Her fantasy time was over.
Chapter Ten
‡
It was bad enough to wake up alone after nightmares about the shooting.
Wynn was used to that.
But waking up to the sound of Annamae loading the VW Beetle? It was just plain cruel. He could hear her shifting around boxes and calling out orders to her dog and grandmother. This was what he got after the night they’d shared?
He pulled on a pair of jeans and stomped down the stairs. The cats didn’t even congregate to lend moral support. They were already outside with her, overseeing the proceedings as she tried to utilize every square inch of her backseat.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He stood between her and the car.
She bit her lip, face flushed red. Sorry she was going? Or sorry she’d gotten caught in the act?
“To Atlanta.” She moved to go around him.
He took the box out of her hands and dropped it on top of a yellow gym bag with the price tags still attached.
“Back to your show?”
“No, back to pick up the wreckage I made of my life.” She swiped a stray hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I need to fix some things.”
“Right.” His lips thinned into a tight line.
“You don’t believe me.” She backed up a step, steadying herself on the wrought iron railing alongside the carriage house steps.
“Frankly? No. Why should I? I barely know you, but I sure have seen the way you run on high drama. I hear your show is thriving since you shot the runaway bride episode.”
“Do you have to be cruel? Are you the only one who gets to be a big badass grownup who does the right thing? I can’t keep hiding out here and just ignoring the parts of my life that haven’t worked out the way Mom does.” She straightened some plants leaning sideways in the window box she’d made, not looking at him. “I need to face the music before I can move on with my life.”
Bagel gave a bark, pacing around their feet.
“Moving on with your life? What does that even mean? You haven’t been living while you’ve been here?”
At that, she turned slowly.
“I’ve been hiding and I’m not going to do that anymore.” She folded her arms. Stared him down.
“Right. You don’t want to hide. You want to move on.” He stared at the window boxes full of wildflowers on the carriage house behind her, trying to picture how he could stay here without her. “Which I’m still not clear on. But the point is, you’re leaving. That much I get.”
“I need to do the right thing. Then, I’ll move back here and …” she peered around the farm and her voice lost some steam. “I’ll do … something.”
“You definitely sound ready to face the world.” Knowing how little thought she’d given to her safety pissed him off. He’d need to have her watched, protected, until his trial was done.
But he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her even though she was breaking their agreement. Had she ever intended to keep a low profile for more than five minutes?
“You’re not being fair.” She blinked fast, the hint of emotion almost getting to him.
And then he remembered she’d done this to some other poor sap just last week.
“Neither are you, Annamae. And I think you know it.” Steel wedged in his voice.
Their silent standoff was broken when Hazel Mae stepped out of the carriage house, banging the screen door behind her.
“All set!” When she saw him, she smiled. “Morning, Mr. Lambert. And my, don’t you look a sight without your shirt on.” She fanned herself, winking at him. “Not fair to an old lady, that’s for darn sure.”
Annamae stepped away from him. Wynn knew he had to let her go.
“You’re going to Atlanta too?” he managed, trying to be polite even though his tone came out flat. Cold.
The older woman didn’t seem to notice.
“Annamae’s best friend is getting married, and as it happens, I do love a wedding.”
“Let’s hope she has better luck tying the knot than Annamae.” He stared directly at Annamae, trying to force her to look at him. A tightness in his chest pulsed.
Hazel rattled on about weddings and how Annamae had been smart to recognize that she hadn’t been engaged to the right man.
Annamae remained silent. A shade paler than she’d been a minute ago. The woman he’d spent the best night of his life with didn’t have one damn thing to say to him. He’d hurt her.
Guess that made two of them.
“Ready, Gram?” Annamae called across the car as she scooped up her dog.
“I was born ready, honey. You take after me, you know.” Hazel Mae winked at him.
Annamae edged around him and opened the driver’s side door of her car.
“I will be back. Whether you want to see me or not.” She tied her scarf around her hair.
“And you know damn well I won’t be here if you do.” He held her door for her while she got in the car. “Drive safe, Red.”
He slammed the door behind her and strode away.
He didn’t even turn to look at her as she drove toward the back entrance. For a crazy second, he thought about not hitting the button on that remote. Not letting her leave.
There would be no excuse for that though. There wasn’t a soul for miles. He couldn’t keep her here on the pretense of paparazzi when there weren’t any to be found.
He’d watched the perimeter fence camera footage for days and there was no one lurking around the property. Whoever Annamae had seen that first day near the fence might really have been a fan or just some local on cleanup patrol of the back road. Besides, Wynn had extra security outside and his contact back in Miami would ensure someone kept an eye on her in Atlanta at least for a few days.
Back inside the farmhouse, he forced himself to watch the security feed as she approached the gate. Waited for it to open. And drove out of his life.
To move on? To face the music? Whatever the hell she called it, the end result was the same. She needed her diva life back in Atlanta. Any hints of a simpler woman beneath the glamor girl had been an illusion.
An acting job.
