Beg to Die

by Beverly Barton

  “See you around.” Erin studied Jazzy briefly, then returned to her table in the restaurant.

  Jazzy had sensed rather strange vibes coming from Big Jim Upton’s mistress. It was as if she’d wanted to say something personal to Jazzy but thought better of the idea. Maybe Erin Mercer knew all about Jazzy and Jamie’s troubled love affair. Hell, who didn’t? Maybe Ms. Mercer thought the reason Jazzy was leaving her restaurant so early in the evening was to get away from Jamie, his fiancée, and her parents, who had so obviously come to Jasmine’s tonight so that Jazzy could witness the celebration. Did Ms. Mercer see her as a kindred spirit? Did she believe Jazzy would eventually become Jamie’s mistress?

  What difference did it make what anyone thought? She’d been damned for so many sins during her twenty-nine years that she couldn’t remember which ones she was guilty of committing and of which she was innocent. Once a woman gained a bad reputation in a small town, deserved or undeserved, there was very little she could do to change people’s opinions. The task was as impossible as reclaiming your virginity once you’d had sex.

  Jazzy slipped out into the dark alley behind the adjoining establishments and hurried down the uneven brick walkway that led to the back entrance of the honky-tonk she owned. The nippy night air pinked her cheeks and sent a chill through her body. Even though the lids were closed, the large trash cans at the back of the restaurant emitted an unpleasant garbage odor and the nearby Dumpster reeked with the waste from all the businesses along the street.

  Unexpectedly, a noise up the alleyway alerted her that she wasn’t alone. Although Cherokee Pointe didn’t have many vagrants, from time to time some homeless bum would rummage through the trash cans looking for food and other items of interest. She glanced left. Saw nothing. Looked right and caught a glimpse of a dark shadow that disappeared so quickly she wondered if she had imagined seeing it.

  A shiver that had nothing to do with the weather shimmied up her spine. Jazzy rushed in through the back door. If it hadn’t been a fire exit, she would have locked the door. Don’t overreact, she told herself. You’re being silly. Just because you thought you saw someone in the alley doesn’t mean there are bogey men lurking around every corner. And it certainly doesn’t mean you are personally in any danger.

  She rushed past her office in Jazzy’s Joint and went straight out front, where the action was. The place was jumping tonight. Filled nearly to capacity, the smoky interior pulsated with a let-the-good-times-roll rhythm. Tonight Jazzy felt quite susceptible to the rowdy ambience practically jarring the roof off the place. Yes, tonight she was in the mood for something wild…and maybe just a little dangerous. After all, she wanted to celebrate her liberation from years of emotional bondage.

  Glancing around the room, from the pool tables in back to the dance floor up front, she searched for any sign of Caleb. Not finding him, she made her way toward the bar. That’s when she noticed him standing at the end of the bar, his back to her, apparently talking to someone. When she approached the bar, Lacy Fallon motioned to her. Jazzy leaned across the bar so that she could hear Lacy over the din of music, talk, and laughter.

  “We’ve got ourselves a kid with a phony ID,” Lacy said. “When I refused to serve her, she got belligerent. She kept demanding a drink, so Caleb’s talking to her.”

  “Is she somebody we know?” Jazzy asked. “Should we call her parents?”

  “Never seen her before, but from the looks of her clothes and her hoity-toity attitude, I’d say she comes from money. And I’d say she’s definitely hot to trot. The minute she got a good look at Caleb, I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that she creamed her pants. She can’t seem to keep her hands off him, and he looks like it’s making him damned uncomfortable.”

  “Maybe I should intervene.” Jazzy couldn’t hear what Caleb was saying to the young woman, but she noticed him shaking his head and sensed the tension in his broad shoulders.

  “Watch out,” Lacy warned. “The little hellcat probably bites and scratches.”

  Jazzy laughed. “Then I most definitely should intercede, since I doubt biting and scratching is in Caleb’s repertoire of maneuvers to handle unruly customers.”

  As she moved closer, she heard Caleb suggesting to the young woman that she should leave peacefully or he’d be forced to call the police. Jazzy walked up to Caleb’s side, which gave her an unrestricted view of the sexy girl who had her hand pressed against Caleb’s chest and was staring at him as if she wanted to jump his bones. Slender, dark hair and eyes, and dressed in a white leather skirt and matching boots that probably cost a fortune, the underage customer rubbed her open palm in a circle over Caleb’s shirt, totally ignoring Jazzy.

