The Last to Die (14 page)

Chapter 8

The do-ors at Jaz-zy's Jo-int clo-sed shortly af-ter one on Sa-tur-day nights. Li-qu-or co-uldn't be ser-ved af-ter mid-night, so most of the crowd left by twel-ve-thirty. A few strag-glers who we-re the-re to dan-ce or sho-ot po-ol sta-yed be-hind. But when the band left at one, the few re-ma-ining cus-to-mers ma-de the-ir way ho-me-or, in the ca-se of so-me co-up-les, ma-de the-ir way to the ne-arest mo-tel. As she emer-ged from her of-fi-ce, whe-re she'd spent the last ho-ur go-ing over the li-qu-or or-der she wo-uld pla-ce on Mon-day, Jaz-zy glan-ced at the clock be-hind the bar and no-ted the ti-me. One-fif-te-en. She'd di-vi-ded her ti-me bet-we-en her of-fi-ce, ta-king ca-re of se-ve-ral things she co-uld ha-ve left un-til Mon-day, and mi-xing and min-g-ling with fri-ends and ac-qu-a-in-tan-ces who fre-qu-en-ted Jaz-zy's Jo-int.

When she'd dan-ced the se-cond ti-me with Tim Wil-ling-ham, who so ob-vi-o-usly had a ma-j-or crush on her, he had men-ti-oned that Sor-rell wo-man. And try as she might, Jaz-zy hadn't be-en ab-le to get wo-man off her mind.

"She was spe-eding, had a wreck, and Jacob bro-ught her in this mor-ning," Tim had sa-id. "Boy, did tho-se two not get along. I tho-ught she was gon-na hit him. And I fi-gu-red he'd lock her up. But heck, Miss Jaz-zy, that lady lo-oks just li-ke you. Well, al-most just li-ke you. She's not qu-ite as pretty as you.

And I think she's a lit-tle tal-ler." Tim had grin-ned she-epishly, de-epe-ning the bo-yish dim-p-les in his
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che-eks. "I've ne-ver se-en two pe-op-le who we-ren't twins who lo-oked so dang much ali-ke."

"Well, we can't be twins," Jaz-zy had told him em-p-ha-ti-cal-ly. "May-be she's a long-lost co-usin or so-met-hing. Wha-te-ver." She'd shrug-ged. "Re-al-ly do-esn't bot-her me. She se-emed li-ke an up-tight snob. Not our sort at all. So her le-aving town is no loss to an-yo-ne."

"Yeah, that's the way Jacob saw her, too, as a re-al up-pity sort. But she hasn't left town."

"She hasn't?"

"Nope. Jacob to-ok her over to Che-ro-kee Ca-bin Ren-tals, and he sa-id she ren-ted a pla-ce for three nights, so lo-oks li-ke we'll be se-e-ing mo-re of Ms. Re-ve Sor-rell."

Jazzy gro-aned, then smi-led and win-ked at Tim be-fo-re he sa-id go-od night and he-aded for the do-or. She lif-ted the hin-ged co-un-ter-top and wal-ked be-hind the bar whe-re Lacy was cle-aning up.

"A re-al-ly go-od night. Lots of cus-to-mers and not one brawl."

Lacy dri-ed off a glass and stac-ked it with the row of ot-her cle-an glas-ses be-ne-ath the co-un-ter.

"We ha-ven't had many brawls in he-re la-tely. Not sin-ce Ca-leb to-ok over as bo-un-cer. Se-ems his re-pu-ta-ti-on as a hard-ass has got-ten aro-und and no-body wants to mess with him."

"We did ha-ve a co-up-le of mac-ho idi-ots who de-ci-ded they co-uld best him." Jaz-zy smi-led as she re-cal-led tho-se in-ci-dents. It wo-uld ta-ke so-me re-al-ly to-ugh du-de to best Ca-leb, one with mar-ti-al arts skills as sub-t-le and ex-pert as his. And the-re we-ren't many li-ke that aro-und Che-ro-kee Co-un-ty-Jacob But-ler, de-fi-ni-tely, and pro-bably Dal-las Slo-an.

"Yeah, well, it was way past ti-me that so-me-body put Jim-my Car-rut-hers and Ricky Lin-d-sey in the-ir pla-ce. I lo-ve the way Ca-leb han-d-led each of them." Lacy set-tled her ga-ze on Jaz-zy. "You got yo-ur-self a he-ap of man the-re, ho-ney. You don't want to do an-y-t-hing stu-pid and lo-se him, do you?"

