Guilty as Sin (Sinful, Montana Book 1)

by Rosalind James

  “So we watch Paige,” Jace said. “And her sister.”

  “Her twin. They’re interchangeable?”

  “They are.”

  “Then they’re both in danger.”

  “Who are we looking for?” Paige asked. Lily was taken care of, and she could take care of herself.

  “Again—probabilities. You’re looking for an educated, intelligent woman who hasn’t achieved anything close to what that level of education and intelligence would suggest. Probably late twenties to late thirties. I’d expect her to have an erratic and unstable job and relationship history and an extremely limited circle of friends. If any. She’s met Jace, but she may not be openly engaging with him. Or rather—she probably engages with him, and then breaks it off rather than openly pursuing him. She’s built her fantasy life around him, but she doesn’t necessarily want it to ‘come true’ in the sense of actually getting together with him sexually. She wants him to think about her, and she wants to feel like he’s hers. She wishes he would engage her, but more in the way a teenager wishes it. Obsessive dreaming.”

  “OK,” Paige said. “One more. The stalker refers to herself in her story as blonde and curvy. Is that true? And are the pictures of her?”

  “It’s her idealized body image,” the professor said. “Whether she actually looks that way or not, I can’t say. But she’d like to. She imagines he’d find it sexy. And interestingly, other than the blonde part, the description fits Paige, which may also be fueling the stalker’s rage. Paige is where the stalker wishes she were in both her physical self and her relationship with Jace.”

  “I’m blonde, actually,” Paige said. “Naturally. I’m blonde again now, because of the switch.”

  “Oh.” Dr. St. John was silent a minute, then said, “So your sister is blonde as well?”

  “Yes,” Paige said.

  “Then be careful. Both of you. That’s about what I’ve got. I hope it was helpful. I also hope the police are aware of what’s going on, wherever it is you are. What’s that area code?”

  “They’re aware,” Paige said. “I’m in Montana. And thank you so much. I think it will be helpful.”

  “Good. Let me know where to send my bill.”

  “To me,” Jace said, which was lucky.

  “Thanks again,” Paige said after Jace had furnished his email address. “I still owe you.”

  Dr. St. John said, “Well, I may ask you and your sister if you’d like to help out with a twin study. I have a colleague who’d salivate at the chance. That’s the risk you run when you say ‘identical twin’ to a psychologist.”

  “I’ve found that out,” Paige said. “Just ask.”

  In another minute, they’d hung up, and she looked at Jace and said, “Well, that was creepy. As expected. It makes sense, but…”

  “But it doesn’t help much,” he said. “Except in possibly striking a few people off the list.”

  She said, “I want to talk it over with you. I want to think it through. Where are we going tonight?”

  “Right now,” he said, “up to the house.” The sun was setting in a romantic pink glow, and Jace smiled at her and said, “Lily made dinner.” Like this was normal, or he could make it that way. It was a seductive thought.

  “We’re staying here?”

  “No. We’re eating dinner here. And then you’re going to pack a bag, and we’re going to hide in plain sight. It was your sister’s idea.”

  Despite what she’d told him, Jace discovered that Paige wasn’t about to do anything like sit and talk things over with him. She didn’t even tell Lily about the call. Instead, she ate dinner with her sister and talked about the shop, about the sale they were doing, about the goats. About anything that wasn’t violence and destruction. Maybe she needed a break, or maybe she thought Lily couldn’t handle it. Maybe both.

  An hour later, he was watching the twins kiss each other goodbye. Pink sweaters, gray leggings, shiny blonde curls. Any man’s dream. Paige held her sister’s hand and told her, “Remember. One light on upstairs, one downstairs, like they’re on for security. Don’t go outside. Keep the alarm on. Nobody’s home. It’s got to look exactly that way. We’ll come back in the morning to take care of the animals. And if Tobias starts barking or if you see anything suspicious, call Jace first, then call 911. Jace will respond faster.”