  “I’ll leave if you’ll leave with me,” the girl said. “You’re the first interesting thing I’ve seen in Cherokee Pointe since we got here, and if I can’t get a good stiff drink to drown my sorrows, then maybe a—”

  “Mr. McCord is the bouncer here at Jazzy’s Joint,” Jazzy said. “His job is strictly to keep order. He’s not available for any other services.”

  A set of large, pensive brown eyes settled on Jazzy. “What about when he’s off duty? You aren’t his mother or anything, are you?”

  Jazzy laced her arm through Caleb’s. “No, I’m his boss. And what he does on his own time is his business, but I doubt he’s stupid enough to mess around with jail bait.”

  “I’m nineteen.” As if realizing she had just admitted to not being legal drinking age, the girl frowned and huffed. Then she looked Jazzy over and a quirky little smile curved her full, rosy lips. “So you’re Jazzy Talbot, huh? I know all about you. One man is never enough for you.”

  Who the hell was this kid? Jazzy wondered. She didn’t know her and neither did Lacy, so that meant there was a ninety-five percent chance she wasn’t local.

  “Look, little girl, either you turn around and walk out of here peacefully or we’ll call the police to escort you out and call your parents.” Jazzy zeroed her warning glare in on the young woman’s face, hoping to intimidate her.

  “I’m Sheridan Willis. My older sister is engaged to Jamie Upton. You know Jamie, don’t you? You were fucking him just last night, weren’t you?”

  The little bitch. So she was Laura Willis’s sister, huh? The two didn’t resemble each other in any way. Not in a physical way. And their personalities were definitely poles apart.

  Jazzy squeezed Caleb’s arm. “Go next door to Jasmine’s and tell Mr. and Mrs. Willis that their younger daughter—Sheridan—is over here trying to pass herself off as twenty-one.”

  “No. Don’t.” Sheridan snatched her hand away from where she’d been caressing Caleb’s chest. “There’s no need to bother my parents. I’ll go peacefully. I wouldn’t want to interrupt their dinner with my sister and her fiancé.” She took several backward steps, then looked directly at Caleb. “Tell me what time you get off work and I’ll pick you up.”

  “Sorry, kid,” Caleb replied. “If I were ten years younger, I’d take you up on your offer.”

  “I like older guys,” Sheridan told him. “I’ve learned a lot from the ones I’ve screwed. And I’ll just bet I could learn a lot from you.”

  “I don’t give lessons,” Caleb said.

  Sheridan Willis shrugged. “Your loss.” Then she tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder and with a prissy, take-a-good-look sway, walked through the crowd and straight to the front entrance.

  “Interesting.” Caleb motioned to Lacy, who immediately handed him a bottled cola. He downed half the bottle in one swig, then turned to Jazzy. “You’re over here mighty early tonight. It wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Jamie Upton and his fiancée are dining with her parents at Jasmine’s, would it?”

  “Only indirectly.”

  “Well, this is a good place to lose yourself for a few hours.” He eased away from her. “I’ll go do my job. I figure with this rowdy crowd it’s only a matter of time before somebody gets out of hand.”

  “Somebody you
can toss out on their ear if you can’t talk sense to them.” Jazzy nodded toward the entrance where Sheridan Willis had just exited.

  “Gutsy kid. She’s got spunk.”

  “Oh, she’s got spunk all right. And unless my instincts are dead wrong, she’s got a great deal in common with her future brother-in-law.”

  Caleb’s brows rose questioningly.

  “Just guessing,” Jazzy said, “but I’d say little Miss Sheridan is a self-centered user.”

  “Is that how you see Jamie?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Caleb nodded, the motion more one of speculation than agreement, as if slightly surprised that she’d admitted the truth about Jamie to him, of all people.

  “If you need me, I won’t be hard to find,” he told her before walking away, meandering through the crowd.

  “I need you,” Jazzy whispered softly to herself.

  Tim Willingham, an off-duty deputy, pecked on Jazzy’s shoulder. “Howdy, Miss Jazzy. Would you care to dance?”

