Scorned Page 7

  11

  OF ALL TIMES to be right, Jackson wished tonight hadn’t been one.

  He’d charged after the snooping little bastard, chasing him past the pool and three guest bungalows before finally getting a clear enough sight of him to take a shot. His goal wasn’t to kill, but slow him enough to catch his peeping ass. With no shoes or pants, Jackson had been at a severe disadvantage when the chase went off-trail. He sank up to his ankles in muck. Vines and thorny branches he couldn’t see ripped his skin like claws. Somewhere along his journey his condom had fallen off. Christ…

  Way to celebrate his and Miranda’s first time together. He prayed there would be a next.

  His mind’s eye kept pulling up those damned snakes.

  With each step, he imagined himself surrounded by them.

  Didn’t matter. He had to keep running. He and Miranda would never find true peace until all mysteries were solved. On and on he charged blindly through the night, following only by sounds of splashing through shallow water and thrashing foliage.

  Jackson knew he’d lost the cat and mouse game when the noises he’d been tracking stopped. An engine started and revved. Red taillights glowed through the swamp’s gloom.

  Shit.

  He punched the air. Idiot. What the hell had he been thinking? Chasing off into the night buck naked in a goddamned swamp, hunting down a ghost. The foliage was too thick for even moonlight to shine through.

  Since Jackson’s only frame of reference was facing those taillights, he charged forward, hoping to reach a road. It took an eternity, but he finally found himself on a gravel road that chewed the soles of his bare feet.

  There was no telling how long he walked—thankfully without company in either human or animal form. Maybe thirty minutes, but what felt like an eternity later, he was greeted by the wedding venue’s soft glow. He must have been walking on a delivery access road as he limped his way up to the main building’s backside.

  From there, he kept to the shadows on the maze of winding brick paths until he found the one leading to Miranda’s place.

  Facing her idyllic front porch with its hanging baskets of ferns and flowers, it seemed hard to believe the ugliness of what had lurked inside. How long had that bastard been watching her?

  “I heard gunshots. Are you okay?” Miranda, dressed in a fluffy pink robe, looking far too lovely and sweet to be dealing with BS like this, dashed out her door to greet him. “You’re bleeding. Come inside. What were you thinking?”

  “I’m fine.” He trudged up the three steps leading to the porch. “The only thing I was thinking was that I was mad as hell at the body attached to the eyeball peeping past your painting.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Yep. And he’s going down.”

  She shut the door behind him.

  In the living room’s light, he looked to his muddy feet. “I’m making a mess. Want me to hose off outside?”

  “Absolutely not. Let’s rinse you off in the shower, then you need a nice, long soak.”

  “Shower—yes. No time for a bubble bath. I need to figure out how that bastard got into your wall. Once we find his entry, we’ll also have a clue as to who it might be. One thing’s for certain, if Mark’s in jail, it’s sure as hell not him.”

  “Could he have hired someone? You know, just to freak me out?”

  Jackson made a face before locking the front door. “Doubt it. This is personal. He watched us make love. Whoever stared back at me had something in it for him. This goes deeper than money.”

  She shivered, running her hands up and down her arms.

  “Sorry about your floors,” he said on his way to the master bath after handing her his gun. “I’ll clean them when I’m done. Until I’m out, sit tight. I can’t see our peeper returning tonight, but I also didn’t see him blowing up your bar along with four of your friends.”

  He’d stepped into her glass-walled shower when she called, “Wait—want me to run out to your car for your clothes?”

  “Thanks, but when I tell you to sit tight, please, don’t move.”

  “I won’t.”

  She started to close the bathroom door, but he barked, “Leave it open. I need to see you’re okay.”

  Nodding, she backed onto her assigned chair.

  The hot water stung like hell on his scratches. Miranda’s white shower tile turned brown-tinged with dried blood.

  Not wanting her out of his sight, he rushed, and ended up getting soap in his eyes. Shit.

  Above the water’s spray, he heard pounding, then Miranda rejoined him in the bathroom. “Someone’s banging on the door. What should I do?”

  Still squinting, he killed the water and reached for a towel and his gun. “Climb into the linen closet and hide.”

  Jackson wrapped the towel around his waist, then crept with his gun at the ready toward the front door. He peered past the floaty curtain to see no one. The second he opened it, he noticed twin strings.

  One led all the way to his shiny new SUV. The second, to Miranda’s VW Bug.

  “No, no, no…”

  Too late.

  BOOM!

  BOOM!

  He ducked from the twin explosions’ intensity and heat, not to mention the shrapnel of flying auto parts. Sonofabitch.

  “Are you okay?” Miranda ran up behind him, then screamed, backing away from the door. He’d thought she was understandably upset about losing their rides, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

  What was worse than his second rental car exploding? An otherwise charming wicker picnic basket filled with writhing snakes. A note tied to the top with gingham ribbon read: Whores go to hell much sooner than later…

  12

  “THERE YOU HAVE it…” Miranda gasped when Jackson stepped back to allow Reginald and his team of three fellow officers inspect the passage he’d found at the back of her laundry room closet. Behind the ironing board and vacuum, he’d found a false back made of thin plywood and painted the same white as the rest of the room. The only reason he’d seen it was because the peeper had left in a hurry without fastening it all the way to the Velcro normally holding it in place.

