The Last to Die (15 page)

As he ne-ared the front ga-te, he spot-ted a car. Not the ve-hic-le she usu-al-ly dro-ve. He smi-led to him-self. Hell, she'd even ren-ted a car as part of the-ir ga-me. And not just any car. A snazzy lit-tle sports car. From whe-re he sto-od, he co-uldn't qu-ite ma-ke out the co-lor and the mo-del. As so-on as he ma-de his way thro-ugh the wal-k-way to the si-de of the mas-si-ve ga-tes, he all but ran to-ward the car. He grab-bed the han-d-le on the pas-sen-ger si-de and fo-und the do-or un-loc-ked. Af-ter swin-ging the do-or open, he pe-ered in-si-de and to-ok a long, ap-pre-ci-ati-ve lo-ok at the dri-ver.

"What's with the wig?" he as-ked her, but sud-denly re-ali-zed who she re-sem-b-led with the wig on.

She ca-res-sed the strands of the short, red ha-ir that fra-med her fa-ce. "Don't you li-ke it? I tho-ught it might be mo-re fun for you if we pre-ten-ded I was Jaz-zy Tal-bot."

He chuc-k-led softly as he got in and clo-sed the do-or. "It just might be fun at that."

"So are you re-ady for our ad-ven-tu-re?" she as-ked.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm re-ady, wil-ling, and ab-le." He pat-ted his crotch.

"Hi the-re." She lo-we-red her na-tu-ral vo-ice to a sultry, baby-doll whis-per. "Can I gi-ve you a lift so-mew-he-re? I'm tra-ve-ling all alo-ne and su-re wo-uld li-ke so-me com-pany. Mas-cu-li-ne com-pany… if you know what I me-an."

"Yes, ma'am, I know exactly what you me-an. And I'd lo-ve a ri-de. Just ta-ke me whe-re-ver you're go-ing."

"Buckle yo-ur se-at belt, han-d-so-me, and hold on tight."

The mi-nu-te Jamie buc-k-led the sa-fety belt, she sped off in a flash. With her fo-ot pres-sing har-der and har-der on the gas pe-tal, the car zo-omed up the mo-un-ta-in ro-ad.

"Are you in a hurry?" he as-ked te-asingly.

"You ha-ve no idea how eager I am to ma-ke it to my des-ti-na-ti-on as so-on as pos-sib-le."

"Can't wa-it for anot-her kind of ri-de, huh?" He re-ac-hed ac-ross the con-so-le and ran his hand up the in-si-de of her leg, from knee to crotch.

"You're the one who sho-uld be eager. I pro-mi-se you that it'll be the ri-de of yo-ur li-fe."

Tiffany Re-id knew she was an idi-ot for get-ting in-vol-ved with Dil-lon Car-son. The guy was ye-ars ol-der than she and he had a re-pu-ta-ti-on as a lady-kil-ler. But he-aven help her, she fo-und him dow-n-right ir-re-sis-tib-le. It wasn't that he was drop-de-ad gor-ge-o-us, but he was in-te-res-ting and ex-ci-ting and was gre-at in the sack. He'd wa-ited aro-und at Jaz-zy's Jo-int to-night un-til she got off
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work over at Jas-mi-ne's. Then, sin-ce he'd had a lit-tle too much to drink, she per-su-aded him to let her dri-ve. She li-ved just out-si-de of town, abo-ut two mi-les on the ot-her si-de of the Up-ton Farm.

When her step-mot-her di-ed a co-up-le of ye-ars ago, she had in-he-ri-ted the old ho-me pla-ce. It wasn't much and ne-eded a lot of work. But on the plus si-de, the rent was free.

Just as she tur-ned off the ma-in ro-ad on-to the mo-un-ta-in ro-ad, a car ca-me up qu-ickly be-hind them. In her re-ar-vi-ew mir-ror, she co-uld see it was a small sports car of so-me sort and it ap-pe-ared the dri-ver's si-de of the ho-od was smas-hed in. Sin-ce not many pe-op-le we-re out on the mo-un-ta-in ro-ad this la-te at night, she won-de-red who was in the car. Des-pi-te the fact Tif-fany was do-ing the spe-ed li-mit, the sports car's dri-ver ap-pa-rently was in a hurry. Only a co-up-le of se-conds la-ter, the ve-hic-le zo-omed aro-und them at bre-ak-neck spe-ed and qu-ickly di-sap-pe-ared up the nar-row, win-ding ro-ad.

"Did you see who was dri-ving that car?" Dil-lon as-ked.

