The Last to Die (35 page)

If only he co-uld gi-ve her so-met-hing to li-ve for-a re-ason to fight Gu-ilt un-li-ke any he'd ever known we-ig-hed he-avily on his sho-ul-ders. Re-ba knew he'd ne-ver truly lo-ved her. She sus-pec-ted, even if she didn't know for su-re, that the-re had be-en nu-me-ro-us ot-her wo-men. She might even know abo-ut Erin. As-king her to li-ve for him was a lu-dic-ro-us tho-ught. Why sho-uld she want to li-ve for him af-ter the way he'd tre-ated her all the-se ye-ars? May-be she did still lo-ve him, but a part of her had to ha-te him, too.

"I'm sorry, Re-ba," he told her. "I wish I co-uld ha-ve be-en a bet-ter hus-band."

If only they hadn't lost both Jim Jr. and Me-la-nie. If only the-re had be-en ot-her gran-d-c-hil-d-ren.

Jamie had me-ant the world to Re-ba, and now she had lost him, too. Te-ars sprang in-to Jim's eyes.

If only I co-uld gi-ve you a go-od re-ason to want to li-ve.

* * *

Caleb ar-ri-ved at Jaz-zy's Jo-int a few mi-nu-tes past se-ven. Af-ter his con-f-ron-ta-ti-on with Jacob But-ler, he'd left the hos-pi-tal, had wal-ked aro-und alo-ne, and had do-ne a lot of thin-king. His big sec-ret was out, and if Jacob knew, it was only a mat-ter of ti-me be-fo-re Jacob told Jaz-zy. And he didn't want her to know-not yet. She'd be-en the re-ason he had kept put-ting off ma-king con-tact with the Up-tons. He had co-me to Che-ro-kee Co-unty to find his mot-her's fa-mily, but af-ter me-eting
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Jaz-zy and le-ar-ning abo-ut her con-nec-ti-on to his co-usin Jamie, he'd de-ci-ded to wa-it. Jamie had be-en a top-notch son of a bitch. What sort of fa-mily pro-du-ced a rot-ten ap-ple li-ke that?

But to-day when he'd wat-c-hed his gran-d-mot-her col-lap-se right be-fo-re his eyes, ever-y-t-hing had chan-ged. She was an old wo-man who might not li-ve. He'd mis-ta-kenly tho-ught the-re was no ne-ed to rush in-to cla-iming his new fa-mily, that he co-uld wa-it aro-und and get the lay of the land, so to spe-ak. He had wan-ted the chan-ce to find out a lot mo-re abo-ut the Up-ton clan be-fo-re he re-ve-aled him-self as the-ir long-lost gran-d-son.

Lacy mo-ti-oned to Ca-leb the mi-nu-te he ar-ri-ved, so he ma-de his way thro-ugh the crow-ded, smo-ke-fil-led ro-om and went stra-ight to the bar. He le-aned over the co-un-ter so he co-uld he-ar Lacy wit-ho-ut her ha-ving to hol-ler.

"We've be-en ha-ving a prob-lem with a guy who's be-en sho-oting po-ol with Dil-lon Car-son,"

Lacy sa-id. "I tri-ed to han-d-le things when I saw ne-it-her She-ri nor Ka-lin-da co-uld do an-y-t-hing with him. Even Dil-lon, drunk as he is, tri-ed to re-ason with the man. I didn't want to ask Jaz-zy, but-"

"You're a mur-de-ring who-re!" The man's cru-el sho-ut co-uld be he-ard over the co-untry mu-sic co-ming from the juke-box, the clin-king of bot-tles and glas-ses, and the talk and la-ug-h-ter cre-ated by the ot-her cus-to-mers.

"Damn!" Ca-leb cur-sed un-der his bre-ath.

"She ca-me out a few mi-nu-tes ago and has be-en trying to get him to le-ave," Lacy ex-p-la-ined.

"He hasn't be-en that lo-ud be-fo-re, but co-uld tell from her fa-ci-al ex-p-res-si-ons that he's be-en gi-ving her a re-al-ly hard ti-me."

