The Southern Comfort Series Box Set

by Clark O'Neill, Lisa

  Doug informed her that they needed to have a look on the second floor and in the attic before they could give her a firm estimate, and she was just about to lead them upstairs when a knock sounded on the door.

  “I better get that,” she told them. The locksmith that she’d called was due to arrive at any time. “Why don’t you go on up and have a look around? Oh, and the trapdoor to access the attic is in the hall.”

  They thanked her, heading toward the stairs, and the knock came again, this time more insistent.

  “Alright already,” Sadie muttered as she crossed the hall. She opened the door to find a veritable party happening on her doorstep.

  “Ma’am,” Kathleen said, in a Joe Friday kind of voice that had Sadie’s eyes widening. “My partner and I spotted this man attempting to pick your lock. He claims that he’s a locksmith, but in light of your recent trouble I figured I’d better check his story with you.”

  The poor kid – for seriously, he looked barely old enough to shave – started sputtering in his own defense, hot color staining his cheeks. Sadie wondered what had possessed Kathleen to scare the bejesus out of the tyke, and gave her friend a questioning look before vouching for his credentials. He sputtered his way into the hall, where Sadie invited him to get started on the back door lock, while she dealt with the Murphy Menace that continued to plague her existence.

  “Did you have to intimidate my locksmith? Now he’ll probably charge me double for the aggravation.”

  “He had it coming,” Kathleen said breezily, pulling her suit jacket back over her holstered weapon. “He made a rather… inappropriate comment before he realized I was a cop. Then he got a look at Mac and pretty much dropped a load in his A-1 Locksmith coveralls. You smell something funny later, that’s probably what it is.”

  Sadie looked over Kathleen’s shoulder to see Mac leaning against his unmarked car, a veritable billboard of you don’t want to mess with this. That man was damn scary, police detective or no. No wonder the kid was a jellyfish.

  “Well.” She looked back at Kathleen. “Thank you so much for bringing me my car.” For that was the point of this little visit. “It saves me from having to take a taxi to the doctor’s.”

  “You sure you’re okay to drive with those things?” Kathleen gestured to her bandaged hands.

  “They’re a lot more flexible than they were.” Sadie wiggled her fingers back and forth in demonstration. “And he’s taking off the bandages today. The stitches will be in a little longer, but at least I won’t look like a walking personal hygiene product.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  Sadie assured her she was and Kathleen appeared mollified if not happy. “Okay. Well, watch out for that bundle of hormones changing your locks. He looks harmless, but I’m not sure I like you being alone with him.”

  Sadie rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you scared him out of any nefarious intentions he might have harbored. And besides that, I’m not alone. The alarm guys are upstairs, working up an estimate.”

  “I didn’t see their vehicle when I pulled up.”

  Sadie peeped out toward the driveway and saw that that was true. “Huh. Maybe they parked on the street, to keep the driveway free.”

  Kathleen shifted her gaze, eyes narrowing over Sadie’s shoulder, clearly skeptical of the situation. “Did you call a reputable company? Judging by the locksmith you’ve got working for you, you got your phone list at Toys R Us.”

  “I swear, from the way people have been acting lately you’d think I was some helpless little lamb they needed to shepherd. I’m fully capable of caring for myself. Yes, the alarm company’s reputable. I got their number from the Yellow Pages, biggest ad I could find, and they’re licensed and insured and even have references. And the men seem perfectly pleasant as well as professional. Satisfied, Mommy?”

  Kathleen had the decency to look chagrinned. “I’m sorry if I’ve been overbearing, but you are my best friend, and your house was broken into, and hey, I’m a cop. Plus you know how we Murphys are – lots of good Irish sheep farmers in the family background.”

  Sadie laughed and Kathleen grinned. “Are we still on for dinner tonight? Remember, it’s my treat.”

  “Generous,” Sadie said wryly, “considering we’re eating at Murphy’s.”