"No, why? Did you re-cog-ni-ze him?"

"Wasn't a him. It was a her. And even tho-ugh I just ca-ught a glim-p-se, I think it might ha-ve be-en yo-ur boss lady, Jaz-zy Tal-bot."

"No way. What wo-uld she be do-ing way out he-re? Be-si-des, she dri-ves a red Je-ep."

"I'm not one hun-d-red per-cent su-re it was her, but the lady dri-ving had short red ha-ir and was we-aring a Pa-ir of big gold ho-op ear-rings li-ke Jaz-zy we-ars a lot."

"Aren't you the ob-ser-vant one, pa-ying at-ten-ti-on to what kind of jewelry Jaz-zy we-ars."

"Hey, a guy wo-uld ha-ve to be de-ad not to no-ti-ce a hot ta-ma-le li-ke Jaz-zy." Dil-lon un-did the se-at belt she'd ma-de him buc-k-le, slid ac-ross the se-at, and cud-dled up to her. "But the-re's no ne-ed to be je-alo-us. You're the wo-man I'm with to-night. You'll ha-ve my un-di-vi-ded at-ten-ti-on every mi-nu-te we're to-get-her."

"Is that a pro-mi-se?" 'Just ta-ke me ho-me with you and let me show you."

Yeah, she was most de-fi-ni-tely an idi-ot for da-ting Dil-lon. He was a lot of fun, but for a girl who'd li-ke to set-tle down, get mar-ri-ed, and ha-ve a co-up-le of kids, he was the wrong man. But most of the mar-rying kind who li-ved in Che-ro-kee Co-unty we-re so bo-ring. And that's one thing Dil-lon wasn't. She sup-po-sed that was the re-ason she kept co-ming back for mo-re of his go-od lo-ving.

"Where is this pla-ce?" Jamie as-ked as she stop-ped the car in front of what ap-pe-ared to be lit-tle mo-re than a ho-vel.

"It's my hi-de-away," she told him. "Co-me on. Get out. I ha-ve a sur-p-ri-se wa-iting for you in-si-de."

"Have you had the pla-ce fu-mi-ga-ted for var-mints?" he as-ked jokingly.

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"The only var-mint aro-und this pla-ce is you, Jamie, my lo-ve."

When she got out, he fol-lo-wed her qu-ic-k-ly-up the dirt path, up the ric-kety wo-oden steps, and on-to the par-ti-al-ly rot-ted wo-oden porch. When she pa-used at the do-or, he ca-me up be-hind her, slip-ped his arm aro-und her wa-ist, and nuz-zled her neck.

She ha-ted him. Ha-ted him with a pas-si-on. It to-ok every oun-ce of her wil-lpo-wer to en-du-re his vi-le to-uch. Whe-ne-ver she tho-ught abo-ut how she might ha-ve to let him fuck her aga-in, she wan-ted to vo-mit. Don't think abo-ut it, she told her-self. Just think abo-ut what you ha-ve plan-ned, abo-ut all the de-lec-tab-le things you 're go-ing to do to him. When he's to-uc-hing you, kis-sing you, con-cen-t-ra-te on the re-ven-ge you will exact.

The do-or ope-ned easily, cre-aking on its rusty hin-ges. She led him in-to the in-te-ri-or, lit only by ke-ro-se-ne lamps and the logs bur-ning in the fi-rep-la-ce. When she'd co-me up he-re la-te this af-ter-no-on to pre-pa-re the set-ting for Jamie's se-duc-ti-on and ul-ti-ma-te dow-n-fall, she hadn't be-en su-re the fi-rep-la-ce was in go-od wor-king or-der. They co-uld ha-ve shown up and fo-und the pla-ce bur-ned to the gro-und. But she'd had to cho-ose an out of the way pla-ce, so-mew-he-re mi-les from the ne-arest ot-her ho-use. Af-ter all, when Jamie was scre-aming in agony, she didn't want an-yo-ne to he-ar him and start sno-oping.

"Well, I'll be dam-ned," Jamie sa-id as he lo-oked aro-und the ro-om.

"Cozy and pri-va-te," she sa-id.

She'd pre-pa-red a pal-let on the flo-or with qu-ilts she'd bo-ught at va-ri-o-us shops in Pi-ge-on For-ge, the kind that tho-usands of to-urists bo-ught every ye-ar. No way wo-uld an-yo-ne ever tra-ce them back to her. A bot-tle of mer-lot she'd pic-ked up at a lo-cal li-qu-or sto-re res-ted bet-we-en two fat fe-at-her pil-lows di-recdy in front of the fi-rep-la-ce. She mo-ved away from Jamie and ma-de her way over to the cor-ner, whe-re she'd pla-ced a por-tab-le ra-dio. Af-ter tur-ning on the ra-dio, she flip-ped thro-ugh the sta-ti-ons un-til she fo-und so-me soft, ro-man-tic mu-sic.

