His Southern Temptation (21 page)

Jack nodded. “Best decision I ever made.”

“What about the farm? The debt?”

“I’m in no hurry to retire, and I’ll do what I’ve done the past couple of years and lease out some of the land, hire some help. I might even sell it to Summerfield eventually.” Owen pushed off the tractor he was leaning against and walked over to Lucky, laying a broad, heavy hand on his shoulder. “But I can tell you what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to take a dime of your money if it keeps you from the woman you love.”

Lucky was stunned. One voice in his head yelled that he couldn’t walk away from the farm, his parents, and what he knew he wanted. But his heart throbbed with the loss of Taylor and whispered for him to run to Hawaii as fast as his legs would carry him.

“But…”

“But what? Can you imagine loving any other woman? Any other woman having your babies? In your bed?” Owen paused and gave Lucky time to think.

For years, he’d defined himself by the job he did. That was where he found his fulfillment and his place in the world. But with Taylor, loving her was the job he wanted to do the most. He couldn’t fathom anyone else making him feel like a lottery winner every second of every day. If he was brutally honest with himself, she’d hooked him early and no one had ever had a realistic chance of taking what was always hers.

But she didn’t want him.

“No. It won’t work between us. Taylor doesn’t trust me, and I don’t know how to change that.”

“Well, get your butt to Hawaii and prove her wrong.”

“It’s not that easy, Dad.”

The buzzing of his phone forestalled any further argument. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the display. A text from an unknown number. He tapped the screen and it opened up, revealing a photograph.

Fuck.
His hand shook with shock and rage, the image of Taylor held by Mr. Clean in grotesque HD swimming before his eyes. The message below the picture read:
Bring what I want. Come alone. Tomorrow. 2 pm. @JG.

Anger rushed through him, casting a hazy red film over his vision and buzzing in his ears. He took a deep breath. Another. Focusing his mind, pushing aside the distraction of his own fear. Training. Training. His training would get him through this and Taylor on a plane to Hawaii and a safe life.

“Lucky.” Jack was at his side, peering down at the phone’s screen. He gasped, grabbing it out of his hand to get a better look. “What the hell is going on?”

“What’s going on is that Eddie Wilkes wasn’t joking. He wants his money and he’s crazy enough to pull Taylor into this mess.”

“So what are you going to do?” Jack asked.

Lucky stood, his mind already taking this puzzle apart, running the million different ways to play this.

The son of bitch had taken Taylor.

There was only one way this was going to end.

“I’m going to kill Eddie Wilkes.”

…

“Teague, I need your help.”

Lucky barged into the law offices of William Teague Elliott III, bypassing a squawking Jerline to bust through the inner office door. Teague looked up from the desk, an eyebrow quirked in interest over the frames of the glasses he wore. Not easily rattled, he placed his pen down and eased back in his chair before he responded. His voice was even but barely civil in tone, and Lucky knew this was going to be a hard conversation. He braced himself for impact.

“Most people make an appointment, Lucky, but feel free to just stroll on in and explain what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Eddie Wilkes has Taylor.”

Teague leaped to his feet, his chair hitting the back wall with a loud thump and the crunch of punctured drywall. “Why does Eddie Wilkes have my sister?”

“I was looking for a missing woman—Sarah Morgan. She worked for Wilkes and took off with a bunch of his money. He wanted me to find her and get his money back.”

“How much?” Teague came around the desk, his hands tightly fisted at his sides, his whole body vibrating with his anger. He’d always admired Teague’s ability to mask his emotions, and this break in his armor was unnerving.

“Two hundred thousand dollars.”

“Jesus.”

“If I don’t get the money to him”—his voice broke a little on his words and he didn’t bother to hide it—“if I don’t, he’ll hurt her. I’m sure of it.”

Lucky knew the punch was coming, but it still caught him off guard. Pain shot along his jaw, lighting up the darkness behind his closed lids like the Fourth of July. It wasn’t enough to bring him down, but it rang his bell and Teague was able to get in a couple more blows before he was able to raise his hands and shove him away. They stood facing each other, squared off like enemies. It was hard to believe they’d ever been friends. He couldn’t blame Teague for his reaction. Lucky had fucked this up. Big time.

