by Desiree Holt
Anita's eyes widened and her mouth tightened. “Zane, I can't believe I'm hearing you right."
"Believe it.” He knew he'd done it now, but for a long time his mother had been getting on his nerves. He wasn't a kid any more, and she was no longer pulling the strings. He could tell she was pissed off, but that was certainly the least of his worries. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a double murder to solve."
"Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “I hadn't heard anything about it."
"Turn on the radio or television. The media vultures must have psychic powers. They're already gathering to pick over the bones. Good-bye, Mother."
"We're not done with this,” she told him, opening the door.
"Yes. We are."
She turned at the doorway. “One more thing. Cut your hair. My own people didn't want you, so you don't need to wear that part of your heritage like a badge. And it won't help you get elected."
"It already did,” he muttered.
He barely restrained himself from slamming the door after her. Sitting down again, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and perversely punched in a number he'd already programmed to speed dial. His tension began to ease when the soft voice answered.
"Hi. Just checking to make sure everything's okay."
"Yes. Why wouldn't it be? Do you know something I don't?” He heard the surprise in Jamie's voice.
"Nope. Just checking.” He paused, searching for just the right tone. “I'm not expecting another double murder tonight. Okay if I come by when I'm done here and bring pizza?"
Now it was her turn to let the silence hum between them. “Well, sure,” she said at last. Again, she sounded surprised, probably that he asked rather than commanded. “Kit's here, you know."
His mouth turned up in a grin. “She's welcome to join us in anything except our bed."
"Our bed?"
"Damn straight.” He lowered his voice. “And I'm looking forward to using it again. Don't you forget it for one minute, Jamie Randall. Not even for a second.” He exhaled, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. “See you later."
He hung up, wondering why the call had made him feel so much better. And how this thing between him and Jamie had turned so upside down. He absolutely had to get a handle on it before things got more out of control than they already were.
* * * *
Manny Alvarado mopped his forehead and wished Gray would turn up the air conditioning in the car. He didn't know why the man insisted on meeting on this hidden side road that it took forever to get to. He grumbled as much to his jefe.
"Use your head,” Gray snapped. “I don't want to talk about this in a place where we could be overheard."
"And this couldn't be handled over the telephone?” He'd had a bad night and he could foresee an even worse day.
"I wanted to look at your face when I asked you how you could possibly have fucked up a simple task so badly."
"You wanted the men taken care of. I had it done."
"No, you idiot.” Gray breathed heavily through his nose, fighting for control. “I wanted you to do it. They were your problem. You hired them. You didn't see they did their task properly. You needed to be the one to get rid of them."
"But padrone, I—"
"Save it. We're in a pile of horse shit now. Zane Cameron will be like a bulldog. He won't give up until he finds out who those men were and who killed them. And now you have yet another problem. Another fuckup to get rid of. We can't have any loose ends dangling.” Gray pulled out one of the thin cigars he favored, bit off the end, and spit it out the open window. “And we still haven't found the money."
I hate those stinking things.
"Grayson, I am not a killer,” he insisted. “That's why I hire people."
"Well, you make very poor choices in the hiring department. Damn it.” He smacked his hand on the steering wheel. “All I wanted to do was get rid of that bitch. If she'd just sold me the fucking house, none of this would have been necessary. We still don't know where that old drunk stashed the money. Now we've got a nuclear meltdown here and horny Zane Cameron is riding to the rescue."
Manny frowned. “I don't understand."
Gray narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell have I been thinking you were so fucking smart? The sheriff is fucking the Randall bitch. He's taking a personal interest in this."
"Shall I delay the next scheduled appointment?"
"Damn. I forgot about that. Manny, you couldn't possibly have made a bigger mess if you'd deliberately set out to. Yes. Get hold of our contact and have him push everything back a week. One week from tomorrow. I'll have things taken care of by then. And I'll get the damn money, too."
"How? How will you do this?"
"That's my business. Meanwhile go clean up your mess. And find a way into that house again. If she stumbles over that cash, she'll be asking more questions than we want to answer."
"Si, padrone. I will fix this."
"I'd hate to think I can't depend on you any longer. We've got a sweet thing going here. Too bad to see it fall apart."
Manny mopped his face again. “I said I will handle it."
"Make sure you do so. Go on. Get out of here."
Manny climbed out of the car and waited until Grayson Ballou had headed back out to the highway before he bent over and vomited. He really, really didn't have the stomach for this.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirteen
"How long will it take until we get an answer back?” Jamie asked.
They had just emailed the photos of Frank Randall's truck to Kit's friend. Jamie looked at her half-filled coffee mug, made a face, and poured the liquid down the drain.
"Give him a couple of hours, and I'll call him,” Kit told her. “Meanwhile, your pantry is severely understocked. Don't tell me you live on Pop-Tarts and yogurt."
"They have all the essential nutrients,” Jamie said, grinning. “But I owe you a breakfast for helping with this. Let's go flaunt ourselves in the Armadillo Cafe. I'd take you to the big city, but I want to wait for answers on the accident."
