Three Southern Beaches: A Summer Beach Read Box Set

by Kathleen Brooks

  He reached down at his feet where a newspaper rested. He picked it up, unfolded it and then held it out to her. “A woman was killed in Katyville. Sheriff Wilson already told me that the police are suspicious it wasn’t completely an accident.”

  Reese glanced down at the picture of a woman.

  “What does this have to do with me?”

  “She’s blond, Reese. And she was driving a purple Volkswagen.”

  “You think . . .” An innocent person died because they thought she was her? She couldn’t say it. Could barely think it.

  “Yeah, I do,” he said, as if by only reading her expression, he’d read her mind. “The other two witnesses in the case are dead probably by a hired assassin. Ricky was supposed to be dead. Please don’t fight me on this, okay?”

  Oh, Reese wanted to fight, but she wasn’t stupid. She had zero experience dealing with people who went around killing people for a living. And she was certain her outdated, keychain-size can of pepper spray wouldn’t do her much good.

  “Fine. I’m done fighting.”

  Chapter Five

  Relief washed over Turner with the same intensity as the waves he heard crashing on the beach in the distance.

  Then he saw the tears that she’d blinked away just a few seconds earlier come back. One slipped out and she quickly wiped it off her cheek. He clutched his hands tighter to fight the desire to move next to her and pull her against him.

  “What do we do?” she asked again.

  “I’m still trying to decide if we should get in my car and take off, or—”

  “And leave my car? How am I going to get around?”

  Since he didn’t plan on letting her out of his sight until either the trial was over, or the creep hired to do the job had been done in or captured, she could count on him to get her anywhere she needed to go. But he suspected she’d frown on hearing that.

  “I’m not too crazy about the idea of leaving right now, anyway,” he said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but there’s only one bridge to and from the island.” He studied her, the way she nipped at her bottom lip as if nervous.

  “Frank said we could stay here for a few days.” He sat back. “Did you know he’s ex-FBI?”

  “No,” she said.

  “You make good friends,” he said and smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.

  His gut told him she might have agreed to work with him on getting her out of this alive, but that was all she was planning on giving him.

  His gut also told him that he wasn’t above using every second he had with her to try and change her mind.

  The French doors leading outside pushed open onto the patio. Frank, who now wore a clean shirt, poked his head out. “Casey is here. She brought us some lunch.” His gaze went to Turner. “And your phone rang a few minutes ago.” The older man backed out of the door.

  Reese stood up to go inside, he rose to follow her. She got almost through the door, then swung around and plowed right into him.

  The softness of her breasts came against his upper abs. He caught her by her shoulders, dropped his head down, and got a quick inhale of her berry shampoo and . . . bacon? Probably from working at the diner.

  He’d missed that smell. Her shampoo, not the bacon. Not that he didn’t like bacon. But she was better than bacon.

  Her hands came against his chest. Her touch sent an electric current of emotion right to his heart. She must have felt it too, because she almost jumped back as if shocked. He dropped his hands from her shoulders, but it took effort, when all he wanted to do was pull her against him, lean his head down and taste her sweet lips.

  “What about Ricky?” she said, a little breathless, her eyes widened with concern and love. “Is someone watching him? And Granny? What if this freak tries to get to her? Nothing can happen to her.”

  Right then, it hit him that what was important in life, was having someone care that much about you. “They have a guard watching Ricky. Your grandmother isn’t a witness, so she should be safe, but if you’d like I can have someone keep an eye on her for a day or so.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  It was one word. One word of appreciation. It probably didn’t mean shit, but he decided to take it as a good sign.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Then, as if uncomfortable being this close to him, she turned and hightailed it inside.

  * * *

  Reese busied herself helping Frank warm up the food Casey had brought. One word: Thanks. People said it all the time, it shouldn’t mean anything, but giving him just that much was all it took for her heart to start wanting, and a little voice inside her saying things could be different. Why the hell would she think it was different now?

  I’d give anything if you could find it in your heart to forgive me.

  Did she forgive him? Hadn’t she accepted that Ricky had brought on most his own problems? That, however, didn’t change how betrayed she’d felt.

  The lies.

  Or did she believe him? Believe everything he’d told her during those two months had been the truth? A part of her did.

  But wasn’t that the same part of her that had originally believed him? Wasn’t that the same part of her that had loved Jacob with all her soul, thinking nothing could happen? But something could always happen. A freaking aneurysm could happen.

  And wasn’t it with the same blind faith that she thought her parents would always be there? Look how that had worked out.

  How many times was she going to allow herself to love someone only to lose them? To pay the ultimate price.

  “You okay?” Frank asked her as he handed her some bowls to set the table.

  “As good as I can be, I guess.” She stood there and suddenly this whole thing, being at Frank’s, seemed bizarre. “Why are you doing this? Helping me. Giving me a place to stay. You don’t even know me.”

  He chuckled. “What’s wrong? You questioning if your dirty ol’ geezer alarm is working?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Setting the bowls on the counter, she looked toward the dining room and then back at him. “No. You’re not interested in me. I saw the way you were checking Casey out when I came in a few minutes ago.”

