As Good as Dead (12 page)

She sure as shoot looked like Jazzy. Definitely enough to be her twin. But she was taller than Jazzy, maybe by a couple of inches, which meant she was probably at least five-ten.

And although she wasn't built too bad-if you could actually tell her exact proportions under her loose-fitting slacks and baggy sweater-she was rounder and fuller than Jazzy. Not fat, but definitely not slim. She was every bit as pretty as Jazzy, maybe prettier because she didn't cover up her flawless complexion with a layer of makeup.

"Would you care for another piece of cake, Reve?" Genny asked.

"It was delicious, but no, thank you," she replied. "Besides, I doubt there's any cake left." She glanced directly at Jacob when she spoke.

Dallas and Caleb both chuckled. Jacob shot them both scurrilous glares, damning them with only a look.

"I guess you're watching your weight anyway, aren't you, Ms. Sorrell?" Jacob ran his gaze over her. "Why is it that you plump girls are the ones always dieting and the skinny ones eat whatever they want?"

Reve gasped. When Jacob noted the hurt look on her face, he halfway wished the words back. Usually he didn't intentionally hurt anybody's feelings, and certainly never a lady's, but damn it, this particular lady made him want to instantly go for the jugular.

A hushed silence fell over the room. Genny gave Jacob a condemning look, then said loudly, "Well, if everyone's finished, why don't we go into the living room and visit for a while. We can all have a glass of Ludie's muscadine wine to celebrate Jazzy and Caleb's engagement."

Caleb and Jazzy scooted back their chairs and stood.

"It won't be official until she's wearing my ring." Caleb put his arm around Jazzy's shoulders. "But I'm all for some of that wine before we head into town." He glanced down at Reve and smiled. "Have you ever tasted muscadine wine, Reve?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm afraid that's one experience I've missed."

"You men go on," Jazzy said. "Reve and I will help Genny clean up in here."

"Why don't we all go on into the living room now." Dallas slipped his arm around his wife's waist. "I'll help Genny clean up in here later."

"I really ought to be going." Jacob had no intention of spending the rest of the evening with Reve Sorrell. He didn't care if she did turn out to be Jazzy's twin, there was no way the two of them would ever be friends.

Jacob got up, but before he could make his getaway, Genny grabbed his arm. "Don't be silly. You never leave this early when you're not on duty."

"Maybe I've got a late date," Jacob told her.

"Do you?" she asked.

Why he glanced over at Reve about that time, he didn't know, but when he did he caught her glaring at him. He wanted to lie and say yes, that he had a hot late date. But he'd never lied to Genny and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

"Nope. No late date. But I've got a ton of paperwork I need to catch up on."

The others meandered out of the kitchen, while Jacob remained there with Genny, who kept a tight hold on him. The minute they were alone, she said in a low, quiet voice, "I want you to stop being hateful to Reve."

"Damn, Genny, the woman gets on my last nerve."

"Shush. Don't talk so loud. I think you've insulted her enough for one evening."

He grimaced. "Yeah, I guess I shouldn't have said what I did about her being plump, but whenever I'm around that woman, I want to strangle her. She's such a snooty bitch."

"She is not what she seems."

"And just what does that mean?"

"She is afraid to trust others, so she has built this strong protective shield around herself. But deep inside she is a lonely woman who longs for true friends and longs to be loved for herself alone."

"Why tell me all this?" Jacob's gut tightened painfully. Not a good sign.

"Because she is in danger. Both she and Jazzy."

"What sort of danger?"

"I'm not sure. But I believe there is someone out there who would harm them in order to keep a terrible secret from being revealed." Genny released her tenacious hold on Jacob's arm. "I gave Jazzy a reading today and although I sensed that it is a good thing that she and Reve are sisters, they're both in grave danger. And I sense the danger is greatest for Jazzy, at least at the present."

"As the sheriff and as Jazzy's friend, I'll do whatever-"

"I know that, and I pray we can keep her from harm. But Jazzy has Caleb. He would die to protect her."

Jacob didn't like the way this conversation was going.

