The Fifth Victim (10 page)

Genny reached across the table and laid her hand over his. He tensed immediately, as if he found her touch unbearable. She grasped his hand and squeezed. Their gazes clashed, and he quickly looked away, then withdrew his hand.

“I should get going.” He scooted back his chair and stood. “Be sure to lock up when I leave. And please be extra careful.”

Genny stood, then followed him to the back door and onto the porch. Drudwyn bounded out of the woods. The pale moonlight reflected off the white snow and illuminated the yard.

“Dallas?”

He paused, glanced over his shoulder, and looked right at her. “Yeah?”

“Good luck finding what you’re looking for.”

“I want this killer caught and stopped,” Dallas said. “I don’t want any more families to have to go through the hell we went through when we lost Brooke.”

Genny sensed that what Dallas really wanted was to kill Brooke’s murderer with his bare hands, to strangle the life out of him, slowly, cruelly. She shuddered at the thought of Dallas’s big, strong hands committing murder.

But was retribution really murder?

Genny nodded. “Drive carefully.”

“I will,” he replied. “Now take Drudwyn and go back inside and lock the door before I leave.”

She did as he asked, then rushed through the house to the windows in the living room where she had a sideways view of the drive. She stood there and watched Dallas back out onto the road, not moving until his rental car disappeared into the darkness.

Jazzy stepped into the bubbling water in the Jacuzzi tub in her bathroom. As she eased her naked body beneath the warm water, she sighed aloud. Today had been a long day, as had yesterday. Two murders in twenty-four hours. The whole town was tense and nervous, not knowing what was going on and wondering if or when another victim would be chosen. Last night’s winter storm had left many county residents without power or telephone service—just what people didn’t need to happen with a murderer on the loose. Business at Jasmine’s and Jazzy’s Joint had been down these past two nights. Even though there wasn’t much tourist trade during the winter, she could usually count on a healthy local clientele to keep both establishments financially in the black.

She supposed she thought about, worried about, and concentrated too much on money. But she’d grown up without any money. Poor as church mice was the way Aunt Sally had described them. Being poor never seemed to bother Sally Talbot, but Jazzy was different. From an early age, she’d yearned for all the things money could buy. As a teenager, she’d wanted the nice house, the fancy car, the pretty clothes. But more than all the material things money could buy, she had longed for the respect it seemed to bring with it. God, how she’d envied the MacKinnons and the Uptons. She supposed that was the reason she’d been attracted to Jamie in the first place. Not so much because he was handsome and charming, but because he was rich. She had thought marrying Jamie and becoming an Upton could make all her dreams come true.

She’d given her virginity to Jamie when she was sixteen. He had professed his undying love, so she’d been certain that when she told him she was pregnant with his child, he would marry her.

Jazzy lifted the loofah sponge and ran it over each arm and then each leg. At twenty-nine she still possessed a flawless body, unmarred by childbirth.

A deep sadness clutched at her heart, but she forced it away, refusing to relive that painful part of her life.

You’d better remember
, she told herself.
Only by learning from your mistakes will you be able to protect yourself
. She had forgiven Jamie time and again, had fooled herself into believing that he could change and become the man she needed. But each time, in the end, she and she alone paid the price of her foolishness.

Jamie had come into her life and gone away so many times during the past ten years that she couldn’t keep track. His current fiancée was the third and would, no doubt, go the way of his previous conquests. Once they discovered what Jamie was all about, they fled home to Mommy and Daddy and the protection of their wealthy families. And whenever Jamie came back to Cherokee County, with or without a woman in tow, he always sought out Jazzy. She supposed that in his own way he was as addicted to her as she was to him. They were in each other’s blood, like some insidious poison.

But this time she wouldn’t give in to him. The only way she could survive was to find a way to rid herself of the slow-acting poison that would eventually kill her. She didn’t think she could live through loving Jamie again, knowing it was only a matter of time before he broke her heart.

Jazzy soaked in the tub until the water became barely lukewarm, then she rose, got out, and dried herself. Just as she wrapped her quilted satin robe around her, she heard the doorbell ring.
Who the hell?
But she knew. Before she made her way through her bedroom and into the living room of her apartment above Jasmine’s, she knew who waited for her on the other side of the door.

