His Southern Temptation (22 page)

Lucky got back to the task at hand. “Okay, Eddie. There’s two hundred grand in this bag. I’m not staying around for you to count it. You’ll have to trust me.”

“Where’d you get that kind of money so quickly?”

“I had savings. What do you care?” Lucky asked, ignoring the muffled “no” Taylor shouted from across the room. It was done. He’d do it again.

“I don’t.”

That covered, Lucky took a step toward Taylor, but Mr. Clean blocked his path, his hand hovering over the gun at his hip.

“Move.” When he didn’t budge Lucky looked at Eddie making sure his “what the fuck” expression was clear to see. “Make baldie move.”

“Where’s Sarah Morgan?” Eddie asked, ignoring his demand.

“I don’t know. I brought you the money. That was the deal.” Lucky called on his training to keep his voice even. Now was not the time to pick a fight unnecessarily.

“No, I told you I wanted you to find Sarah.” Eddie was so frustrated he was practically pouting. Unease crept up the back of Lucky’s neck. He didn’t need an emotional Eddie. Emotional always equaled reckless. “That bitch made a fool out of me and I’m going to teach her a lesson.”

“What the fuck lesson do you think you’re going to teach me?” A voice he’d never heard cut across the conversation and every head turned to see who had joined them. A woman stood on the stage next to Taylor, and while Lucky didn’t recognize the voice, the face was imprinted on his memory.

Sarah Morgan was back. Alive. Pissed. Holding a gun.

Apparently the party had officially started.

Eddie jumped out of his chair and raised his gun, his finger on the trigger and the intention to shoot Sarah written on his face in neon. Sarah didn’t even flinch, a smile—the definition of smug—parting her lips and dazzling them all with her pearly whites. The whole thing was surreal, and Lucky scrambled to figure how not to panic with Taylor a sitting duck in the cross fire. He pulled his gun, ready for anything.

“Sarah, you stupid whore. I’m going to kill you for stealing from me. Just who do you think you are to try and cross me, you little bitch?” Eddie said, spittle coating his lips and his eyes wild.

“She’s my wife,” Mr. Clean answered, and everyone in the room shifted to focus on him and the gun he now pointed at Eddie.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Eddie asked.

“I’m talking about how you got played, you stupid prick. You got played and you didn’t even know it. It was a pleasure to steal from you.” Mr. Clean raised his gun a little higher and pointed it at Eddie’s head. A clean shot. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

Sarah laughed, the sound harsh and ugly. “And you don’t even know how much we took from you. Two hundred thousand? Ha! Try two million and choke on it.”

“Why would you want to steal from me?” Eddie asked, his question tinged with a little bit of hurt.

“Because I got tired of having you treat me like shit. Because you had it and I wanted it,” she said.

Everything was silent for a few long moments, everyone in static position with guns drawn and trigger fingers at the ready. Lucky scanned the scene and took stock of the players. Mr. Clean was calm, Sarah was smug, and Eddie hovered between outrage and doubt.

This was nuts. He’d been dragged into a personal vendetta among these three. Now he and Taylor were caught in the cross fire, and the outcome would depend completely on what Eddie did next.

Lucky saw the shift in purpose flicker across Eddie’s face and he knew in an instant how it would go down. His heart seized. He could never get to Taylor in time to protect her.

It was like a slow-motion movie with delayed sound.

Lucky lunged forward, pulling his gun as Eddie pulled back the trigger and took aim at Sarah. The shot flew wide as Eddie was spun around by the impact of a bullet in his chest. Mr. Clean took a step forward, assessing whether Eddie was dead and firing two more for good measure. A triple tap. Mr. Clean was a pro. But not enough of a pro to understand how
he
got played. Poor bastard never saw the bullet coming for him.

Sarah Morgan was a good shot. The first one wasn’t deadly, but the next two pumped into her husband’s body got the job done. Apparently, it wasn’t a happy marriage.

Lucky vaulted the stage and was running toward Taylor when Sarah stopped him in his tracks. A cool little number, she was now standing behind Taylor, shielding herself with her body and holding the gun to her head.