Jazzy un-der-s-to-od exactly what Lacy was trying to tell her. She wasn't just tal-king abo-ut Ca-leb's ex-per-ti-se as a bo-un-cer. "I don't ha-ve Ca-leb. Not the way you me-an. You can't lo-se what you've ne-ver had."

"He's a man, ho-ney. A re-al man. He's not go-ing to co-me beg-ging, but he's put him-self out the-re ti-me and aga-in and you ke-ep sho-oting him down."

Jazzy glan-ced ac-ross the ro-om to whe-re Ca-leb was all but car-rying a drun-ken cus-to-mer out the front do-or, the guy's fa-irly so-ber gir-l-f-ri-end at his si-de. Ca-leb ma-de it a po-int to not let an-yo-ne dri-ve drunk. If a cus-to-mer put up a fuss abo-ut Ca-leb cal-ling a fri-end or re-la-ti-ve to pick him or her up, he to-ok them ho-me him-self. And the few ti-mes a me-an drunk re-fu-sed Ca-leb's help, he simply cal-led the po-li-ce. Al-t-ho-ugh Ca-leb was a pri-va-te man who didn't sha-re an-y-t-hing per-so-nal and sta-yed out of ot-her pe-op-le's af-fa-irs, he was a res-pon-sib-le man who co-uldn't hi-de his ta-ke-char-ge, go-od-guy qu-ali-ti-es.

"Maybe I sho-uld rec-tify that mis-ta-ke to-night," Jaz-zy sa-id alo-ud the mo-ment the tho-ught cros-sed her mind. "Oh, hell. You he-ard me say that, didn't you?"

Lacy la-ug-hed. ‘'Thin-king out lo-ud will get you in-to tro-ub-le."

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"You don't think gi-ving things a try with Ca-leb wo-uld be a big mis-ta-ke, do you? Let's fa-ce it, I've ma-de so many mis-ta-kes al-re-ady that I-"

"Your only big mis-ta-ke was lo-ving Jamie Up-ton," Lacy told her. "And be-li-eve me, Ca-leb McCord is not-hing li-ke Jamie. He's twi-ce the man-ma-ke that ten ti-mes the man-that Jamie co-uld ever be. You just got-ta get Jamie out of yo-ur system, on-ce and for all."

"He's out." When, Lacy ga-ve her a spe-cu-la-ti-ve lo-ok, she told her, "I swe-ar I'm over Jamie. I just don't want to rush in-to an-y-t-hing whe-re I co-uld wind up get-ting hurt or hur-ting so-me-one el-se."

"Life's a crap sho-ot." Lacy re-mo-ved her ap-ron, fol-ded it, and la-id it be-ne-ath the bar. "I'm he-ading out." She lif-ted the hin-ged co-un-ter-top, then pa-used and sa-id, ''Jamie is sna-ke eyes on the first shot. Ca-leb is de-fi-ni-tely a se-ven or an ele-ven on the first roll of the di-ce."

Jazzy ma-na-ged a smi-le. Just ba-rely.

Only mo-ments af-ter Lacy left, Ca-leb ca-me back in thro-ugh the front en-t-ran-ce. His long, slightly shaggy, brown ha-ir ap-pe-ared win-d-b-lown, ma-king Jaz-zy won-der if the pre-dic-ted sprin-g-ti-me thun-der-s-torm was al-re-ady bre-wing.

"Is it ra-ining yet?" she as-ked.

Caleb clo-sed and loc-ked the do-or. "Not yet, but I ca-ught a glim-p-se of so-me he-avy lig-h-t-ning back in the west. We just might get a gul-ly-was-her in a few ho-urs."

"Why don't you he-ad on ho-me," Jaz-zy sug-ges-ted. "I can fi-nish loc-king up."

"I'm in no hurry." He mo-ved with sle-ek, pan-t-her-li-ke gra-ce as he ca-me to-ward her. "Ha-ve you had sup-per?"

"Supper?"

"You know, the me-al eaten in the eve-nings."

She sho-ok her he-ad. "I lost my ap-pe-ti-te be-fo-re I had a chan-ce to eat over at Jas-mi-ne's. But co-me to think of it, I am a bit hungry."

"Unless you want to open up over at Jas-mi-ne's and fix us so-met-hing, we co-uld go up-s-ta-irs"-he glan-ced at the ce-iling, in-di-ca-ting her apar-t-ment abo-ve-"and I co-uld whip us up so-me ba-con and eggs. I'm not much of a co-ok, but I'm a whiz at ba-con and eggs."

