Full Tilt (4 page)

Max leaned in for a closer look. "I can do this, Jamie."

"Okay, Max," Muffin said. "Forget the bomb squad, I'm calling the county coroner. Not that I expect him to find much."

Ten seconds. Max very gently pulled the wires away from one another, put the wire cutters to one of them and snipped. He grinned and punched the air with his fist. "Like taking candy from a baby. And only two seconds left." He glanced in Jamie's direction. "Am I good or what?"

Very calmly, and without taking her eyes off him, Jamie marched toward him, eyes menacing, fists balled at her sides. "I ought to punch you right in the face for that," she said.

"Go ahead," Muffin said. "I'll cheer you on."

Max looked surprised. "What'd I do?"

"You stupid idiot!" she shouted. "You imbecile!"

Max cocked his head to one side. "I'm going out on a limb here, but something tells me you're not happy."

Jamie feared her knees would fold beneath her. "I wish I were a man. A
big
man," she added, "because I would kick your butt from here to the moon. Are you crazy?" she yelled at the top of her voice.

"Crazy as hell," Muffin said. "Welcome to Max's world."

"Jamie, now calm down."

"Don't talk to me! Don't even speak my name."

"But, Jamie

Frankie slumped on the sofa, looking at Max. "What do you think I should do?"

"I've already given you my opinion. You pull out now and you're going to let a lot of people down, the same people who are counting on you to make a difference in this town."

He sighed. "I know. I talk to people all the time who are struggling to make ends meet because there are no jobs to be found in this town. Some of them are living on unemployment, and these are proud people who are accustomed to supporting themselves." He shook his head sadly. "This town needs more industry so we can put people to work."

"I don't know what I'd do in your predicament," Phillip said. "I wouldn't want to jeopardize my family's safety either, but I know you're devoted to this town."

"I couldn't go on without Deedee," Frankie said miserably. "She's my whole life."

Jamie was touched by his words. She had never met a couple so close, and she wondered if she and Phillip would ever reach that level. "That's so sweet, Frankie."

Phillip looked at Jamie. "Are you planning to stay here tonight?"

She nodded. "I want to be here for Deedee."

"I understand." He checked his wristwatch. "It's getting late so I'll run and let you folks get to bed. Frankie, thanks for a great meal."

"I'll walk you out," Jamie said. She followed him to the door.

"Now, you be careful," Phillip warned. "I don't want anything happening to you." He kissed her softly and headed for his car.

Jamie returned to the living room. "Do you want me to look in on Deedee?" she asked Frankie.

"No, I'll check on her," he said.

Max waited until he and Jamie were alone before saying anything. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"He slipped right through our fingers, Jamie."

"Do you think it could have been one of the security guards?"

"Anything is possible."

Jamie shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"Well, that's pretty much a given in this house, but I'm okay. It frightens me that someone was able to get that close unseen."

Max studied her. "I didn't mean to scare you. I probably said too much."

"I'm not Deedee. I don't want information held back from me. I'm in this, too."

As if to comfort her, Max put his hand on her knee. Jamie felt his warmth seep into her skin. She shifted on the sofa. Max hesitated a moment before pulling his hand away. "We should talk."

His voice was low and intimate, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

"We are talking," Jamie said, trying to shift the direction in which he was traveling. "We have to figure out this thing."

"Which thing? There is more than one thing going on here at the moment."

"I'm perfectly aware of that." She stood and crossed the room, but she could still feel his touch. She didn't have to look at him to know how handsome he was in the white shirt and brown linen slacks he wore, how his dark eyes seemed to take in everything at once, even though he seemed entirely focused on her.

There was no denying the attraction she felt for him, and she only had to look into his dark eyes to know it was mutual. Lately, she found herself gazing at his handsome face when she thought he wouldn't notice. She wished she could touch his hair because she could only imagine what it would feel like. She also wondered what it would be like to feel his arms around her, and she immediately felt guilty. She had promised herself to Phillip, and she had no right to think about another man.