Of all nights for so-me smart-mo-ut-hed as-sho-le to hurl in-sults at Jaz-zy-the night Ca-leb had co-me in se-ve-ral ho-urs la-te. Af-ter his long walk to think things thro-ugh, he sho-uld ha-ve co-me stra-ight to work. In-s-te-ad he'd go-ne back to the hos-pi-tal. When he'd pe-eked in-to the ICU unit, the do-or to Miss Re-ba's ro-om had be-en open and he'd se-en Big Jim sit-ting by her bed, hol-ding her hand, his fa-ce damp with te-ars. He'd co-me clo-se to wal-king in on them and tel-ling his gran-d-fat-her who he was. But he fi-gu-red now was the wrong ti-me. The Up-tons had be-en thro-ugh hell the-se past few days. Be-si-des, he ne-eded to tell Jaz-zy first. He owed her that much.

"I'll ta-ke ca-re of things," Ca-leb told Lacy.

Her fri-endly smi-le de-epe-ned the wrin-k-les in her li-ned fa-ce. "I knew you wo-uld."

When Ca-leb ar-ri-ved on the sce-ne at the back of the ro-om whe-re the po-ol tab-les we-re set up, he fo-und a tall, lanky guy in his la-te thir-ti-es right up in Jaz-zy's fa-ce. He co-uld tell by her ex-p-res-si-on that she was on the ver-ge of slap-ping the man's fa-ce.

"No won-der Jamie Up-ton threw you away," the man sa-id, his words slightly slur-red. "You're not-hing but trash and this who-le town knows it. But you're go-ing to be pri-son trash pretty so-on, when they put you whe-re you be-long." 'Lo-ok, buddy, why don't you le-ave?" Dil-lon Car-son, a bit un-s-te-ady on his fe-et, pat-ted the man on the back. "No °ne wants any tro-ub-le. Isn't that right, Jaz-zy?" When he tur-ned to her, the ot-her man knoc-ked Dil-lon's hand off his back.

"Yeah," Jaz-zy sa-id. "You've got a right to yo-ur opi-ni-on, but you're not go-ing to bad-mo-uth me in my own bar.'' "I'll say wha-te-ver the hell I want abo-ut you whe-re-ver I want to say it." The man put
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his fa-ce clo-ser to Jaz-zy's, not two in-c-hes bet-we-en the-ir no-ses. "And you can't do a damn thing to stop me, 'ca-use ever-y-body knows what I'm sa-ying is the truth."

Jazzy pun-c-hed him in the mid-dle of his chest. "Lo-ok, you stu-pid jac-kass, eit-her you le-ave now or I'll call the po-li-ce and ha-ve you thrown out of he-re."

The man grab-bed Jaz-zy and sho-ok her. She sho-ved him, but he held on-to her tightly with one hand and drew back his ot-her hand in-to a fist. Ca-leb di-ved stra-ight at them, sho-ving Dil-lon asi-de and knoc-king him to the flo-or in the pro-cess. The guy on the ver-ge of stri-king Jaz-zy ne-ver knew what hit him. Ca-leb ram-med in-to him and sent him back aga-inst the wall lig-h-t-ning fast, twis-ting his arm be-hind his back. Then, pres-sing one arm ac-ross the man's thro-at and ap-plying pres-su-re, he sub-du-ed him im-me-di-ately.

The man gas-ped for air. Ca-leb eased up just a frac-ti-on as he sa-id, "You want to apo-lo-gi-ze to the lady now be-fo-re I ta-ke you out of he-re or do I ha-ve to whip yo-ur sorry ass?"

"I'm not go-ing to-" He cho-ked when Ca-leb ad-ded mo-re pres-su-re to his win-d-pi-pe.

When his fa-ce tur-ned red and his eyes bug-ged out, Ca-leb eased up aga-in and as-ked, "Are you re-ady to apo-lo-gi-ze to Ms. Tal-bot?"

That's not ne-ces-sary, "Jaz-zy sa-id. 'Just get him out of he-re."

"It's ne-ces-sary," Ca-leb sa-id, gla-ring at the man. "Apo-lo-gi-ze or-"

"I-I'm sorry." The man lo-oked at Jaz-zy, his mo-ist eyes ple-ading with her. "I'm re-al sorry."

"Get him out of he-re, will you?" Jaz-zy's ga-ze col-li-ded with Ca-leb's, and he re-ali-zed that she was mo-re than a lit-tle up-set.

Without sa-ying anot-her word, he mar-c-hed the man thro-ugh the crowd that had be-en wat-c-hing the en-ti-re ex-c-han-ge. Af-ter they step-ped out-si-de on-to the si-de-walk, Ca-leb re-le-ased his te-na-ci-o-us hold on the guy.

