Texas Homecoming

by Maggie Shayne

  A hand came down on his shoulder. "Easy now," Garrett said.

  The stage was only a small raised section of the floor, a platform about three feet higher than the rest of the room. The only thing between her curvaceous body gyrating on the stage and the groping, slavering drunks in the front row were a handful of sparsely placed bouncers.

  One guy got between them and managed to plaster his palm to her backside before he got pushed back.

  "Hold on now, Luke. Just take it easy!"

  "I'll give them easy," Luke said, and he shook off Garrett's restraining hand and started shoving his way through bodies toward the stage.

  "Ah, hell," Wes muttered. "It's gonna be that dive down in Pueblo Bonito all over again."

  " Nah. We'll probably end up in an American jail this time," Elliot said, as he and the others began shoving their way through right behind Luke.

  Luke paid little attention to whether or not they kept up. He plowed ahead until he reached the stage and, when a bouncer roughly the size and shape of a gorilla stepped up to block his path, he decked the guy. The bouncer went down hard. Luke used his chest as a step up to the stage. Someone yelled, and his masked beauty backed away as Luke strode up to her. Someone grabbed him from behind, and Luke spun around, swinging. His fist struck someone's jaw, and his attacker went down. But Luke wasn't the only one under attack at this point In fact, the fight seemed to have spread from him to his cousins behind him, and even now was spreading further to uninvolved bystanders, who, upset at having their entertainment interrupted, were apparently amusing themselves by hauling off and popping the first guy who looked at them.

  A chair flew past his head, and Luke grabbed his woman and pulled her low, out of its reach. Then he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder and strode across the stage, off the back of it and through the curtains there.

  * * *

  PETRONELLA FOLLOWED HER INTO THE back, just as Jasmine had intended. He came up behind her, gripped her arm and propelled her past the dressing room and into Leo's office. Good. That was exactly what she wanted.

  "You don't need to manhandle me, Gianni," she told him. "I came back here to make a deal."

  He closed the office door, threw the lock. "You got nothing I want," he said.

  "How sure are you of that?" She walked to the desk, pulled out Leo's chair and sat down. "Look, if I were going to turn you in, don't you think I'd have done it by now? God knows I was mad enough to, after you murdered my roommate."

  He narrowed his eyes. "You're coming with me," he said, pulling out his gun.

  "And what if I don't? What are you gonna do? Shoot me right here, in a bar full of people?"

  "Hell, sweetie, they won't even hear the shot with all the noise out front."

  She frowned. It was noisier than hell out there.

  "Come on. Let's keep this clean. Come on out to the car. I kill one more person in his office, Leo will have a heart attack."

  She nodded slowly. "This isn't fair, you know. It wasn't my fault I walked into this damn bar when I did—just in time to see you put a bullet in that guy's head."

  "Tough break," Petronella said. "But that's life."

  "I heard he was some kind of cop," she asked.

  "Fed. A damned nosy one."

  She licked her lips. "So that's it. You have to kill me then?"

  "I got no choice, babe. It's nothing personal."

  Again she nodded. Then she glanced down at the telephone on Leo's desk. She said, "Did you get all that?"

  Petronella frowned hard. "What? What are you—"

  "Every word," a voice said from the other end of the phone. "All of it on tape."

  Petronella yanked out his gun, brandishing it at her. "What are you trying to pull?"

  She shrugged. "Hell, Gianni, I'm just admiring the wonders of speaker phone. Leaves the hands free to run the tape recorder, you know? If you shoot me now, we'll have that murder on tape live, rather than just a confession."

  Lunging forward, Petronella grabbed the phone's handset "Who is this?" he demanded. "Where are you?"

  But there was click and then a dial tone. Before he could think it through, Jasmine drummed her fingers over the keypad, hitting random numbers before Petronella yanked the phone off the desk and threw it on the floor. Now redial would do him no good, either.

  "Whoever it was, they're on their way here with the police right now."

  To her amazement, a distant siren punctuated the sentence. Petronella backed away. "You think this is gonna save you? Do you? I'll find you, you smug little bitch. And your kid, too."