While he wat-c-hed in fas-ci-na-ti-on, she dis-ro-bed. Slowly. Do-ing a strip-te-ase for him. The so-oner she sub-du-ed him, the so-oner the fun wo-uld be-gin. Na-ked, her ga-ze fo-cu-sed on Jamie, she sat down on the pal-let, ope-ned the bot-tle of wi-ne and po-ured the rich bur-gundy li-qu-id in-to two gre-en crystal flu-tes. What Jamie didn't know was that wa-iting in the bot-tom of one of the glas-ses was a po-tent se-da-ti-ve. So-met-hing that wo-uld ren-der him hel-p-less for a co-up-le of ho-urs.

Long eno-ugh for her to pre-pa-re him for his so richly de-ser-ved re-ward for be-ing a cru-el, cun-ning, ma-ni-pu-la-ti-ve son of a bitch.

Jamie sur-ve-yed her na-ked body, then re-mo-ved his own clot-hes and ca-me over to ac-cept the glass of wi-ne she of-fe-red him. Be-fo-re he put the glass to his lips, he grin-ned wic-kedly. "You've got a gre-at body," he told her. "Des-pi-te… well, you know."

"So gen-de-manly of you not to co-me right out and say it." She res-pon-ded with a smi-le every bit as ge-nu-ine as his and twi-ce as wic-ked.

He sip-ped the wi-ne. So-me che-ap stuff she'd pic-ked up at a busy sto-re whe-re she was cer-ta-in no one wo-uld re-mem-ber her. She'd be-en we-aring sun-g-las-ses and non-des-c-ript clot-hes, ma-king her-self lo-ok as for-get-tab-le as pos-sib-le. Just anot-her to-urist.

Jamie fi-nis-hed off the wi-ne qu-ickly, then set the glass on the pal-let and re-ac-hed for her. In-si-de
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she crin-ged the mo-ment he to-uc-hed her, but out-wardly she res-pon-ded as most of the wo-men he'd se-du-ced had no do-ubt do-ne.

When she pres-sed her na-ked body aga-inst his, he sig-hed lo-udly. "Oh, dar-lin', yo-ur he-art's be-ating li-ke mad and you're trem-b-ling. You're as ex-ci-ted as I am, aren't you?"

"You can't ima-gi-ne how ex-ci-ted I am."

The an-ti-ci-pa-ti-on was de-li-ci-o-us. It was only a mat-ter of ti-me now. Of co-ur-se she was ex-ci-ted. She co-uld hardly wa-it un-til he pas-sed out. Un-til he was ren-de-red hel-p-less and com-p-le-tely at her mercy. Oh, the mar-ve-lo-us things she had plan-ned for him. Her lit-tle bag of tricks was hid-den ne-atly away in the ot-her ro-om. Thick le-at-her straps. Sturdy ra-il-ro-ad spi-kes mat wo-uld an-c-hor so ni-cely in-to the old wo-oden flo-or in this ro-om. Ra-zors. Kni-ves.

A po-ker that co-uld be he-ated to a siz-zling red hot in the fi-rep-la-ce fla-mes.

When Jamie kis-sed her, she ope-ned her mo-uth and thrust her ton-gue in-si-de his par-ted lips. And all the whi-le she tho-ught abo-ut thrus-ting that hot po-ker up in-si-de him.

Chapter 9

"Mm-mmm," Jaz-zy sig-hed as she pla-ced her empty dish over Ca-leb's on the cof-fee tab-le.

'Tho-se we-re the best scram-b-led eggs I've ever eaten." She lo-oked over at him. He held his se-cond cup of de-caf cof-fee to his lips. ‘'Tell me, Mas-ter Chef, what is yo-ur sec-ret?"

Caleb dow-ned the last drops of cof-fee and set his cup on top of the-ir stac-ked pla-tes. "If I told you my sec-ret to per-fect scram-b-led eggs, it wo-uldn't be a sec-ret an-y-mo-re, wo-uld it?"

She cud-dled in-to the sof-t-ness of her fat old so-fa, sig-hed con-ten-tedly, and smi-led at him.

"Thanks."

"For what? All I did was fix you bre-ak-fast at two o'clock in the mor-ning."