"If you know what's go-od for you, don't ever co-me back he-re aga-in."

The guy nod-ded and all but ran down the stre-et to his car par-ked half a block away. Ca-leb wa-ited un-til he dro-ve away be-fo-re re-tur-ning to the club. When he got back in-si-de, he co-uldn't find Jaz-zy. Lacy po-in-ted to-ward the hal-lway that led to the la-di-es' ro-om, the sto-ra-ge ro-om, and Jaz-zy's of-fi-ce. He'd check her of-fi-ce first.

The do-or was clo-sed. He knoc-ked. No reply.

"Jazzy?"

Silence.

He tri-ed the knob. Not loc-ked. He ope-ned the do-or. She sat on the front ed-ge of her desk, her arms cros-sed over her chest. When he wal-ked over the thres-hold, she gla-red at him.

"Are you all right?" he as-ked.

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No, I'm not all right!" Her vo-ice held a ste-ely, pis-sed-off ed-ge. "Co-uldn't you ha-ve just thrown him out of he-re wit-ho-ut thre-ate-ning his li-fe?"

"Is that why you're up-set?" Ca-leb chuc-k-led.

Bad mo-ve on his part. Jaz-zy huf-fed lo-udly.

''The guy was go-ing to hit you." Ca-leb sa-id.

''And I was fi-xing to knee him in the groin."

'' Oh, so you're pis-sed be-ca-use I in-ter-rup-ted be-fo-re you bro-ught the guy to his kne-es all by yo-ur-self, not be-ca-use I ne-arly cho-ked him to de-ath."

Fuming, sparks flas-hing in her eyes, Jaz-zy slid off the desk and mar-c-hed to-ward Ca-leb. This was the Jaz-zy he'd first met, all fi-re and spunk, ta-king na-mes and kic-king ass. This was the wo-man he was crazy abo-ut, the wo-man1 he wan-ted. She was as fe-mi-ni-ne as a wo-man co-uld get, all ro-und cur-ves and be-a-uti-ful fa-ce, but the-re was a to-ug-h-ness in Jaz-zy that over-lay the sof-t-ness be-ne-ath, the vul-ne-ra-bi-lity she tri-ed to hi-de.

Caleb wa-ited for her, let her co-me to him. When she was a co-up-le of fe-et away, she stop-ped and plan-ted her hands on her hips. Now she was go-ing to let him ha-ve it with both bar-rels.

"Where we-re you to-night?" she as-ked.

"What?" That was not what he'd be-en ex-pec-ting her to say.

"When you cal-led to tell me you'd be co-ming in la-te, you didn't men-ti-on why. Whe-re we-re you? Or sho-uld I ask you who you we-re you with?"

Had he he-ard her right? She wasn't fu-ri-o-us with him be-ca-use he'd co-me to her res-cue a few mi-nu-tes ago. No, she was angry be-ca-use she tho-ught… she tho-ught what? That he'd be-en with anot-her wo-man? Was it pos-sib-le she was je-alo-us? If so, that had to me-an she ca-red.

"I had so-me per-so-nal bu-si-ness to ta-ke ca-re of. And be-fo-re you ask, no, I was not with anot-her wo-man."

She drop-ped her hands from her hips, huf-fed, and tur-ned her back on him. "Why sho-uld I ca-re if you we-re with so-me wo-man? It's no-ne of my bu-si-ness."

"You co-uld ma-ke it yo-ur bu-si-ness." He wal-ked up be-hind her.

Knowing he was clo-se-a ha-ir-b-re-adth away-she stif-fe-ned in-s-tantly, but didn't turn aro-und. "I co-uld ha-ve han-d-led that lo-ud-mo-ut-hed drunk, you know. I hi-red you as a bo-un-cer to pro-tect the cus-to-mers, not pro-tect me. I can ta-ke ca-re of myself. I've be-en do-ing it for a long ti-me. I don't ne-ed you or an-yo-ne el-se to fight my bat-tles for me."

He clam-ped his hands down on her ten-se sho-ul-ders and pul-led her back so that her body pres-sed aga-inst his, her back to his chest. Le-aning over and put-ting his che-ek aga-inst hers, he eased his mo-uth clo-se to her ear. "You don't ha-ve to be alo-ne an-y-mo-re. You don't ha-ve to fight yo-ur
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bat-tles by yo-ur-self. I want to be yo-ur fri-end… yo-ur pro-tec-tor… yo-ur lo-ver."