  She’d known Tim all her life. He was a couple of years older than she, a divorced father of two, and an all-around good guy. Since his divorce last year, he’d started coming to Jazzy’s Joint almost every Friday and Saturday night when he wasn’t working.

  “I’d love to dance,” she replied. “I feel like kicking up my heels.”

  Dancing with Tim would be fun…and nonthreatening. Tim was about as dangerous as a strawberry lollipop. He was too “white bread” for her; she preferred her men rougher around the edges. But for now, safer was probably better. No sense rushing into anything with Caleb. A smarter course of action would be to move in on him gradually. Test the waters. Besides, if Caleb was the man Genny had foreseen in her future, the man destined to make her happy, then everything would work out in its own good time. And if it wasn’t meant to be Caleb, then she’d be better off not getting involved and risk having her heart broken again.

  She had considered waiting, but she realized there was more reason to act now instead of later. The longer she allowed him to live, the more harm he would do.

  Her plans were made, every detail thought out. All she needed to do was set things in motion. It shouldn’t be difficult to get Jamie to go with her to the cabin. Once she had him there, a glass of drugged wine would do the trick. And when he awoke, he’d find himself quite vulnerable and completely at her mercy. But of course she would show him no mercy.

  She laughed, loving the thought of making him pay for his sins. He had been cruel and unmerciful not only to her, but to others. Although she felt sorry for those other women, they really didn’t matter. No one mattered except her baby. She had to protect her child. Poor, defenseless little thing.

  She hugged herself and swayed back and forth there in the shadowy darkness. Alone. She was so alone. No one to love her. No one to care. But she wouldn’t be alone for much longer. She’d soon have her baby with her. Her little girl would love her. But first she had to kill Jamie Upton.

  She’d like nothing better than to destroy Jazzy Talbot—the slut! But Jazzy could wait. Killing Jamie had to come first in order to protect her child. Once Jamie was dead, she could take care of everything else. It wasn’t that she enjoyed killing people. It was the pleasure of making them suffer that excited her. But some people didn’t deserve to live. If only she had been able to act sooner. If only they hadn’t stopped her. They should pay, too. Both of them. But she couldn’t punish them, not yet. Not until she was sure her baby was safe.

  Reve’s evening meal had consisted of a diet cola and a pack of peanut butter and crackers, with a Snickers candy bar for dessert. Those delectable items had been available at Cherokee Cabin Rentals’ main office, where she’d used her credit card to pay for three nights in a cabin located in town, within walking distance of everything. She had decided not to go back out tonight, but to stay in her small, one-bedroom cabin and figure out exactly what she planned to do. Had staying here in Cherokee Pointe been a dreadful mistake, one she would regret in the morning? Had she simply allowed Sheriff Butler to goad her into staying?

  Flipping through the TV channels, she paused on the local cable station that offered tourists a schedule of events in and around the town, as well as within a seventy-five-mile radius. What caught her attention was the advertisement for Jasmine’s Restaurant, located in down town Cherokee Pointe. The picture of Jasmine Talbot welcoming guests flashed across the screen. Reve studied the woman’s face, the cheerful expression, the made-for-sin body. Admit the truth, Reve told herself. You know that she’s at the very least related to you and very probably your sister.

  Okay, so maybe Jazzy Talbot was her sister—her twin sister. Did that mean they should get to know each other, that they should explore the history of their births together? Somebody was lying about something. Probably about everything. Sally Talbot swore her sister gave birth to only one child. Jazzy. Why would the old woman lie? Was she ashamed because her sister had thrown away one child and kept the other? Or had Sally been the one who had dumped the unwanted baby into the garbage heap in nearby Sevierville?

  Ever since the day her mother had told her about where she’d been found as an infant, Reve had battled with myriad unwanted emotions. And now, learning that she might well be a twin, she had to face a horrible truth: someone had thought she wasn’t worthy of living and that her sister was. That fact alone was reason enough to dislike Jazzy. Illogical. Based solely on an emotional reaction. And totally unlike Reve Sorrell. Ever since childhood she’d been a sensible young lady, not prone to temper tantrums or emotional outbursts. A quiet child. Obedient. Mannerly. And as dull as dishwater.