All at once Max came up behind her. She'd not heard him get up or cross the room. She'd simply felt a shift in the air, the sudden involuntary tensing of her body, and she knew he was close. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and her body reacted immediately.

"Jamie?"

"Leave it alone, Max," she said, stepping away. She knew she didn't have to clarify her statement.

"And if I refuse?"

She turned and faced him. "I'm not giving you a choice. I've made myself clear all along. I'm not interested."

He studied her. "Are you really that much in love with Phillip?"

"Of course I am."

"The kind of love Frankie and Deedee share?"

It was ironic that Max should ask the same question she'd asked herself earlier. "Why are you so concerned about my relationship with Phillip?"

"Because I know what it's like to marry the wrong person."

"And that's what you think I'm doing?"

He shrugged. "I don't see a whole lot of passion between you and your fiance."

"I'm content with Phillip. We might not share this great passion you speak of, but we share the things that count. We love each other, and we have a lot in common. We're comfortable together, and I enjoy his family. I've always wanted to be part of a large family, Max."

"What happened to you, Jamie?"

His voice was soft, coaxing, inspiring a feeling of confidence. Jamie fought it, but he was so sincere that she felt compelled to answer. She sighed heavily. "I don't like to rehash my past, but if I tell you will you promise to leave me alone?"

"Okay."

"My dad wasn't well, Max. He wasn't emotionally fit, so to speak. I guess he never got over losing my mother. Or maybe he'd always had problems, I don't know. Maybe that's why my mother left him. He and I never discussed it, but he was seriously depressed most of the time."

"That's why you came home instead of going with a bigger newspaper, isn't it?"

"He needed me. Wouldn't you have done the same if a family member was desperately ill?"

He looked thoughtful. "I'm glad I've never been faced with that kind of decision. Had I been in your predicament I would have tried to find a way to make it work for both of us, but that's easy for me to say because I didn't live it."

"I like knowing from one day to the next what to expect, because I never really felt secure growing up." Jamie paused. "I don't regret the past, Max, but I know it has affected a lot of decisions that I make today."

He looked confused. "So you're marrying for financial security?"

"No. Security doesn't come from having a lot of money." She shrugged. "Look, I don't expect you to understand."

"I want you to be happy, Jamie, that's all."

* * * * *

The next morning, Max and Jamie climbed into his car and headed for town.

"I've been thinking," Jamie said.

"About us?" He grinned.

Jamie made an effort not to smile. "Not."

"What's on your mind?"

"This is just a possibility, but I know someone, or rather, I know
of
someone who is probably capable of skulking around other people's property and not being found."

"I'm all ears."

"They call him Swamp Dog. I don't know his real name, but he's scary as all get-out. Someone once told me if anybody needed any dirty work done, they could count on Swamp Dog."

"Have you ever met him?"

"No. I don't even know if he's still alive, but I know where he used to live. It's an old ramshackle houseboat in the middle of

"We're dead," Jamie said.

"Better do as he says," Max replied.

They raised their hands above their heads and stepped out from behind the bush. "We're not armed," Max said.

"That don't mean jackshit to me," Swamp Dog replied. "You're trespassing. That's enough for me to put a bullet in your head."

"We need help," Jamie said once they'd come within fifty feet of him. "The motor on our boat quit on us. We're stranded."

Swamp Dog didn't lower his gun as he climbed from the water naked as the day he was born. "You picked the wrong guy."

Jamie tried to keep her eyes above his shoulders, but not before she caught sight of his leathery skin and sinewy body. A multitude of purplish scars zigzagged across his chest and abdomen. The left side of his face was disfigured, obviously from the same accident in which he'd lost an eye. The menacing look on his face told her he'd sooner shoot them than not.

"Well, then," Jamie said lightly, "I guess we'll be going. Sorry to have bothered you."

"Make one move and you're dead."

Max turned to Jamie. "Perhaps we should tell him why we're really here."

Jamie nodded. What the heck was he talking about? "Uh, why don't
you
tell him?"

"Miss Swift owns the
Beaumont Gazette,"
Max said. "She'd like to interview you."