She didn't melt in-to him all at on-ce. Not his Jaz-zy. She had strug-gled a li-fe-ti-me le-ar-ning not to gi-ve in, not to say yes wit-ho-ut put-ting up a fight. And that was all right with him. She co-uld fight as much as she li-ked. Hell, she'd be-en fig-h-ting her at-trac-ti-on to him for three months now, hadn't she?

He fi-gu-red she was on the ver-ge of gi-ving in. To-night.

Caleb swung her aro-und and right in-to his arms. With her eyes wi-de in sur-p-ri-se and her mo-uth ope-ned to pro-test, he grab-bed the back of her he-ad and pul-led her fa-ce up and aga-inst his. Then he kis-sed her. Hard and de-man-ding at first. Not al-lo-wing her a chan-ce to pro-test. And the mo-ment he felt her we-aken, he sof-te-ned his at-tack. When she be-gan re-tur-ning his kiss, her mo-uth as hungry and pas-si-ona-te as his, Ca-leb gro-aned, this pre-lu-de to re-al sa-tis-fac-ti-on aro-using him un-be-arably.

Chapter 22

Holding her he-ad in pla-ce, Ca-leb ra-va-ged her mo-urn whi-le his ot-her hand slid down to cup her hip and press her in-ti-ma-tely aga-inst his erec-ti-on. For months now she'd be-en fig-h-ting her de-si-re to be with him, to kiss him and to-uch him and lo-se her-self in him. In-s-tin-c-ti-vely she knew he wasn't li-ke any ot-her man she'd ever known. Not-hing li-ke Jamie.

Forget Jamie
, she told her-self.
Put him, his de-ath, yo-ur ar-rest, and ever-y-t-hing el-se out of
yo-ur mind. Enj-oy this night, sa-vor every mo-ment of be-ing with Ca-leb.

Jazzy wrap-ped her arms aro-und his wa-ist and rub-bed her-self se-duc-ti-vely aga-inst him, lo-ving the le-an, mus-cu-lar fe-el of him. Her pussy clen-c-hed and un-c-len-c-hed a* tin-g-les of se-xu-al lon-ging ra-di-ated thro-ugh her body-Ca-leb tur-ned her aro-und and, con-ti-nu-ing the kiss, wal-ked her bac-k-ward un-til her butt col-li-ded with the wall be-si-de the do-or. His lips lif-ted from hers, then skim-med her che-ek, her chin, and down her thro-at, whi-le his hands ex-p-lo-red the out-li-ne of her body. She tug-ged on his shirt un-til she ma-na-ged to pull the ed-ges up and over his je-ans. Whi-le he mol-ded his hands to her but-tocks and lif-ted her up and in-to him, eno-ugh so that her mo-und pres-sed firmly aga-inst his sex, she slid her hands up and un-der his shirt. His skin was hot, his belly was-h-bo-ard flat, his tiny ma-le nip-ples tight and hard.

He lic-ked a path from her neck to the vee cre-ated by her but-ton-up cot-ton blo-use, then un-did the first two but-tons and kis-sed the swell of her bre-asts abo-ve her bra. She ran her hands aro-und eit-her si-de of his wa-ist and craw-led her fin-ger-tips up his bro-ad back. The fe-el of him was li-ke so-me strong nar-co-tic, drug-ging her in-to a stu-por, ma-king her want mo-re and mo-re in or-der to sa-tisfy the in-sa-ti-ab-le cra-ving.

He lif-ted his he-ad and lo-oked at her. Her ga-ze met his for a mil-li-se-cond. They smi-led at each ot-her, then she un-but-to-ned his shirt and spre-ad it apart. When she lo-we-red her he-ad and spre-ad kis-ses from col-lar-bo-ne to col-lar-bo-ne, he re-ac-hed over be-si-de them and slam-med the do-or shut. Only then did she re-ali-ze that the do-or had be-en open and an-yo-ne co-uld ha-ve wal-ked by and se-en them ma-king out.

Hell, she didn't ca-re. Not-hing mat-te-red ex-cept Ca-leb. To-uc-hing him, kis-sing him, be-ing with him. In every way.