"No problem. I'd love to stick it to the locals."
"One good thing. Anita Cameron doesn't grace the place with her presence. Thinks it's beneath her."
"Did you happen to tell the sheriff his mother told you to leave her baby alone?” Kit asked when they were in the car heading to town.
"No.” Jamie sighed. “To tell you the truth, I'm still trying to figure out what's going on with us. I don't know if we've crossed into new territory—or back into old territory. Or if he's just leading up to the big finale when I get kicked in the teeth so he can extract his revenge."
"Then you have blinders on, girl. Maybe he had a grudge to satisfy at first, but I see the way he looks at you. That man's fighting a big battle with himself."
Jamie snorted. “Yeah. When I first got here, he couldn't decide whether to toss me on the trash heap or run me out of town on a rail."
"Then you haven't paid careful attention.” Kit smacked the dashboard. “I can't believe how stupid you are. Maybe you should look at it from his point of view. You know, you ran away from this piece of no place once before. He's probably thinking you'll do it again and making sure he doesn't come out on the short end of the stick a second time."
Jamie turned into the parking lot of the Armadillo, parked, and turned to look at Kit. “First of all, I have no place to go. Second of all, I can't believe that a man who couldn't stay faithful for more than five minutes has changed his stripes. I'm sure I'm just another toy to him, like the last time.” Please don't let that be true. “Meanwhile, he's getting all the sex he can."
"I don't see you putting up any objections,” Kit pointed out.
"But—"
"I also don't see him hopping into anyone else's bed, this man you said has the morals of a mink.” Her voice softened. “Honey, you have to decide what you want, then figure out if Zane's part of it. The rest will fall into place.” She opened the
car door. “Meanwhile, I'm starving. Let's eat."
* * * *
Zane took the back roads until he was sure he could safely enter the Interstate without anyone spotting him. He was sure Copper Ridge would have what he wanted, but he wasn't about to do his shopping there. Not when he was one of the most recognizable people in Diablo County. And certainly not under the glare of his mother. So here he was, sneaking out of town, on his way to San Antonio.
But it would be worth it. Oh, yes. Besides, he had a place to go in the city where he could slip in and out without any fanfare.
As he drove, he actually found himself whistling, despite the garbage going on in his life. His mother was about to drive him out of his mind, he had two mutilated corpses on his hands, and he had a bad feeling that trouble was dogging Jamie. And that last was something he planned to do something about, starting with that asshole, Gray Ballou. He'd have to be careful about that because of his mother's job, but he figured to get to the bottom of this whole mess one way or another.
This thing with Jamie had caught him totally by surprise. He'd been completely prepared to fuck the life out of her. Get her out of his system once and for all and then make it too unpleasant for her to stay around. Only it hadn't quite turned out that way. Payback sex had turned into some of the hottest sex he'd ever had, and somehow the woman who'd left him in the dust had found the crack in his heart that had never completely closed.
Dangerous. Very dangerous.
Of course, he had to admit he hadn't done much to help the situation back then. Fidelity hadn't been one of his strong suits, and he'd all but flaunted it in her face. It was her father's half-breed insults that had nailed the coffin shut and festered all these years.
Now he couldn't get her out of his mind. Images of her naked beneath him. In the shower. Spread out before him like a sexual banquet, that hot little cunt soaking wet, the tissues soft and waiting for him. Gripping his cock like a tight, wet fist, milking him, surrounding him with her liquid heat.
He'd certainly done his share of fucking. That little fact was one of the reasons Jamie had been so reluctant to trust their relationship before. The ages of his partners had changed over the years, along with their degree of sophistication, but none of them had driven him to an orgasm as explosive as Jamie had. And none of them had reached his core the way she did. Just thinking about her made his groin tighten and his dick press hard against the fly of his pants.
Jesus. He knew he was getting in deep, but sex with Jamie was turning into an addictive drug. That was it. A drug. He just needed enough to get it out of his system. Once again he wondered how she'd react if he showed her what kind of sex he really liked now. How he really wanted to fuck her. How rough he liked it. And how rough he'd like it with her.
Well, only one way to find out. This would either kick what they had up another notch or kill it altogether.
By the time he'd finished chasing thoughts around in his head, he was pulling off the Interstate in San Antonio and turning into a familiar strip center. Parking at the rear of his destination store, he shucked his Stetson and his uniform shirt and pulled on a T-shirt before ringing the bell at the back door.
"Why, Sheriff.” Annabelle Gold's mouth turned up in a knowing grin and mischief flashed in her eyes. “Did you come to arrest me for purveying indecent items?"
Zane leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Not today, sweetheart. I'm doing a little shopping."
"Oh?” Her voice was filled with curiosity. “I didn't know you were involved with someone new."
"Someone I need some very special gifts for.” He pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. “Think you can rustle up some of these things?"
Annabelle's eyes widened as she looked at the list, but she just grinned at him. “Come have a seat in my office, and I'll get the goodies for you to look at."
Zane's arrangement with Annabelle, even though he always came to the store in civvies, was he got to do his shopping away from the prying eyes of her customers.