"I'm tem-p-ted. Es-pe-ci-al-ly if you add but-te-red to-ast to the me-nu. I ha-ven't had a man co-ok for me in a long ti-me. Not sin-ce I hi-red a ma-le chef at Jas-mi-ne's abo-ut three ye-ars ago. He was a wi-zard in the kit-c-hen, but he had sticky fin-gers. I ca-ught him ste-aling and fi-red him on the spot"

Caleb eased clo-ser and clo-ser un-til he sto-od only a co-up-le of fe-et away. "If I co-ok for you, I'll ex-pect pay-ment for my work."

Her eyes wi-de-ned as her mo-uth ga-ped open. Well, that was bla-tant eno-ugh. Had he just told her he ex-pec-ted sex as pay-ment for me-al pre-pa-ra-ti-on? "I be-li-eve I told you on-ce be-fo-re that
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I don't put out on a first da-te." 'This won't be a da-te," he sa-id. "Be-si-des, I ne-ver do any bar-te-ring or tra-ding when it co-mes to sex. The pay-ment I was re-fer-ring to is a da-te. A re-al da-te."

A smi-le pla-yed at the cor-ners of her mo-uth. "Mm-hmm. You're be-ing aw-ful-ly ni-ce to me to-night. I'm sur-p-ri-sed, es-pe-ci-al-ly af-ter the way you ac-ted this mor-ning when you in-t-ro-du-ced me to yo-ur new fri-end, Re-ve Sor-rell. You ac-cu-sed me of sle-eping with Jamie last night."

Caleb rub-bed his che-ek, the one Jaz-zy had so-undly slap-ped this mor-ning when he'd told her he didn't gi-ve a shit who she slept with. "And you most de-fi-ni-tely set me stra-ight."

"Not that I owe you an ex-p-la-na-ti-on, but…" She pa-used, ho-ping mo-re talk abo-ut her much dis-cus-sed, much be-mo-aned re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Jamie didn't ru-in the ni-ce and easy con-ver-sa-ti-on she and Ca-leb we-re ha-ving. "Jamie ca-me by last night and of-fe-red me a pla-ce in his li-fe as his mis-t-ress, af-ter he mar-ri-ed La-ura Wil-lis."

"Damned stu-pid son of a bitch!"

"I re-fu-sed his of-fer. He as-ked to stay and talk for a whi-le. I ag-re-ed, as a go-od-bye ges-tu-re.

He did not stay the night, and not-hing mo-re than a kiss hap-pe-ned bet-we-en us."

"A kiss, huh?"

She nod-ded. "He's out of my li-fe for go-od. I swe-ar. I know I've sa-id that be-fo-re, and I've me-ant it. I ha-ve not gi-ven in to Jamie's de-mands sin-ce he ca-me back to Che-ro-kee Co-unty in Janu-ary. Yes, I was tem-p-ted at first, but not an-y-mo-re. I don't lo-ve him. I don't want him."

Caleb mo-ved so qu-ickly that she ba-rely had ti-me to catch her bre-ath be-fo-re he grab-bed her fa-ce bet-we-en his two lar-ge hands. "If you re-al-ly me-an that…"

"I do," she told him with bre-at-h-less an-ti-ci-pa-ti-on. God, how she wan-ted Ca-leb to kiss her.

"I don't li-ke the idea that you even let him kiss you." Ca-leb ran his thumb over her bot-tom lip, then pul-led her lip down, ope-ning her mo-uth.

"Jealous?"

"Got that right."

He kis-sed her then. Kis-sed her li-ke she'd ne-ver be-en kis-sed. And she was cer-ta-inly no no-vi-ce. He held her fa-ce, cup-ped bet-we-en his strong hands, and to-ok her mo-uth with gen-t-le aut-ho-rity. No rus-hing. No ro-ug-h-ness. But a po-wer-ful ten-der-ness that to-ok her bre-ath away.

As the tip of his ton-gue cir-c-led her lips, she swa-yed to-ward him, her body ye-ar-ning for a clo-ser con-nec-ti-on. When he del-ved his ton-gue in-si-de her mo-uth, pro-bing with ex-pert ease, she mo-aned de-ep in her thro-at. Her fe-mi-ni-ne co-re throb-bed and mo-is-te-ned. With not-hing mo-re than a kiss, he had aro-used her. And just when the kiss got even bet-ter, he lif-ted his lips from hers, ra-ised his he-ad, and slowly, pro-vo-ca-ti-vely slid his hands over eit-her si-de of her neck, ac-ross her sho-ul-ders, and down her arms. Then he re-le-ased her.