  “I’m a poorly paid public servant,” Kathleen rejoined, slipping her sunglasses on in deference to the bright light filtering through the leafy canopy. “And smart enough to take advantage of a good thing when I find one. I’ll see you around seven.”

  Sadie waved her off, closing the door firmly behind her.

  The locksmith was busy and the alarm guys still hadn’t come down, so Sadie took a moment to drag out her laptop. Sitting it on the dining room table, she stuck in her wireless card to check the e-mails she’d missed while at Declan’s.

  The first message was from Rick.

  From: Carlisle1@carlisleandwolfson.com

  Sent: January 3, 1:17 am

  To: SadieRose@verizon.net

  Subject: Where are you?

  I’ve been trying to call you all night, and you’re not answering my texts. The fact is Sadie…. I miss you. I can’t stand the thought of you on the other side of the country. I’m sorry about our misunderstanding over the holidays. I should have told you that the minute you gave me back your ring, but I was simply too stunned to say much of anything. And after that, when you were packing up your things, well, I was too angry.

  I’m no longer angry, so I figured it would be a good time for us to talk.

  Just call so I can hear your voice. Please.

  Sadie’s heart squeezed. You couldn’t spend five years of your life with someone and not feel anything when you caused them pain. Not that Rick was feeling pain, exactly. More like wounded pride and indignation…

  No, that was a cop out. She needed to be honest, especially with herself. She knew she’d hurt Rick when she’d broken their engagement.

  But as tempting as it was to want to smooth everything over – like she’d done for their entire relationship – she believed that the best way to end things was in one fell swoop.

  It was like ripping a bandage off rather than easing it back by degrees: the pain might be intense initially, but prolonging the eventual separation left scars deeper than you had to begin with.

  Because no amount of apologies could change the crucial fact: Rick wanted the sweet, accommodating and rather… generic woman she’d pretended to be when she was with him, and there was no way Sadie could spend the rest of her life acting out a role.

  Bandaged fingers trembling slightly, Sadie started to hit delete, until the date and time of the e-mail suddenly caught her attention.

  It had been sent the night of the breakin.

  She re-read the message, carefully gauging the words.

  Was it strictly coincidental that Rick chose the night of the breakin to attempt contact?

  “Oh, please.” Sadie rolled her eyes. Those damn Murphys were starting to rot her brain if she was even considering that a possibility.

  An enormous thump sounded from upstairs. She headed in that direction, hand over her heart as she yelled up in inquiry.

  “Everything alright?” she called, cursing the faint tremor that had taken hold of her voice. Several moments went by with no answer, and she nervously chewed on her lip. What if one of them had fallen or something?

  She started up the stairs, just as Doug came around the corner. “Sorry about that.” He smiled, and dusted his hands on his pants. “The springs on the attic door were a little rusted. Billy had to put some muscle into it to get it down. You might want to consider replacing them.”

  Sadie guessed that was one more thing to add to her list.

  “I’m just going to go out to the van and grab a flashlight, because the light bulb in the attic seems to have burned out.”

  Correctly interpreting her look, Doug smiled in commiseration. “Don’t you worry none. We’ll get this stuff taken care of for you, a
nd the place will be good as new.”

  “I hope so.” Sadie sighed, trying not to think of the hit to her bank account. “I really hope so.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHAWN Nelson frowned as he pocketed his cell phone, because it had been a long day and he was tired. And that damn red-haired cop and her freakin’ scary-ass partner had definitely contributed to his day’s crap factor.

  Who would have guessed they’d give a woman who looked like that a badge? And looking like she did, you’d think she’d be a little more accustomed to being hit on.

  Maybe she was a lesbian.

  Luckily the little blonde he’d been changing the locks for had been nice.

  Anyway, he had a six-pack growing warm on the seat beside him and a recliner at home calling his name.

  But first he had one last stop to make.

  Some guy’s ditz of a wife had locked them out of his car, and he had to go pop the lock. It was on his way home, else he might have just told them he couldn’t make it, but hell, it was easy money.

  He’d be stupid to turn it down.

