Carla Cassidy

by Scene of the Crime Killer Cove

  He opened the door to the smallest bedroom, knowing that Jimmy had taken up residency in the master bedroom. He tossed his duffel bag on the bed and then headed back downstairs.

  He needed a drink. Hell, he needed a hundred drinks to erase the vision of Claire’s tearstained face from his head. She was in love with him. He’d broken her heart, so why did his heart ache so badly?

  He slid onto the stool he’d sat in the last time he’d been here. Jimmy was behind the bar and ambled toward him. “Glad to see you aren’t a crispy critter, and I was happy to hear that Claire is okay,” Jimmy said and opened a bottle of beer and placed it in front of him.

  “Unfortunately the house is a total loss,” Bo said. “I’m sorry about your things.”

  “It was just things,” Jimmy replied easily. “I just can’t believe that Coach Cantor was such a nutcase. By the way, where is Claire now? You two have been like Mutt and Jeff since you came back to town.”

  Pain shot through his heart and he took a sip of his beer before replying. “She told me she’s in love with me.” Bo hadn’t meant to lay it out like that, but the words just slipped from his mouth.

  Jimmy didn’t look surprised. “I figured you two had a mutual thing going on. It looked to me like you were as much into her as she was into you.”

  Bo looked at his friend in surprise. “I was into her. She’s sexy and smart, amazingly centered, what’s not to like?” Bo paused to take a sip of his beer, the icy liquid tasting bitter. “But you know I have no intention of inviting anyone into my life again on a romantic basis.”

  “Your mother would be disappointed to hear you say that,” Jimmy replied. “Her greatest hope for you was that you’d get married, have a family and find real happiness despite what happened to you here. She hoped your bitterness would eventually disappear.”

  “I’m not bitter,” Bo replied wearily. It was true. The bitterness he’d arrived in town with was gone, and he knew much of the reason had been Claire.

  “So, how did you leave things with Claire?” Jimmy asked.

  “We said goodbye, you have a roommate for the night and tomorrow morning I’m heading back to Jackson.” Just that simply he made up his mind. It was time to leave.

  “What about sticking around and finding out who killed Shelly?”

  A dry laugh released from Bo. “It was a stupid idea. It’s been too long, and without any law enforcement backing there’s no point in trying to solve a crime.”

  “And the killer just gets away?”

  Bo shrugged. “He’s gotten away for the last two years. For all I know the person who killed Shelly isn’t even in town anymore. I need to get back to my life in Jackson and put all this behind me forever.”

  He took another drink of his beer in an effort to banish the vision of Claire that continued to fill his head.

  “What are you going to do about your mother’s place?” Jimmy asked. “You know I’m good staying upstairs. I was only there for your mother.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. To be honest, I don’t know what I’m going to do about the house yet,” Bo replied. “Probably rebuild and then sell.”

  “You know I’ll be glad to be your point man if that’s what you decide to do. You hire the contractor and I’ll see that he and his workers stay in line.”

  Bo smiled at Jimmy. “I don’t know what I would have done without you over the last couple of years.”

  “And I don’t know how I would have survived my childhood and be where I am now without you,” Jimmy countered. “Will you still be around when I get up tomorrow?”

  “I doubt it. I’m planning on taking off around nine, but you know we’ll be in touch often.” With Bo still the official owner of Jimmy’s Place and now the matter of his mother’s burned home, he and Jimmy would always have reasons to remain in close contact.

  Bo finished his beer and waved off the offer of another. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, or perhaps it was the memory of Claire’s tears that made him feel like a broken, soulless man.

  When he got back upstairs he got into bed and stared at the dark ceiling, wishing he could stanch the visions of Claire that danced in his head.

  She’d be fine without him, he told himself. She was a survivor. She had a job she loved and people who loved her here. Eventually she’d forget all about him. He’d become just a bad memory like her childhood.

  She was too bright, too beautiful to be alone for long. She was optimistic by nature and deserved a man far better than him. She’d find that man and live the happily-ever-after she’d dreamed about.

  The thought brought him small solace as he finally fell asleep.

  *

  HE AWAKENED JUST after seven and showered and dressed. Jimmy’s bedroom door was closed and Bo had no intention of bothering his friend before he took off.

  He made a pot of coffee to fuel up for the long ride back to Jackson and then poured himself a cup and sat at the table. He tried to keep his thoughts schooled to the future and not dwell on what would soon be the past.

  Still, he had to admit to himself that, despite the danger, it had felt good to be back in Lost Lagoon. This was and always would be home to him, no matter where he decided to live out the rest of his life.

  By nine o’clock, juiced up on caffeine, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and left the apartment. He stowed the bag and then climbed on the motorcycle and headed down Main Street.

  Everything had gone down so fast, so unexpectedly, with Claire the night before. He hadn’t really gotten the chance to thank her for being his friend, for wanting to be his partner, and more important, for believing in him.