Jazzy lo-ved his smi-le. A cocky, self-con-fi-dent, clo-sed-mo-uth smi-le that hin-ted of dan-ger and mystery. He wasn't as pretty as Jamie, but he was far mo-re ap-pe-aling in every way. Damn! Why was she fal-ling in-to that sa-me old trap-com-pa-ring every man who ca-me in-to her li-fe with Jamie? Ah, Jas-mi-ne, my de-ar, don't you re-ali-ze what a bre-ak-t-h-ro-ugh you've ma-de? You've ac-tu-al-ly fo-und so-me-one who ap-pe-als to you mo-re than Jamie Up-ton.

Jazzy la-ug-hed, the warm, ca-ref-ree fe-eling spre-ading thro-ugh her body ra-pidly. "You've do-ne mo-re than just fix me bre-ak-fast. You've pam-pe-red me, which is so-met-hing I'm not used to. And I think you've for-gi-ven me, too, ha-ven't you?"

Caleb re-ac-hed over from whe-re he sat on the op-po-si-te end of the so-fa and brus-hed to-ast crumbs from the si-de of Jaz-zy's mo-uth. Wit-ho-ut thin-king, she ran the tip of her ton-gue aro-und the in-si-de of her lips and ac-ci-den-tal-ly lic-ked Ca-leb's in-dex fin-ger. The-ir ga-zes met and held for an en-d-less mo-ment.

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"I was wrong to jud-ge you. It's not as if I've li-ved a spot-less li-fe. What you did or didn't do with Jamie Up-ton last night wasn't any of my bu-si-ness."

Jazzy grab-bed Ca-leb's hand just as he pul-led it away. "I didn't ha-ve sex with Jamie last night. I ha-ven't had sex with him sin-ce he re-tur-ned ho-me in Janu-ary. I ha-ven't be-en with anot-her man sin-ce I've known you."

"Am I sup-po-se to re-ad so-me sig-ni-fi-can-ce in-to that sta-te-ment?"

"Maybe one has not-hing to do with the ot-her. May-be it do-es. I ho-nestly don't know."

"And that's sup-po-se to ma-ke me fe-el bet-ter how?"

"Jamie is get-ting mar-ri-ed in three we-eks. We sa-id our go-od-byes last night."

"You've sa-id go-od-bye to him be-fo-re and-" Jaz-zy drew Ca-leb's hand up to her fa-ce and pres-sed it aga-inst her che-ek. 'Jamie isn't the man I want." She pa-used, gar-ne-red up her co-ura-ge and sa-id, 'You are."

He jer-ked his hand away and sta-red at her. "Don't play ga-mes with me. I'm not the kind of guy who's wil-ling to be se-cond best. And I don't sha-re. If you're mine, you're mi-ne alo-ne. Whet-her it's for a night or a we-ek or a month. Un-der-s-tand?"

Jazzy huf-fed. "Why did I know you'd be this way, all old-fas-hi-oned mac-ho pos-ses-si-ve?"

"Let's lay our cards on the tab-le, so we'll both know whe-re we stand." She nod-ded.

"I've wan-ted you sin-ce the first ti-me I saw you," he told her. "I want you now mo-re than ever. But the-re are things abo-ut myself that I ha-ven't told you. Things I won't tell you un-less…" He clic-ked his ton-gue. "Let's just say I don't ma-ke pro-mi-ses to an-yo-ne that I don't ke-ep. Do I want to fuck you?

Hell, yes. Do I ca-re abo-ut you? Ye-ah, I do. Will I ma-ke a li-fe-long com-mit-ment to you if we ha-ve sex? Not ne-ces-sa-rily. But when I'm with you, I'm with you ex-c-lu-si-vely. And I ex-pect the sa-me from you. No li-es. No ga-mes. And I swe-ar I'll ne-ver hurt you."

Emotion ca-ught in her thro-at. Te-ars stung her eyes. Jaz-zy glan-ced away, not wan-ting to fa-ce him un-til she was to-tal-ly in con-t-rol. She swal-lo-wed a co-up-le of ti-mes, to-ok a de-ep bre-ath, and tur-ned back aro-und. Why co-uldn't she ha-ve met Ca-leb when she was six-te-en? Why co-uldn't he ha-ve be-en her first lo-ve? If he'd got-ten her preg-nant, he wo-uld ha-ve mar-ri-ed her. And if an-yo-ne- his pa-rents or gran-d-pa-ren-ts-had obj-ec-ted, he wo-uld ha-ve told them to go stra-ight to hell.