"This must be some woman,” Annabelle teased as she placed yet another array of nipple clamps and rings on the desk for him to see.
"You have no idea,” Zane muttered, wondering once again if he'd completely lost what passed for his mind.
While Annabelle worked from his list, he set aside a selection that included three different kinds of vibrators, two butt plugs, and two dildos. He almost closed his eyes as he sat there, wanting to visualize Jamie spread out on the bed, knees bent, both openings filled with the toys as he stimulated her clit and her cream seeped around the edges of the dildo. He gritted his teeth to keep the images at bay, or he was sure he'd embarrass himself right there at Annabelle's desk.
With each of his choices, Annabelle's grin widened. She chuckled when he was finished at last and handed over a chunk of his cash.
"I hope the poor girl is resting up,” she commented as she wrapped his purchases.
When he left The Playroom with a bag filled with expensive sexual toys, images of how he and Jamie would use them had his cock about to burst through the heavy twill of his trousers. He hoped Jamie wouldn't be turned off by any of this, that she would accept the way he liked his sex. He could hardly wait for tonight. Too bad he had work to take care of first.
Slipping back into his uniform shirt, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed back toward Amen.
* * * *
Anita Cameron fought to keep her anger under control. The rage had been building since she left her son's office. Things were getting way out of hand, and Gray was not providing the help she expected. After all she'd done for him, it was his turn to pay up.
"I'll never get him on the political track if that tramp is still around,” she told him, a vicious edge to her voice.
They were having coffee in his office in Copper Ridge, not an unusual thing for the manager of Diablo Con Ag to do. She often met with him there, so no one ever gave their meetings a second thought. Besides, he'd taken the precaution of having his office soundproofed, and someone swept it every day. Most of his business was not the kind that he could afford to expose to eavesdroppers. Especially with Anita.
"You'll have to be patient a little longer,” he said. “I've run into some ... difficulties."
Anita set the delicate china cup in its saucer and placed them carefully on the table next to her chair. “I don't know why you can't just arrange a convenient accident. You seem to be quite good at it."
"I have other things happening,” he pointed out. “As you well know. I have better reasons than your son's political career for getting rid of Jamie Randall, and so do you. But we can't do it in a way that will endanger any other plans."
"That little bitch is nothing but trouble.” Anita's voice was edged with venom. “She showed up here at exactly the wrong time."
"Agreed. But we need to be careful how we proceed here. If something happens to her, you can bet your ass your son will be all over it like green on grass."
"You're right, damn it.” She picked up her coffee again. “So what do we do? Time's getting shorter."
"I told you I'd take care of it and I will. Even if it means some things have to be temporarily postponed. Or juggled around."
"Yes. Well. I hear you. You're the man with the connections. Mr. Fixit. So fix this before everything blows up in our faces."
* * * *
Jamie and Kit carried the groceries into the house, putting the frozen foods away at once.
During her furniture shopping spree, she'd also bought a desk and two chairs. She might be unemployed, but that didn't mean she couldn't do some work. Only this time it would be private and personal. Creating a simple work station, she set her laptop up on the desk and booted it up in eager expectation.
"We'll get to the rest in a minute,” Jamie said, opening her inbox. “I want to see if your friend got back to us yet on the accident photos we sent. Hey, Kit,” she yelled. “Your friend already sent something. Come here and take a look."
&n
bsp; Kit pulled up the other chair and sat next to her. “Open it up and let's see."
Jamie clicked on the email to open it.
"Hi, Kit,” she read. “I see you haven't stopped sticking your nose in other people's business."
Kit snorted. “He is such an ass."
"Hush. Let's read the rest."
"Anyway,” the email continued, “at least you send me interesting stuff. I had another investigator look at the photos, too, just to confirm what I thought. The only way the dents on the bumper and the tail gate could have come from rolling down the hillside would be if the truck rolled end-over-end. In that case, we wouldn't see the damage to the doors."
Jamie smacked her hand on the desk. “I knew it."
Kit pointed to the next paragraph. “He says the dents on the rear of the truck are more consistent with being bumped by another vehicle. The other investigator agrees with him that the truck was probably pushed over the edge and tumbled sideways to the bottom of the hill."
The rest of the email was a personal message to Kit. Jamie stood up so Kit could take her chair and went into the kitchen to get a cold drink. She rolled the can against her forehead, trying to ward off the niggling headache that had suddenly popped up.
She had a feeling Zane would not be too happy with what she'd found out. Unlike when she'd first confronted him, it was important now for her to make him believe she wasn't questioning his attention to the accident. Or his professionalism. Her father was a well-known drunk who finally had one accident too many. She'd have looked at it the same way.
"I'm going to have to call Zane,” she told Kit, her stomach knotting in anticipation. “Maybe I can fax this over to him or email it."
Kit frowned. “You sure you don't want to wait until you see him?"
Jamie shook her head. “No. I told him we were doing this, and I want to be upfront all the way."
Besides, things between us are already getting too complicated. I need to be as controlled and objective about this as I can. Kit will never understand.
