by Winnie Reed
“I don’t think so!” Kevin shouted as he chased me, swinging the shovel as he did. I felt the air whooshing at my back, telling me he was closer than would do me any good. I shrieked, sidestepping just in time as the clank of metal on metal set my teeth on edge.
“You hit my car!” I screamed. First Lola, now my car.
He placed himself in front of the driver’s door, spinning the shovel in his hands. All that running hadn’t done him any good, obviously, and now he was breathing heavy.
But that didn’t mean he was about to give up. “I’m tired of people interfering with my family,” he panted. “I won’t have it anymore.”
“I’ll go, then.” I wasn’t breathing so easily myself, though fear had a lot to do with it. He’d come a little too close for comfort. “I’ll go and I won’t come back. I won’t say another word about this. Only let me go. My dog is waiting for me at the hotel. I’ll take her home with me tonight. Please. Don’t leave her there without me. Don’t make me abandon her like that.”
What made me say it? I had no idea. Instinct, most likely. Something had to get through to him. The memory of how stricken he’d looked after kicking Lola—striking her with his foot, more like, since I didn’t think he’d deliberately kicked her—must have spurred me on.
Whatever it was, it was enough to take some of the wind out of his sails. He stopped spinning the shovel, for one thing.
I barely had time to think about what I could do next before light washed over us.
I winced, turning my head away as the blinding light hit my eyes.
And so did Kevin.
Now was my chance.
I threw myself forward and closed my hands over the shovel, pulling it out of his loosened grip before he had the chance to stop me. He let out an angry cry as I turned and ran toward whatever was coming our way. Anything to get away from him.
A car pulled into view, and it came to a stop seconds later.
“Kevin!” Nate roared. “Stop this!” He jumped out of the car and ran toward us.
“You! You had to have your way!” Now Kevin was as close to madness as anyone I’d ever seen. He barely sounded human as years of conflicting emotion poured out of him. “A brat! A spoiled, pampered brat who never had to work for anything! George made me work for what I had, but your father gave you everything! You even killed a girl and nothing came of it! Why should you have whatever you want?”
Nate held up his hands. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a voice far calmer than his cousin’s. “I really don’t know, Kevin. I didn’t intend for it to be this way. All I’ve tried to do since then is make up for it in every way I know how, and I’ve given so much of my money away. Doesn’t that count for something?”
There was no chance for Kevin to offer an answer before another set of headlights swept over us. Then again, and another.
Along with flashing red and blue lights.
Kevin was aghast as he realized what was happening. “How?” he gasped as his head swung back and forth.
I wanted to know that, too.
Nate pulled out his phone. Even at a distance I could see he had a call going. “You must’ve called me again by accident and not noticed,” he told me, then shrugged. “I heard enough to tell me who you were with and where you were.”
Kevin wasn’t as impressed with my butt dialing. He backed away, now weaponless, eyes taking up half his face. “No. No, I can’t. You can’t make me.”
He didn’t even realize he was backing toward the trench.
“Kevin, stop!” I called out with my hands raised, dropping the stupid shovel. “You’re gonna—”
But he’d already fallen. I ran to the edge of the trench and so did Nate, and we stood side by side watching Kevin writhe in pain, holding a leg that was obviously broken.
Maybe it was the sight of bone sticking out through torn khaki, or maybe it was almost having my skull caved in by a shovel.
Regardless of why my legs gave out, I was glad Nate was there to catch me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I hope you know you’re grounded for at least the next year.”
I stirred blueberries into a huge bowl of batter, careful to keep from breaking them. “I don’t think my editor will agree with you on that, Mom. She already has me scheduled for a trip to the Hamptons next week and Portland the week after that.”
“Wonderful. And I suppose you’ll find a way to get yourself into trouble there, too.”
I looked down at Lola, who looked up at me from her comfy doggie bed. The homemade treat Mom had presented her with was a distant memory, and she was happy and full and pampered. She didn’t care about her mommy getting raked over the coals.
