzzy with sleep, and he wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “Wait, what?”

  “He’s dead. As in he’s no longer living. Decapitated and hacked into pieces dead.”

  “Okay, okay, I got it.” Wide awake now, Jude glanced over at Libby and told himself to man up as a heaviness centered in his chest. It was over. All of it, including their affair. Goddammit. “Hey, that’s great news.”

  “Not even close,” Cam said. “He’s been dead a while. At least a week, probably ever since he went missing. There’s no way he could have flown to Key West and followed you two.”

  Slowly so as not to wake Libby, Jude slid his arm out from underneath her and sat up on the edge of the bed. He kept his voice low. “What happened?”

  “We’re still trying to piece it all together, but we think Kenneth Burke killed him.”

  “GQ? Pruitt’s lawyer?” Squeezing his eyes shut, he pinched the bridge of his nose as a tension headache started to throb in the center of his forehead. “He’s called me nonstop every day. I just thought he was doing it on the Colonel’s behalf.”

  “No, Pruitt’s been dealing directly with us,” Camden said. “The lawyer shouldn’t even be involved at this point, but his credit card shows a recent one-day trip to Key West. Best guess is he saw your iguana video online and flew down there to find Libby.”

  “Does he know our cover identities?”

  “He must, otherwise he wouldn’t have found you at the boat charter place on Big Pine Key.”

  “Shit. Where is he now?”

  “We don’t know.”

  Jude groaned. “Cam, that’s not what I want to hear.”

  “Sorry,” his brother said, “but you haven’t heard the worst yet. The blue car that almost ran you and Libby over? The pregnant woman it was stolen from lives in the same apartment complex as Burke. Same floor, even.”

  So he’d known the woman was on bed rest and wouldn’t report it missing. Oh, this just kept getting better. “Did you search his place?”

  “Eva did.”

  Although Cam’s former partner with the Metropolitan PD homicide division was thorough, Jude wished his brothers had conducted the search instead. “What did she find?”

  Cam exhaled slowly. “Hundreds of paper dolls and a few pairs of what Eva assumes are Libby’s underwear.”

  A chill scraped across the back of Jude’s neck. “Jesus Christ.”

  “He has notebooks filled with letters to her and pictures of her that date back to her law school years. I don’t think she realized she was being photographed in most of them.”

  Jude reached over and shook Libby awake. She blinked up at him and started to smile, but the look on his face must have been grim because she bolted upright. “What’s wrong?”

  “You told me you dated one man during law school. Who was it?”

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion and she fumbled for her glasses. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to anything.”

  “Who?”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “It was Kenneth. But I told you the break-up was mutual and we’re still—”

  The front gate buzzer sounded. Once. Twice. Three times. Four, five, six…nine times in total.

  Libby started at the sound. “What’s that?”

  “Shit,” Jude said into the phone and shot off the bed, grabbing his weapon from the bedside table. “Cam, someone’s at the gate.”

  His brother echoed his curse. “Don’t answer it. Get Libby somewhere safe.”

  “Call me some fucking back-up.” He hung up and yanked on his basketball shorts, then he scooped Libby into his arms, bed sheet and all, and carried her into the closet. She didn’t protest like he thought she would. She merely wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he punched a code on a panel in the back wall.

  A hidden door swooshed open with a slight breeze due to the pressure-lock and he stepped into the twelve-by-twelve room that used to be a second bedroom. Now it rivaled any doomsday prepper’s bunker, which was one of the reasons he’d been so determined to keep Libby in this house. He had no doubt this room would survive a nuclear blast, and Seth kept it stocked with several years’ worth of supplies, including all kinds of weapons, some of which he probably shouldn’t legally own.

  Jude set Libby down and studied the wall of monitors that covered every inch of the house and property. Kenneth Burke stood at the gate with Colonel Pruitt directly in front of him, both of them soaked by the drizzle of rain. Pruitt looked up and down the street, then reached out and leaned on the buzzer again. Nine times.

  Short, short, short. Long, long, long. Short, short, short.

  S.O.S. in Morse code.

  Jude hit a button for the intercom. “I’m not opening the gate, Pruitt.”

  “Good. Don’t. Burke is the stalker. He tricked me into bringing him here, told me she was in danger,” Pruitt said as if giving a sitrep, and the lawyer’s eyes rounded in surprise.

  And there it was, the gun. Burke raised it to Pruitt’s temple, pressed it so hard into his flesh that the Colonel couldn’t hide his wince.

  “Then you’ll kill him,” Burke said. “Are you ready to watch him die?”

  “You won’t,” Jude said even though he didn’t believe his own words. If Burke was demented enough to decapitate K-Bar, the man would have no problem killing Pruitt. But he had to keep Burke talking just long enough for the cavalry to arrive. “Run a man over with a car? Sure, I can see that, but—”

  “That was a warning,” Burke said. “I tried telling Libby to watch out for you.”