He pounded his fist on the desk inside the safe room. Pissed off and not knowing where to put it all, he felt the first signs of heartache. He’d cared about her, and she hadn’t given a rat’s ass about him. That left a mark.
The tiger cat leaped up on the desk, right where he’d just pounded. No wonder the thing got its butt kicked in fights… didn’t most felines run at the first sign of trouble? Green eyes stared him down. Fearless even with half an ear.
Wynn gathered the cat up, scratching its neck as he stared at the video monitor showing the back gate. Annamae, the sweetheart of Atlanta cable television, was gone because, according to her, she’d been hiding. While Wynn, a decorated cop professionally trained to take on trouble, continued to sit among his ancient apple trees waiting for his trial date.
Hiding.
To a certain extent, that was a good thing. He’d kept a low profile to stay alive because his testimony was crucial. But with two weeks before the trial, maybe he owed Antony Marks better than just sitting around waiting for his day in court. He could be preparing his statement. Studying the evidence. Moving to a safe house in Miami sooner than the Dimitri family expected so he’d be harder to track…
Setting aside the cat, he pulled another untraceable phone from the bin under the desk and called his contact.
Annamae was right. They couldn’t put their head in the sand and hope for the best. There was a time to plan and regroup, yes. But there was also a time to act. And when Annamae had realized that time had come for her, he’d… sure been an ass about it.
When his contact answered, Wynn cleared his throat.
“I’m ready to come in.”
An awkward silence followed.
“Already?” his contact said carefully. “You know the code?”
Wynn reeled off th
e message that assured he wasn’t under duress. Impatient now that he’d made up his mind, he went upstairs and started to put some clothes in a bag. It felt strange thinking about leaving this place where he’d spent so much time. Invested a lot of hard work.
“I’d like the case files sent to the safe house so I can begin my review.” He would make sure Antony’s voice was heard.
“Sure. Of course. And we’ll get you back on the payroll as soon as you’re in the city limits.” His contact went through a few other details—routine meetings he’d need to attend, Human Resources hoops he’d have to jump through.
He listened with half an ear, his focus on the case. He’d worry about returning to work once he got justice for Antony. Doing right by that kid felt like the most important thing he’d ever done in his career.
Reaching for the alarm clock on the nightstand, he knocked over the book on grafting trees—the one Annamae had been reading. She’d figured out how to coax new life out of dried-up old things faster than him. He shouldn’t have held that against her.
“How soon can I expect an escort?” Wynn asked finally, tossing the book in his overnight bag.
“I can have someone there in an hour if that works for you.”
An hour? That seemed quick. Maybe his contact was wary about the attention Annamae had stirred up and had placed an escort on standby, just in case.
Could he gather up his life in that amount of time?
Peering around the sparse bedroom, he realized he was already packed. He’d just need to figure out what to do with an army of cats. They’d lived on mice before he arrived, but that hardly seemed fair to consign them to now that they’d known the high life that was Meow Mix.
He’d pay Roofus or Gus or someone to come out to the farm and feed the felines. Check up on them until he figured out what to do with this place.
“An hour works for me.” He went still, hearing something outside.
Annamae? It wouldn’t be her or the alarm would have gone off.
“Affirmative.” His contact disconnected the call.
Wynn went to the window overlooking the carriage house. He didn’t see anything. But the hair on the back of his neck rose, an undeniable sense something was off.
He stepped lightly into the hallway. Listened.
A gunshot sounded. Glass shattered somewhere downstairs. Wynn hit the floor.
*
Did growing a backbone require a broken heart?
Annamae felt like hers were closely intertwined as she drove toward the Beulah town line, passing azalea bushes in bloom along a white fence with a sign announcing dates for baseball tryouts at a local park. A lazy day in Beulah, not many people out other than some motorcyclist they’d passed a few miles back.
What she wouldn’t have given to take a scenic ride on the back of a bike with her arms around Wynn’s waist. To just soak up the sun and the scents of Beulah. Soak up more time with him.
She wished she could have seen more of the town with him while she’d been here. Then again, she wouldn’t have minded holing up on the farm with him for weeks on end either. It had taken all her courage to leave a place where she felt genuinely happy.
But was it the place, or was it the man? a little voice in her head asked.
Both, if she was honest. But far more than the man. After all the weeks of questioning herself about Boone and if she loved him enough to marry him, it seemed ironic that she didn’t question what she felt for Wynn. Questioned if it was crazy, maybe. But she didn’t question if it was real. It was the first real thing in her life in years. And here she was, driving away from him.
She’d fallen for him hard.
“Grandma?” She clutched the steering wheel harder as she slowed for a parade of kids on bicycles, waving homemade flags and dragging stuffed animals in wagons and backpacks.
“Hmm?” Hazel Mae waved to a little boy at the end of the pack. He waved back so hard he forgot to pedal and an annoyed older girl had to yell at him to get moving.
“Do you believe in love at first sight?”
“Thinking about Mr. Lambert without his shirt, aren’t you?” her grandmother teased as Annamae continued to head east.
“I just feel bad that I didn’t love a guy like Boone who seemed so perfect for me. And yet my surly apple farmer is all kinds of wrong, and yet I felt something strong for him right away.”
