by Arianna Hart
Nadya couldn’t bite back a bark of laughter, so she tried to turn it into a cough. J.T.’s glare let her know she wasn’t fooling anyone.
“Is that Nadya Sarov? I’d heard she was back in town.” Mrs. Campbell curled her lip. Surprisingly, the rest of her face didn’t move.
“Good evening, Mrs. Campbell.” Nadya didn’t offer any further cordiality. She’d been out of the South too long to bother playing those games when she didn’t have to.
“I should have known if there was trouble, you’d be in the middle of it.”
“Yeah, because she just begged to have someone smash her new car,” Mary Ellen stepped in front of Nadya. “Don’t let us keep you—we’d hate for you to miss your meeting.”
Oh God, Mary Ellen was going to get herself ostracized protecting Nadya. She had to stop this.
“I’m feeling a little overheated. I think I’ll go get myself some tea. Why don’t you come inside too? This can’t be good for the baby.” Nadya pulled on Mary Ellen’s arm until she reluctantly turned. Mary Ellen threw a furious glare over her shoulder as they crossed the lawn back to the front porch.
“I hate those two backstabbing bitches. J.T. ought to check out their alibis, although I can’t imagine they’d risk their manicures messing up your car that way.” Mary Ellen slammed the door shut and stomped to the kitchen.
“Mar, be careful. They can make your life miserable. I’ll be leaving before too long, but you still have to live here. I don’t want to bring a heap of problems down on your head. I don’t want the boys to suffer like you did for being my friend.”
“Suffer? How did I suffer? Because I wasn’t one of the popular girls? Please. I had more fun with you and your mama than I would have at one of their stupid sleepover parties. Why would I have wanted to be making crank calls with them when I could sleep over at your house and have your mama teach us how to dance? The only suffering I did was when you left.”
“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye. Mama rushed us out the door so fast, I couldn’t make a call or write a note or anything.”
Mary Ellen sat at the table next to Nadya. “I know that. Well, I did after you called me. I was a nervous wreck when I went out to your place and saw what they did to the cabin. Mama called the police, and that stupid Matt Woodrow did nothing but stand there and chew on his toothpick.”
“I never understood why my mama didn’t trust Outsiders, until then. When we were on the road after that, she told me a lot more about growing up as a gypsy. Her family would get chased from place to place. Whenever something went missing or something bad happened, it was always the gypsies. I guess her father was some kind of horse whisperer or something, and different horse farms would hire him, but those jobs never lasted long.”
“I remember things like that happening when we were kids. I just can’t believe in this day and age it still happens.”
“It does, and not only to gypsies. But don’t get me started. I do pro-bono work for a refugee center. You’d be amazed at what some of those people have been through. At least Mama and I had a roof over our heads for eighteen years. And I had you.”
“Don’t you dare make me cry again.” Mary Ellen sniffed. She headed to the sink to wash her hands and splash water on her face.
“So what exactly is up with Mrs. Campbell’s face? It doesn’t move.”
“Oh, she’s had so much Botox her face is probably permanently paralyzed.”
Nadya laughed out loud. “Go, Mama!”
“What? What does your mama have to do with Orleane Campbell’s frozen face?”
“The day Orleane raised such a ruckus at our house, my mama said her spite would stamp itself on her face. Looks like it did.”
Mary Ellen laughed too, then raised her water glass in a toast. “To Miss Tala.”
“To Mama,” Nadya replied, still amused.
Sydney rushed in ahead of the men, who were speaking in low voices.
“All those busybodies and not one person saw a thing. It defies the imagination,” J.T. said as he sat next to Nadya on the bench. He wiped the sweat off his brow then leaned over and stole her glass of iced tea. His throat worked as he drank most of it.
“Most people are at work until around now. And the ones who aren’t are watching TV or whatnot. They aren’t looking out the window. You want a beer, J.T.?”
“No, thank you. I’m still on duty. I’ll take some more tea though.”
“Me too, please. Mine seems to have disappeared.” Nadya elbowed him in the side.
“You’re going to have to make a statement down at the station. Why don’t you get your stuff together?”
“Does she have to do it now?” Mary Ellen asked. “Can’t it wait until after dinner?”
“It would be easier if I just took her to the station with me. Then we don’t have to come back and get her stuff before heading to the cabin.”
“Excuse me? Hello, I’m right here. Don’t I have a say in this?” Nadya pushed him off the bench then slid out behind him so she could stand with her hands on her hips.
“Not really, no. It’s either you come to the cabin with me, or I sleep here with you. I’d rather be at my place where I can hear someone coming five minutes before they get to the cabin and can leave my gun out without worrying about the kids.”
“Your gun? What? Do you think she’s in danger?” Mary Ellen’s hands wrung the dishcloth nervously.
“No,” Nadya said. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Maybe. Someone spent a great amount of effort to trash your car and make it appear like an act of violence.”
“Appear like an act of violence? It was one!”
“No. It was cold calculation. The windshield and headlights were cracked using one of those emergency glass breakers.”
“But I saw the brick.”
“The windshield is made of safety glass so it didn’t break all the way. He must have heaved a brick afterwards for effect. It came from the neighbor’s landscaping so he picked it up along the way.”