  Watch out. The message on the windshield of her car. Jude cursed at himself. He’d been so focused on it as a threat, it never occurred to him that it might be a warning instead.

  “But then she kissed you,” Burke continued, “and I lost my mind for a moment, thought maybe I could scare you away from her.”

  “It takes more than Ford Taurus to scare me, asshole.”

  Libby came up to stand beside him and touched his arm with trembling fingers, her complexion as white as the sheet he’d wrapped her in. “W-what’s going on?”

  He tried to block the
monitors. “It’s all under control—”

  “Is that my dad?” Her hand covered a gasp. “And Kenneth?”

  “Libby,” Burke called in singsong. “I know you can hear me. Let me in, sweetheart.”

  “Kenneth?” she repeated faintly. She closed her eyes and her skin took on a sickly green cast. “Oh, God.”

  “Libby, open the gate or I’ll kill him.”

  Jude wrapped his arms around her shivering frame and pressed his lips to her temple. “Don’t listen to him. Cam’s sending help. We just have to hold him off until the police get here.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ll kill your father,” Burke said matter-of-factly. “I won’t like it, but I’ll do it and then his blood will be on your hands, sweetheart. Can you live with that? I don’t think so.”

  Libby lunged for the intercom. “Kenneth, please, don’t hurt him. We’re opening the gate now. Please, don’t hurt my daddy.”

  Jude caught her hand before she found the button for the gate’s lock. She stared up at him, her eyes huge and shining with terror behind her glasses, a plea in her gaze.

  “Jude,” she said around a sob. “He’s my father.”

  “It’s my job to keep you safe.”

  “Wouldn’t you have done anything to keep your father alive? Even if it meant risking your own life?”

  “Yes,” he said without flinching. “But I can’t let you. I—” Love you. The words caught. He’d never said those words to her or anyone else. Since his parents died, they were just too damn hard to articulate. “I can’t put you in danger.”

  She cupped his cheek in her palm and he leaned into it, pressing his hand over hers.

  “You’re not putting me in danger,” she said softly. “I am.” Before he could stop her, she slammed her free hand down on the gate release.

  Swearing, Jude spun toward the monitors. On screen, Burke nudged Pruitt through the gate with the gun’s muzzle. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He grasped Libby by the shoulders. “You need to stay here in this room no matter what, you understand? You get my cell phone out of the bedroom, then stay in here and call the police. I’ll stall him as long as I can.”

  “My dad—”

  “Is well-trained. He can handle himself.” He kissed her hard. “If you leave this room you’ll just give Burke what he wants—an extra target.”

  She nodded and swallowed hard. “I’ll stay. I promise.”

  Somehow, he doubted that. He pulled her in for another quick kiss, silently pleading with her to keep that promise.

  She caught his hand before he turned away and motioned to the glass-fronted gunroom that, he remembered, used to be a walk-in closet. “You should take a gun.”

  He shook his head, offered a reassuring smile. A weapon would only exacerbate the problem, and he knew other ways to kill besides with a gun. “I’ll be fine.” He winked. “Trust me, I’ve done this before.”

  She laughed, but it came out more like a sob. “If you get killed, I’m going to be very pissed off.”

  “Babe, c’mon, give me some credit here. I wouldn’t dare deny you the pleasure of killing me yourself.”

  This time, when she laughed, it sounded more authentic. “It’s amazing you’ve lived this long.”

  “So Camden always tells me.” He paused in the doorway, glanced back. There she stood wrapped in a sheet, her hair falling a tangled mess around her shoulders, her glasses slightly askew. His heart squeezed so hard it hurt. “Now go get my phone and some clothes and lock yourself in this room. Tell the cops what’s happening and give them the gate code. This will all be over soon.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply, but hurried out through the bedroom, careful to shut the door behind him. He emerged into the living room as the front door opened and Pruitt stepped in, followed closely by Burke with the gun still pressed against the Colonel’s back.

  Kenneth fucking Burke.

  Shit, he really hadn’t seen this coming. He’d pegged the guy as a pretentious yuppie, but hadn’t thought him capable of stalking and murder.

  At least the Colonel appeared calm, despite the handcuffs now circling his wrists, a nasty black eye, split lip, and a cut on his forehead.

  “Where is she?” Burke demanded. His gaze darted from one corner of the room to the other. “Where is Libby?”

  “She’s safe. Tucked away in a place you’ll never find her.” Hands raised in front of him, Jude eased forward.

  “Stop!” Burke swung the gun toward him, toward Pruitt, then back to him again. Unsure of who was the bigger threat. Good.

  Jude slid another step closer. “You might as well put the gun down. I called the cops. They’ll be here any minute.”

