Be My Baby (26 page)

The older woman’s rigid silence made her uneasy, and she continued, “The public nature of his arrest was inexcusable, and asking if you’re all right is surely asinine. But is there someone I could perhaps call to come sit with you?”

The fleeting expression that crossed Celeste’s face almost gave her pause, but she moved closer, reaching out an impulsive hand.

“You should have never come,” Celeste said flatly.

Juliet’s hand dropped to her side. “I’m sorry,” she said and berated herself for feeling rebuffed. “I won’t impose if you want to be alone. I just hate the thought of you sitting up here all by yourself. What Peter Pfeffer did tonight was unconscionable. Have you contacted a lawyer?”

“Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, would it, you phony little hussy?”

Shock jolted Juliet. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Don’t be a hypocrite, Juliet. Don’t pretend a concern you don’t feel.”

“I
am
concerned.”

Celeste emitted a genteel snort. “Please. If you and your precious Crown Hotels had stayed in Boston where you belong, none of this would have happened.”

Juliet’s sympathy dissipated faster than morning fog beneath the Louisiana sun. “Neither I nor Crown Corporation had anything to do with Edward forcing young women to take their clothes off, Celeste. That started long before we arrived.” Her chin raised in an unconscious imitation of Grandmother. “Obviously my presence here is unwelcome, however. I won’t inflict it upon you any further.” She turned to go.

“Sit down.”

Drawing herself up, Juliet turned back once again. “I beg your pardon?”

Celeste’s hand slipped beneath her skirt and came out with a revolver, which she pointed straight at Juliet. “I said sit.”

The strength leaving her knees, Juliet sat.

“I repeat, Mr. Haynes, if you didn’t do all those things in an attempt to harm Juliet, who did?”

“I have no idea.”

Looking at him, Beau decided he probably didn’t. “Was it your idea to send her that first letter?”

“Heaven’s no, dear boy, that was Celeste. It’s never sat right with her that the females of the family can’t inherit—”

“Where’s the other gun, Mr. Haynes?”

Edward blinked. “The other…?”

“Gun. The revolver we collected from your hiding place was part of a set. What became of the other one?”

“I don’t know—I’m sure it’s around somewhere.”

Beau surged out of his seat and went to the phone in the corner. Punching out numbers, he listened impatiently as the phone on the other end of the line rang once, twice, three times. “This is Sergeant Dupree from the Eighth,” he said the moment it was picked up. “I submitted a stack of evidence a while ago to be tested, part of which is an antique handgun. Has anyone checked yet to see if it’s been fired recently?” His ire grew as he listened to the bureaucratic complaints on the other end of the line. “I know it’s after hours, dammit. And I know you’re busy, too. But I’ve got a woman whose life could be in immediate danger if that gun’s never been fired. Don’t make me come down there. Yeah, okay. Here’s my cell phone number. I expect to hear from you before the half hour is up.”

Resisting the urge to slam down the receiver, he gently reseated it and turned to Edward. “We’re going to book you now, Mr. Haynes.”

He walked Edward through the process, and twenty-five minutes later locked him up in a holding cell. Though the guy was a pervert—one who had accosted his sister—the lost look on the elderly man’s face made Beau hesitate. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.

He found a detective typing a report in one of the squad rooms. “Anyone around here read skin magazines?”

The cop looked up. “Say what?”

“Girly magazines.” He felt like an idiot, and any attempt to explain his real reasons would sound too damn lame for words, so he said, “I’ve got a prisoner who’s bound to drive you nuts all night
long if I don’t supply him with something to engage his interest.”

“Oh, Christ, a yeller?” The detective took Beau’s shrug as assent. “Yeah, try Playdel’s desk—the fourth one over. Bottom drawer on the left.”

Playdel had quite an assortment, and Beau helped himself to two of the tamest. “Thanks.”

He was an idiot, no two ways about it. Nevertheless, when he walked away after handing the magazines through the bars a couple of minutes later, he took with him the sight of Edward’s gentle smile of delight.

He was loping down the stairs when his cell phone rang. “Yeah, Dupree here.”

“Sergeant, this is Maxwell from the lab. We tested that gun, as you requested, and it hasn’t been fired for a very long time.”

“Son of a
bitch
.” Beau disconnected, and running for the door nearest the garage where he’d parked, he punched in Luke’s number.

An instant later the connection went through. “Hey,” Luke answered breezily, and music and laughter came through the receiver.

