Hell Fire (18 page)

Jesse’s other hand lit on my shoulder and pulled me toward him. His bitter chocolate gaze fixed on my mouth, but he wasn’t asking permission. He kissed me with the sweetest demand, pinning me up against the counter with his hips. My whole body thrummed in delicious response.

By the time the kettle whistled, I felt flushed. “Um. Give me a minute.
You
take the tea. I’ll be there presently.”

Jesse grinned at me. “I need a few too, sugar.”

“Why . . . oh. Right.”

Soon, we had the meal ready. He brought the tray of tea while I carried the sandwiches. “We need to talk to Augustus England,” I said as I came into the parlor with my arms full of plates. I’d mastered that trick during a stint as a waitress, but I didn’t like being slapped on the ass by strangers, so I never worked in restaurants thereafter. “He seems to have his fingers in a lot of pies, from newspaper to phone book, and his name came from a dead man, to boot. Thoughts?”

I passed out the peanut butter sandwiches with apple slices, feeling like a third grade teacher. Still, Chance and Shannon thanked me, so they must have been hungry. My ex didn’t meet my gaze, but for once, I didn’t feel guilty.

“We already decided that,” Chance said, tilting his head toward Shannon. “She also said it must’ve been her mom who left us the present outside. Shannon said she’s gotten really weird in the last few months, quiet and secretive and more—”

“Plastic,” Shannon put in. “There’s nothing real about her anymore. Or at least, if there is, I can’t see it. She . . . scares me.”

That was a hell of a thing to admit about your own mom. I hated to ask, but someone had to, and I doubted the guys would. “Has she ever—”

“No,” the girl said quickly. “I mean, other than the usual. She wants me to dress like her and let my hair go back to its natural brown. She wants me in pearls, and she wants me to stop being weird because, get this, it’s not safe.”

“It’s not safe to be different in Kilmer.” I repeated that idea, tested it, and decided it was true. Look at what happened to my mother, after all. I ate in thoughtful silence, more to fill my belly than because I wanted the campground food I’d prepared.

Shannon shook her head. “Not at all.”

“Jesse . . . what did you get from Sheriff Robinson?”

“He was annoyed but also frightened.”

That surprised me. “Of what?”

“Sorry. It’s not that specific. I never know why.”

We downed our tea in silence and then decided to call it a night. I gave Shannon my bed, such as it was, and the guys would sleep in the other two bedrooms. That left me on the couch. I sighed a little over that, but at least it was soft and sunken, not hard and lumpy. This flophouse-style arrangement better suited college students, I thought, not that I had ever been one.

Thunderclouds in Chance’s eyes said he wanted to fight with me, but it would have to keep.

Except it didn’t.

 

 

 

 

After the other two retired, Chance came back into the parlor. He sat down next to me on the sofa, wearing a determined look. I watched him warily, not sure what to expect. Wordlessly, he unscrewed the cap from the ointment his mother had made for my burns and then took my left hand in his.

I flinched a little as he covered the brand on my palm. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have, considering I’d taken the wound earlier today. The area tingled as the medicine started working. It didn’t prevent scarring, but it would stop infection and promote faster healing.

When he was done, he put the top back on and sat looking straight ahead. I had the terrible, dizzying feeling I’d hurt him worse than I knew. His features seemed tight, as if he struggled to restrain a plethora of emotions.

“You should have told me,” he said without looking at me.

I went on the attack. “Where? In the car? Or before you kissed me senseless? I wanted to get cleaned up before I settled in for a long talk. I was filthy. If you’d been out there in those woods with me, you’d understand.”

“Is that what this is about?” He shifted on the sofa to look at me, haunted. “How I never seem to be around when you need me most?”

“This had nothing to do with you.” I really meant it. “Your luck doesn’t even work here, Chance. Sometimes bad things happen, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I mean, damn. You went to jail so I wouldn’t have to. I wasn’t going to leave you there—I just needed leverage. Men like Robinson don’t respect women, and I didn’t know enough about the law to fling it around like Jesse did. And as for why I didn’t tell you sooner”—I shrugged—“there’s just no good moment for something like that.”