“Brick or glass-breaking tool, whatever—my car is still trashed.”
“I know, but there’s something hinkey about this. My gut is telling me it’s more than someone being mad you’re in town. Bill told me about the offer Hornblower gave you. Did you tell anyone else about it?”
“No. I didn’t have a chance. Besides, who would I tell?”
“What about your half brothers? Did they know about the offer? It’s a lot of money.”
Nadya felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She hadn’t really processed the idea of having brothers yet. The idea they could hate her enough to trash her car shook her.
“I don’t know. Hornblower said something about meeting with them. They know I exist, that’s about all I know.”
“Look.” He held her hands in his. “I’m not trying to scare you, but I want to keep you safe.”
“I really don’t think someone is out to hurt me.”
“Maybe not, but do you want to risk Mary Ellen and the boys if you’re wrong?”
“Hey! That’s not fair. Don’t use us to pressure her. Bill has a gun—he can protect her too.”
Nadya winced. She absolutely did not want to bring trouble to this house. It would kill her if something happened to any one of the Michaels. There was no way she’d put them in danger. “It’ll only take a minute for me to get my stuff,” she said in defeat.
“But…but…what’s she going to do all day out there alone in the woods?” Mary Ellen wailed.
“I’ll bring her back here on the way to work. It should be safe enough here during the day. Especially if I make it clear she’s coming back to the cabin with me.”
“Oh, great. I can hear it already—like mother, like daughter. I’ll be known as the town whore within the hour.” Nadya tried to convince herself she didn’t care, but her gut clenched all the same.
“No. They’ll know you’re under my protection and they’ll have to go through me to get to you.” He tip
ped her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. “You’re not alone this time. I will protect you.”
With a certainty she felt straight to her soul, she knew he meant every word.
Chapter Eleven
J.T. picked up some potato salad and sandwich fixings for dinner. He wasn’t much of a cook, but any idiot could put a ham sandwich together. Nadya hadn’t said much after she’d given her statement at the station. He’d made Parker take it so there wouldn’t be any conflict of interest.
At least that’s what he told her. It was all he could do to hold back the rage that stormed through him, and he didn’t think he could maintain any professionalism if he had to focus on her as the victim. She was so certain it was someone from town who did this to her, and the thought she could be right made his blood boil.
Goddamn, but he was pissed. To serve and protect was more than just a catch phrase to him. He’d spent the last five years of his life protecting the citizens of this town. All of them. He thought he knew just about everyone in Dale. How could he be so wrong? His gut screamed that this wasn’t anyone he knew, but what if that was his pride talking? Could he just not admit he didn’t have his finger on the pulse of the town?
“How old is Officer Parker?” Nadya asked.
“Jim? I don’t know. Twenty-one, twenty-two? Old enough to have gone through the police academy. Why?”
“I was trying to place him and couldn’t. I don’t remember too many redheads from school. But if he’s that young I probably wouldn’t have run into him much. He’d have been in the elementary school still when we graduated.”
“He’s the oldest of five. He’s got four sisters and they’re all redheads. They have a farm out off Henderson Street. I only saw the whole family at church.”
“That might explain why I didn’t run into him much.”
“Yeah, you and your mama didn’t attend many church socials.”
“Try none. Mary Ellen took me to one, and it was a painful experience for all of us. I thought Mrs. Farley was going to hit someone with her pan of lemon squares.”
“That would have been a waste. She makes a mean lemon square.” J.T. slowed the truck as he pulled up the drive. It was still light enough that he could see Nadya’s polite smile. He heaved a sigh. “Look, I know you think this whole town had it out for you, and maybe with good reason, but it just isn’t like that anymore.”
“Tell that to the Campbells.”
“Okay, there might be a few narrow-minded individuals still, but things are better than they were.”
“Right.”
Her attitude was pissing him off. “You know, your mom could have made things a little easier on herself. She didn’t have to flaunt her differences in everyone’s face.”
“Excuse me?” Her tone dropped the temperature in the cab of the truck to freezing.
“I’m not saying she was the whore everyone accused her of being, but she didn’t have to wear those gypsy skirts and stuff.” He was digging himself a hole and didn’t know how to get out of it. “I mean, maybe if she dressed like the other mothers and, I don’t know, went to church, maybe they would’ve cut her a little more slack,” he ended lamely.
“So let me get this straight. You think if my mama wore jeans and a sweater set, the fine ladies like Orleane Campbell would forget that she showed up in Dale sixteen years old and pregnant, living in some rich man’s cabin? I’m sure they would have just welcomed her with open arms.” She crossed her arms over her chest, every muscle of her body tense.
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t know what I meant. Just she could have made more of an effort to fit in.”
“She sacrificed just about everything else—her sense of self was all she had left—and you wanted her to give that up too? Not likely.”
J.T. ran his hand across his chin and tried to figure out how to dislodge the foot from his mouth. By the time they reached the driveway to the cabin, he still hadn’t worked it out.
