Tying You Down (16 page)

Ah, hell.

“You know there’s someone else for me now,” he said quietly. “I’ve moved on.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to close his eyes to keep from seeing her cry.

“Tate, please,” she whispered.

There was a time when he would have taken her in his arms and held her, comforting her. He could tell she was hurting bad, that the man who’d left her had left raw marks on her heart.

Daphne flung herself at Tate and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing against his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.

Slowly Tate settled one hand on her shoulder and rubbed her back with his other hand. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “You’ll get past this. You’re a strong woman, Daphne.”

Her shoulders continued to wrack with sobs. He comforted her the best he could without feeling like he’d crossed some line that he had no intention of crossing.

She felt soft against him and her scent reminded him of days long gone. But he felt nothing more toward her than the desire to comfort her like a friend would. It looked like that’s what she needed at that moment. A friend.

When her sobs slowed until she stopped and sniffled a time or two, he took her by her shoulders again and stepped back from her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not even close.”

He sighed. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Daphne.”

“Yes, there is.” Her eyes, still glossy from tears, were wide as she looked up at him. “Take me to bed and make me forget everything that’s happened. Remind us both of how it used to be.”

He sighed. “I can’t and won’t do that. I’m with someone else now.”

She nodded. “I’d better go.” Another tear rolled down her cheek before she walked back to her car.

Once Daphne was in her car and driving down the road, Tate let his breath out in a rush. He hated to see her hurting, no matter what she’d done to him and how badly she’d hurt him.

He turned and headed on to the barn to finish up his evening chores and shook his head. Daphne was the last person he’d expected to see tonight. He hoped she’d move on and find someone.

Like what he’d found with Jo.

Chapter 22

Still feeling steamed, her skin prickling with heat, Charlee strode out of Jo-Jo’s and walked toward the Italian place down the street, where she was meeting David for dinner.

Charlee narrowed her eyes. Why couldn’t Jo just be happy for her? What was wrong with David being an older man? Her tension lessened as she felt a delightful little shiver at the thought of how experienced he was and how much he had taught her.

A niggling of a thought crawled into her mind. Why had he gone to Jo for money? Regardless of that, he couldn’t be devious and have some kind of ulterior motive, of that she was certain.

When she reached the restaurant, David was waiting for her at a corner table. He gave her a smile that made her feel all gooey and warm inside. She slipped into a seat next to him and he gave her a light kiss in greeting.

“You look gorgeous.” He let his gaze drift down her red sweater dress, his eyes resting on her breasts before he looked at her again. “But then you always do.”

She felt warm now for a completely different reason than she had after seeing Jo, her anger dissipating. She smiled at him as she drew away.

The server arrived and took their drink orders while another server brought a basket of bread with Italian seasonings and two glasses of ice water.

“How was your day?” she asked, suddenly wondering if he’d mention Jo.

He gave a slight shrug. “About like usual. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Jo said you asked to meet with her today.” Charlee watched him as she spoke. “You wanted her to invest in one of your projects.”

She could have sworn his eyes darkened a bit, but it could have been her imagination.

He nodded. “I have a great opportunity for investors to make a great return on their investment and I thought I’d let her in on it. I like Jo and would love to see her benefit from an opportunity like this.”

She sure doesn’t like you,
Charlee thought. “It was nice of you to think about her.”

“The opportunity is out there for you, too,” he said.

“You already know that I won’t come into my inheritance until I’m twenty-five,” she said. “But that’s just five short months away from now.”

The server returned with their drinks. After ordering bruschetta for an appetizer, Charlee selected the vegetable lasagna and David chose the three-cheese pasta.

When the server left, David put his hand on hers on top of the table. “I want to throw you a hell of a party for your birthday. A big one. We can invite the whole damned town.”

She couldn’t help a laugh. “That’s a lot of people.”

He shrugged. “Okay, as many people you know that can fit in a place like Nectars. We could rent it out for the night.”

The fact that he was thinking about being with her in another five months solidified her feelings that he was here for the long run. She did wonder why he didn’t suggest Jo-Jo’s, but maybe he didn’t want to impose on family.

He gave her another smile. “What do you say?”

“I’d say that would be really expensive.” She couldn’t help smiling back at him. “But absolutely crazy fun. I’ll pay at least half.”

He squeezed her hand. “Only if you insist.”

“I insist.” She slipped her hand from his and reached for her purse that she had set on the chair beside her. She pulled out her wallet and fished out one of her credit cards. She handed it to him. “There should be plenty of room on that card for whatever you have planned. If you need cash out, the pin number is one-nine-seven-one.”

“Got it.” He pulled his wallet out of his back pants pocket and slipped the card inside it. “We’ll make this one hell of a party,” he said as he returned the wallet to his pocket.

“Twenty-five. It’s hard to believe it’s almost here.” She set her purse aside again.

He leaned close. “You are a beautiful mature woman, Charlee, and sexy as hell.”

She felt a stirring in her body as she thought about all of the times they’d had wild bouts of sex. Or could she call their time together making love instead of just sex?

The way he was looking at her, like she was the only woman in the world, sent thrills through her belly. Yes, Jo was wrong. David was absolutely perfect for her.

Chapter 23

After leaving Charlee’s home, David drove back to his apartment. He would be late in getting back to Phoenix, but it was necessary.

He banged his hand on the steering wheel.
Shit.
Jo had the cash but refused to give him the money. Now he had to take a drastic plan of action.

It had been in the back of his mind, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to go as far as he was forced to take it now.

The only logical step was to make sure Charlee inherited Jo’s money as soon as possible. He had to make that happen immediately if he was going to be able to get the cash he needed on time. Charlee was Jo’s sole heir. She would get everything, including the club.