  She shook her head. "Not if you're in jail, you won't"

  He undid the lock, yanked open the door. A blast of sound rushed in, so much noise she thought a riot must have broken out in the bar. Petronella ran down the hall and out the back door. She stepped into the hall after him, but turned sharply at the sound of a familiar voice.

  "That's it! I don't give a damn what your justification was, I don't want you dancing for men like that anymore. And maybe that sounds old-fashioned, and maybe you don't want any man telling you what to do." He was striding down the hall with a dancer flung over his shoulder. He stopped, set her down and softened his tone. "Well, fine, then, I won't tell you. I'm begging you. Please, don't get up on that stage again. It twists me all up inside."

  The sounds of cracking bones and shattering glass came from the barroom. The sound of Petronella's car squealing away came from out back. Jasmine smiled crookedly, a little lump forming in her throat. The dancer wasn't so touched by Luke's emotional declaration, though. She hauled off and smacked him hard across the face.

  Luke recoiled, blinking in shock. "What the hell was that for?"

  "Maybe she doesn't like being manhandled by strangers," Jasmine said.

  * * *

  IT WAS JASMINE'S VOICE HE heard, and it wasn't coming from the half-naked woman he'd just carried off the stage. He turned his head slowly and saw her standing there, looking less like the woman he'd fallen head over heels for and more like the one who'd first shown up on his doorstep. Big hair, coats of makeup, skimpy clothes.

  "You've got to be kidding me," Elliot said from behind him. Luke turned to see Elliot, Garrett, Ben and Wes stumbling through the curtains into the backstage area off to the right. Each of them rubbing a different body part, they hurried to the hall. The riot out front seemed content to go on without them.

  Luke swallowed hard and looked at the girl in front of him. Reaching out, he tugged off her face mask. She was cute and young and angry as hell. He shrugged. "Sorry."

  Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "So just what the hell do you think you're doing, Luke?"

  "I...I thought she was you," he said in defense.

  "Oh, and if she had been, that would have been all right? Dammit, Luke, I had a plan!"

  "What, to dance around up there half-naked so the bad guys would be sure to have a good clear shot at you?"

  The young dancer was looking from one of them to the other, wide-eyed, and backing away. "You're both crazy," she muttered.

  "Yeah, well, you're too young to be stripping, so get your backside home before the sheriff here tosses you into jail," Luke muttered. He dragged his gaze away from Jasmine just long enough to send the girl a look that had her scurrying into the dressing room, slamming the door behind her, then he focused again on his reason for being here. His reason for being...period. He swore softly before he closed the distance between him and Jasmine in two long strides. Then he pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard to his chest. "Damn, I'm glad to see you alive."

  She sighed in what sounded like exasperation. But she didn't pull away, and she even hugged him back. "Come on," she said. "Thanks to you, Petronella got away. But we have the goods on him now."

  Luke backed off, glanced at her.

  "I'll explain later. I just need to grab something out of Leo's office first."

  She ducked back inside. Luke followed her, not knowin
g what the hell had transpired before he'd arrived. He watched as Jasmine went to a shelf in one corner, shoved some notebooks aside and pulled out a small camcorder. She pushed the stop button, then ejected a small tape. Then she went to the desk, opened the drawer and took out a mini-recorder, taking the microcassette from that, as well. Coming forward, she took his arm as sirens screamed outside.

  "We'd better slip out the back," Jasmine said, leading Luke back into the hallway with his cousins. "Technically, I'm still wanted for murder."

  "Wait up a sec," Elliot said. He tapped on the dressing room door. "Hey, come on, we'll give you a ride out of this hole."

  "I'm not going anywhere with you lunatics," the dancer squeaked.

  Elliot looked at Garret, brows raised. Garrett sighed. "Damn, I hate being the heavy. All right." He hauled his badge out of his pocket and walked into the dressing room. When he came out again, he had the girl by the arm. She looked scared half to death, but at least she was decently covered now in a long wrap, Luke saw with relief.

  "Everyone, this is Misti," Jasmine said. "She's new here."