  When lifted, the panel exposed a ten-inch passage running the length of her home with peep holes into her living room, bedroom, and master bath. The thought that all those times when she’d had the heebie-jeebies, when she’d feared she was losing her mind or that her sweet house truly was haunted, all along had been some sick perv watching her was too much to bear.

  Physically ill that the intimacy she and Jackson shared had been watched by another man, Miranda darted into the half-bath off the kitchen, retching into the toilet.

  “One positive,” she overheard Jackson say, “is that this dramatically narrows our suspect list. I doubt Mark could fit through there.”

  “No. But I’m still holding him. He’s up to his neck in something.”

  “Roger that,” Jackson said.

  “Guys,” Reginald said to his men, “How about running the panel for prints. If we don’t land a match there, I might have to call another parish to see if they have anyone small enough to fit through the passage.”

  Miranda took a washcloth from under the vanity cabinet, soaking it with cold water before pressing it to her flushed cheeks and forehead.

  “You okay?” Jackson asked through the partially open door.

  “Not really. This is all surreal. I can’t believe just a couple hours earlier…”

  “I know.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “But this puts us that much closer to catching the right guy.”

  Nodding, she sighed, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head against his chest. Reginald had been kind enough to bring him fresh clothes and he now wore a Tulane Basketball Green Wave T-shirt and matching green jogging pants. One of these days, she’d like to once again see him wearing his own clothes.

  “Randi, hon?” Her father’s booming voice startled her.

  “Miranda?” Her mother was next to spoil the b
athroom’s relative calm. “There you are. Jackson—thank goodness, you’re here, too.”

  Josie had called them and the police as soon as she’d heard gunshots. Not long after, Lenny had also been invited to their party.

  “No offense,” Jackson said, “but I was hoping the next time I saw you both would be under happier circumstances.”

  “No kidding,” her father said.

  Miranda emerged from the bathroom to get a comforting hug from her dad. “It was awful. Josie told you about the basket of snakes?”

  He nodded.

  “Jackson was so brave, pushing the whole thing off the porch with his bare feet.” She shuddered at the memory. “I’m sorry about the car. It was my favorite birthday gift, ever.”

  “Lucky for you,” her mom said, “that you happen to have a dealership owner for a father. He called David and is having him deliver you a brand new Mustang convertible.”

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Miranda said.

  “I wanted to. You’ll always be my little girl.”

  “Oh—and Jackson, Betsy will be by soon with your clothes. In light of the current situation, she and David cut their date short.”

  “Mom, you shouldn’t have interrupted them.”

  Her mother waved off her concerns. “I’ll more than make it up to her in her Christmas bonus. Besides, I didn’t get the impression David proposed.”

  “Oh no. Was she upset?”

  “Not sure. Sometimes she’s hard to read. Anyway, since she’ll be here soon, you can ask her yourself.” To Reginald, she said. “I’ll bet your wife was fit to be tied. Isn’t your daughter in labor?”

  “She sure is. Both my girls will have my hide. Couldn’t be helped. I agree with Jackson, though, seeing the size of that cavity narrows our search. We’ll find this guy and lock him up for good.”

  “Boss?” David stood in the open front door, wagging a set of keys.

  “Thank you.” Miranda dashed to him for a hug. “You’ve always been such a good friend. I hate that you drove all the way over here in the middle of the night—especially, when you and Betsy had your big date.”

  “No worries.”

  “Was Betsy upset?”

  “I dropped her by her apartment a while ago. We got into it about something else.”

  “I’m sorry.” She gave him another hug. “I’m sure you’ll work it out.”

  He nodded, handing her the keys before ramming his hands in his pockets. “Well, I guess I should get going.”

  “Hold up,” Reginald said. “I’ll have one of my deputies run you home.”

  “Betsy should be here any minute.” Her mother looked at her watch. “In fact, she should have been here already.”

  “I don’t want to intrude on a family time,” David edged toward the door.

  “You are family,” Miranda said. “Come in and have a seat. Want a beer?”

  Eyes wide, he looked from Jackson to Reginald to Lenny. “No, thank you. I’m good.”

  “David,” Jackson said, “how tall are you?”

  “No offense,” David bristled, “but what’s it to you?”

  “Sorry.” Jackson held up his hands. “I have a friend who owns race horses. He’s always on the hunt for jockeys about your size. Have you ever ridden?”

  “No.”

  “Here, sweetie.” Miranda handed David a cold Corona. “I know you turned down my first offer, but you seem like you could use it.” She turned to Jackson. “You never told me you have friends who race. Dad? Didn’t you know a couple who were big into racehorses?”

  “Yes, ma’am. David? I’d hate losing you at the dealership, but if you’d like, I’d be happy to give them a call? I had no idea you’re interested in riding.”

  “I’m good here in town.” David downed half the bottle in one swig.

  Jackson left the kitchen table to return to the laundry room where he held a quiet conversation with the sheriff.

  David eyed the two men, the trio of deputies, then the door. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “How are you getting home?” her father asked. “Let me take you.”