“Man, we’ve got trouble.” Beau filled his friend in on the situation. “I’m on my way,” he said, unlocking the GTO’s door and climbing in. “Just find Juliet for me and make sure she stays the hell away from Celeste until I get there.”

J
uliet stared down the barrel of Celeste’s gun, and could have sworn it had a bore the size of a cannon. All the moisture in her mouth dried up. She licked her lips several times but her tongue lacked any dampness to transfer.

Celeste, watching her, smiled unpleasantly. “I’d offer you a sip of wine, but I only have one glass.”

Screw the glass. “Then just pass the bottle.” She wouldn’t talk her way out of this mess if she couldn’t even unstick her lips from her teeth.

The older woman’s lip curled in fastidious disapproval, but holding the gun steadily on Juliet, she leaned forward and extended the bottle by its neck.

Juliet grasped it and brought it to her mouth. She took a greedy gulp and felt an overwhelming appreciation for the warmth that exploded in her stomach. Lowering the bottle, she curled her hand around its neck and hugged it to her chest.

Celeste regarded her with disgust. “Spend
enough time with the lower classes and one begins to act just like them.”

As opposed to the good breeding shown by holding a person at gunpoint, you mean?
Since she was neither stupid nor entirely suicidal, she swallowed the thought unspoken.

Celeste’s lips tightened and she said waspishly, “I didn’t set out to harm you, you know. It’s your own fault we’ve come to this.”

Juliet felt as enraged as a raped woman who’d just been told she’d deserved it because she wore her skirt too short and tight. She took a tiny sip of wine and said in a carefully nonconfrontational tone, “How is it my fault?”

“Because you wouldn’t go away! It wasn’t enough for you to take over my house and turn it into a common boardinghouse—”

The ridiculous exaggeration aside, Juliet was truly perplexed by the woman’s reasoning. “But Celeste, it was going to be sold, regardless. The Butler Trust people came to us—we didn’t seek them out.”

As though she hadn’t spoken at all, the older woman continued, “You didn’t even have the refinement to be driven away by a nasty cockroach.”

Juliet snapped upright. “
You
put that thing in my bed?”

“Certainly not. Loathsome creatures.” Celeste shuddered. “I had Lily do it.” Catching Juliet raising the wine bottle to her lips again, she glared. “Look at you! You’re a disgrace. But I gave you a chance to leave peacefully. I even sent a warning letter.”

Juliet’s head was beginning to swirl. Though she was certain it wasn’t due to the alcohol she was putting into her empty stomach, she carefully set the bottle on the floor next to her chair.

“But did you heed it?” Celeste demanded indignantly. “Oh, no, you came anyway. And even that might have turned out all right…but then you had to drag that uncouth policeman into the midst of our lives.”

“Actually,” Juliet said mildly, “Beau was brought in because of the letter.”

Celeste blinked. “What?”

“Your threatening—pardon me,
warning
—letter. It caused Father to demand police protection for me.”

The sheer rage that transformed Celeste’s face made Juliet’s stomach do a slow slide. And it revealed a truth she should have tumbled to much, much sooner. “Oh, my God.” She breathed slowly through her nostrils for a moment until she got the roiling queasiness under control. “It was you who tried to kill me. The brakes, the gunshot…”

“Oh, don’t be any more asinine than you can help,” Celeste snapped. Juliet was just inhaling a deep breath of relief and feeling foolish over her accusation when the older woman added acerbically, “It was that pesky Sergeant Dupree I wanted to be rid of—you simply happened to be there.”

“You were trying to kill
Beau
?”

Celeste tipped her head in a condescendingly regal nod.

“
Why?
” Then the light bulb went on over her head. “Oh, of course—Edward.”

“Yes. It was crucial that word of Edward’s little hobby didn’t spread to the people who matter.”

And now that it had, Edward had clearly ceased to matter himself. The old bitch hadn’t made so much as one inquiry into her husband’s welfare.

Anger building inside her, she studied the gun that now rested in Celeste’s lap but was still pointed directly at her. It looked old. Didn’t those old-time guns only hold one bullet? No, it had a barrel like a revolver, which meant a bullet went into each chamber. Unfortunately, there was no way to tell whether the chambers were all loaded.

She was concentrating so hard on the pistol that the sudden sharp rap on the door made her think for an instant that the gun had gone off. A squeak escaping her throat, she slapped her hand in sheer reflex to her pounding heart.

