Текст книги "Wicked Lies"

Автор книги: Lora Leigh

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“Take you home?” he asked her softly. “Someone just tried to run you down and you want me to just drop you off at your house, by yourself, and drive away like a good little boy?”

Oh hell no. She must really believe he was some dumb mountain hick if she thought he was actually going to do that.

She was the most aggravating woman he had ever met in his life.

“That would be my preference,” she snapped, lips tightening at she glared at him.

“I’m really not concerned with your fucking preference,” he bit out furiously. “I’m more concerned with keeping your pretty ass intact at the moment.”

Her eyes narrowed, lips pursing just slightly as delicate little nostrils flared.

Fuck. God, for just a moment …

A hard shake of his head forced the thought back before he glared down at her again.

“Sugar, you’re just mad as a hornet right now, aren’t you?” he accused her, amazed at the fact that she was angry with him. “Some bastard just tried to run you down and damn if you don’t act like you’re pissed because I saved your ass.”

Her gaze flickered then with a hint of uncertainty. How he’d managed to knock her off guard, he wasn’t certain, but he’d love to keep her there for a while.

“I’m pissed because some drunk asshole tried to run me down in the middle of town and nearly killed both of us,” she retorted. “I want to go home, take a hot bath and some aspirins, and try like hell to forget it happened.”

He almost laughed at the absurdity that she’d just spilled from those pretty lips. Like hell. She wanted to figure out if it was time to run yet.

Jazz shook his head, buckled her seat belt, then stepped back and closed the door before loping to the driver’s side.

“I’m heading to my place,” he muttered as he passed Slade.

“I’ll meet you there.” Nodding, Slade moved around the back of the truck. Within seconds they were both pulling from the parking lot and heading out of town.

“Jazz, I really don’t want to go to your house,” she stated as she realized they were heading in the opposite direction of her house.

“Sweetheart, right now, I really don’t give a damn,” he warned her. “I nearly watched you die in front of my eyes and that’s going to take me a minute to get over. You can just suffer and put up with my company until I can get a handle on it.”

It was going to take far more than a minute to do that. He didn’t think he’d ever felt fear like he’d felt it as he’d watched that car bearing down on her.

“You want to tell me why someone decided to run you down in the middle of town?” he asked, certain he knew what her response was going to be.

Turning his head, he caught the telltale stiffening of her body.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she retorted a second later, her expression actually confused. “It must have been a drunk or something. I’m a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake. Who doesn’t like kindergarten teachers?”

God bless her heart, he was going to spank her for that one. A lie, wrapped in deception and practicing deceit. And she did it with such incredible sincerity. He’d known she’d pull something like this.

“Whoever was in that car,” he countered instantly. “That was no drunk, so don’t take me for a damned fool. He knew what he was doing and he knew who he was trying to do it to. So why don’t you tell me what the hell is going on?”

He tried to keep from raising his voice. He wasn’t a man who yelled often, especially at women. A loud man was too intimidating, his foster father Toby Benning had told him more than once. A nice even tone would get more results.

Well, he wasn’t getting any results.

“And you think I know what’s going on.” She was trying to deceive him with her voice, her eyes, her very expression.

Damn her, she was lying to him with such convincing sincerity that he found himself wanting to believe her. Unfortunately, he hadn’t believed in fairy tales for a lot of years. He wasn’t going to start now.

“Sweetheart, you and I are going to start butting heads here soon if you can’t be honest with me.” It was the most sincere warning he could give her, because at the rate she was lying to him, he was going to be spanking her before nightfall.

“Jazz, what reason do I have not to be honest with you? How would I know who was driving that car or what they were trying to do?” she exclaimed as she pushed her fingers through her hair and avoided looking him in the eye as she tried to avoid a bald-faced lie.

His hands tightened around the steering wheel. It would probably be a really bad idea to pull over to the side of the room and spank that pretty butt.

Still, lying to Jazz was a very bad idea.

CHAPTER 6

“When we enter the house be prepared.” The heavy note of warning in Jazz’s voice had Kenni turning to him, wariness stiffening her body even more than the near miss in town already had.

“For what?”

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands as a grimace contorted his face for just a moment.

“I mentioned the puppies a few weeks ago, remember?” The rueful amusement she saw in his face now had her curiosity aroused despite her best intentions.

“I remember,” she answered, wondering what puppies could have to do with any of this.

“They’re Rottweiler puppies.” He almost grinned.

She could only roll her eyes. “Well, Jazz, I didn’t peg you for the Pomeranian type,” she assured him mockingly. “But I’m still not certain why Rottweiler puppies come with a warning.”