  Her unwavering belief in his innocence had healed some wounds, had given him back his dignity and made him realize it didn’t matter what people in Lost Lagoon thought about him; he knew what kind of man he was, and that was enough for him to move forward.

  He’d had no intention to see Claire again, but found himself parked outside her house. Just a quick goodbye, he thought as he climbed off the bike.

  She opened the door before he knocked, apparently hearing the arrival of his motorcycle. She allowed him inside and then backed away from him. “I figured you’d be halfway to Jackson by now,” she said.

  “I’m getting a late start and I didn’t want to leave town without telling you once again how much I’ve appreciated your support.” His words sounded stiff and he felt tongue-tied.

  Maybe this would have been easier if she didn’t have on the turquoise T-shirt that so perfectly matched her beautiful eyes. Maybe goodbye would have been easier if she didn’t look so beautiful with the morning sunshine glinting in her hair and a look of soft vulnerability on her features.

  He laughed suddenly as he realized he hadn’t stopped for a final goodbye. He hadn’t wanted one last conversation with her before he left town.

  Her eyes widened at his laughter and she took a step backward, as if he might be losing his mind. “Bo, what are you doing here?”

  He took several steps toward her, his heart beating faster. “I thought I came by here for a final goodbye, but now that I’m here looking at you, I realize I came by to tell you I love you.”

  She stared at him in disbelief and he took another step toward her, knowing that what he said next would the most important words he would ever say to a woman, that this was a chance at true happiness that so far had been elusive to him.

  “I don’t want to go back to Jackson. Despite all the odds against me here, Lost Lagoon is where my heart is...and I believe it’s because you are here.”

  She didn’t appear happy; rather, she looked confused. “But what about your life, your business in Jackson? How would you live, how would you survive, here in Lost Lagoon?”

  “I can break my lease on my rental home and stay here with you until we rebuild the house. My manager at Bo’s Place in Jackson has hinted more than once that he would be interested in buying the business from me if I ever decided to sell.” He took another
step toward her, pleased that this time she didn’t back away.

  “As far as making a living here, I still own Jimmy’s Place.” Her eyes opened wider and he continued, “Nobody in town knows that I didn’t sell out to Jimmy. Money isn’t an issue if I stay here, but there’s only one reason I would decide to stay and you gave that to me last night when you told me you loved me.”

  “You didn’t exactly appear happy when I told you how I felt about you,” she replied, her eyes still holding wariness, but also a faint shine of hope.

  Bo walked forward until he stood so close to her he could lean forward and take her lips with his. “You shocked and awed me last night when you told me you were in love with me. I’ll admit, my first instinct was to run. I’d sworn to myself that I’d never allow anyone deep in my heart again, but somehow, someway, you got in so deep I can’t imagine living my life without you. I love you, Claire, and I’d be all kinds of fool not to stay and see if there’s a happily-ever-after for us.”

  The wariness was gone from her eyes and instead he was bathed in the love that poured from her. “Are you going to kiss me now?” she asked impatiently.

  He laughed and pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all the love, all the passion that burned in his soul for her. They might not have been able to clear his name yet, but the love that filled his heart was more than enough for him to know true happiness.

  “Does this mean I get to be boss again?” she asked once the kiss had ended.

  He laughed again. “I think that issue will continue to be one that’s negotiated on a regular basis. Right now I’m boss and I’m going to kiss you again.”

  “Fine with me.” She barely got the words out of her mouth before his lips took hers again.

  Bo knew it wouldn’t be easy to stay and face the people who still believed he was responsible for Shelly’s death. But never had Lost Lagoon felt more like home than at this moment, with Claire in his arms.

  This was where he belonged, and this was the woman who owned his heart. Hopefully Shelly’s murderer would eventually be found, but in the meantime he had a happily-ever-after to give not only to a woman who had earned it, but to a woman who held his own forever happiness in her hands.

  *

  Don’t miss the next romance in

  Carla’s exciting series,

  coming fall of 2015

  from Harlequin Intrigue!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from NAVY SEAL JUSTICE by Elle James.

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  Chapter One

  Cowboy, you’re the only person I can trust.

  Those words had echoed over and over in James Monahan’s head since he’d received the call at two in the morning, thirty hours ago.

  He’d been at the Raging Bull Ranch for only three days, getting to know his new boss, billionaire Hank Derringer. He had been familiarizing himself with other members of Covert Cowboys Inc. and the assets available through Hank’s elite organization. The billionaire had an extensive arsenal of weapons, a computer system that would make the FBI and CIA green with envy, and some of the most decorated heroes the United States had known working for him.

  Hank hired only the best. All of the members of Covert Cowboys Inc. had been raised on farms or ranches, where they’d learned the value of hard work, honesty and caring for people and animals. They’d learned of truth and justice and had proved themselves, each in his or her own career field. Whether risking their lives in the military, FBI or other law enforcement agencies, CCI agents were highly respected and fully capable of defending themselves or others.