  Lily said, “I know. I got it.” She smiled, squeezed Paige’s hand back, and said, “The first three times. They’re not coming after me here. You’ll be too visible for that.”

  Paige patted Tobias on the shoulder, rubbed his ears, and said, “Take care of my sister, boy.”

  “He’s got it, too,” Jace said.

  They left the house, Lily closing the door behind them, and Jace waited to hear her lock it, then walked to Paige’s car with her. She turned to him and said, “See you in the lobby?”

  “No,” he said. “See you in the parking lot.” She knew what he meant, he was fairly sure—that he didn’t want to risk having her jumped there—but at least she didn’t argue.

  He got there first and was waiting when she pulled up. She got out of the car, and he took her little suitcase from the back seat and said, “Here we go. Hiding in plain sight.”

  “The Sinful Inn.” She craned her neck to look up at the imposing structure, a lavishly ornamented white Victorian wedding cake during the day, its windows glowing now with golden light against the night, and said, “It’s visible, all right. It’s got that going for it. Nobody’s going to be in doubt of where we are. Home of the town founder and all. But it’s expensive.”

  “Fortunately,” he said, “I can afford it. At least until Tobias starts wanting the gourmet dog food. And I have to stay somewhere until I do that shopping. The bonus is that I don’t have to be lonely. I get to stay here with you. And do you want to stand around out here and talk about it, or would you rather go inside and check it out? Since I told Sergeant Worthless, the bloke at the Gas & Go, and everybody at the gym that I was bringing you here, maybe we should go on and follow through.”

  But when he took her through the ornate, oversized double doors that had been made from native cedar in a bygone age of craftsmanship, she stopped again and said, “Wow,” as if she weren’t so sure.

  Well, this hadn’t occurred to him. He did his best to look at the place through her eyes. A double staircase, its banisters elaborately carved, swept up from the floral-carpeted, chandelier-hung lobby. And then there was the marble-framed fireplace that looked like it could roast an entire deer and the creamy plaster ceiling with its carved scrolls and garlands. A woman behind an enormous marble desk smiled and said, “Good evening,” and Jace could have sworn Paige was one step from gone. Because it was too… what? Too good?

  Half of his mind said, Serious issues. The other half said, I don’t care. That half won. He told her, making it as firm as he could possibly manage, “I checked in earlier. Let’s go.” She might think that was commanding again, but right now, from what he was seeing? She was running on fumes. When he got to the stairs, though, something else occurred to him. He stopped and said, “Maybe I should—”

  “You are not carrying me,” she said. “I can do it. I’m better. I’m fine.”

  She was still moving pretty stiffly to his eye, but since she was already starting up the stairs, he didn’t say anything, just picked up her bag and followed her. When she got to the top, he said, “At some point here, you’re going to realize you don’t know where you’re going and ask me. Don’t get me wrong. I’m thrilled that you came down on the side of ‘Stay,’ despite my unfortunate choice of residence. I tried for the Super 8, but they were booked up.”

  She laughed, and some of the weird tension left her. “All right. Which way?”

  “Left. End of the hall.”

  Master Suite, the oval brass plaque on the door read. He got out the keys, held the door open, checked that the owner had done everything she’d promised, and said, “Voila.”

  She stopped barely insid
e the door. “Wow. Really? But… I’m not Lily, you know.”

  He could have been insulted. He decided not to be. “What’s ‘really’?” He lifted her suitcase onto the luggage rack. “And what does Lily have to do with it?”

  “Well, let’s see. The marble fireplace? The canopy bed? The carved ceiling? Or the roses and champagne? Jace.”

  “Only room they had available,” he said. “And it’s all part of the package.” When she narrowed her eyes at him, he laughed and said, “All right. That was a lie. Could be I wanted it to be a treat for you.”