Lucky swallowed, his anger at his own stupidity threatening to close his throat as he wiped the blood trickling from the cut in his lip. He should have ended this long ago, should have never allowed Taylor to take the job at the Jolly Gent. Should have never let this thing get to this point.

“Look, I know you’re pissed at me, but this isn’t about our friendship.”

Teague snorted, his derision etched into the lines around his mouth.

“This is about getting Taylor back safe and sound. Our shit needs to wait until later.”

“This is your fault.”

“I know.”

“If you’d kept your hands off her, this would have
never
happened.” Teague advanced on him again, his fierce expression faltering from anger a little as he continued. “You used my sister as a booty call, Lucky. Why couldn’t you just leave her alone?”

“Because it was never like that.
Never
. Teague, the stuff I had to do for work. It was ugly and dark and I don’t know how I would have made it through all those years without your sister. Taylor saved me so many times. She was my refuge from all the hate and death in my life. She was all things good and light and kind, and I couldn’t help myself.”

“So you used her bed as a convenient place to crash when being a Marine got too tough?”

His temper rose, hot and sharp in his chest, and Lucky took a deep breath to relieve his ire. This would go nowhere if he rose to the bait.

“Teague, becoming Taylor’s lover was crazy and impetuous and I don’t expect you to understand why we did it the way we did. But understand this…” He lifted a hand, touching his chest just over his heart in a signal used by his Marine buddies to signal their commitment to the cause and to each other:
semper fi
—always faithful. “I love your sister. I’m all in with my heart, my body, my geographic location, all my worldly goods. The one thing I will do above anything else is make sure she knows it every second, every minute, every fucking hour of her life. It’s what I’m meant to do.”

“Love? That’s not what it looked like to me when you dragged her into the mess with Bodean Taggert and that asshole from Roanoke.” Teague shook his head. “I’d hate to see what happens when you hate someone.”

The seconds clicked by, marked by the tick of the grandfather clock in the office waiting room. He was done explaining. All that mattered was how he felt about Taylor and he’d made that pretty fucking clear.

“I laid myself out here, and if you don’t want to believe me, then that’s your problem.” He pointed a finger at Teague, nudging him out of his face with a light shove to the chest. “Right now, I need you to help me get my money so that I can go get her and bring her home.”

They stared for a few seconds longer until Teague sighed, his head dipping as he eased off his glasses and tossed them onto the desk. “So, what do you need me to do?”

“I need your help to get my money to me in a few hours. That’s all I’ve got,” Lucky said.

“You’re going to give your money—the money to buy the farm—to Eddie Wilkes? What about staying here?”

“It’s only money, and it won’t matter since I’m going to Hawaii with Taylor.” He swallowed hard, his mind straying into dark possibilities of how this could end if he didn’t get that cash. “If she’ll have me.” Lucky withdrew a piece of paper from his jeans and handed it over to Teague. “This is my bank account information for the transfer. I know there’s tons of red tape and shit we don’t have time for. Can you make this happen?”

Teague took the paper, nodding his agreement. “Is this all of your settlement?”

“Most of it.” He inched toward the door. He had a few things to take care of before he needed to be at the Jolly Gent.

Teague followed him, grabbing his arm, stopping him when they were nose to nose.

“You make her safe. I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen.”

Lucky answered with the only acceptable option. “I will.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Taylor was not going to give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing her breakdown.

She sat up on the narrow cot shoved into the former dressing room of the Jolly Gent eyeing Mr. Clean warily. His outstretched hand offered her coffee and a breakfast burrito. This simple act of kindness—if that is what you could call it when given by a man who kidnapped you at gunpoint—brought tears to her eyes. She was tired. She was scared.

This shit was real, and she had no idea what terrified her more. Eddie might kill her—he’d threatened it long and loud last night—but he also wanted to hurt Lucky. Specifically, he wanted Lucky to hurt for some imagined slight to his pride, and the idea of Lucky walking into a trap took her to the brink of losing her mind.