Genny trapped him with her dark, pensive gaze. "Reve has no one. She needs you, Jacob."

No way in hell. He wasn't taking on the job of being Reve Sorrell's private protector.

"Let her hire a bodyguard. God knows she's got enough money to hire an army to protect her."

"She doesn't need an army. She just needs one good man."

"Well, I'm here to tell you, honey, I'm not that man." "Yes, you are." Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek, then stepped back and stared at him, a knowing look in her black eyes. "So there's no need to fight Fate."

Feeling as if a noose had just tightened around his windpipe, Jacob rubbed his throat.

Genny was seldom wrong in her predictions, and he usually paid heed to them. But not this time. Even if Genny believed he was destined to be the one man who could take care of Reve Sorrell, he had every intention of fighting Fate, tooth and nail.

Jeremy Timmons's eyes bulged from his head, wide open and glazed by death. The guy had been an easy kill because he'd been stoned out of his mind.

He could still sense the feeling he'd experienced when his hands tightened around Timmons's throat. The man had been a toad, a worthless piece of trash, and the world was better off without him. Killing the vermin had given him no pleasure, but he'd had to do it. Dead men tell no tales. With Timmons dead, there was no way anyone could connect him to Becky Olmstead.

God knew he'd tried his best to stay away from her, but she had tempted him beyond all reason. He had suspected, once the obsession took him over, that it wasn't really Becky Olmstead in that young, nubile body. It wasn't Becky's thoughts and feelings ruling her actions. No, it was Dinah. She'd come back immediately, giving him no time for any peace of mind. He'd had to make sure she was really Dinah, hadn't he? And now that he knew, he would seek her out again and send her back to hell where she belonged.

Perhaps later tonight. The sooner the better.

But for now he needed to search Timmons's body and his house to make sure he didn't keep any kind of records about the clientele his whores serviced. And he had to be very careful that he left behind no clues that would link him with

Timmons's murder. He'd been careful to wear gloves. No fingerprints. Later he'd burn the gloves, as well as every article of clothing he was wearing.

With expert ease,Joe rifled through Timmons's pockets. Then, finding nothing, he went through all the drawers, closets and cabinets in the house, but came up empty-handed. He couldn't afford to stay here much longer. The longer he remained at the crime scene, the greater the likelihood he'd get caught.

Cracking the door several inches, he peered outside and saw no one. Good. Maybe he could make it to his car, which he'd parked down the road, without being seen by any nosy neighbors. The fact that there weren't any streetlights outside of town meant the only source of illumination at night came from the moon. His arrival and departure were less likely to be observed out here than on a well-lit street. And the houses were separated by acres instead of feet, some sitting a good ways off the road. But on the off chance someone did see him, he'd have to think up a reasonable excuse for being in this area. He wasn't worried. He was a smart man. He'd think of something.

Becky knocked on the motel room door.

"It's unlocked," he said.

She opened the door and found the room dark, the only light coming from the neon motel sign flickering outside the window. This John was her second for die night, which wasn't unusual for a Saturday, but when Jeremy had told her to meet this guy at the Cloud View, she'd come close to saying no. She hated this creepy old motel that had been used primarily by tourists back in the sixties, long before she was born. Now, the place was a rathole and the customers were mostly drug addicts and other scum of the earth types.

This was only her third time here and she dreaded spending even an hour in one of the beds. The last time she'd been here, she'd killed a roach the size of a half dollar as it crawled across the bathroom floor.

"Come inside and close the door."

What was wrong with this guy's voice? He sounded like he had a cold or something.

An odd feeling shivered through her as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. The room was not only dark, but chilly. Either this guy liked the cold or the heat wasn't working.

"Mind if I turn on a light?" she asked.

"Leave the lights off," he said in that strange, husky voice.

"Sure." Her gut instinct warned her that something wasn't quite right about this guy, but then again she'd felt this way before. Half the men she serviced were oddballs. But what the hell, a buck was a buck. "So what do you want? Jeremy didn't say whether you wanted a blow job or-"

"I want you to take off your clothes and lie down on the bed," he told her.