  Except when challenged. Her one major vice was stubbornness. Her father had always told her that she had gumption. God, how she missed Daddy. And Mother. The Sorrells had been her true parents in every way that mattered.

  A completely ridiculous thought crossed her mind. Had something been wrong with her at birth? Had her biological mother chosen to rid herself of the less desirable child? Stupid notion. But if there was even a shred of truth to it, wasn’t that a good reason to dislike Jazzy? Of course, she didn’t really know the woman at all. Maybe Jacob Butler’s assessment of Jazzy was correct. Maybe she was a good woman. Didn’t she deserve the benefit of the doubt?

  Reve punched the OFF button on the remote and threw it into a nearby chair. Enough already! Tomorrow she’d go see Jazzy Talbot and confront her own fears. Nothing she found out about her birth and biological parents could be any worse than the things she had imagined. And just because Jazzy might turn out to be her twin didn’t mean the two of them had to form a sisterly bond.

  Chapter 8

  The doors at Jazzy’s Joint closed shortly after one on Saturday nights. Liquor couldn’t be served after midnight, so most of the crowd left by twelve-thirty. A few stragglers who were there to dance or shoot pool stayed behind. But when the band left at one, the few remaining customers made their way home—or, in the case of some couples, made their way to the nearest motel. As she emerged from her office, where she’d spent the last hour going over the liquor order she would place on Monday, Jazzy glanced at the clock behind the bar and noted the time. One-fifteen. She’d divided her time between her office, taking care of several things she could have left until Monday, and mixing and mingling with friends and acquaintances who frequented Jazzy’s Joint.

  When she’d danced the second time with Tim Willingham, who so obviously had a major crush on her, he had mentioned that Sorrell woman. And try as she might, Jazzy hadn’t been able to get the woman off her mind.

  “She was speeding, had a wreck, and Jacob brought her in this morning,” Tim had said. “Boy, did those two not get along. I thought she was gonna hit him. And I figured he’d lock her up. But heck, Miss Jazzy, that lady looks just like you. Well, almost just like you. She’s not quite as pretty as you. And I think she’s a little taller.” Tim had grinned sheepishly, deepening the boyish dimples in his cheeks. “I’ve never seen two people who weren’
t twins who looked so dang much alike.”

  “Well, we can’t be twins,” Jazzy had told him emphatically. “Maybe she’s a long-lost cousin or something. Whatever.” She’d shrugged. “Really doesn’t bother me. She seemed like an uptight snob. Not our sort at all. So her leaving town is no loss to anyone.”

  “Yeah, that’s the way Jacob saw her, too, as a real uppity sort. But she hasn’t left town.”

  “She hasn’t?”

  “Nope. Jacob took her over to Cherokee Cabin Rentals, and he said she rented a place for three nights, so looks like we’ll be seeing more of Ms. Reve Sorrell.”

  Jazzy groaned, then smiled and winked at Tim before he said good night and headed for the door. She lifted the hinged countertop and walked behind the bar where Lacy was cleaning up. “A really good night. Lots of customers and not one brawl.”

  Lacy dried off a glass and stacked it with the row of other clean glasses beneath the counter. “We haven’t had many brawls in here lately. Not since Caleb took over as bouncer. Seems his reputation as a hard-ass has gotten around and nobody wants to mess with him.”

  “We did have a couple of macho idiots who decided they could best him.” Jazzy smiled as she recalled those incidents. It would take some really tough dude to best Caleb, one with martial arts skills as subtle and expert as his. And there weren’t many like that around Cherokee County—Jacob Butler, definitely, and probably Dallas Sloan.

  “Yeah, well, it was way past time that somebody put Jimmy Carruthers and Ricky Lindsey in their place. I loved the way Caleb handled each of them.” Lacy settled her gaze on Jazzy. “You got yourself a heap of man there, honey. You don’t want to do anything stupid and lose him, do you?”

  Jazzy understood exactly what Lacy was trying to tell her. She wasn’t just talking about Caleb’s expertise as a bouncer. “I don’t have Caleb. Not the way you mean. You can’t lose what you’ve never had.”

  “He’s a man, honey. A real man. He’s not going to come begging, but he’s put himself out there time and again and you keep shooting him down.”