“They’re six-week-old rotties with more energy than a dozen Tasmanian devils,” he said then. “The second you step into the house they’re going to break away from their sire and dam and come after you like a herd of mini elephants. They love attention. Three of them especially love female attention. And they don’t take orders real well just yet.”

She remembered when the puppies were born, Jessie had been nuts wanting to claim one and Jazz had kept putting her off.

“Jessie hasn’t gotten one yet?” she asked as he made the turn onto the gravel road leading to his house about half a mile into a valley.

“They’re not weaned yet.” The hasty, obviously practiced excuse would have been amusing if not for the fact that someone had just tried to kill her.

“Has Jessie picked out which one she wants yet?” she asked then, pushing the subject. Anything to take her mind off the memory of that car bearing down on her.

Blowing out a hard breath, Jazz reached back and rubbed at the back of his neck for a second before returning his hand to the steering wheel and muttering, “Not yet.”

“Has she seen them yet?”

“Not in a few weeks.” He frowned. “I’ve been busy.”

He was lying. From Jessie’s bitching she already knew Jazz had no intention of giving up one of those babies.

“You’ve been possessive,” she corrected him absently as she watched the forested land outside the pickup. “What are you going to do to put her off now?”

Slade and Jessie were right behind them and if Kenni knew her friend then she knew Jessie would be on those puppies so fast it would make Jazz’s head spin.

“I’m going to have to talk to Slade,” he breathed out, the sound filled with resignation. “He’ll tell her.”

Kenni shook her head. “We’re talking about Jessie’s husband, Slade. Right?” she retorted. “Slade ain’t going to tell her crap if it’s going to upset her right now, Jazz. Stop fooling yourself.”

His lips pursed in a display of male uncertainty. Seeing Jazz in the least bit uncertain was surprising.

“When I’m ready to let one go, then she can have first pick.” He shrugged. “I’m not ready yet.”

“You’ll never be ready.” She was certain of that.

“So?” That one word said it all. He simply wasn’t going to worry about it. They were his puppies and he wasn’t giving one away.

“Tell her Essie would be upset if you let one go right now,” she suggested as she turned back from her perusal of the woods surrounding the truck. “That should help.”

As she spoke the surrounding forests and mountain parted to reveal the valley and Jazz’s two-story brick-and-wood home. The sprawling farmhouse was gorgeous. Red brick and red wood siding, green tin roof and a wide wraparound front porch.

The valley spread out below the house, a pond so large it was almost a small lake. A dock extended out into it with a canoe tied up to it. On the bank a covered, enclosed gazebo sat.

Green, green grass grew like a lush summer carpet, inviting bare feet and giggling children, summer cookouts and family reunions.

It took a minute to see what she was looking at, though, and when she did, it was all she could do to breathe. She hadn’t been to Jazz’s place since returning to Loudoun. But she’d been here when she was younger with one of her brothers when he’d stopped to talk to Jazz. The house hadn’t been here then, just a single-story home that looked more like a shack. The valley had been here, though, and the pond.

She’d been sixteen. While Sawyer had looked over a car he was interested in, she had informed Jazz of exactly what the valley should look like. The house, the boat dock and canoe, and the gazebo.

She wondered if there was a bed in the gazebo as she’d told Jazz she wanted. A big soft one with lace sheets and pillowcases, surrounded by a mosquito net.

The big red barns were in their places. One for equipment, the other for hay and stock should he decide to have any. The stock consisted of what appeared to be two horses. They were older, moving lazily in the huge pasture that surrounded the stock barn.

He’d laid everything out as she’d suggested. That summer she’d been convinced she belonged right there. In the summer she’d have barbecues off the back porch, family reunions and family cookouts.

She couldn’t see the back but had no doubt there was a two-level porch there, one holding the barbecue grill with its iron enclosure, the second level a covered porch with a wide swing and several outdoor tables.

He’d laughed at her, she remembered. His blue eyes had been full of amusement, but when her brother had glanced back at them his expression had been filled with brooding suspicion.

She’d flirted outrageously with Jazz that day and he’d been good-natured about it, she thought. He’d teased her gently, though not sexually. Winked at her a time or two. He’d laughed when she warned him that if he wasn’t careful she’d steal his heart and told her that “maybe” she already had. His maybes were always a little deceptive, though, she remembered. Jazz had loved playing with that word. And he still did.

Sawyer had decided it was time to leave then.