  Honored to have been recruited by Hank, after having quit the Navy SEALs to spend the past two years working as a ranch hand, he’d been happy to get away from the sadness of living on the ranch where his father had died.

  Jim had made the tough choice to leave the Navy and his SEAL brothers to take over his father’s responsibilities as a foreman on the Triple Diamond Ranch, while his father fought and ultimately lost the battle against cancer.

  Once his father was gone, Jim left the ranch that held so many memories of the only other member of his family. The ranch had been the only home he’d known and a place he felt he could always come back to.

  Not anymore. Every day with his dying father had been like ripping another piece of his heart out. When the end finally came, the pain the man had suffered in silence was gone. And so was the last member of his family. After the funeral, Jim severed all ties to his past. He’d received and accepted a job on the other side of the state and determined to insulate himself from caring about anyone.

  Three days after being hired by Hank, his first assignment with the Covert Cowboys Inc. had fallen into his lap with the call he’d received from Cord Schafer, or Rip Cord, as his Navy SEAL teammates had nicknamed him. Contact with Rip reminded Jim that he was not truly alone in the world. He had his brothers in the SEALs. Men he cared about and would do anything for.

  “I made a mistake,” Rip had said. “I got a friend involved in something I’m working on. Now I’m afraid she’ll be a target. These people play for keeps. If they suspect she knows anything, they’ll kill her. Now that I’ve contacted her, I can’t get hold of her to call her off. I’m supposed to meet her at the Shoot the Bull Bar at ten at night in two days. You remember the place?”

  Jim remembered. He’d spent more than one evening drinking with his brothers after a hard day of training on the river. “What do you want me to do?”

  “She’s picking up a packet at the post office in Biloxi between nine and ten in the morning in two days. Keep her and the packet safe. I’ll contact you both when I can. Things are getting hot. I might have to go dark.”

  “Rip, what did you get yourself into?”

  “Gotta go. It’s not safe. I’ll contact you as soon as I can.” The line went dead and Jim stared at his cell phone.

  Jim had gone directly to Hank, requesting time off, feeling bad about asking when he’d just started his job with CCI.

  Hank not only granted him the time to pursue his friend’s request, but he’d also declared the appeal for help an official CCI assignment and offered the full gamut of CCI technology and human resources for Jim’s use.

  That had been almost two days and 750 miles ago. Now he stood in the lobby of the Biloxi, Mississippi, post office waiting for a woman to access the box number Rip had given him. When exactly she’d arrive, he didn’t know. Nor did he know what she would look like, or what to expect once she showed up.

  Jim arrived a few minutes before nine o’clock with a box full of paper and a roll of tape. For a full hour, he pretended to struggle with packing and taping the box. Then he’d fiddled with the automated postal machine printing a shipping label to an old address he hadn’t lived at in ten years.

  Still the woman hadn’t arrived. As ten o’clock rolled around, he’d about given up on her. He could purchase only so many stamps before the staff at the post office or any of the bad guys Rip had alluded to caught on that he was stalling.

  As he tucked another sheet of stamps into his back pocket, the door to the post office opened and a woman dressed in a bright floral dress, a wide-brimmed bright red hat and huge, dark sunglasses walked in. Her lips were painted the same shade as the hat, and what he could see of the hair beneath the hat was a silvery shade of g
ray. She carried a large white satchel-style purse over her arm.

  Something about the way she carried herself—her back straight, her shoulders squared and the tilt of her chin—caught his attention. Though a little thick around the middle and bosomy, she was attractive.

  In Biloxi, where gambling was legal and a huge boon to the economy, the woman could have been just another tourist there to try her hand at the slot machines. Or she could have been an upper-class Southern lady who lived in one of the plantation-style mansions lining the coast.

  For an older woman, she walked with the strength and determination of a younger, athletic one. Jim studied her in his peripheral vision as he stood at a counter, pretending to address an envelope.

  If she was an older woman, which he was beginning to doubt, her skin would be more wrinkled and little lines would have formed on her lips. And where were the age spots that went along with the gray hair?

  Jim’s instincts kicked in and he studied the other people who’d come in shortly after the woman with the red hat had arrived. The post office was bustling with patrons. Many were housewives with children in tow. Others were businessmen or women there to drop off baskets of mail or to stand in line to send mail to other parts of the world.

  The woman in the red hat wasn’t there to mail a package. She wasn’t carrying letters or a box. If Jim wasn’t mistaken, that was a key she held in her hand.

  *

  MELISSA BRADLEY STEPPED into the Biloxi, Mississippi, post office and paused a moment to let her vision adjust from the bright outdoors to the dim interior. The large round sunglasses she wore to hide her eyes and much of her face didn’t help her vision. The interior of the post office appeared darker than it actually was.

  The broad-brimmed bright red hat and gray wig covered her deep brown hair. Her outfit was complete with a gaudy floral print, wraparound dress and sensible, low-heeled red shoes. She could be any senior citizen in town to gamble at the casinos.