  “I’m good.” Already on the porch, he waved. “The exercise’ll do me good.”

  “Not so fast.” Reginald jogged from the laundry room to apprehend David on the porch. “I’m gonna need you to come down to the station with me and answer a few questions.”

  “About what?” He looked wild-eyed and panicked. “I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  “Then I assume you won’t mind if we run your beer bottle for prints and check them against the secret door in Miranda’s laundry room?”

  “What door? You ain’t got nothing on me.”

  “Then you also won’t mind taking a ride to the station. Benson,” he said to the nearest deputy, “kindly take him in.”

  “This is BS,” David struggled to escape the officer’s hold, but was no match for the bigger guy’s strength. “You’ve got the wrong person!”

  “Hold up!” Reginald called from the porch. “Who is the right person? Mark Wells?”

  “I need a lawyer,” David said.

  “Take him in.” Reginald waved the deputy on his way.

  Miranda’s throat sported an egg-sized knot. Considering David’s slim build, Jackson and Reginald must have suspected he was the man who’d haunted her walls. Which meant he was also the man who’d blown up her bar twice and killed her friends.

  But David? Really? It seemed inconceivable.

  “This makes my heart heavy,” her mother said. “Robert, please take me home.”

  Her father rose from Miranda’s sofa, offering his hand to assist her fragile-looking mother, who seemed to have shrunken in on herself. “Please stay at our house tonight, Randi. Jackson—you, too.”

  “Thank you for the offer, sir. But I can only accept if you understand I won’t leave Miranda’s side—even while she sleeps.”

  “Son…” Her dad sighed. “I want you with her—especially while she sleeps. David is like a part of this family. As is my friend, Mark Wells. I feel betrayed.”

  “You have been, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Still holding her mother’s hand, Miranda’s father led his shell-shocked wife from the house.

  Reginald approached, patting Jackson’s back. “You did good—spotting David. Not sure what role he played, but my gut says he’s also connected.”

  “Agreed.” Jackson pressed his lips tight. “Sorry, Miranda. I know he’s your friend.”

  She shrugged. “At this point, nothing would surprise me. I’m just glad this time it really is over. My guess is that Mark paid David to start the fires. As for the whole Peeping Tom matter? The ugly notes? I can’t begin to understand David’s motivation behind all of that.” When she shivered despite the muggy night air, Jackson rested his arm atop her shoulders, pulling her close.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and take the mayor to her parents’ house?” Reginald suggested. “It’s been a long night, and we’ve still got another couple hours left to fully process this scene. Probably go smoother without so many folks bobbing about.”

  “Sure. Just let me check Miranda’s new ride. I’m pretty sure David’s our guy but you never can be too safe.”

  “True.”

  Too much to do stood between Miranda and sleep, but Jackson made it all bearable.

  She’d expected her parents to have retreated to their room, but both were up, arguing about how her father could have worked with David every day yet never recognized that he suffered from a mental illness. By the time Miranda got them both calmed down, she led Jackson to a guest room. She couldn’t stomach the thought of being in her own bedroom where she’d received one of David’s many sick messages.

  The night’s only pleasant development had been that Betsy had finally appeared with Jackson and Miranda’s clean clothes.

  “Could you use a shower?” Jackson asked with the suite’s door closed and locked behind them. He set the clean clothes on top of a low
dresser. “I feel sticky.”

  “I’d love a shower.” She gravitated toward him. As sad as she was about David being the man behind so much pain, she was relieved to finally have it all behind her. Wrapping her arms around Jackson, she stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

  Groaning, he lifted her, deepening the kiss while backing them into the bathroom. “I want you,” he said, “but I don’t have another condom.”

  “Let’s walk on the wild side.”

  “Sure?”

  She nodded while performing the now familiar task of removing his latest borrowed shirt.

  “For the record, if we’re ever fortunate enough to make a baby, I’d never leave you like your ex.” He set his gun and wallet on the granite counter.

  Her heart swelled.

  They took turns losing clothes until both entered the oversized subway-tiled shower, closing the opaque door behind them, turning on the water, cocooning them both in what soon became their own steamy paradise.

  He kissed her and kissed her, driving out the pain to make room for the kind of pleasure only he could offer. When he lifted her again, she wrapped her arms around him, opening a deeper part of herself to welcome him home. Somehow, some way, in the midst of madness, he’d become her safe place. Her shelter from the storm.

  He established an age-old rhythm that she followed until they were rising above all that had happened, soaring in a realm where reality danced with a fantastical, dizzying pleasure of the sort she’d never known.

  “I love you.” Her words were barely audible above the shower’s spray, but judging by the intensity of Jackson’s next kiss, he’d heard her as clearly as if she’d shouted.

  “I love you, too. Like for real.” He chuckled. “How did this happen? I’ve searched my whole life to find you, yet didn’t even know I’d been looking.”

  Laughing, kissing, she nodded. “I’m in happy shock—a good thing, right?”

  “Absolutely. But we need to figure out what comes next. I don’t want to be without you—even for a day.”

  “Logistics. We’ll figure it out. Thanks to you, we now have time.”