She tugged Taylor to her feet, backing up to the door. Taylor cried out at the rough treatment and Lucky instinctively thought to take the shot. He’d never hesitated before, but this was different. What if he missed? His hands were like ice and he didn’t have the focus necessary to be precise.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Sarah was calm, in total control. Eddie Wilkes had seriously underestimated this girl. Lucky had seen professional mercenaries who could learn a thing or two from her. “I don’t have any problem with you. I did what I came to do and now, I’m going to go and start living my new life.”

“How do you think you’re going to get out of here? As soon as I get the chance I’m going to stop you,” he said.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to be a good boy, throw down your gun, get in this closet and wait for the sheriff to let you out later. Much later. After I’m gone.”

Taylor whimpered when Sarah pressed the gun against her neck, and he knew he was going to comply. He could think of a million ways to get the drop on this girl and a million and one ways it could go wrong.

Raising his hands to display his actions clearly, he lowered the gun to floor, walked forward, and stepped inside the closet. The seconds seemed like an eternity until Taylor was shoved into his arms and the door shut behind them.

He crushed her to her chest, inhaling the sweet coconut scent of her hair and feeling the rapid tattoo of her heart against his own. She was shaking, the mixture of adrenaline and fear causing tremors that made her teeth chatter loudly. He tugged her onto his lap, removing the gag, chafing her arms and back with his hands to offset the effects of shock.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now.” He pressed his lips against her silky hair, so grateful she was alive and unhurt. He blinked back tears, refusing to let her see him lose it. He’d never been so glad of the dark. “I’ve got my phone and I’ll have Sheriff Burke here soon.”

He loosened his hold on her body, intending to reach for the phone in his pocket, but Taylor clutched at him, her arms wound tight around his neck.

“Don’t let me go, Lucky. Not yet. Not yet.” Her voice broke, her tears soaking his neck and shoulder where she rested her head. “Don’t let me go.”

He knew it was the shock talking. The release after a terrifying experience. But he wound his arms around her and held her close. Just for a while he’d pretend she meant something else with her words. Pretend she wanted him and not just comfort.

He’d pretend. Just for a while.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Hey, Taylor. Can I talk to you?” Teague asked.

Taylor turned from the window, her favorite view of the mountains on display in all the glorious colors of summer. She’d escaped here to think, finally getting away from the sheriff’s questions, the paramedic’s probing, and her mother’s hovering long enough to catch her breath. A shower, food, and a crashing sleep in her own bed had made her feel like herself once again.

But now she was ready to talk, and her brother was a welcome companion. Maybe he could help her with her problem. Settling on the window seat, she moved the duffel bag full of Lucky’s money off the seat to make room for her brother. Sarah had left the money behind—on purpose or accidentally, they’d never know. If they ever found her. She was long gone.

He glanced down, nodding at the bag. “You planning on keeping that money?”

“No.” She frowned at him before turning back to the window. “I’m just trying to get the nerve to take it back to Lucky. I feel like I should do it in person.”

“Yeah. It isn’t every day someone uses his entire savings to ransom you from a crazy mobster.”

“Don’t joke, Teague. He could have been killed.” Taylor blinked back the tears burning her eyes. She couldn’t lose it now. She needed to settle things with Lucky, and then she’d have plenty of time to bawl her eyes out when he kicked her to the curb for being an idiot. “I was just trying to think of the right thing to say to him.”

“‘Thank you’ sounds like a good place to start. Or maybe ‘I love you.’”

“Teague. Stop.”

“Taylor. Do you love him?”

“I—” Her throat seized up on her, the painful constriction as she tried to fight the emotions making it almost impossible to speak. “It doesn’t matter.”

“C’mon, just tell me. You do or you don’t. It’s a simple question.”

Taylor considered lying to him. What did it matter when it wouldn’t change a damn thing about this mess she’d made? But she knew her brother, and he would keep bugging her until she told him.

“Yes. I love him.”

Teague bowed his head, giving it a quick shake of disbelief before looking back up at her.

“Then why did you plan to leave?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’ve got time.” He leaned back on the window seat, hands behind his head in a clear message—he had all the time in the world. “He’s pretty crazy about you.”