“I don’t deliberately do things to end up in trouble.”
Mom brushed flour from her apron like she found its presence deeply offensive. She was good and worked up, and it was my fault.
“I’m sorry I worried you. But all’s well, isn’t it? I’m okay. I didn’t even get wet this time.”
She did not find this amusing. “Emma Jane. You might think it’s funny for me to almost lose my daughter twice, but I don’t. At all.”
“If it makes you feel any better, neither of my next two assignments have anything to do with personal attachments. I won’t feel compelled to help anybody since I won’t know anybody in the area.”
“Knowing you, you’ll find a way.”
“Don’t be angry with me, please.”
“I’m not angry,” she admitted with a heavy sigh. “I’m worried. You worry me.”
“I’ll be more careful from now on. I promise.” Then, to lighten things up, I said, “Raina’s spending the weekend out there. I think she and Nate might have a future. Just think, this case would be the reason they got together.”
“You aren’t going to turn my mood around on this,” Mom warned, though her tone was a lot softer than before. I was getting through to her, just like I knew I would. The ultimate hopeless romantic.
“I think it would be nice, is all. The two of them brought closer together by this.” I hummed to myself as I continued folding blueberries, occasionally glancing up at my mother to gauge her reaction.
She wanted to rail at me. She wanted to chain me to the prep table.
Instead, she asked, “How is Joe?”
Boy, was she good. Just when I thought she would zig, she zagged. I kept my cool, eyes on my work. “He’s just fine.”
“And how does he feel, knowing you almost got yourself killed all over again?”
“First.” I lifted the batter-covered spoon, not caring if I splattered the table. “I did not almost get myself killed. So let’s drop that right now. I’ll eat my fair share of crow when I know I’m in the wrong, but I didn’t come anywhere near death.”
Mom sniffed, but offered no response.
“Second,” I continued, because why not dig my grave deeper, “it doesn’t matter what Joe thinks. He’s barely even a friend.”
“Now, I don’t buy that for a minute.”
Neither did Raina, but that was another story. Ever since I’d made the mistake of telling her about our moments in the closet and how he’d held me when I cried for him and the Fergusons, she couldn’t stop making little offhand comments about us. Like we were something when we weren’t.
“I don’t know what to tell you. He has a lot of baggage, Mom—and no,” I added when her mouth opened. “I’m not sharing it. That’s his story, his life. I understand him better now, is all, and he’s a complicated man.”
“You’re a complicated girl.”
“Well, boy howdy, let’s get us together. Right? Two complicated people?” I couldn’t help but laugh as I went about filling muffin cups. “No, thanks. That’s a recipe for disaster.”
“I don’t see any other prospects on the horizon,” she sniffed. The woman was lucky I loved her.
“And that doesn’t matter,” I reminded her, knowing there was no point. She wouldn’t be satisfied until both Darcy an
d I were settled down and providing grandchildren for her to spoil mercilessly.
The truth was, I had no idea how to feel about Joe. He was always in the back of my mind, and I’d wished more than once that I had an excuse to call him. In a few days he’d become a comfortable presence.
Too comfortable.
But he had a job to do, and he had a life. So did I. It was one thing to call on him for help, but another to call and ask what he planned on watching TV that night.
Besides, I didn’t want him thinking I pitied him. That now that I knew he was a widower, he was my pet project. Somebody for me to protect.
Though it mad me sad to think that I might not talk to him again, or at least not for a long time.
“You never know,” I winked as I popped the muffins into the oven and set the timer. “He might drop by sometime. I know he loves these muffins of yours.”
“Yes,” Mom murmured with a roll of her eyes. “If he drove thirty minutes in both directions, it would be because he loves my blueberry muffins. I know you and Darcy think I’m hopelessly silly, but that’s sillier than anything even I would come up with.”