Strangely, he hadn’t warned her against Jazz. He hadn’t mentioned that afternoon, but she knew he’d gone to see Jazz again that evening.

“You have a beautiful place, Jazz,” she said softly when he pulled into the wide parking area on the rise overlooking the sprawling backyard and pond.

She wanted to sob, but tears had been locked inside her soul years before and she didn’t even know where the key was anymore.

“Thank you,” he said simply. When she glanced over at him he was staring out at it as well, his expression somber.

Oh God, what had she truly lost that night? Someone had stolen more than just her family and her life from her. They’d stolen this man from a future she hadn’t even had a chance of fantasizing about. Ten years and countless other women had passed between them now. Any tenderness he might have felt for a sixteen-year-old charmer was no doubt just a vague memory to him. But to her, it was a dagger straight to her soul.

*   *   *

“Come on, let’s get in the house,” he breathed out heavily. “I think I need a beer.”

She needed something a hell of a lot stronger than a beer, she decided. A few good shots of whiskey maybe.

Something to deaden the overwhelming feeling that in bringing her here Jazz was getting ready to completely up-end her life.

She really didn’t need her life up-ended the Jazz Lancing way. Hell, she’d almost prefer being chased by a car again. At least then, she would know what was coming.

*   *   *

Damn, it had been years since he’d remembered the stubborn determination he’d displayed when beginning to construct the property the fall Kenni had died with her mother in a hotel fire. They’d buried her and her mother, and according to the rest of the family, life went on.

It had gone on, but it had taken years to forget the pretty teenager. The only female whose father Jazz had ever gone to and asked permission to call on.

She would have turned seventeen that fall, and he knew he was too damned old for her. Twenty-three was a far cry from seventeen, but he wasn’t about to stand and wait for one of those horny little teenage pricks to walk in and steal her heart.

He hadn’t wanted her to know he was asking her father’s permission to see her though. He’d been that certain Vinny Maddox would kick him in the teeth and tell him to go to hell. He’d waited until the afternoon she’d left with her mother to take their yearly shopping trip, then he’d gone to see her father and brothers.

Her brothers had yelled, threatened, and ordered him out of the house. It was the father Jazz had watched, though. Somber, intent, his gaze had seemed to look deeper than Jazz was comfortable with as he listened to all the arguments his sons could come up with. When they’d wound down, he’d asked Jazz if he loved Kenni, and he’d had to be honest.

Hell if he knew what love was, he’d told the other man, but when he looked at Kenni, all he wanted to do was make her dreams come true. He wanted to see her smile and hear her laughter every day, and he wanted to be there to share in all her triumphs. If there were failures then he wanted to be there so she would cry on his shoulder, not another man’s.

The smile that had curled Kenni’s father’s face had confused him. For years Jazz hadn’t understood it, until the day the other man had arrived to see the completion of the buildings that had gone up in the valley.

Kenni’s father had nodded slowly, that sad smile quirking his lips again.

The older man looked out at the house, the valley, and blinked back the moisture in his eyes as he turned back to Jazz. “Sawyer told me last night you’d built what Kenni described to you before she and her mother…” He shook his head, then caught Jazz’s eye again. “Do you know, Jazz, why I gave you permission to court my daughter?”

“No sir.” There were few men Jazz gave such respect to.

“You honored me when you came and asked my permission rather than seducing my baby as many men would have done, but when you vowed that day not to take her to your bed until she was of age, you honored her,” he said softly. “And had I said no, what would you have done?”

Jazz knew he hadn’t expected the answer he got.

“I would have waited until she was of age and asked again.” He’d shrugged.

“Why? I’m nothing to you.” Her father had been confused then. “Why would my permission matter to you?”

“You’re her father,” Jazz had told him softly. “Without your respect, without your acceptance, she would never have been happy.”

The older man had been startled. “You were going to marry her.” He seemed to struggle for a moment with the thought, and with the tears that filled his eyes.

Surprised, Jazz had stared back at him. “Of course I was. Later. Not too soon. We both had some growing up to do…”

And Jazz had left it at that. But her father had looked out over the valley for long moments once again.

“She would have loved this,” he said then. “She would have loved this…”

Why the hell had that memory returned, he wondered as he led his little imposter up the front walk to the porch. It had been years since he’d thought about it. Kenni had been a beginning that had never had a chance to begin, in some ways. She had been gone before he’d had a chance to call on her the first time.

And when it came to the house and grounds, she’d been right about the layout. Everything seemed to fit perfectly where she’d suggested. He hadn’t done it just for her, he told himself. He’d told himself that for years.

He’d done it because she’d been right.