  So he pulled into the lot of the mostly deserted strip mall, spotting the Tahoe the guy told him to look for. Fool woman had parked the thing out in East Jibip, under one of the many burned-out lights in the back of the lot. Good thing he had his flash light. Night had settled in early, as it always did this time of year, and the cold snap that had hit like an icy fist brought clouds that blocked the moonlight.

  He could just make out a figure in a baseball cap, loitering near the dark vehicle.

  He pulled up alongside the SUV and cut his engine, rolled down the window with a negligent air. “Locked ya’ out, huh?”

  “Yeah.” The man looked sheepish. At least Shawn thought he did; most of his face was covered by the bill of his cap, so it was difficult to get a good read on him. Grabbing his tools, Shawn eased himself out of the door of his van and went over to peer in the window of the Tahoe.

  Yep. Keys dangling right there in the ignition. “Shouldn’t take me but a minute to get this door open for you, man.”

  “Great.”

  As Shawn went to work, he sensed movement behind him. Wife coming back, he thought, and turned to give her a look. But it wasn’t a woman. It was another guy, a real big one.

  “Do I know you?” Shawn asked, something about the guys striking him as familiar.

  “No.”

  And without warning the big guy was on him, hand clamped over his mouth as he lifted Shawn to his toes.

  “It’s on his key ring,” the big man told the first guy. “Labeled. He’s supposed to be making her six copies and dropping them in her mailbox sometime tomorrow.”

  “Excellent.” The other took the ring dangling from the belt on Shawn’s twitching hips. “We’ll make seven, keep one for ourselves, just in case.”

  Shawn’s vision dimmed as he fought for air. The man in the hat smiled at him, shaking the key ring in explanation.

  “You never know when this sort of thing might come in handy. And why go to the trouble of picking a lock, when it’s so easy to get the key?”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DECLAN surveyed the abundant cleavage on display and wondered what the hell was wrong with him. The brunette leaning over the bar had everything he usually looked for in a woman. Her brain was at the opposite end of the bell curve from her bra size, placing her mean distribution directly in his range. But regardless of that and her very obvious interest, the waitress he’d once considered so hot did absolutely nothing for him.

  Nada. Zilch. Nil.

  “Look, Terri, I’m flattered and all, but it’s like I told you before.” He finished filling a pilsner and looked her in the eye. “I don’t do the help.” She seemed to be the kind of woman who only understood the word no when it was used as a blunt instrument.

  Terri shook her mane of hair off her shoulder and batted heavily done-up lashes. “That’s not what I heard,” she persisted, tapping the copper bar with manicured fingernails. “I heard you’d been known to do the help right here.”

  Declan could not believe that story was still going around. It was like some kind of toxic boomerang that just kept coming back to clobber him. Yes, he’d once had a rather interesting experience on this very bar top after closing one night, but he’d been a horny and incredibly stupid twenty-one at the time. Corrupted by one of the older wait staff. Or maybe he’d done the corrupting. But that was neither here nor there, since he was looking to use professional ethics as an excuse. Despite the fact that he was rarely ethical.

  But he saw no point in Terri knowing that.

  “It’s not true,” he told her, feeling not the least bit chagrinned that it was. Then the little devil that had always occupied a prominent spot on his shoulder whispered in his ear, and Declan leaned forward as if imparting a confidence. “It was actually Rogan. I’m ashamed to say that my brother has no scruples whatsoever.”

  Terri blinked at him, clearly confused by that information, and then twirled a strand of her hair. “Well, if you change your mind –”

  “I won’t.”

  She pouted before flouncing off with her tray, but at least she was off his back for the moment.

  Why that was what he wanted, he tried hard not to contemplate. Terri on his back – or rather on her back – should have been appealing. She had all the right parts, well-oiled and apparently in good working condition, but unfortunately every time he closed his eyes, big blue ones looked back at him. If he didn’t get Sadie Rose out of his head pretty soon he was going to start charging her rent.

  “Shit,” he muttered, wiping Terri’s fingerprints from the bar top with a soft cloth.