I couldn’t exactly fight her on that, since she was right.
Lucky for me, it was a busy day around the café. There was no time to scold me or make comments on my lack of a love life when the bell above the door never stopped chiming. I welcomed the work; there were things I didn’t particularly feel like thinking about.
Like what would happen to Kevin. I didn’t think he’d be on the hook for anything too serious. He hadn’t pulled a gun on me and hadn’t hurt me, and he didn’t kill his father. But he did mistreat a corpse and would no doubt face a lot of questions over why he’d lied for his uncle, even if he was a child when he did it.
To say nothing of the gossip which would’ve spread like wildfire. Deep roots or not, if his lawyers managed to keep him out of jail he might’ve done well to look for someplace else to live.
“Where’s that hunky cop you had in here?” Trixie Graham waited at the counter for her usual: a large coffee, black, and a croissant. I knew better than to share anything with her, knowing it might end up on the front page of the Cape Hope Times if I wasn’t careful.
“You weren’t here that morning,” I observed with a sweet smile. “How did you know he was here?”
“So you admit he’s a hunk,” she grinned from behind her huge sunglasses. I guessed the light in the café was too bright for her.
“I’d have to be blind.” I handed her the croissant and coffee. “Otherwise, no comment.”
“I can always get the details from your mother,” she reminded me in a light, singsong tone before heading to the only empty table in the café. I bit my tongue before calling out that anything she got from my mother would be speculation at best.
And a fairytale at worst.
The hunky cop. That was a good description for him, even if I couldn’t see a future for us. We were too different. Or, rather, too alike. Stubborn and determined and sarcastic and liable to drive each other crazy.
Even if he knew just how to hold a woman when she cried. When I thought about it, I could almost imagine the feeling of his arms around me. It was a nice feeling. Comforting, warm, the sort of thing I’d like to revisit.
Only not while I was crying.
My head snapped up when the bell rang, signaling the entrance of another customer. Even after years of hearing it, I never managed to keep from reacting. Even hearing a chime similar to it someplace else in the world, no matter where, made my head snap around.
Just like Pavlov’s dog. At least I didn’t slobber.
And it was a good thing I wasn’t slobbering just then, as a familiar figure stepped into the café. One who I didn’t want seeing me looking sloppy.
Even if he’d just come back from the dead and didn’t deserve anything after disappearing on me.
Deke Bellingham removed his aviators, hooking them into the top of his partly unbuttoned shirt. Two buttons, just like always, the white of the fabric setting off his tan to perfection. His hair was a little longer than I remembered, a dark thatch flopping over his forehead.
“There she is.” He grinned, approaching the counter. He moved with the same ease, the same grace.
In other words, he looked darn good, and he was grinning at me like he was looking at the best thing he’d seen all day.
“What are you doing here?” Mom squawked loud enough to grab the attention of just about everybody. Including Trixie, of course, who practically climbed over her pastel table to be closer to the action.
“Mrs. Harmon, it’s good to see you again.” He smiled like a guy who hadn’t forgotten I existed for over a month before walking back into my life like no time had passed. “I’ve been out of the country for the last several weeks. My grandmother passed away suddenly at her home in France, and there were a ton of things to settle, packing the house, arranging the sale. I barely had time to leave Emma a message before getting on the plane.”
He looked at me.
Mom looked at me.
I looked at my phone. Funny how it had saved me from Kevin, if purely by accident, but it ate Deke’s message. “I never got it.”
His face fell. “Oh, no! I called just before boarding. I feel terrible, I would’ve called from out there if I knew you missed the message. I probably should have, anyway. I got caught up. You know how I can be. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I somehow managed to reply, even though my tongue felt thick and clumsy.
Just when I thought he was gone, he came back.
Just when I was thinking about calling Joe Sullivan. Just when I was thinking about him, period. And not unfavorably, either.
Deke’s gold-flecked eyes twinkled. “So. What have I missed around here?”
