“Yes to both.” His tone was even, but the lines on his face had reappeared. He pocketed his phone and checked the clip on his 9mm. “Take Bagel with you.”
“It’s probably just someone from the media.” Annamae wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and followed him downstairs, the rest of her clothes tucked under her arm. “Right?”
“Probably.” He ground his teeth together. Hoped like hell it was just someone looking for Annamae and not him.
And if they were looking for Annamae to get to him? Wynn’s brain blanked like a TV channel that wouldn’t come in.
“Be safe,” she told him, kissing him on his cheek and catching him off guard with the unexpected tenderness.
When had anyone ever looked out for him?
Even his partner had been trying to make the big bust, risking his ass to make the collar and not to protect their cover. And that guy had gotten paid to protect Wynn.
“You too.” He gave her a gentle shove into the safe room, stepping behind her to check the security cameras for a direction to go in.
Both their eyes went to the wall of video screens to see a woman in a white BMW and a pink short sleeve suit at the back entrance of the farm.
“Oh God.” Annamae gripped the wall. “It’s my mom.”
“Your mother?” Wynn swore while he shut off the alarm. “Where is the camera entourage? I thought your family normally travelled with a photo crew.”
He checked all the other cameras. Pressed a button for more angles on each, sweeping the road and the rows of trees.
“I don’t see Josephine—the woman who usual tapes my mother’s scenes.” Annamae shook her head, her hair tangled all around her, looking so damn sexy, so damn perfect. “Mom hasn’t gone anywhere by herself in years.”
“It’s your call as to what happens next. Do I let her in and risk her telling someone where you are? Or do you want to go out and convince her to go away?” He knew that wasn’t really a choice. Annamae could get hurt if she went out there and the gates were being watched. “Never mind. I’ll go get her.”
“I’ve had my cell turned off. I swear.” She showed him, her hand shaking. “She’s probably been calling. I could phone her and let her know I’m okay. She doesn’t have to come inside the gate.”
“No. Keep the phone off. It’s better not to risk it.” He backed out of the safe room. “I’ll be back with her soon.”
Annamae nodded, the furrow deepening between her brows as she picked up Bagel to keep her vigil over the video feeds.
Jogging out of the house and leaping into the truck, Wynn hoped he wasn’t screwing up left and right. Less than a month to go before his court date and all hell was breaking loose here on this supposedly secluded farm.
But not for the world would he trade meeting Annamae.
The realization came like a back slap rather than any cool-headed rationalization. It was true though. He’d risk his own neck before going back to a life without her.
What scared him was the thought that he could be risking hers.
Jamming on the gas, he drove like a demon to the back gate and hoped Mrs. Jessup would prove reasonable.
She didn’t look reasonable when he pulled up in his truck. Sure, her pressed suit and neat blonde chignon were both perfect and her white Beemer didn’t have a spot on it despite the Alabama spring mud season. But the expression on her face screamed that Beulah, Alabama was the last place she wanted to be right now, especially facing down a rusty fence that combined chicken wire and barbed wire into the perfect redneck answer to Alcatraz.
“Mrs. Jessup?” he called, parking the truck across the fence from her car.
“Who are you?” Her eyes narrowed in a fair imitation of her daughter when Annamae was riled. Except the elder version didn’t look like she’d ever hulled a strawberry or snuggled a mutt. “And how do you know who I am?”
Wynn kept an eye out for movements in his peripheral vision, praying that no more of Annamae’s family would be tracking her down.
“I’m a friend of your daughter’s. Would you mind getting in the car and following me inside once I open the gate?” He didn’t want the BMW sitting out here where someone might see it and make the connection that Beulah’s local runaway celebrity was staying with him.
Annamae’s whereabouts were strictly conjecture. Wynn had deliberately planted a few rumors with townspeople to see what ideas took hold.