  “You saw that, huh?” he whispered, and frowned, glancing at the walkway into the dining room. “I guess I should work on that.”

  “Seriously, why are you doing this? Why are you letting me stay here?”

  He pulled down some glasses from a cabinet and set them on the counter. “Seems like the right thing to do.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I figure I owe you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  He sighed and looked uncomfortable with what he was about to say. “You woke me up, Girlie.”

  “I woke you up?”

  “You made me smile. Do you know how long it’s been since I smiled?”

  She swallowed a tightness in her throat. “Casey told me you lost your wife.”

  “Yeah, fourteen months ago. We’d been married forty years. Good years, too.” He looked around. “She loved this house.” He grinned sadly and looked at the counter where a green turtle-shaped canister set lined the wall. “She loved turtles. I never did care for them.” He pointed toward the opening that led to the living room. “See that rock on the bar? Do you know what that is?”

  She shook her head.

  “That’s coprolite. Ever heard of that?”

  Before she could answer, he continued, “Dinosaur poop. I’ve got six of those things.” He took a deep breath. “I loved that woman so much, I let her fill the house full of turtles and prehistoric shit. Why? Because it made her happy. And if she was happy, I was happy.”

  “It’s hard,” Reese said. “Losing people.”

  “Yeah, and since she died, I’ve been going through the motions of being alive. But I was just as dead as she was. Then you poured me a cup of coffee and made me smile. I hadn’t even realized I hadn’t smiled. I hadn’t realized I’d been checking ou
t Casey either, until you said it. Not that it’s all that strange. She kind of reminds me of my Bessie. And you kind of remind me of a younger version of both of them, too.”

  He leaned against the counter and seemed to go inside his head for a second. “She was a pistol. Kept me on my toes, that woman.”

  “She sounds like a neat person,” Reese said.

  “Yeah, she was. But we can’t crawl into the grave with them, can we?”

  Reese swallowed. “Maybe if it’s a nice grave,” she said and tried to make light of the comment. She wasn’t crawling into a grave, but she wasn’t so sure she was ready to trust love, either.

  Allowing yourself to care for someone was starting to feel like playing Russian roulette with your heart.

  * * *

  “Where the hell are you?” Danny, Turner’s friend, another cop at the Glencoe police, answered his phone on the first ring.

  “Why?” Turner asked.

  “It’s Sunday. One o’clock. You were supposed to meet us to play ball.”

  “Shit.” Turner ran a hard palm over his face. He’d forgotten all about meeting them. “I’m sorry, something came up.”

  “What came up?” Danny asked. “Does it have anything to do with you calling Luke to check with the warden about that kid, Ricky Morris? Or should I ask if it has anything to do with Ricky’s hot sister?”

  Friggin’ hell! Turned didn’t want to have this conversation. He knew he should have never told them a damn thing about Reese. The fact that he’d told them very little, and they’d simply looked at him and figured it out, made it all that more disturbing.

  “Look, I’ll call you in a few days.”

  “Whoa. A few days? So, you’re not playing ball today?”

  “No.”

  “This is about her, isn’t it?”

  When Turner didn’t answer, Danny asked, “Are you with her now?”

  He gazed back to the French doors. She was inside. He was out.

  “No.” He saw the way Reese spoke with the Casey and Frank. They barely knew her but these two were shining examples of the friendliness of the deep south. When they weren’t holding him at gunpoint.

  “You lying bastard,’ Danny said. “You are with her. I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Look, Danny, now’s not the time to—”

  “No, you look, we’ve got a deal, you, me, and Cary. And my word’s good. So if you don’t want the shit beaten out of you, don’t you go start getting serious about some chick. Remember the rule, give ‘em a good time in bed, then give ‘em goodbye.”

  They called it the No Ball and Chain Gang. After all three of them had gotten divorced in a matter of six months, they decided to form a club like three of their other buddy’s wives did. The Divorced, Desperate and Delicious club hadn’t worked out so well for those three. They all had remarried now, but that wasn’t the point. The point was they had each other’s back. They promised to make sure none of them ever let a woman get close again, and if they accidentally slipped up, they’d rescue each other—no matter what the cost.

  But right now, Turner didn’t want to be rescued.

  “Just stay out of this.”

  “Where are you? Cary and I will come pick you up.” He paused. “Have you been seeing her all this time?”

  “No,” he answered truthfully.

  “Where are you?” Danny asked. “We’re coming and getting your ass before you tell her you love her or something.”

  “That’s going to be hard.”

  “Shit, you already told her you love her?”

  “No, I haven’t told her anything.” But he’d practically admitted it to himself, hadn’t he? Not that he was anywhere near ready to admit it to anyone else.

  “Then tell me where your ass is and we’ll come get you.”

  “I’m in Georgia,” Turner said, knowing that would throw a kink in Danny’s plan.

  “What? You went up with Luke and the bunch?” Danny asked.

  “No, I didn’t know Luke was in Georgia.”

  “Yeah, his wife, Kathy, is from Alabama and she wanted to visit family, and Jason’s wife’s, Sue, is setting her next book in Georgia. So Chase and Lacy decided to come, too, and they all rent a beach house.” He paused. “But wait, if you’re not with them, what the hell are you doing in Georgia?”