Talk about your loaded questions.
Keep reading for an excerpt from the next Winnie Reed Cape Hope Mysteries selection.
Excerpt: Cadaver at the Con
Cape Hope Mysteries Book Three
Emma’s boss has sent her to a conference. All expenses paid. How great is that? It was great until her mother’s best friends show up as attendees to make sure she doesn’t get herself into any trouble. What? It’s not like that’s their only mission. The conference is at a casino and they love their slots. Not to mention they love the keynote speaker. It was great until a mysterious shady man shows up, harassing the keynote speaker and another author. That shouldn’t really involve Emma. And it doesn’t. Until a trip to the swimming pool turns up a dead body.
Of course, wouldn’t you know it, the detective in charge is Detective McHottie. And he’s got his eye on a suspect. Luckily, this time, it’s not Emma. Unfortunately, it’s a new author that Emma’s become quite a fan of. Not to mention, Emma’s convinced this debuting author did not kill the dead guy in the pool.
Emma’s got her hands full, what with her mom’s best friends always on her heels, a killer on the loose, and of course, trying to keep out of Detective McHottie’s way. And thoroughly failing.
Chapter 1
“You are the only woman in the entire world who’d complain about having two hot guys vying for her attention.”
I wasn’t looking at the phone, where my best friend’s face was displayed even though she was all the way on the other side of the world, but I heard an eyeroll in the tone of her voice.
“Nobody’s vying for my attention,” I sighed. “Except for Lola, but she’s just freaking out because she can tell I’m packing to go someplace.” Just then, my beloved Maltese was doing everything but backflips to get me to look her way. I reached down and gave her a quick pet before folding my bathing suit. Maybe I’d get to use it during the conference.
The odds weren’t in my favor, but I could dream.
“They’re both interested in you, which is practically the same thing. And rather than sitting back and sipping a glass of wine and reveling in your ridiculous luck, you’re complaining and worrying and making me wish
I was there so I could strangle you.”
It wasn’t like Raina to take that sort of tone, which told me things with the sexy hunk she’d met on her latest work trip weren’t going well. Note to self: don’t ask about Perfect Paolo.
I lifted the phone from its nest on my mess of a bed, t-shirts and dresses and skirts galore. Raina was six hours ahead of me, meaning it was pretty late there.
For me. Not for her. Raina wasn’t part of the jammies-and-ice-cream-at-nine club, the way I was. Especially not while in Rome, where people ate dinner at, like, ten o’clock and then enjoyed a gelato while walking cobblestone streets and swimming in fountains.
Clearly, I had never been to Italy.
She looked like a million bucks, as always, her long hair pulled into a sleek topknot, a black shift dress skimming her curves. But she looked unhappy, which made me unhappy.
“What is it?” I asked, sitting on the bed. Lola jumped up next to me, jealous as always that I was talking to anybody but her.
Raina’s sad little frown made me regret fretting over which of the two men marginally in my life was the one I should pay attention to. Joe, the hot detective who happened to have strong, comforting arms. Deke, the millionaire photographer who drove me crazy but sure knew how to kiss.
When I stepped outside myself for a minute and looked at it from her perspective, I wanted to strangle myself.
She shrugged, looking away from the screen. “Paolo ghosted me. And yes, I know we were only hanging out for a week, but still.”
The thing was, Raina gave off the image of a girl on top of the world. Nothing could touch her. When she entered a room, people stopped talking. Moving. Maybe even breathing.
That was who she was on the outside. Inside? She was soft. Gentle. Easily hurt. People might’ve assumed she was too cool for school, but people would’ve been wrong.
This was the second such disappointment she’d faced in the last few weeks. Nate Patterson, whose bed and breakfast was on the verge of opening in mere days, was too busy to pursue a relationship. Raina had practically drooled over him as a kid and still had a thing for him, but it just wasn’t the right time. And now, this.