“You need to eat,” Mr. Clean said as he laid the food on the table next to the cot and took a step back. “Your man should be here soon and this will all be over.”

“He’s not my man,” she murmured, wiping the hair off her face and wishing she had a toothbrush.

“Well, you better hope he thinks otherwise, because Mr. Wilkes expects him to show up with the two hundred grand today or you get hurt.” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he regarded her carefully. “What did you do? Dump him?”

She decided to accept the food, praying it wasn’t poisoned as she let the hot, bitter brew slide down her throat and warm her from the inside out. She tested the breakfast burrito, barely biting back the satisfied groan at the taste.

“It wouldn’t have worked out.”

“Ah. You must not have loved him much then.”

“What?”

“When you really love someone you make it work. Nobody walks away. No one ends it no matter what.” Mr. Clean shrugged. “You must not have really loved him.”

He was wrong. She loved Lucky. Taylor set aside the food, her appetite gone with the knowledge of what she’d thrown away. He’d offered her everything and she’d been too scared to take the leap of faith. The long night on this cot had forced her to face what really mattered, and she’d been hung up on the wrong things. She should have believed in Lucky, even if love still gave her the chills at how fickle it could be. Lucky was a rock. Always had been. Always would be.

She stood up, legs shaky from disuse, but her voice was as clear as she could make it through her emotions. “You need to let me go. We both know he’s going to come for me and he could get hurt. I can’t let that happen.”

“So you do love him then.” Mr. Clean smiled briefly, an odd quirk of his lips, but he stood fast. “But you’re not getting out of here until he brings the money and this all ends. Then we can all move on.”

Something in his voice made her pause. Something layered under the determination to keep her here—a personal motive—something more than employee loyalty.

“What’s in this for you? What kind of scene is Lucky walking into?” Taylor felt her blood pressure rise with her fear. Something wasn’t what it seemed.

Mr. Clean opened his mouth to answer, but a knock at the door stopped him. Bodean Taggert’s voice drifted through the door.

“It’s time. Landon is here.”

“No.” Taylor backed up, her knees hitting the side of the cot where she collapsed. “Call this off. Please.” She looked up at the passive face of Mr. Clean, willing to beg if she needed to. “Please.”

“Come on.” He leaned over, grasping her by the arm and hefting her on her feet. “If your man plays by the rules, you’ll be walking out of here together.”

Taylor prayed, knowing it was the only thing that could make this okay.

Because Lucky Landon had never played by the rules in his whole life, and he wasn’t about to start now.

…

“Eddie, I’ve got your money. Let her go.”

Lucky stood in the middle of the Jolly Gent with his gun in his holster. His duffel bag, filled with two hundred thousand dollars, was on the table. He would have brought more if that was what it took to get Taylor out of here safely.

He’d made plans. Mapped out entrances and exits. Opened the trunk he’d stored in the barn at the farm and assembled weapons he thought he’d never use again. He was ready to go in guns blazing, but he couldn’t do it. It was risky and Taylor might get hurt. That prospect was unthinkable.

“I can’t believe you made this so easy.” Eddie reclined in a chair at the edge of the stage with Mr. Clean just behind him. He smiled with the confidence of a man who’d won the game, and Lucky resisted the urge to knock his teeth down his throat.

“Prove she’s unhurt and I’ll hand over the money,” Lucky said, the words gritty in his mouth.

Eddie chuckled, nodding to Mr. Clean, who pushed a remote and opened the curtains shielding the back part of the stage. Taylor sat on a chair, her hands bound with zip ties. She was tired, clothes wrinkled, but appeared unhurt. He breathed again.

They stared at each other across the room and the spark of answering relief in her eyes made his heart squeeze. Brave girl—she was scared but holding it together. He loved her more in that moment than he thought possible, and he was more determined to make sure she walked away from this in one piece. If that meant she walked away from him, then that was how it had to be.

Mr. Clean dropped the remote on the table with a loud thunk and crossed his arms over his chest. Lucky was itching to take this guy down—something about him was off, and he got the definite impression that the truly dangerous one in the room was that guy. Eddie might think he was the puppet master, but this guy was only dancing to the tunes he picked out himself.