*   *   *

It didn’t end outside.

The descriptions she’d given him that day of what she would do if the valley was hers, if the house she loved was built, had been carried out as though she’d drawn him a picture.

Following him into the house Kenni couldn’t help but stare in wonder at the large open rooms, the hardwood floors, and the way light spilled through the large windows. The floors reflected the sunlight in muted gold tones while the open, airy floor plan of the first floor invited visitors to soak up the warmth and charm of the rooms.

A short staircase led to the master bedroom and a single guest room. Rather than the bedroom level sitting directly atop the first, though, it was slightly offset and rested against the hill rising next to the house. A balcony overlooked the pool area just as she’d told him she wanted.

God, she’d been sixteen, well, almost seventeen. She’d been so young and he’d been older, establishing Rigor Construction with his friends and planning his future. And that future had included things she’d dreamed of as a young woman when she dreamed of Jazz Lancing.

“The house is beautiful,” she whispered as he led her through the large television room with its overstuffed couch, love seat, and recliners.

Next to the sliding glass doors and large pet door two Rottweilers watched suspiciously as four offspring hovered in excitement behind them. The black-and-tan canine family looked regal and far too playful all at once.

“Let’s get some coffee. Slade and Jessie are coming in behind us.” Jazz led her through the room. “You can meet the heathens later.”

The doorway into the kitchen was gated, the four-foot-tall metal gate latching securely to hold back rambunctious pups.

Stepping into the kitchen, she nearly gave herself away. Her insides were trembling, her throat tight with emotion at the sight of the beautiful chef’s kitchen. The gas stove and grill were set in the center of the room to allow the cook to socialize in the kitchen as well. Beside it was a prep sink while several feet from it sat the large country sink with its troughlike dark-bronze faucet.

Honey-oak cabinets filled the wall against the family room while large windows filled the other three walls. Marble countertops had ceramic tile on the walls above them in a soft cream with splashes of honey gold, soft bronze, and a hint of blue. The counters followed around the room beneath the windows behind the work island, stopping at the door that led to the porch outside. The rest of the kitchen was for dining, socializing, and relaxing.

Across from the work island was an exact replica of the huge dining set she’d grown up with in her parents’ home. The rich dark wood of the table, slightly rough, with only a thin protective layer of polyurethane. Eight chairs sat around it; a wooden bowl in the center of the table held a few apples, some pears, and they were real. The china cabinet, buffet cabinet, and padded bench were so familiar that it was hard to believe it wasn’t the same set.

Her chest was so tight she was surprised she could breathe. Emotion threatened to swamp her, to burn through her fragile control and leave her sobbing.

Why had he done this? It wasn’t out of some overwhelming love, she knew that. He’d been a friend, one who flirted back with her gently but never made a single pass at her. Not the first touch, not even a kiss.

“You okay?” Glancing over at her as he stepped behind the work island to the coffeepot, Jazz watched her in concern.

“This is the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever seen, Jazz,” she whispered as she heard Slade and Jessie enter the kitchen behind her.

“And how he developed the taste to create such a gorgeous house and kitchen I haven’t figured out,” Jessie declared as she moved to the bar on the other side of the stove and grinned at Jazz teasingly. “His RV looks like it was thrown together. Nothing matches.”

“Troublemaker,” Jazz muttered in accusation as he pulled coffee cups from a nearby cabinet and set them next to the coffeemaker.

“I’m no troublemaker,” she argued, leaning against her husband as he moved behind the stool she sat on. “By the way, I picked out my pup. Can I take him home today?”

“They’re not weaned yet,” he answered instantly.

“I can have him when he’s weaned then?” Her eyes narrowed on him.

“I didn’t say that,” he growled as he measured coffee into the basket. “Stop harassing me, Jessie.”

“And stop trying to save Annie from the inquisition,” Slade told her firmly. “It’s not going to work. I’m sure Jazz is just as curious as I am about that little attempted hit-and-run in town.”

“I’ve already endured Jazz’s inquisition,” Kenni responded firmly before turning a demanding look on Jessie. “I don’t know how you expect me to know who it was? Like I told Jazz, everyone likes kindergarten teachers. It had to be an accident or drunk driver or something.”

Jessie’s expression slowly morphed to disbelief as Slade just stared back at her impassively. That wasn’t a comfortable look, either. Slade wasn’t buying her explanation, which meant Jazz wasn’t, either.

“Coffee.” The cup smacked against the counter in front of Slade as he moved to stand next to his wife.