“I guess not,” he muttered. To my surprise, he didn’t take the argument any further. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and buried his face in my hair. “If Saldana hadn’t been with you, if he hadn’t known CPR . . .” He trailed off, unable to articulate it.

Well, I wouldn’t have gone into those woods alone, not even for Butch. But I rather liked his desperation. His hands sifted through my hair, finding the sensitive spots at the base of my skull.

“I found my mother’s necklace out there.”

He paused in stroking my hair. “So someone took it from the wreckage.”

“Someone or some
thing
.”

“What do you mean?”

I told him the whole story then from start to finish.

His frown turned into a ferocious scowl. “I really, really don’t like this, Corine. That thing recognized you.”

“I know.” I shuddered, just thinking about it. “But it tried to convince me it knew my mother, and that it meant me no harm. But it was so . . .” I trailed off, unable to find the word I wanted. “Evil” seemed simultaneously too small as well as too melodramatic.

“You must’ve been terrified.”

I acknowledged that by turning my face into his chest. I didn’t know what to make of the new Chance; the old one would’ve never accepted my motivations so readily. It would have been turned into a wedge to drive distance between us, mitigated only by sex—and even then, not real intimacy—just the physical facsimile of it.

“Let’s let Butch out and then turn in,” I murmured. “We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

In answer, he dropped a kiss on my temple, warming me all the way down to my toes. “Out you go, dog. But no funny stuff—and don’t even think about running off to the woods again. We will
not
come find you this time.”

The Chihuahua gave an indignant little yap, as if to say,
Hey, I’m not an idiot.
He trotted out into the yard, took care of business, and came right back in. A light rain had finally started, pattering on the roof. Butch gave himself a little shake as I closed the door behind him. Then I turned the bolt.

“Tomorrow we go see Augustus England. Then I think we should have dinner with Miss Minnie. Maybe she won’t be so reluctant to talk.”

I nodded. “Agreed. I’ll call her in the morning to confirm. Let’s get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

I gave a surprised little yelp when he swung me up in his arms. As he carried me, he spoke in a conversational tone. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight, even to sleep, you’re crazy.”

“Chance—”

He ignored my halfhearted protest and took me to the guest room where he’d slept the night before. There was a mattress on the floor in here too, but no box springs. He’d found another torn sheet to cover it, and he’d used what looked like an old couch throw as his covers. Altogether, it seemed a remarkably cozy squatter’s nest.

His smile flashed bright in the contrasting darkness. “I know what you’re thinking. I really know how to wow a woman when I’m trying to win her back.”

I gave a soft, reluctant laugh. “Yeah. The five star accommodations will go to my head if you keep this up.”

He squeezed me in answer, and then he amazed me with an acrobatic move that ended with him on his back and me sprawled across his chest. I’d left my backpack in the room I gave to Shannon, so I had nothing to sleep in besides my blouse and jeans. Chance seemed to follow my thoughts.

“I’ll get you a T-shirt.”

I was tired, and I didn’t feel like arguing. When he found me an old shirt that didn’t look like anything Chance would ever wear, I took a closer look. I recognized it.

It had belonged to my mother; until earlier today, it was all I had left of her. They found it hanging on the clothes-line in the backyard after the fire, and someone gave it to me. I’d taken it with me through so many moves, I’d lost count—but it hadn’t come with me through the last one. I’d been in too much of a hurry to check my belongings that night.

“You kept it,” I breathed.

“I knew how much it meant to you.”

Without regard for modesty, I wiggled out of my clothes and into the worn cotton. It felt like coming home, a hug from my mother. Tears prickled at my eyes. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I missed this silly old yellow shirt.

“Why didn’t you give it to me sooner?”

“I forgot,” he said honestly. “I stuffed it in my bag before I left Tampa to go looking for you. I meant to send it to you after I tracked you down. It was the one thing I felt sure you’d want out of everything you left behind. But then—”

“Min went missing, and you had other things on your mind,” I finished.