  She sat on the edge of the king-sized bed. It was a stretch. That bed was a good way off the floor. “No, it’s beautiful. It is. I’ve just never stayed anywhere this good. Or had the… you know. Roses and champagne and all. It feels strange, that’s all. Seriously not my life.”

  He’d been right, then. “I could open the champagne,” he said. “Maybe that would help. I know you can’t wait to talk about that call and all your logical deductions, but my house was destroyed today, I’ve been on cleanup duty all afternoon, and I’m tired. This room happens to come with a spa bath. I think I should turn the taps on for you, pour you some champagne, turn on some music, and let you relax in there. And we can talk in the morning. They make breakfast.” He tilted his head toward the round table in veined green marble that sat in front of a nearly floor-to-ceiling window, flanked by two wing chairs. “Perfect spot for a chat about mad stalkers, mayhem, and gun safety. In the morning.”

  “That shouldn’t sound as good as it does,” she said. “Not the mayhem. The rest of it. Is the tub big enough for two?”

  There you are, mate, he told himself. It’s all about patience. He wouldn’t say it was her best virtue. Fortunately, he had enough for both of them. “Yeah,” he said. “It is.”

  He knocked at the bathroom door five minutes later, and she made herself open her eyes, smiled at him in the light of two candles at the foot of the tub, and said over the sound of the jets, “Come on in. The water’s fine.”

  This was the bonus she hadn’t thought of. Watching Jace stripping his T-shirt over his head, showing off that six-pack and those shoulders of his along the way, then unfastening his belt and shoving his jeans down his lean thighs. She said, “You look good naked.”

  “So do you.”

  “Except that the water’s bubbling and you can’t see me.”

  “Good point. Fortunately, I have an excellent memory. Scoot forward.”

  She did it, and he climbed in carefully behind her, wrapped his right arm around her, avoiding her sore left shoulder but letting her see his tattoo, then kissed the side of her neck, and said, “Smells nice in here.”

  “Mm. Lavender and roses.” She took another few more sips of champagne, and when he took her glass from her, she closed her eyes again. The heat was melting her bones, and Jace was warming her up everywhere else. He asked, “How’s the leg?”

  “Hurts some,” she admitted.

  “I’ll give it a rub, then, shall I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She sighed and relaxed a little more against him. “Remember what happened last time.”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  His hands were strong, the water was warm and scented like everything wonderful in the world, and the candlelight flickered and danced on its bubbling surface. Music was coming from somewhere, and that wasn’t bad, either. She felt almost too good to talk, but she said, “One of these days, we’re going to have to try this when I’m feeling… ah…” He was digging into that good spot, and she sighed again. “Exciting and adventurous.”

  His right hand was still working the muscles of her thigh, and his left hand was sliding up her body, over her breast. Slow strokes, languorous circles, and no rush. Like this could take forever, and like that would be fine by him. He was kissing her neck again, his lips moving lazily over her skin, and she tilted her head so he could do it more.

  “You like that?” he murmured in her ear.

  She could only gasp, because he was grazing her neck with his teeth. Right there, right under her earlobe. “Yes,” she managed to say. “You’re… mm… good at this.”

  He had both his hands in some very good places now, and she was hauled back hard against him. The hand on her breast had become a little more demanding, and the other one was doing a whole lot of lazy exploring. He said, “Then I suggest…” Another kiss, this one lower at her neck, then a harder bite, “that you decide I like you exciting and adventurous, and I like you this way, too. And that, just for tonight, you let me take care of it.”

  He did. He took care of her in the bathtub, nice and slow, and then he hauled her out of it, put her on the white bed under the canopy, and took care of her some more. And when he finally whispered in her ear, “Want to turn over for me again? Rest that leg?” she did it.

  He was still careful. He was still tender. And he was absolutely, positively thorough. By the time he’d finished with her, her eyes were closed, her cheek was resting on her forearm, her entire body was trembling, and she believed what he’d said. That he liked her this way. And that he could take care of it.