Thankfully, her cup and Jessie’s were placed more gently in front of them, but his expression had once again become brooding. The look he gave her assured her he didn’t believe her explanation now any more than he had before.

“Jazz, you buying that?” Slade asked impassively.

“Oh yeah, Slade, I do.” He nodded. “I believe in the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny this year, too. Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty are good candidates as well, I think.”

Kenni rolled her eyes as she leaned against the counter next to Jessie. Even her friend didn’t believe her if that slow shake of her head and disappointed look were anything to go by.

“Annie, come on,” Jessie said softly, disbelief lingering in her expression. “I saw that car when it pulled out. Whoever was driving knew what they were doing. And I think you know they did.”

What now?

This wasn’t the Kin; no one was trying to force anything from her, or take anything from her. The obvious concern in Jessie, Slade, and even Jazz’s eyes as they watched her almost made her feel guilty for lying.

Almost.

She’d lost friends over the years. She’d found her uncle lying in his own blood, his face so beaten he was barely recognizable. Because he was trying to help her.

What would they do to Jessie? To her unborn baby?

She could never forgive herself if anything happened to Jessie or her baby because of her.

“Come on, I’ve been here two years. If someone wanted to hurt me then they had plenty of opportunity. Why wait?” It was a perfectly logical explanation.

Jazz and Slade’s expression hadn’t changed; if anything Jazz’s had darkened.

“Drink your coffee,” he said succinctly as he gestured to her cup then turned to Slade. “Let it go for now.”

Slade’s brows lifted in surprise before he gave a brief nod, a quirk of a smile at his lips. “I’ll do that, Jazz,” he agreed. “Just for now. But I think until we figure it out, I’ll keep Jessie at home for a while.”

“Slade…” Jessie’s angry objection was met with Slade’s heavy frown.

“Think about the baby, Jessie,” Slade said, his expression torn as he glanced back to Kenni. “Until we figure out the threat against Annie, then you’re in danger as well. And Jessie, losing you would kill me.”

The truth of that statement was clear in his voice, his expression. His love for Jessie was unwavering, soul-deep. And Kenni could feel the guilt searing her, tearing at her with serrated teeth.

“Jessie, listen to Slade,” Kenni told her friend before drawing in a deep breath. “Just until we see if there’s anything to their suspicions. That’s all.”

It was all she could do to force those words past her lips before turning to Jazz. “Would you take me home now? Please?”

His arms went across his broad chest, a cool smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“No, baby, you’re not going home right now,” he stated, pure, hard-core determination deepening his tone. “You’re staying right here until you and I get a chance to talk.”

Kenni stared into his eyes, the brilliant blue watching her intently, boring into hers as she fought to remain still beneath his look.

He wasn’t a man who dealt well with threats to his friends. She knew he saw her as more than a friend, but this was still uncalled for.

“Keeping me here won’t change the fact that I don’t know anything, Jazz.” She rubbed at her arms for a moment, wishing she were standing in the sunshine, someplace warm, warm enough that the ever-present chill of fate wasn’t breathing over her flesh.

“Well then, I guess keeping you here will ensure they don’t try it again, won’t it, sugar?” he said smoothly. “Because until I find out who and why, I’m going to make damned sure they can’t get to you.”

Kenni didn’t break his stare; she didn’t dare. Any sign of weakness and he would take full advantage of it.

Just when she was certain she couldn’t hold his stare much longer, the excited yips of four immature Rottweilers sounded at the gate.

Jazz’s gaze slid to the gate then back to her. The obvious, deliberate release didn’t sit well with her. Damn him, he’d known she was wavering, so why had he just let it go?

“Well, I’m playing with the babies before I leave,” Jessie declared, her tone less than pleased at her husband’s intention of keeping her away from Kenni.

It was better that way, though, Kenni knew that. Now that she’d been found, now that the first strike had been attempted, it wouldn’t stop. And until she could run, hide, then everyone she cared for or might care for would be in danger. She’d learned that lesson in the early years of this cat-and-mouse game her life had turned into.

“Come on, Annie, let these two bitch about us.” Jessie grabbed her cup and headed for the television room. “We’ll go bitch about them.”

Slowly, Kenni took the coffee cup, glancing only briefly at Jazz’s set face before leaving the room.

He might not be willing to let her go, but she’d leave, one way or the other. She’d learned how to escape and run a long time ago. The only difference now? She didn’t want to escape, she didn’t want to run yet. She wanted to enjoy the beauty of the home she would never have and the man she couldn’t have, for just a while longer. Then she would run, but this time she had no idea where she could hide.