He’d arranged himself beneath the throw as I got myself situated. His arms came around me, snuggling me into his side with an alacrity that suggested he missed me more than he’d said. I decided I’d let him snuggle me a little before I kicked him out. It had been a long day for both of us.

To my surprise, he didn’t push the situation. “You must have been like Shannon once,” he said quietly. “I can see you in her. I imagine you were a lot like her when you ran away from Kilmer. Meeting her, talking to her, well . . . I think I understand you better now.”

I saw what he was getting at, but I couldn’t agree. “No matter what might be wrong with them, she has a family. She’s
not
like me.”

“Yes, she is. You’re both looking for where you belong.” That stymied me because it was so clearly true. And it was more perceptive than I’d come to expect from Chance. He didn’t used to deal well in emotional coin; he preferred to show his feelings through material things.

When we’d have a fight back in Tampa, he’d come home with roses, chocolate, and an expensive piece of jewelry. At first, I found that charming, but eventually, I started wanting him to apologize and tell me how he felt; why he did the things he did. And he didn’t want to tell me anything at all.

Now he seemed to be genuinely trying to open up. We’d stopped to pick up some more clothing for me on the way to Georgia, but it had been a convenience, not an attempt on his part to impress me with what he could offer financially. He’d finally figured out I wanted more from him than his magical way of turning a hundred bucks into a thousand.

“You can’t stay,” I said softly. “If you give me your bed, it’s the couch for you.”

He pushed off the mattress with a faint sigh. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Good night, Chance.”

“Sweet dreams, love.”

I found myself thinking,
Maybe people can change. Maybe
—

Sleep snatched me before I could complete the thought.

 

When I woke, the slant of the sunlight told me I’d slept half the morning away, so I took a quick, tepid shower and got dressed. I plucked my cell from where it was charging in the hall and called Miss Minnie. “Good morning. It’s Corine. How are you?”

“Old and achy,” she said with a little laugh. “How about you, dear?”

“Good. I was wondering if you still wanted us to come to supper.”

“I surely do. I’ll make a nice big pot of soup and some corn bread. You like peach pie, don’t you?”

“Cherry is my favorite,” I felt compelled to say.

“Cherry it is. It will be so good to catch up and get to know your young man. I don’t have guests as often as I’d like these days. Everyone’s just so busy. . . .” She rambled on, giving me some idea why people didn’t stop by more often, but I needed any information she might possess.

“I’ll have two more friends with me, if that’s all right?”

“Oh, more young people.” She sounded genuinely delighted. “Soup can always stretch, don’t you fret about that. I’ll see you tonight at six, then?”

“I’m looking forward to it.” And I was. Miss Minnie had been the second-best cook of all my foster mothers, surpassed only by Miz Ruth. And actually Miss Minnie’s pies were better. I might as well enjoy some aspects of being back in Georgia.

Though the food was delicious in Mexico, it was also different. You just couldn’t find decent biscuits and gravy there, or fried chicken, let alone picnic food like potato salad. And the pie was nothing like the same. If I wanted cherry pie, I had to go to the gourmet foods section at Palacio del Hierro—an upscale department store—and search the shelves for the filling. I’d never been able to find ready-made piecrust, either, which meant making it from scratch, and I wasn’t nearly skilled enough for that. Plus, my initial attempts at baking had failed due to the high altitude.

Just thinking of all the delicious Southern food made my stomach rumble, and I realized as I rang off that I hadn’t eaten breakfast. The others were waiting for me in the kitchen, drinking coffee someone had made with the old-fashioned pot. Jesse offered me a cup when I stumbled in, still braiding my hair.

“Wow,” Shannon said. “Your hair is really long. Pretty. Is it real?”

“Depends on what you mean by that. It’s real
hair
.”

“The color.” She rolled her eyes.

I grinned. “As much as yours is.”

That surprised a smile out of her. I guessed she wasn’t used to grown women who admitted to coloring their hair; I could hear her mother chiding that it wasn’t genteel to discuss such artifice. I ate an apple and drank a cup of sweet coffee, liberally mixed with powdered milk. It was better than you’d think. I followed that up with toast and jelly.