  And if his night wasn’t already sucking mightily, the little thought-squatter had to come marching in. The door opened and there she was, fair hair shining in the reflected moonlight. Her shapely little legs, clad in black tights, peaked out from beneath a short, frilly skirt that made her look like Bo Peep out on the town.

  He barely restrained himself from baa-ing.

  Honest to God, she was like a bad penny. By the time he’d gotten rid of her in one place, she’d turned up in another.

  How the hell was he supposed to keep his hands off her when she was constantly in his face?

  She stopped short as their gazes locked. A flush crept into her cheeks. Blood heated and pooled in his groin.

  “Declan,” she said coolly, in direct contrast to that visual exchange. “I’m supposed to be meeting Kathleen for dinner. Has she arrived yet?”

  Declan slapped the towel over his shoulder, tamping down on visions of strangling his sister. He started to spout off about his lack of employment as Kathleen’s keeper until he noticed the state of Sadie’s hands. “You got your bandages off.” Concern overrode attitude. Then he just went with it and reached across the bar. “Give ‘em here.” Sadie hesitated, gazing warily at him, before reluctantly setting her smaller ones into his palms.

  And the fit was exactly right, her hands feeling dainty and sheltered within his. Her fair skin was the yin to his yang, the very, very sweet female to his male. With the callus-roughened tip of one finger, he traced a gentle line over the remaining stitches. The flesh surrounding them was pink and puckered, bringing a fresh wave of guilt and anger.

  Because it unsettled him, he released her hands back to her without a word. “Kathleen’s not here yet. But I can get you a table upstairs if you’d like to wait.” He spread his hands out on the bar, suggesting bodily that it was off limits. No way did he want her hanging out here, drinking his beer and giving him notions.

  But damn Rogan limped up and ruined it.

  “Sadie!” he exclaimed, delighted. Captain freaking Hospitality. “I have your table all ready. Kathleen’s not here yet, but I’ll go ahead and get you seated. I put you by the fire since it’s gotten so chilly tonight.”

  The two of them trotted off, heads together, chatting about the change in the weather and looking cozy as you please. Sadie didn�
��t even give him a backward glance, which irritated him out of all proportion.

  Wasn’t he the one who’d sat with her at the hospital? Wasn’t he the one who’d housed and fed her for the past two days? Wasn’t he the one who’d washed her hair – despite the fact that restraining himself from doing a whole hell of a lot more had nearly killed him?

  And yet Rogan was the hero for saving her a table.

  Her laughter pealed out like tinkling bells across an open glade, and Declan barely restrained himself from kicking the bar.

  Tinkling bells.

  Good God.

  Kathleen showed up right about that time, and he pinioned her with his most vengeful death stare.

  She simply raised an eyebrow and went off to join the happy little group by the fire.

  Maybe he could beat her with what remained of the wood from his fence.

  KATHLEEN ignored the Black Cloud of Gloom glaring at her from the bar, smirking to herself as she crossed the room to join Sadie. Honestly, this was even more entertaining than watching the fireworks the two of them had set off while growing up. She never would have wished Sadie’s run-in with those men on her, not in a million years, but in terms of breaking Declan out of the invisible box he’d built around himself, she couldn’t have asked for a better hammer.

  He’d always had a thing for Sadie, even when they were kids. And now that she was back he was displaying the kinds of emotions he hadn’t in years: concern, protectiveness, even the milk of human kindness. Granted, it was one percent, but it was human dairy nonetheless.

  It was enough to make a cynic believe in miracles.

  Sliding happily onto one of the chairs at the table, she leaned over and gave Sadie a smacking kiss.

  “And that was for…?” her friend asked wide-eyed, wiping the lipstick off of her cheek.

  “Fulfilling my fondest wishes.”

  Now Rogan joined Sadie in regarding her like she was nuts.

  “On that note,” he intoned, hauling himself back to his feet, “I think I’ll get back to work. Terri will be your server. She’ll be over in just a sec.”