She sto-od the-re, sta-ring at him, her pul-se po-un-ding fran-ti-cal-ly.

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"You do ha-ve ba-con and eggs in the frid-ge, don't you?" he as-ked.

"What?" It to-ok her be-fud-dled bra-in a few se-conds to re-ali-ze what he was tal-king abo-ut-the me-al he'd of-fe-red to pre-pa-re for her. Go-od God, how co-uld he kiss her li-ke that, then stop so sud-denly and act as if not-hing had hap-pe-ned bet-we-en them?

"Food," he rep-li-ed. "Sup-per. Re-mem-ber? I'm co-oking. We're eating. And in pay-ment for my ser-vi-ces, you'll go on an ho-nest-to-go-od-ness re-al da-te with me."

"Yes. Yes, of co-ur-se. I-I've got ba-con and eggs in my ref-ri-ge-ra-tor."

He grab-bed her hand. 'Then co-me on, wo-man, let's lock up and get out of he-re."

A fe-eling of ex-ci-te-ment ra-ced thro-ugh Jaz-zy, a light, ca-ref-ree exu-be-ran-ce that she hadn't felt in a long, long ti-me. Wit-ho-ut tho-se he-avy emo-ti-onal cha-ins that bo-und her to Jamie, she might ac-tu-al-ly ha-ve a chan-ce at hap-pi-ness.
To-night
, she told her-self,
is the be-gin-ning of the rest of
yo-ur li-fe.

Jamie was al-ways re-ady for an ad-ven-tu-re, so he was lo-oking for-ward to slip-ping away, just the two of them, in the dark of night, whi-le the go-od ci-ti-zens of Che-ro-kee Co-unty slept sa-fely in the-ir beds, only dre-aming of the kind of li-fe he enj-oyed. Whe-re-as Jamie didn't just dre-am abo-ut ex-ci-te-ment and dan-ger, he ex-pe-ri-en-ced it fir-s-t-hand. What man ali-ve didn't fan-ta-si-ze abo-ut ha-ving a va-ri-ety of fe-ma-les at his beck and call? Of scre-wing a dif-fe-rent wo-man every night?

She had told him to pre-tend they'd ne-ver met. To act as if he was a hit-c-h-hi-ker she'd pic-ked up on the ro-ad. Wo-uldn't it be fun, she'd sa-id, to act out one of her fan-ta-si-es? Hell, yes, it wo-uld be fun. He wasn't qu-ite su-re what she had in mind, but he was ga-me.

Jamie crept qu-i-etly down the back sta-irs, ho-ping he didn't awa-ken an-yo-ne. He su-re as hell didn't want his fu-tu-re in-laws or his gran-d-fat-her cat-c-hing him sne-aking off this way. And wo-uldn't they be sur-p-ri-sed if they knew who he was go-ing to me-et? He had be-en mo-re than a lit-tle sur-p-ri-sed him-self when she'd ma-de the sug-ges-ti-on. It just went to show that you ne-ver knew a per-son, ne-ver re-al-ly had any idea what they wo-uld and wo-uldn't do. He lo-ved the idea that the-re was a wildly wic-ked si-de to her. Wil-der than he'd ever sus-pec-ted. And ho-pe-ful-ly very, very wic-ked.

He pun-c-hed in the se-cu-rity co-de at the back do-or and rus-hed out-si-de, ma-king su-re to de-ad-bolt the lock. He'd be ho-me be-fo-re an-yo-ne-even the-ir ho-use-ke-eper Do-ra- wo-ke, and he co-uld re-ac-ti-va-te the se-cu-rity system then.

The early mor-ning bre-eze pe-net-ra-ted his sport co-at as he ma-de his way aro-und the ho-use and down the long dri-ve-way.

"I'll pick you up at the ga-te," she'd told him. "Re-mem-ber, you're a hit-c-h-hi-ker. Play yo-ur part well and I'll re-ward you."

The tho-ught of that re-ward had his he-art ra-cing and his li-bi-do he-ading in-to over-d-ri-ve. What
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nasty lit-tle ga-mes did she ha-ve in mind? His sex har-de-ned when a very in-te-res-ting idea en-te-red his he-ad. If she didn't ta-ke the-ir pla-yac-ting to whe-re he wan-ted it to go, then he wo-uld ta-ke over and show her just what re-al se-xu-al ex-p-lo-ra-ti-on was all abo-ut-the pa-in and the ec-s-tasy.