“I most certainly will not. Do you know where my daughter is, young man?” She drew herself up to her full height, which might have been five foot four at the most. “I will call the local sheriff—.”
“Last chance if you want me to open the gate, ma’am.” He held the remote control in his hand and flashed it her way so she could see what he had. “I’ll hit the button if you get in the car so you can drive through.”
The glare she gave him would have frozen some men. Damn, but he hoped she wasn’t serious about calling the sheriff. That would blow the lid right off the low profile plan.
“You must know the last thing your daughter wants is more drama,” he reminded her, hoping the woman had a heart under that icy veneer.
“You think you know my daughter?” she shot back, stalking over to the BMW and opening the driver’s side door. “I assure you, the rest of Atlanta thought they did too, and Annamae proved them all wrong. So whatever you think you know about her… you don’t.”
She sounded so damn sure he couldn’t decide if the woman knew something he didn’t, or if she was the true actress in the family.
The reality TV matriarch got into her expensive car and turned on the ignition. True to his word, Wynn opened the gate and let her drive through before he shut it. He had no idea what the plan was from here other than to get her back to the house to see Annamae. But he didn’t want her leaving his property to spread the word of her daughter’s whereabouts.
Then again, what guy wanted to play host to the mother of the red-hot woman he’d just started sleeping with?
Of course, those concerns were minor compared to both women’s safety. But he didn’t like this. And he knew her arrival spelled trouble.
*
“Let me be sure I’m clear on this.” Delilah Jessup ignored the cup of tea that Annamae had set in front of her back at the carriage house half an hour later. “You traded a life of wealth, love and security for an apple farmer?”
Bagel paced back and forth at her mother’s feet, still incensed at having to part company with the cats over at Wynn’s. Annamae, for that matter, was kind of incensed at having to part company with Wynn, but maybe it was just as well she took a little time to figure out what was happening between them before she did something crazy. Like fall for a cop hiding out as a fruit farmer.
He’d needed to check in with an outside security company though, admitting that he was bringing in extra help to get through these last weeks before the trial. She’d figured coming back to the carriage house would keep her mom out of his way and raise fewer questions about their relationship. But Delilah Jessup missed nothing.
“I didn’t make any trades, Mom.” No wonder she’d gravitated toward a life of beige. There were just too many damn colorful personalities in her family. Annamae got lost around them. “I broke off my engagement with Boone because he and I are not right for each other. We were getting married for the wrong reasons.”
“Which all of Atlanta knows now, thanks to that stunt with the radio show. Sex Talk with Serena? Honestly, Annamae, I’m not sure what came over you to make your plan to bolt so very public.”
Seriously? Everything our family did was public.
But pointing that out to her mother wouldn’t accomplish anything. And who knows, maybe calling the radio show hadn’t been an accident. Perhaps some part of her was so used to the reality show life that she’d subconsciously taken the easy way out. She’d done what she’d been doing for years – using broadcasting to document her life, good and bad.
The thought that she’d hurt Bo
one that way even accidentally on purpose stung. A lot.
Annamae wrapped her arms around herself. “Did you follow me all the way here to chew me out, Mom? Because I came here to get away from the censure and the opinions of my family 24-7.” She stood, desperate to get away from this conversation with her mother. “You realize that’s all Acting Up ever was? An excuse to see a wealthy family nitpick each other and catfight with their friends?”
She wanted no part of that anymore. And she needed to make sure she didn’t allow herself any more radio show style subliminal slip-ups.
“Sweetie, you can’t deny that we lead a life of privilege most people only dream about.” She twisted her wedding ring set front and center, highlighting the obscene amount of carats on her finger. “I know you’ve never been dazzled by the money, but having lived with it and without it, I can tell you it’s a hell of a lot easier with.”
“You didn’t ask me what I wanted when you made that choice for both of us.” Annamae thought about what Hazel Mae had shared with her—the fact that her father had wanted to keep her, had wanted to give her a whole different life. “So pardon me if I don’t ask you for your opinion when it’s my turn to decide how to live my life. I’ve lived with the cameras and without them, and I would give up a whole lot of our lifestyle to spend some time without.”