  Luke pushed open the back door, and they all trooped out to Ben's SUV and piled in: Garrett in the front with Ben, Jasmine in the middle seat beside Luke, and in the back, Misti, Elliot and Wes. Police cars pulled up out front as they drove away. Their flashing red lights bathed the bar's open door and cast a strobe effect over the brawlers who'd spilled out into the street. Broken glass winked in the intermittent glow.

  Jasmine shook her head. "What the hell did you guys do in there?"

  "What, you don't know?" Elliot asked. "We rescued you!"

  She rolled her eyes. "Leo will have to close down for a week just to fix the place up."

  "That's gonna be a real drain on the moral fortitude of Chicago, I'll bet," Luke said.

  She narrowed her eyes on him. "Some people depend on that place for their living."

  "Yeah, well, some people depend on some pretty sleazy things in the name of money, Jasmine. That doesn't make them right."

  "So now you're what, the Moral Majority?"

  "Closest thing to it in this part of town."

  "How dare you sit there and judge me?"

  He blinked and stared at her. Somewhere, somehow, he'd gotten in over his head. "That's not what I was doing?"

  "You damned well were!"

  "No, I wasn't!"

  "Were so," Misti put in with a huff. "And me, too."

  "You don't need to be judged, you need to be grounded and sent to bed without supper."

  "You wish," she snapped.

  "I meant it literally, kid, not figuratively. And as for you," he said, and turned back to Jasmine.

  "Stop this car and let me out," Jasmine said. "I've managed to get through my whole life without some half-baked male telling me how to run it. I don't intend to change now."

  "Oh, and look where it's gotten you!" Luke said, his voice louder now.

  Jasmine went utterly still, staring at him, stricken. "You mean the fact that I'm an unmarried mother who strips for a living?"

  The pain in her voice, in her face, when she said those words to him shocked him into silence. He stammered, but nothing intelligible came out of his mouth, and then Jasmine opened her door and said, "Stop the car, Ben, or I'll jump out while it's moving.

  Ben must have believed she meant it—Luke knew he sure as hell did—because he hit the brakes. Jasmine got out.

  Garrett glared at Luke, and Wes shoved him. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go after her. We'll drive around the block till you've finished groveling, cuz."

  Luke jumped out of the vehicle and took off after Jasmine. She moved fast for someone walking on five-inch railroad spikes, but he caught up in short order, gripped her shoulders and spun her around. "That's not what I meant, and you damned well know it," he managed to say. He'd been thinking up an appropriate apology for several yards and realized too late that wasn't it.

  "Then just what did you mean? Hmm?" Hands on her hips, she tapped one foot rapidly on the cracked sidewalk. "Well? I'm waiting?"

  "I meant that making decisions on your own has gotten you into this situation that you're in right now. Running for your life, set up for murder, and too damned stubborn to let anyone help you."

  "Oh, right. Like you?"

  "Yeah. Like me."

  "For your information, Luke, I had a plan back there. I gave Leo no choice but to cooperate, and it was working. I got Petronella admitting everything on tape. Audio and video! But you came along and distracted me, and he slipped away! I don't need your damned help!"

  "I know you don't!" he shouted. Then, licking his lips, he lowered his head. "I know you don't. I came charging up here wanting to be your hero— like something out of a fairy-tale, I guess. And here you were, doing just fine without me." He shrugged. "It's kind of deflating, you know?"

  She seemed to soften just a little. "You...really? You came to rescue me? Like Elliot said?"

  "Yeah. Really."

  "Hey, mister," a voice said from behind him.

  Luke waved a hand in the air without turning around to look. "Go away. I'm busy. Jasmine, I meant well, I really did. I was trying to save your life when I marched up on that stage the way I did."

  She thought about that, then pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "No way, Luke. If you're going to be honest here, let's do it all the way. You were all ticked off ‘cuz you thought that was me up there shaking my tassels in front of strangers. Admit it. You didn't give a single thought to my safety at that moment. You were just plain jealous and possessive, like some kind of bossy, overbearing Neanderthal."

  "Mister!" the voice behind him said again.

  "Dammit can't you see I'm in the middle of something here?" Luke snapped. He turned partway around this time.