  Hell, he might as well come clean. “Two of the witnesses who were supposed to testify in the Jonnie Harper case have been killed. And I’m almost certain someone’s here trying to get to her.”

  “So the pretty sister is in Georgia?”

  “Yes, and it looks like so are some of Harper’s goons. A woman driving the same color and make of her car was killed here.”

  “Shit. Why didn’t you say so? Do you need us to come there? Are the cops helping out?” Danny’s concern rang sincere, and Turner knew any one of his friends would be here if he gave them the word. If he thought he couldn’t handle it, he’d ask.

  “I’ve spoken with the cops. I think I’m okay.” Turner didn’t want Danny or Cary here—the No Ball and Chain Gang. He didn’t need them reminding him of all the reasons he shouldn’t let himself keep trying to win Reese’s trust back.

  His gaze shifted to her again, smiling at something Frank had said. Turner wanted her to smile at him like that again. He wanted to find a way to get her back in his bed. To get her naked and willing. To hear that sweet noise she made when she came.

  “If they’re really after her, they aren’t going to back down,” Danny said.

  “I know. But if I need you, I’ll call.”

  “Okay, but remember the rule still stands. Watch your heart.”

  Turner continued to stare at Reese who reached down to pick up the orange cat that had plopped down in his lap while he’d been watching her sleep. The cat went limp in her arms, but Turner didn’t blame him. If Reese pulled him up to her breasts and was running her fingers over him, he’d go limp, too.

  Well, that wasn’t true. Limp would be the last thing he’d be.

  “Don’t let her get too close,” Danny warned. “They have tentacles like octopuses that can cut through skin and can wrap around your heart and suck the joy out of your life, buddy. You’ve been there once, but we forget when a pretty one gets too close.”

  She was already too close, Turner thought. And what scared him, was he only wanted to bring her closer.

  * * *

  He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he’d obviously done something to deteriorate Reese’s mood. After she’d said ‘thank you,’ she’d hardly spoken to him. Hell, she avoided eye contact with him. And that hurt.

  The few hours Casey hung out, he hadn’t noticed Reese’s lack of attention. Casey had kept the conversation going by talking about the diner and some of the crazy situations that had happened there over the years. She even told them about a movie being filmed here, produced by Taylor Jefferies, a beautiful and award-winning actress who was engaged to a famous football player. Casey went on to tell a few folktales about the town’s werewolves.

  Turner ducked outside during the talks of supernatural beings to call Luke about getting someone to watch Reese’s grandmother. He’d accidentally dialed Luke’s office instead of his cell because Joey, who worked with Luke, answered the call.

  When Turner explained the situation, Joey assured him he’d make sure the grandmother was okay for a few days.

  He sure as hell hoped so. He’d given Reese enough reason to hate him, he didn’t need to give her more.

  * * *

  The following hours after Casey left had been awkward. He and Frank chatted about Frank’s FBI career and some of his travels. But Reese had been quiet. Too quiet.

  They’d sat in front of the television, and Reese worked on a crossword puzzle. Twice, she’d asked Frank for some help figuring out a word, but, as if she was pretending he wasn’t there, she never directed a question to Turner. And he knew one of the answers, too.

  Reese mentioned to Frank about her things being
at the hotel, and Turner jumped at the chance to get out of the house for a second. “I’ll run and get them,” he said.

  “I could do it,” Frank offered.

  “Nah, I got this,” Turner said, and asked Reese for her room number and key.

  She looked like it was going to kill her to look at him. But damn, he preferred her angry than in denial of his existence. What would it take for her to forgive him?

  Frank followed him to the door. “Why don’t you pick her up some chocolate?”

  “Chocolate?” Turner asked. “She’s pretending I’m not here, I don’t think candy is going to help.”

  Frank shook his head. “You young guys don’t know diddlysquat about women.”

  Turner just rolled his eyes and left. Hell, he’d love it if a candy bar would solve his problems.

  He hadn’t gotten to his car when his phone rang. Luke.

  “Hey,” Turner said, slightly worried it might have something to do with Joey and Reese’s grandmother. “Everything okay?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question. I spoke to Joey earlier and then Danny called and said you were in Georgia, too. Where are you at in Georgia?” Luke asked.

  “Hung Island.” Turner pulled out his keys. “Did Joey tell you I asked him to watch over Ricky Morris’s grandmother?”

  “Yeah, he told me. You think they’ll go after her?”

  “I don’t think so, but I didn’t think it would be a bad idea to have her watched over for a few days.”

  “Yeah. So Hung Island, huh? Isn’t that a tiny little island off of Katyville?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Danny said the Morris girl is there and there’s trouble. Are things okay?”

  “Yeah. But a woman driving the same make and color car was killed in a suspicious car accident. She happens to be blond like Reese Morris.”

  “Shit. Well, if you need us, Jason, and Chase and I are just a couple hours away.”

  “Thanks,” Turner said and stood outside his car. Then, feeling a bit nervous about leaving Reese, he looked up and down the street. Nothing suspicious.