“First of all, honey, you loved your baseball player. Just not enough to marry him. That’s why you worried about that marriage. You knew you hadn’t really reached your full potential for caring about someone. They say when it’s right, you know. And now you understand what that means, don’t you?”
“Did you ever love someone that way?” She glanced sideways. She’d never heard anything about Hazel being married. “Don’t answer that if it’s too personal.”
“I don’t mind answering.” Her grandmother kept Bagel on her lap for the ride, stroking his ears. “Your grandfather was the love of my life. A fiddle player in a country band who became a big deal in the music business.”
“Seriously? My friend Lindsey—the girl whose wedding we’re going to attend—her family is in the country music business. Maybe granddad will be at the wedding.”
Hazel laughed. “Water under the bridge now! He probably had a girl in every town. But I was his Alabama sweetheart, that’s the truth. We both knew when it was time to move on, but I could tell he didn’t feel about me the way I did about him. I envied your mother that—my son was as crazy about her as she was about him—but your mama wanted more than love.”
“She needed security.” Annamae could understand that—kind of.
“You had the option of security, but you didn’t take it. You were looking for that big, make-your-heart-beat faster love.” Hazel nuzzled the top of Bagel’s head. “What I wonder is, did you find it?”
Had she?
Wynn didn’t seem like he’d ever been interested in a future with her beyond his trial. But maybe he needed to get through that point in his life as desperately as she needed to set things right back home.
“There’s the Sleep Tight Motor Lodge.” She pointed out the gas station where Gus Fields worked and she had an idea. “Do you mind if we stop for a minute?”
“Of course not, sweetie. Although don’t think I didn’t notice how neatly you avoided my question about your feelings for a certain apple farmer.” She sent her a knowing look.
Pulling into the gas station lot, she noticed a moped pulling away from the pump, turning onto the street and whizzing away. Just a little bike, but it made her think of the motorcycle she’d passed on the road earlier, her vision blurred then by held-back tears. “There’s a parking spot there, dear,” Hazel was saying, but Annamae kept staring where the moped puttered down on the county route she’d just turned off. And she scrounged harder through her mind about that motorcycle from earlier. Why did it bother her?
Perhaps because it had been dark, like her mood? Sort of ninja looking, like something out of a movie car chase scene and not what you’d see tooling around a small town at this hour.
Or at all.
And then it hit her. The biker had a backpack with the long handles of a pair of pruning shear sticking out, glinting in the morning sunlight. She’d assumed he was just a local doing some landscaping work … but now.
“Oh my God.” Recognition hit. “That’s the guy.”
“What guy?” Hazel sat up straighter. “Is he cute?”
Heart racing, Annamae jammed the Beetle into a spot. “A guy who’s been watching Wynn. I mean, Heath. That is, I think he wants to hurt him.”
She hadn’t seen his face, but she knew in her gut that the man on that motorcycle was the one who’d followed her that first day she’d arrived in town. The one who’d been pruning outside Wynn’s fence at the orchard. Someone who wanted to silence Wynn before he could testify against a prominent killer. She didn’t even stop to wonder why he hadn’t made a move sooner or how she was so sure.
“Who are you talking about, Annamae?” Her grandmother sounded lost.
Annamae’s brain sped so fast she couldn’t act quickly enough to do all the things that needed doing. Fear blasted in her veins. So much adrenaline shot through her she thought she might faint. She felt dizzy. Scared.
But oh God, she needed to save Wynn.
And that thought was enough to steady her thoughts. To spring her into action.
He didn’t pick up her call though. She’d memorized the number for one of the pre-paids, but he might not even have it turned on. She’d left without any sure way to get in touch with him.
“Please, Grandma. Take Bagel inside. I need to get help for my apple farmer. I just saw a man who wants to kill him.”
And, proving they were absolutely cut from the same cloth, Hazel Mae moved faster than Annamae had ever seen her. She had Bagel in her arms and hurried into the station near the Sleep Tight Motor Lodge just a few steps behind Annamae.
“Mr. Fields!” Annamae waved to Gus where he sat behind the counter with his feet up, watching old Western movies on his iPad. “Please. I need help. Send the police to Heath’s farm. There’s someone after him, someone who wants him dead. And call the media. Tell them the same thing. Tell them Annamae Jessup said so.”
The older man frowned, searching her face. “You sure?”
“Please.” Tears burned her eyes. She needed to leave now. “Grandma, call Mom. Tell her to get the story out. Right now.”
She tossed the last of her prepaid phones onto the lodge’s checkout desk for her grandmother to use. Then, not wasting another precious second, she shoved out the motel doors and raced back to the Beetle.
She would never catch up with that motorcycle. She knew that even as she floored the gas and tore through town. She prayed a cop would chase her and follow her right to the farm, but no one did. When she got to the gate at the back entrance of the farm, the chicken wire and barbed wire had been cut, the barrier drooping open. Alarms were blaring like crazy.
The Wedding Audition Page 14