  The kid stood behind him looking like yesterday's garbage. He had a blade in his hand, and he said, "Just gimme your wallet and you won't get hurt."

  Jasmine sucked in a sharp breath. "Give it to him, Luke," she whispered.

  "Oh, for crying out loud," Luke said. "Fine, here's my wallet." He punched the kid in the face so hard his nose crunched and his lip split. Blood spurted, and the kid went down. Luke bent long enough to snatch up the blade, whipped it over a nearby fence, then turned back to Jasmine again. "Look, maybe you're right maybe I was out of line, and maybe it did bug me to see you—or think I saw you—dancing for all those men." He lowered his head. "If that makes me a closed-minded Neanderthal, then I guess I'm guilty."

  She was staring at him, wide-eyed, her gaze darting every now and then to the kid on the ground behind him. Luke kept his eyes on Jasmine. He heard Ben's SUV coming around the block, recognized the sound of the engine.

  "Come on, please? Just come with me. Someplace where we can talk? Please?"

  Blinking slowly, she nodded. The SUV stopped, and they stepped around the kid, who was pulling himself to his feet. Luke held Jasmine's arm in one hand and opened the door for her with the other.

  Garrett nodded toward the kid, who'd taken off at an uneven run, clutching his bloodied nose. "Trouble?"

  Luke followed his gaze. "Not so you'd notice."

  "Well, if Luke is done picking on the locals, can we get something to eat somewhere before we head back home? My belly button's touching my backbone," Elliot said.

  Jasmine sighed, lowered her eyes. "I can't go back with you guys. Not until I finish what I came here to do."

  She lifted her head again and met Luke's eyes. "And don't you dare try to tell me I can't. That man is still on the loose. He's still a threat to my son, and I'm not going anywhere until I see to it that he's not."

  Luke set his jaw, deciding it was better not to reply to that just now. Drawing a calming breath, he said, "Get us back on the highway, Ben. Best truck stop in the state is ten miles out. We'll get a good meal there and figure out what we're doing next."

  Very softly, a throat cleared. All eyes turned to Misti, whom Luke had forgotten was still with them. "Wha
t about me?" she asked.

  "You are going back home to your family," Garrett said.

  "No way," she snapped.

  Garrett eyed her. "They abuse you?"

  Her brows came down fast "No. I just don't get along with my mom. She doesn't understand me." And she averted her eyes.

  "Hell, kid, a few years ago she was you. Trust me on this. Now, tell me where you live so I don't have to haul you into some juvey center somewhere."

  Pouting, clearly ticked off, but maybe just a tiny bit relieved, she said, "Cedar Lake, Indiana."

  Elliot was already unfolding the map in the back seat.

  Chapter 13

  * * *

  TWO HOURS LATER, THEY SAT in a big booth at a truck stop, three on each side of the Formica table. Jasmine had made a point to squeeze into the side with Garrett and Elliot, rather than on the other padded seat with Luke. He was crammed over there between Ben and Wes and looking as if he thought he was the wronged party here.

  She really was doing her best to stay angry with him for chasing her up here, for telling her what to do, for leaving Baxter when he'd promised to take care of him. And mostly for acting so damned judgmental about her former career. Hell, it hurt that he thought badly of her. It hurt a hell of a lot more than it should.

  And yet...she was touched in spite of herself that he had come here after her, that he had wanted to be her hero.

  They'd dropped Misti off at her house. Jasmine had tried like hell not to be affected by that little scene. A middle-aged woman in a housecoat had come to the door to see who was outside. When she saw Misti get out of the hulking vehicle, she burst into tears and ran down the steps, wrapping her up tight and thanking Jesus out loud. When Jasmine had looked around her, she'd seen the big, rugged Brand men at their dopiest. Every last one of them choked up and trying to hide it. She glimpsed ten damp eyes and five crooked smiles in that SUV. And as much as she knew about men, she realized she was only just beginning to know these men.

  She watched them smile kindly at the harried waitress as they ordered enough food for an entire football team and told her to keep the coffee coming, and she knew they weren't flirting. They were genuine. It was freaking eerie.