Celeste didn’t even blink. “Who is it?” she demanded testily.

“It’s Sergeant Gardner, Mrs. Haynes. I need to speak to Juliet.”

The calvary had arrived! Hope soared in Juliet, only to be immediately dashed when Celeste snapped with autocratic finality, “Go away.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Juliet, are you all right?”

“Um, not exactly.”

“I’m coming in.”

Celeste fired a shot at the door.

“Dear God!” Juliet surged to her feet. “Luke! Are you hurt?” She was relieved to hear a steady stream of obscenity coming from the other side of
the door, since it meant he wasn’t dead. He could still be seriously injured, however.

Then he said, “No. I’m okay, I’m fine.” Raising his voice a bit, he added, “Lady, you shouldn’t have done that, because now I’m pissed. And you don’t want to piss off the NOPD.”

Celeste looked so crazed that Juliet feared bullets would start to fly at any moment—and she refused to simply sit there and catch one. Picking up the wine bottle, she took several cautious steps toward Celeste, staying on the older woman’s blind side, while Celeste’s attention was still focused on Luke.

Celeste must have caught a movement from the corner of her eye, because she abruptly swung around, and Juliet froze as her gaze locked on the barrel pointed straight at her heart. She was vaguely aware of feet pounding up the corridor outside, but her attention was locked on Celeste as the older woman cocked back the hammer with her thumb.

“Go ahead, you trashy little chit,” Celeste said frigidly. “Give me an excuse to pull the trigger.”

“
Rosebud!
” The voice was a primal roar of outrage.

“
Beau?
” Juliet swung to face the door. Oh, God, he was here, he was here, he was here!

Celeste turned in that direction, too, her face a mask of fury. She raised the gun, her veined finger squeezing the trigger.

“
No!
” The empty clicks didn’t register until after Juliet had swung the wine bottle at the back of Celeste’s immaculate white coiffure. It connected with a horrible thunk, and the pistol dropped to the
floor with a clatter. Celeste collapsed in a heap next to it an instant later.

Moaning, “Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God,” Juliet stepped over her, then bent down and gingerly pinched the gun’s hammer between her thumb and index finger. Holding the revolver at arm’s length in front of her, she raced to the door. The horrendous noise of an unrelenting battering on the portal’s wooden panels made her shudder.

“Juliet Rose!” Beau roared. “Talk to me—what the hell’s goin’ on in there?”

She jerked opened the door and nearly got his fist in her face. He pulled the punch just in time, his eyes wild as his gaze raced up and down her body.

“No blood,” he croaked. “Thank you, God.” Reaching out, he removed the revolver from her fingertips and handed it to Luke as he yanked her to him with his free arm. A second later, both arms were wrapped around her.

His grip was so tight she could barely breathe, but Juliet didn’t complain. She buried her nose in the little notch at the base of Beau’s throat and breathed in his scent, felt his heat penetrate everywhere they touched. The pounding of his heart reverberated through her own clothing and skin.

“It was her, Beau. It was her all along.” Her words tumbling over each other, she hoarsely related the details into his collarbone.

Beau felt her trembling and stroked his hands soothingly up and down her back. The strings of beads at the back of her gown kept getting in his way, and he slid one hand beneath them, closing
his eyes at the feel of her warm, silken skin. “Shhh,” he crooned over and over again in a hypnotic chant. His right hand stroked her from nape to waist, the beads grazing his knuckles. “It’s all right, dawlin’. It’s over now, and I’m here. It’s all right.”

He didn’t know who he was trying to comfort more—her or himself. The thought of that despotic old dame as a wild-eyed pistol waver with Juliet Rose firmly in her sights was enough to make a grown man quail. He rubbed his jaw against her temple. “I love you, angel face. You’re not alone now—I’m here and I love you.”

She shoved away from him so abruptly it was all he could do to avoid ripping her fragile beads from their moorings. Hands tightening on the soft skin on either side of her spine, he looked down into her face and saw her gray eyes blazing at him.

“Don’t patronize me, Beau,” she snapped. “It’s been a rough night and I’m in no mood.”

“Huh?” He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but he petted her soothingly. “That’s okay, dawlin’,” he assured her. “You don’t have to make perfect sense. I know how it can unhinge a person to have a gun stuck in her face.”