“Do you know my mother was barely literate when she came to Dale? Apparently, her father didn’t think women needed to be educated. They moved around so much, no one caught on. She would borrow my school books and I would tutor her. After we left Dale she took the GED test and passed it on the first try. With high honors.”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
But Nadya wasn’t done eviscerating him yet. “Her father felt daughters were only good for cleaning the trailer and taking care of the younger kids. She didn’t even have a driver’s license, even though she’d been driving RVs for years. She got that when we left Dale too.”
“I—”
“She lost her virginity to a forty-five-year-old man who then dumped her in a cabin with no phone, no car, no family and no way to put food on the table. If it wasn’t for Mr. Farley, who found her walking in the August heat nine months pregnant, I might have been born on Deer Creek Road. My mama worked her ass off to put food in my mouth, doing all the jobs those precious ladies in sweater sets didn’t want to dirty their hands doing. And instead of doing their Christian duty and offering her a hand, they called her a whore. All the while their husbands would come around, trying to get into her pants. Do you have any idea how I learned to shoot? There was a shotgun hung over the mantel, and Mama and I practiced until our shoulders about came out of their sockets so we could fire warning shots at anyone who tried to force his way into the cabin. Don’t tell me what my mama could have done to fit in. She did everything she could just to survive.”
J.T. sat in the truck a good long while after Nadya jumped out and slammed the door. What a condescending idiot he was. He pounded his head against the steering wheel and wished he could knock himself unconscious. Maybe he could spend the night out here?
Man up, McBride. You fucked up and now you have to fix it. Stop being a baby and get it over with. He climbed out of the truck and crossed to where Nadya stood on the porch steps vibrating with fury.
“I’m an ass. The world’s biggest ass.” He held out his service revolver and knelt in front of her. “Please just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.”
“You are an ass.” She tapped her foot but made no move to take his weapon. The tension stretched uncomfortably, the only sound that of her foot against the boards for what felt like an eternity. “But a good-looking one. I guess I’ll let you live. For now.”
Her face softened so he put his gun away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t understand.”
“I know. You didn’t come to Dale until high school, and most folks were on their best behavior around you and your dad. You had no idea how ugly this town could get.”
“Bill told me about Mr. Taylor. I’d appreciate it if you’d let me practice a little police brutality on him.” Right about now he’d love to beat the fat son-of-a-bitch into a bloody pulp.
“He’s not worth it. Really.” She put her hand on his face. “Mama told him if he came near me again she’d put a curse on him that would shrivel his penis.”
J.T. resisted the urge to check his dick. “Your mama had a way of making you believe her too. I guess she wouldn’t have had that if she’d worn, what did you call them, sweater sets? Why do you need more than one sweater at a time anyway?”
“Never mind, it’s a girl thing. Come on, let’s get the groceries out of the truck. If I’m missing one of Mary Ellen’s meals, the least you can do is make sure I don’t get food poisoning.”
“She sent me home with a plate of brownies. At least we’ll have dessert.” He stood and gave her a quick kiss before jogging back to the truck to get the sack of food he’d left there.
“She is bound and determined to make me buy all new clothes when I go back. I swear, my butt has doubled in size in the week I’ve been here.”
J.T. made a show of inspecting how her ass filled out her shorts as he held the front door open for her. “Looks just about perfect to me,” he said as he followed her to the kitchen.
He put the packages from the store in the fridge, then wrapped his arm a
round her waist and pulled her backside against his growing erection. With his lips inches from her ear, he licked the shell before whispering, “The only way it could get better would be if it was sticking up in the air in front of me. Have I mentioned this recurring fantasy I have about you naked in my bed?”
“We’ve had sex in your bed and in your shower and on your kitchen table. I believe we were naked every time.” Her voice was breathy and her nipples poked out from under her thin shirt.
“But this involves me licking chocolate sauce off every luscious inch of your beautiful rear end.” He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard her whimper. She definitely moaned when he bit the cord that ran down below her ear lobe.
“How hungry are you?” she asked.
“Starved. But not for ham sandwiches and potato salad. Let’s start with dessert.” He grabbed the bottle of chocolate sauce before leading her to the bedroom.
The fading light lent a sepia tint to the room. Nadya looked soft and golden in the last rays of the setting sun, and his breath caught as she unclipped her hair and it tumbled down her back.
“Why are you just standing there?” she asked. “You had some mighty big talk in the kitchen. Afraid you can’t back it up?” She pulled her T-shirt over her head, unbuttoned her shorts and let them fall to the floor.
“No, I just thought I’d enjoy the view.”
Her lush breasts were pushed high and tight by the lacy cups of her black bra. Her hips flared out with a curve that just begged for a man’s touch. The scrap of lace that served as her panties was practically transparent and so much more enticing than naked skin.
She ran her hand across the crest of her breast, then trailed a finger under the band. With her hair curling riotously over her shoulders and the glint in her sexy, slanted eyes, he could easily believe she was a gypsy temptress out to ensnare him. And he was more than willing to get trapped.
Sweat sprung up along his brow as he watched her hand lightly circle her stomach. It was all he could do to hold his position when her fingers glided down to the wicked delight of her lace-covered mound. His control snapped when she turned and he saw she wore a thong. The perfect globes of her ass were separated by a thin strip of black that teased him with its narrowness.