  “Then I have to make this fast.” He pressed the gun to Pruitt’s head again. “Take me to Libby.”

  “You’re not going to get away.” Another step. “We’ve seen you. We know who you are.”

  “So you’ll have to kill each other. There’s so much bad blood between the pair of you, nobody will doubt that. Especially not after I tell them what happened eight years ago. By the time the police are through, they’ll uncover every bit of that nastiness. I’ll tell them I tried to stop you, but Elliot attacked you because he was so enraged that you had your disgusting hands all over his daughter.” His voice lifted to a near screech on the words. Yeah, it wasn’t Pruitt who was pissed off about their relationship. Or at least not at the moment—the Colonel would definitely have something to say about it later. Right now, Burke was the threat and maybe he could use that anger to his advantage.

  “If you know about that, then you know I couldn’t care less if you killed the Colonel right now.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement and prayed it was only the cat. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor.”

  Pruitt’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed, promising hell to pay later. Jude ignored it.

  “Libby will never go with you,” he continued, hoping the lawyer would try something stupid in a fit of rage. “Not after you kill the two men she loves.”

  Burke vibrated with fury. “She loves me!”

  Shit, that was no cat slinking around the edge of the room.

  Cursing inwardly, Jude forced himself not to look at her and caught the Colonel’s gaze. If they were going to make a move, it had to be now. Pruitt nodded. He was ready.

  They acted simultaneously, like as well rehearsed dance. Pruitt looped his arms over Burke’s head and pulled the chain of the handcuffs tight across his throat. Jude swept out with a leg and took his knees out with a kick. He sagged, but only for a second. Whatever malfunction in his head made him think that Libby loved him had apparently also immunized him to pain, and the lack of oxygen from the handcuff chain only whipped him into a frenzy.

  Jude leapt forward to help contain the guy. An elbow jabbed his ribs. A sneaker glanced off his thigh and dug into the vulnerable spot between his legs. Fuck! Pain shoved his stomach into his throat and he doubled over.

  Burke lifted the gun and fired wildly. The bullet ricocheted off a ceiling fan and splintered the wood. The kickback sent his arm flailing and knocked the Colonel off balance. Together they bounced off the back of the couch, crashed into the dining table. Chairs fell, the sturdy table skidded across the tile, and they both slammed into the floor with enough force to stun the breath out of anyone’s lungs. Pruitt went limp for a moment, long enough that Burke squirmed his way out of the fight. He stood, limping, and, gun still in hand, raised it to Jude’s head.

  Jude threw his weight forward and hit the floor flat on his stomach as the gun fired. Something glass shattered, raining water and shards over his head. A body thumped down beside him and for one horrible moment, he thought, Libby.

  But he opened his eyes and Burke lay next him, unconscious, a stream of blood flowing steadily from a cut in his temple. Libby stepped over Burke and kicked the gun away from his hand.

  “Handcuffs,” Pruitt groaned, still flat on his back several feet away. “Key’s in his pocket. Get these off me and on him.�
��

  Libby knelt to go through the unconscious man’s pockets and spared Jude a quick, worried glance. “Did he shoot you?”

  Jude lifted himself to his hands and knees, shook away the cobwebs in his mind and ran through a mental checklist. He hurt, but in a general, not-moving-for-a-week kind of way, the pain originating from nowhere specific. Even the nausea from the ball busting was starting to fade.

  “Nah. I’m good.” He sat up on his knees and surveyed the scene as she unhooked the cuffs from her father’s wrists and snapped them around Burke’s like an old pro. Slivers of glass sparkled in puddles of water on the tile floor. “What the fuck did you hit him with?”

  “A vase.”

  Pruitt stared at her in horror. “A what?”

  Jude laughed and pain spiked through his ribs. A vase. After all that, a fucking vase ended it. It was almost too funny—but then it wasn’t, because something colorful lay limp under Burke’s head, a splash of pink that didn’t belong.

  Holding his breath, he reached out and extracted a flower from under Burke’s cheek.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “You kept it.”

  “What?” Libby stopped worrying over her father and followed Jude’s gaze to the limp flower he held between his fingers. “Oh. So now you notice.”

  “You even put it in a vase,” Jude said in amazement. He lifted his head and stared at her. “You kept it.”

  That expression. God, she wished she had a camera because the mix of surprise and excitement on his face was picture worthy.

  “I couldn’t throw it away,” she admitted and let her heart go all soft and melty at his smile, which started as a slow upward tilt of his lips and blossomed into a grin as beautiful as the flower had once been.

  “You couldn’t throw it away,” he said as if savoring each word, then gave a whoop. Ignoring the glass on the floor, he leapt to his feet, closed the distance between them, and scooped her up into his arms. The kiss was soft but persistent and she wound her arms around his neck, held on to him with everything she had as outside, police sirens screamed to a stop in front of the house.