How would he know that? Had he been talking to Lucky?
She clamped down her lips in a tight seal to keep from blurting out the questions clamoring to get out.

“Teague, it doesn’t matter. Whatever we had, I killed it. It’s gone. He’s done with me.” That was clear when he walked away from her at the Jolly Gent. He’d sat with her in the closet until the sheriff arrived and then handed her off to a deputy as soon as he could. Before she could follow him, he’d disappeared like Batman. He refused to answer her phone, wouldn’t return her texts.

“How do you know that?”

“Lucky offered me everything and I threw it back in his face. He’s got no reason to give me a second chance,” she said. “Sometimes you can break something—”

“Bullshit.” He shot forward, his body edging into her personal space. He was in full lawyer mode, making sure she heard his point. “God knows our example of a lasting, loving marriage is a little fucked up, but you fell anyway. That’s got to mean something. It’s got to be worth something.”

Taylor was tired of playing games, and her insides ached as if her heart had suffered a physical blow since she watched Lucky leave Elliot House that last time. She was tired of playing games; she was hanging on to her cool like the surfers back in Hawaii—by her fingertips, and seconds from getting pulled in by the undertow.

“Teague, I’m barely holding on here. Can you please get to the point?”

“My point is that I would think a woman who coldcocked her groom at the altar and stole a car—”

“I borrowed it.”

“—stole a car and subjected herself to hours of pain and torture in a tattoo parlor would be a little braver. You go after what you want and work your ass off to make it happen. All I’m asking is why not Lucky?”

“What the hell, Teague? You were against the idea of the two of us together. You hit him—twice—when you found out. What’s with the whiplash attitude?”

“Lucky came to me within an hour of getting the call from Wilkes. He demanded that I help him get his money out of the bank so he could use it to save you. I’ve never seen anybody look like he looked. Intense. Focused. Deadly. I was too scared to tell him no.”

“He’s a Marine. It’s what they do.” Taylor’s ears buzzed with the sudden leap of excitement in her chest.

“Lucky was prepared to give up the farm and give his money to a criminal for you. I know you’re scared, but you can’t ignore the obvious.” Teague was more subdued, his usually rakish chuckle edged with something soft, almost bordering on awe. “That Marine loves you, and he’s laid it all on the line. Whatever it is you need him to prove, he’s jumping through hoops to make it happen.”

“But what about his parents and the debt? How can he just abandon them and just…just…”

“He can do it because the moron thinks he loves you. He waltzed into my office spouting off about true love and pledging his soul to making you safe.” Teague took his glasses off and plopped them on top of his head, his grin splitting his face wide open. “The wacko is seriously nuts about you and clearly suffering from some sort of latent head injury from his service.”

“Stop joking, you ass.” Taylor leaned over, placing her head between her legs and taking deep breaths. Her heart was hammering, her breath releasing in pants that gradually increased until she was laughing. Big gulpy laughs, sucking in air that she exhaled in a broad expansion of her chest. The stretch was good, in part soothing and in part an exercise of the tender places she’d shut down when she let Lucky go.

“He was right,” she breathed.

“Lucky?” Teague asked.

“Yes. He called me a coward. Said I was leaving him before he could leave me and he was right.” But he’d loved her anyway. Loved her enough to let down his parents, break a promise to them and walk away from his dream so that she could have hers. “I love him but I was too scared to give us a chance.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Teague leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “What can I do?”

Taylor stood, grabbing the duffel and Teague’s arm at the same time. She yanked him up and propelled him down the hallway toward the garage.

“You can give me a ride.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Taylor didn’t have any trouble finding Lucky’s heaven on earth with Teague behind the wheel.

She waved to him as he left her at the end of the old hunting trail that led to this special place. In the daytime, it was just as beautiful as the night Lucky had shared it with her and she’d made promises she’d been too chicken to keep. But she was here to fix that mistake.

Adjusting her grip on the duffel bag, she proceeded quietly in order to leave the peace undisturbed. The old-growth trees, pines and oak, made a canopy overhead that lent a reverential air to the space. She took the birdsong as a benediction of the step she was about to take.