“My God. You spend a few days in Beulah and you’re turning into me.” Her mother squeezed her temples. “Would you look in my purse for my migraine medicine? Or do you have a bottle of wine? That might help.”
“No wine.” Technically a lie because there was some apple cider wine in the cabinet, but it was too early for that, and the last thing any of them needed was her mother getting sloppy drunk, spilling secrets and mascara—tinged tears all over everything. Annamae took her mother’s bright pink handbag that she’d ordered from a designer in Paris after a couture show just a few weeks ago. The bag was gorgeous, the price tag ridiculous. And she still couldn’t understand why people wanted to watch her family buy stupid things like designer purses. “Here are your pills though.”
“Thank you.” Shaking out two into her hand, her mother downed the medicine with a sip of tea, then sagged back with a melodramatic sigh.
Annamae chewed her bottom lip, knowing she should just walk out but somehow, she found herself staying. Asking. “What do you mean that I’ve turned into you?” She’d always considered her and her mother polar opposites. “You said it yourself, you’d choose security over adventure every time.”
“Not every time, darling, or you wouldn’t be here.” Her mother winked at her over the rim of the teacup. “Will you tell that little dog to settle? He’s making me nervous.”
“You’re making him nervous, Mom.” She scooped Bagel up. He had refused to settle, unable to find a good spot on his favorite couch crowded with all their company. Besides that, she shook her toe in a twitchy rhythm, keeping Bagel in a constant state of readiness for her to get up. “Sit still.”
“I can’t believe you got a dog with your asthma.” Hazel Mae sniffed, drumming the side of the teacup with finely manicured fingers.
“I’ve always wanted a dog and he doesn’t bother my asthma in the least. Actually, I’ve never felt healthier than since I came to stay out here.” She settled back in the chair across from her mom, trying to see herself in the primped and coiffed perfection that was Delilah.
Well, perfect aside from the migraines, drinking tendencies, and probable eating disorder that kept her too thin.
“Anyway, I fell for a charismatic man once, Annamae, and I nearly turned my life inside out for him.” She shook her head, her eyes seeing another time as she stared out the window. “Love and lust—and it was a fair amount of both—can make a woman foolish. He wanted to hunt alligators, for crying out loud. In the bush. I’m not sure that farming apples in Beulah is going to lead to much more happiness.”
“We only just met,” Annamae reminded her, although the conversation was hitting close to home. Especially the lust part. “We’re not talking about a future.”
“Right. But dumping a star athlete and running away from home aren’t like you, so I’m not going to leave it to chance that you’ll make the right choice where this Heath Lambert character is concerned.”
Delilah’s eyes narrowed, her voice bellowing with practiced stage drama. Acting even without the presence of the cameras. “How on earth did you meet him? I think you’re lying to me and he’s the real reason you broke up with Boone.”
What would her mother say if she knew he wasn’t a struggling apple farmer, but a decorated police detective? Not that she could even trust her mother with the information. If her mom caught a whiff of the sense that Heath was Wynn and Wynn was already newsworthy, her mother would run with that story to save face. She would spin it into some new tale about her daughter falling for a man in blue. She had to throw her mother off the scent.
“You sound like a tabloid, Mom,” Annamae informed her flatly. “Heath is just a nice, regular guy. And he’s helping me keep a low profile while I figure things out.”
They hadn’t had time to come up with a plan for what to tell her mother, so she figured it was best to stay hazy on the details for now. Later, once she got her mother settled, she’d go back over to Wynn’s and figure out what to do next.
“Hmm.” She kept drinking her tea, eying Annamae like she was waiting for her to break and spill her guts.
Might as well offer her some real meat to chew on. “Besides, you ought to know the real reason I came to Beulah was to find Grandma.”