Once Jo was dead, and a few months later when Charlee came into her own inheritance, David would take every penny for himself, leaving the poor little slut destitute.

It made him grin to know he had that kind of power. It was a high, a feeling that he was addicted to like a gambler on a winning streak.

When he got to his apartment, he jogged up the steps, unlocked and opened the door, then shut it and made sure it was locked again. He went to the bedroom where he kept a special journal inside a panel in the closet. All older homes and apartments had good hiding spots, you just had to find them. He kept all of his notes and records in that place for safekeeping while he was in Prescott.

Keeping a handwritten journal was safer than storing the information on his laptop. No one could hack into his computer and get the info. Plus there was something satisfying about writing out each transaction by hand.

He slipped out the leather-bound journal and sat on the bed, flipping through the pages of the half-filled book. Behind the first tab he kept track of every transaction he’d ever made. He liked to see the numbers that proved how good he was at bilking money from the innocent and taking it for himself.

Behind the second tab was a list of his marks and what they owned and what it would take to relieve them of their cash and property.

The third tab was where he kept important names and phone numbers. Beside the initials R. D., David had a number to use in special cases, and this was more than a special case. This was his livelihood at stake.

This number he didn’t keep in his phone, he kept it only in his journal. He wrote it in pencil because the number changed frequently. The man at the other end, Russ Dugan, used only disposable phones and never kept the same number for long. He had ways of getting the new number to David because David liked to use Russ for various jobs.

Murder was not something David had used Russ for, not yet. That was about to change.

Of course he’d need to use Charlee’s credit card for the hit on Jo since all of his funds were currently tied up. He’d take out a cash advance on Charlee’s card, and that would take care of that.

David’s heart beat a little faster, a sense of exhilaration rushing through him. He’d never been responsible for taking a life before, and he found the thought almost heady. It was like playing God. Considering what a bitch Jo was, it was going to make the experience even sweeter.

He took his mobile phone out of his pocket and punched in Russ’s latest number, hoping that the man hadn’t changed it again without notifying him in time.

A man answered on the third ring. “Yeah?”

“It’s David.” He sat on the mattress beside the journal and gripped the phone tight. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Chapter 24

Saturday morning, Jo hummed to herself while she tugged a black T-shirt over her head, as she got ready to go out with Tate. She wasn’t sure what he had planned, but he’d said to wear old jeans and sneakers, and a shirt she wouldn’t mind getting muddy.

She’d picked out old socks along with black panties and a black bra—if she was going to get muddy, at least black wouldn’t show the mud. She found one of her older sling purses and stuffed cash and credit cards into a small wallet that she slipped into the purse, along with her mobile phone.

When she was finished dressing, she headed for the kitchen to grab some breakfast before she took a quick trip to the store for dark roast coffee. She’d have a whole-grain English muffin with a little butter, and she’d make herself a cup of coffee when she got back.

Just as she stepped out of her bedroom, the doorbell rang. Was Tate here already? She glanced at a crystal clock on the fireplace mantel. It couldn’t be Tate—he wouldn’t be here for another twenty minutes, which would give her a chance to run to the store around the corner. So who was here?

She unlocked the door and opened it. No one was there, but a small flyer on thick neon orange paper had been taped to her front door. Something about carpet shampoo was printed on the card.

Damn, she hated solicitors. She’d tugged the card off the door to take it and throw it in the garbage when she caught the whiff of something odd. Her fingers began to tingle where they were touching the card and she started to get dizzy.

What was wrong with her? Was she coming down with the flu or something?

She managed to shut the door before her legs gave out on her. She dropped to her knees, the impact sending a jolt of pain through her legs. The pain faded as she swayed and collapsed onto her side.

Her mind spun, darkness crowding in on her, and she began to dream.

She dreamed that the front door opened and a man stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The man wore surgical gloves and a surgical mask. He took the card from her fingers and tucked it into his pocket.

In her dream, the man picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She bounced against his back like a limp rag doll as he strode through the house to the garage. He carried her to her Lexus, opened the door, and settled her in the driver’s seat.

Her head lolled back and forth as he left her. She started to drift off when the man crowded in just enough to put his foot on the brake, insert the keys, and start the car. The motor purred to life. He rolled down the window and shut the car door.

The next thing that happened in her dream was a cloth being pressed over her nose and she smelled something strange.

Gradually the dream drifted away and she slipped into a deep sleep.

* * * * *

Tate rang Jo’s doorbell again. Still no answer. It wasn’t like her to not be ready when they were planning to go out. Maybe she was in the bathroom.

He tried the doorknob but it was locked. He looked around her front yard. It was neat and attractive with brick borders and planters. The sky was cloudy, the scent of rain on the air. It might get wet today—all the better to get good and muddy.

The thought of Jo in a T-shirt wrestling in mud with another woman came to mind and he gave a low chuckle. That wasn’t what he had in mind, but he enjoyed the image.

Grinning, he turned back to the door and knocked on it. When she didn’t answer, he rang the doorbell a couple more times.

A strange feeling crept over him. It was an odd feeling, like Jo could be in trouble. He shook his head. She’d probably run to the store to pick up something and was running late. Which wasn’t like her. She was always on time. Still, there was always a first.

He un-holstered his mobile phone and pressed the number for Jo. It rang and rang and finally went to voice mail.

This time the twitch of concern was stronger. He tried calling her on her phone again, this time leaving a message. He knocked on her door and pressed her doorbell a couple more times, too. He even tried to open the door again. He noticed that only the handle was locked and it didn’t seem like the bolt lock had been engaged.

When he still couldn’t get hold of her, he walked around the house to the backyard. Her house sat on a quarter acre and she had a large back yard with a swimming pool that included a small waterfall.