  When she was lying with him in the dark, the covers pulled up around them, her head on his shoulder and his hand stroking down her arm, and he could tell she was so contented that she wanted to hum, she said, sounding drowsy and relaxed, “Last night? It was strange.”

  His hand didn’t stop moving. Keep her here, mate. Nice and easy. “Which part?”

  “When Lily came back. I wanted to be with her, like always. She’s always been my other half. My mother said that when we were tiny, we sucked each other’s thumbs, like we didn’t know where our bodies began and ended. That probably sounds gross, but it’s the way twins are. You know you aren’t the same person, but you almost are anyway. We still start our periods the same day. Too much information again, I realize. Last night, though? I felt that same way, like always, but I also wanted to come downstairs and be with you. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry I’d pushed you away like that. And I wanted you to pull out the couch so I could sleep with you. I’ve never wanted that before. It may have… scared me. Sorry about that.”

  “Not even with your husband?”

  She pulled in an audible breath. “No.”

  “Time to tell me?”

  “Oh. You know. You’ve probably heard the story a hundred times. Swap the sexes, that’s all. Soldiers and cops.”

  Help her out. “Hard to be married to,” he suggested. “Too much holding it in, not enough letting it show.”

  “I guess. Too much shell. Not all body armor is visible. You’re a certain person or you wouldn’t do the job, and the job changes you more.”

  “How did you meet him?”

  “You’ll laugh.” She turned over and kissed his chest, then ran her hand over it, so that was good.

  “Not me.” His hand closed over hers. “I’ve wondered all this time who you were before I was watching. I knew you weren’t Lily. I didn’t know enough else. Modesto, hey. Stockyards. I looked it up. It’s not beautiful.”

  “No. It’s not. And I’m no fancy breed. Wrong side of the tracks, that’s me. Stockyards, yeah. Our dad died when we were in high school. Our mom worked in a store. Lily sent her money every month until she died. She’d have bought her a house once she got divorced if Mom had still been around. She always wanted to do that. Lily’s something special.”

  “Once she got divorced?”

  “Yeah. Her husband was kind of an asshole. She had an allowance. It was big, but it was itemized. So you see—that’s no way out. Marriage. A man.”

  Ah. Afraid to count on it. He stored that one in the memory banks and asked, “What was your way out, then?”

  His hand was tracing over her side now. He could feel it soothing her. He liked feeling it. “I wanted water,” she said. “I wanted adventure. I wanted fresh air. I told you you’d laugh. I went to work for a cruise line as a waitress. I met Neil there. He was a bartender. He’s still
a bartender. You know who’s a worse marital bet than cops? Bartenders. You could look it up. He liked adventure, too.”

  Cheater, he thought, and filed that one away as well. “You went from being a waitress to being a cop.”

  “Nope. I went from being a waitress to being a deckhand. I liked it better.”

  “Really. How many female deckhands are there? Not sure I’ve ever seen one.”

  “Not many. That’s when I started dying my hair brown. Oh. You didn’t know that. Well, I did. Neil and I got off the boat in San Francisco, eventually—cruise ship work sounds glamorous, and it’s just exactly not—and we stayed there. Neil was still a bartender, and I went to work on a ferry.”

  “And the police bit?”

  “I got to know some cops, and I thought, I could do that. That would matter. And after my mom died… maybe I wanted a change. Maybe I wanted…”

  “Something you could control,” he suggested. “Something that gave you some power.”

  “Could be. Who knows why anybody does anything? Anyway—I did. I tried it, and I made it through the academy, then through training, and that was pretty satisfying. And I was right. It did matter. People ask me why I didn’t become an EMT instead. I don’t know. I just know that I like being a cop. I’ve hated it, and I’ve loved it. I’ll bet it’s like the Army that way. It matters, and you know you’re alive every minute.”

  “Yeah. That’s it, I reckon.”

  “Life’s too short not to have every minute count. When you’re a cop, every minute counts.”