The teacup slipped a bit in her hand. Tea spilled on the pink suit. Annamae leaped up to get a towel while her mother righted the cup and set it on a nearby end table. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why else would I come here?” And that was the truth.
Her mother shrugged. “I really assumed it was for the sexy apple farmer.”
“I only met the apple farmer because I wanted to find out about my roots. To meet Hazel Mae.” Her mother didn’t need to know the rest about Heath/Wynn.
Her mom eyed her warily. “And have you spoken with her?”
“Yes, I have. More than once.”
“You did this to hurt me, didn’t you? You wanted to lash out at me and now you have.” Her mother dabbed at the drying tea stains as if she could blot the stain of her daughter’s betrayal out of her life.
“Mother? Mother! Stop. Listen to me, please.” She clasped her wrist. “This isn’t about you. This is about me and what I need.”
“What do you need that I didn’t give you?”
How could she put this diplomatically, especially in light of how the new things she’d learned about her mom? Thanks to her grandmother, she had a whole different view of her mother. Her father. Herself. She struggled for honest words and they came out half choked on tears. “I feel cheated I didn’t get to meet her before now.”
“She had a choice.” Her mother straightened in her seat, all pretense of ladylike demeanor gone as she pointed an accusatory finger. “She sided with her globetrotting son when he sailed off into the sunset without us.”
“I think she has regrets about that decision,” Annamae said gently.
“She ought to regret it! If she’d sided with me, maybe he and I could have—” She stopped herself. Crossed her legs again. “But that’s all water under the bridge. Annamae, I did my best. And your adoptive father loves you very much.”
“Does he?” She’d longed for that sense of family her whole life and never felt it. No matter how hard she tried to make a place for herself with the Jessups, she simply was not one of them. Didn’t matter what name they gave her. “I appreciate that he gave me a home and a name, Mom. But I don’t think he’s ever felt a personal attachment to me.”
It felt liberating to say it aloud. She’d been afraid of that simple truth for so long, but once spoken aloud, it had less power to hurt her. Perhaps because she knew somewhere out there, her real father had wanted her. At
least a little.
For a time.
Her mother’s lips went thin, her pink lipstick smudged. Unusual. But she hadn’t had access to her makeup technician today. “I drove all this way to talk some sense into you, only to find you completely brainwashed against me by a senile old woman.”
“All this way? It’s less than three hours, Mom. If you leave now you can be home for lunch.” Even as she said it, she knew that wasn’t really an option.
Wynn might not let her mother leave until after the trial. He hadn’t said as much, but if she posed a risk to their security, she wouldn’t be surprised. All the Jessup money wouldn’t sway him. She’d seen his commitment to his job and his passion about prosecuting the Dimitri family when he’d told her the truth about his identity.
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t get any sleep last night, so I need a nap.” She stood, smoothing the crisp fabric of her pink pencil skirt. “But after that, you and I are going to have a little talk with your grandmother so we can chase the ghosts out of the family closet for once and for all.”
*
“If the Dimitri family is making a move, they’re hiding it well.”
The words on the other end of the phone didn’t assure Wynn in the least.
Sun baking through the windshield, he sat in his truck in the middle of his farm, feeling paranoid as hell that this was the only place he’d take a call from his contact back in Miami. He didn’t check in often, no names were exchanged, and each call required a new phone for that one call only. Still, having so much activity around the place made it next to impossible to control the environment. Even just having the name “Beulah, Alabama” in the national news was more attention than he liked.
“Of course they hide it well,” Wynn snapped back at the guy on the other end of the line, a faceless voice, someone he didn’t even know, someone he couldn’t be certain he trusted with everything. With Annamae. “They don’t do their own dirty work. They have too many legitimate income streams to risk playing a public role in their criminal activities.”
“Except for the Antony Marks case,” the other man observed dryly.
The Wedding Audition Page 10