"Is that supposed to excite me?" Swamp Dog reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

Jamie just looked at Max. If that was the only plan he had then they were in big trouble. "Uh, yeah," Jamie agreed, thinking anything was better than sudden death. "I was wondering if you'd be willing to let me do a piece on you as a human-interest story."

Swamp Dog lowered his gun, but his gaze never left Jamie's face. "That's bullshit."

"Trust me," Jamie said. "If we were trying to bullshit you we'd have come up with something better. You'll have to admit you're somewhat of a legend in these parts."

It was obvious the man didn't believe a word she said. He waved the gun. "Inside."

"Probably we picked a bad time," Jamie said. "I could try to set something up when it's more convenient. Get my photographer out here and do it up right."

"Do I look like someone who would agree to have his picture taken?" Swamp Dog said.

Jamie shrugged. "Why not?"

"Stop messing with me, lady, and go inside."

Max and Jamie walked a rickety plank that led from the riverbank to his boat.

"This way," Swamp Dog ordered.

They both headed toward the door leading to the cabin. The room was dirty and smelled of dirty clothes and rotted food.

"Sit." He motioned toward a sofa.

Jamie was almost afraid to sit on the rumpled sofa, but she was more afraid of the gun. Max joined her. She looked around. "Uh, nice place."

"Yeah, I was going for a Martha Stewart look." Swamp Dog took a chair opposite them and reached for a pad and pencil from a rickety table. He tossed them to Jamie whose hands were trembling so badly she missed. Max picked them up and handed them to her.

"So, what do you want to know?" the man said. "Think carefully 'cause I'm gonna get pissed if you ask the wrong question."

Jamie straightened on the sofa, trying to appear professional as she tried to think of what to ask him that wouldn't make him angry. He looked ominous with the black patch over his eye, and she avoided looking into his face. "Okay, let's start at the beginning," she said, sounding more confident than she felt. "Could I get your real name?"

Swamp Dog fired a shot two inches from her head. Jamie dove toward Max.

"What the hell?" Max said. "Why'd you do that?"

"I don't like answering personal questions."

Jamie tried to swallow. "Okay, okay, I understand the rules now," she said, trying to think of something that wouldn't send him over the edge. Rumor was right; the man had definitely lost it. She would keep the interview light and superficial.

"Perhaps we could discuss your hobbies. Do you garden?"

"What?" he and Max asked in unison.

"That's the stupidest question anyone has ever asked me," Swamp Dog said. "Do I
look
like a gardener?"

"Jesus, Jamie," Max said under his breath.

She looked from one to the other. "Well, excuse the heck out of me," she snapped, "but it's not easy conducting an interview at gunpoint. I'm trying to do a job here, and I don't appreciate rudeness. I'm hot and tired and hungry. I traveled all this way just to ask this, this,
person
a few questions, and this is how I'm treated? Forget the interview." She tossed the pad of paper aside and reached for her purse.

"Hold it right there," Swamp Dog said.

"I'm getting a cigarette, okay?" She reached for her pack and lighter. In the distance she heard a small-engine airplane and suspected they were spraying for mosquitoes. She wished she were on it.

"I don't permit smoking in my place."

Jamie glanced around at the filth. "You're kidding, right?" At the same time, she noted he was becoming more agitated. Swamp Dog obviously didn't like the sound of small planes. Maybe it made him think of other things he wanted to forget.

"You're really starting to piss me off," he said. "I don't like mouthy broads." He raised his gun slowly.

"I'm not a broad, and I don't appreciate

Deedee squealed in delight as Frankie led three oversized ex-wrestlers through the front door and into the living room. "Oh, my goodness," she said, dwarfed beside the men who averaged six feet six in height, "we haven't seen you guys in years." She rushed up to Snakeman who gave her a bone-crunching hug. "Where's your boa?" she asked.

"He died of old age. I was going to replace him, but now that I'm retired I enjoy traveling. The airlines wouldn't let me take him on the plane, even when I offered to pay for an entire row of seats in first class."