"You won't be able to see much with the lights off," she said. "If you want to get your money's worth-"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll get what I paid for… and then some."

What the hell did he mean by that? And then some?

"Hey, I should warn you that I'm not into anything too kinky. You can spank me or ass fuck me or piss on me, but that's it. Understand?"

He chuckled, then tossed something through the air. It landed at her feet. She looked down, then bent over and felt around until her hand encountered a corded string of some kind. After picking it up, she held it up to the window and saw it was a dark satin ribbon.

"Tie it around your neck," he said. "That's not too kinky, is it?"

Becky tied the ribbon around her neck, then moved toward the bed. As she stripped out of her clothes, she watched the shadow in the corner of the room and knew that he was staring at her. She could feel his gaze raking over her, almost as if he was touching her.

"I'm ready," she said.

"Are you?"

"I'm naked, in the bed, and I've got the ribbon tied around my neck. Anything else you want, just tell me."

"Look on the nightstand," he said. "There's a glass of wine there. I'd like for you to drink it."

"You want me to drink alone?"

"I have my glass here with me." He tapped the side of the flute he held.

"Okay, sure."

He couldn't see her clearly in the semidarkness, but he could make out her form and the bright red highlights in her hair. The neon sign outside provided just enough light for him to maneuver in the room without giving Becky a good look at him. He couldn't let her see him clearly, because she would recognize him and possibly balk.

As she sipped the wine, he set his empty glass on the floor and moved closer to the bed, but kept himself in the shadows.

"Finish it off, then we'll get down to business," he said.

"I'll take a few more sips, she said. "But I really hate the taste of wine."

"Just a few more sips will be fine." She didn't have to be unconscious, just subdued enough so that she wouldn't fight him. He'd learned, early on, that Dinah would fight him every time, if he didn't drug her, so he'd realized that that was exactly what she'd wanted him to do. She'd been the one to set in place so many of the rules for the little game they played each time he killed her.

After she'd taken a few more sips of the wine, he walked over and stood by the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"A little groggy," she said. "I'm not used to wine. I guess that's why I feel so funny."

"Yeah, that's probably why."

She crawled into the bed, atop the covers, and held out her arms to him. "If you don't have any condoms, I've got some. Just check the pockets of my jeans."

"I have my own, thank you."

"What's your pleasure? Got a favorite position?"

"Turn over. We'll do it from the rear the first time. I want to butt-fuck you."

"You're paying for more than once?" she asked. "Did you okay that with Jeremy? I think he's lined up a third 'date' for me tonight."

"I took care of everything with Jeremy."

Oh, he'd taken care of Jeremy all right. That slimy little bastard wouldn't be sending any other whores out on assignments tonight or tomorrow night or ever. He'd had no choice but to use Timmons to secure Becky's services tonight. He'd known all along that he'd have to kill Timmons. He never left any loose ends. That's why he'd been able to find Dinah and kill her, over and over again. Because he outsmarted the law. Every time.

At first Becky had wondered why those few sips of wine had gotten her so drunk, but then she'd figured it out pretty damn quick. The asshole had drugged the wine. Had he thought she'd put up a fuss when he'd wanted to ass fuck her the first time?

Afterward, she must have fallen asleep for a while, something she never did. He was feeling her up again now, his hands on her tits, squeezing. But there was something odd about the way he was touching her. It was his hands. Was he wearing gloves?

Becky's eyelids flew open, she stared up into his face. The blinking light coming through the window hit him, spotlighting his features. Oh, God! She should have known it was him.

"It's you," she said.

"It's me."

He put his hands beneath her hips and lifted her. His hard dick pressed against her pu-bic hair. She felt the plastic gloves he wore as they scraped over her backside.

"What's with the gloves?" she asked. "Afraid you'll catch something?"

"They're a precaution," he told her. "I always wear them. You know that, Dinah. I can't leave behind any evidence. If the police ever caught me, it would be the end of our games."

"What-what games? And who is Dinah?"

Evidence? The police? What the hell was he talking about-oh, God, no. Please no.