She made a sound like steam escaping a teakettle. “Bully for you. But I’m not some puppy that needs to be tossed a bone, so keep your phony protestations of love to yourself.”

A smile tugged crookedly at the corners of his mouth. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible. Daddy’ll probably take out a contract on me when he hears the news, and God knows I never pictured myself
falling for some uppity Yankee princess, but trust me, sugar—my protestations are the real deal.”

“Pfff.” Pretty lips pursed, her skepticism couldn’t have been plainer. He noticed, however, that she’d ceased to strain against his hold.

He lowered his head to kiss the side of her throat, encouraged when she shivered and shifted the tiniest bit closer.

But Juliet Rose Astor Lowell was nobody’s pushover, and she leaned back again. “And what about the much-awaited revolving door in your bedroom, Beauregard?”

“Don’t want it.”

“Not tonight while your emotions are running high with everything that’s happened, maybe—”

He blew out a breath. Okay, in all fairness he couldn’t expect to simply waltz back into her life—not after the way he’d treated her. He’d lived with women long enough to know that a certain amount of groveling was required before she’d even consider taking him back. But come hell or high water, he was determined she’d do that—and then some. Freeing an arm, he kept her tucked beneath the other as he poked his head into the Hayneses’ apartment. “Luke, you got everything under control?”

“On my worst day, pard.”

“Good. I’ll be down—”

“Is Mrs. Haynes all right?” Juliet craned to see into the room. “I didn’t kill her, did I?”

Celeste sat on the floor with her hand to the back of her head. Feeling Juliet sag with relief, Beau
called to Luke, “I’ll be in Juliet’s room if you need me.”

“Ain’t gonna need you, bud.” Luke looked up and grinned at them.

Beau grinned back. “Good.” He wheeled Juliet around and marched her down to her room. “Got a key?”

She fished one out of a clever little pocket sewn into the inside of her dress between her breasts.

Beau felt his temperature spike. “Maybe I oughtta pat you down for concealed weapons.”

Her nose tilted up. “As if my puny weapons would interest a man with a preference for bazookas.”

“Ah, dawlin’, I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry about that. I’d like a chance to explain.”

She shrugged one delicate shoulder and let them into the sitting room, making a point to keep her distance.

He looked at her, all golden-skinned and coolly defiant in her slinky little gown, and he wanted her with an ache he felt deep in his bones. Looking her in the eye, he stated categorically, “I love you. Let’s get that straight right now.”

“I’m sure you believe that tonight”—her shoulder inched up once again—“while you’re feeling guilty.”

He didn’t appreciate being told what he felt, and forgot for a minute that he’d planned to be gentle and persuasive. “Yeah? And what the hell have I got to feel guilty about?”

“Ruining my—how did you put it?—my big night.”

He made a rude noise. “I didn’t ruin your big night—that was the Pissant’s doing. Besides”—he started stalking her and was pleased as punch to see her backing up nervously—“I’m a real selfish sonofabitch. I don’t feel guilt.”

Her back hit the wall, but starch infused her spine and her chin angled up at him. “If you were so almighty selfish, you never would have accepted the responsibility of raising your sisters.” She touched soft fingertips to his jaw briefly then snatched her hand back and concluded coolly, “And now you finally have the opportunity to follow your dream.”

“Uh-huh.” Hands on the wall, he leaned over her. “And you approve of me playing sexual suicide with an unending line of bimbos, do you?”

The look she gave him seriously questioned his intelligence. “Of course not. I think it stinks.”

“I don’t know if
stinks
is the word I’d use, but I did realize tonight that the idea doesn’t rev my engine the way I always expected it would.”

“Exactly,” she agreed insistently, as if he’d just made her argument for her. “You realized
tonight
.”

“Dammit, Rosebud, if I’d really wanted to chase puss—um, women all over town, I’ve had years and years to do so.”

“Your sisters—”

“Didn’t have a clue what my schedule was half the time. I could have been with a thousand women, and they never would’ve known the difference.”

“That’s not what you were saying the other day.”

“Yeah, well, the other day I was still clinging to an outdated goal. But it’s a fact. I could’ve been makin’ time all along if that was what I’d truly wanted.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been celibate all these years because—”

“Not celibate, exactly. Just…discriminating.” He kissed her temple. “And there’s nothin’ puny about your weapons, sugar.” His hand slid down to cup her left breast. “Trust me, they’re killer.”