Standing at the door, she took a deep breath, then asked, “Who is it?”

“Let me in, lover,” Jamie said, his voice slightly slurred.

He’d been drinking. One of his many vices.

“Go away,” she told him.

He pounded on the door. “I’m not leaving.”

“If you don’t go, I’ll call Jacob.”

Jamie snorted. “What is it with you and Butler? You like fucking that big, ugly Indian?”

“Damn you, Jamie. Leave me alone.”

He continued pounding on the door and began saying her name repeatedly. “Jazzy…Jazzy…Jazzy…”

She unlocked and then opened the door, her heart beating ninety-to-nothing. He stood there, one arm braced on the doorjamb as he swayed forward and grinned.

“I’ve missed you, lover,” Jamie said. “I’ve missed you something awful.”

A familiar stirring came to life in her belly. “I haven’t missed you,” she told him truthfully. She hadn’t missed him. Her life was so much better without him. As far as she was concerned, he could drop off the face of the earth.

He took an unsteady step toward her. She held her breath. He lowered his face down to hers until only an inch separated their lips.

“I don’t love you. I don’t want you. I don’t need you.” Jazzy wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince—Jamie or herself.

He tugged on her belt, loosening it enough to enable him to slip one hand inside and sneak it around her waist. She gasped when he splayed his hand over her naked hip and drew her up against him. His breath was warm and drenched with whiskey. He rubbed his nose against her neck and whispered her name in her ear.

“Has Butler been servicing you, honey? Keeping you all primed and ready for me?”

Jazzy’s body went rigid.

“He’s a big man,” Jamie said. “He hasn’t stretched you out of shape, has he? You know I like my pussy hot and wet…and tight. Real tight.”

Jazzy lifted her hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist midair. “Now, don’t be that way. I don’t mind if you’ve kept in practice. Lord knows I have. Actually, I’ve learned a few new tricks I’d like to teach you.”

“I’ve learned all the tricks from you I want to learn.” Although some sick, pitiful part of her still cared about Jamie, the strong, smart part of her hated his damn guts. “I’ve got nothing for you, Jamie. Go home to your fiancée. Teach her those new tricks.”

His eyes glimmered with determination. He jerked Jazzy’s robe apart, revealing her naked body. When she tried to pull the lapels together, he grabbed her, yanked the robe off her shoulders, and shoved her naked body up against the wall. Realizing his intentions, she fought him. For several minutes his superior strength overpowered her. His mouth covered hers while his hands manacled her wrists above her head. She tried to avoid his wet kisses, but gave up and allowed him to assault her mouth. When he freed one of his hands to unzip his pants and ease his body a few inches from hers, she took advantage of the opportunity to attack him. She kneed him in the groin and just as he doubled over in pain, she socked him in the nose. While he groaned and writhed, Jazzy ran into her bedroom, yanked open her nightstand drawer and removed the loaded .25-caliber Beretta she kept there.

Jamie stood in the doorway, rage etched on his features. “I’m going to make you sorry you did that.”

She waited until he was only a couple of feet away from her, then pulled the gun out from behind her back and pointed it directly at him. “Come one inch closer and you’ll be singing soprano the rest of your life.”

Jamie glanced from her face to the gun she held, then back up to her face. “You’d really shoot me, wouldn’t you?”

“You got that damn straight.”

“What happened to my Jazzy?” he asked. “What did you do with the girl who loved me?”

“You destroyed her, bit by bit, piece by piece.” She held the gun in a steady hand, determined to show no sign of weakness. She wasn’t a hundred percent sure she could shoot Jamie, but he didn’t know that. All she had to do was convince him that she had no qualms about blowing off his balls.

“You win this round, lover.” His grin was more shaky than cocky.

She stood in the bedroom, unmoving, barely breathing, until she heard the front door slam. Holding the gun in front of her, she rushed into the living room, checking in every direction to make sure Jamie wasn’t waiting to jump out on her. With quick, sure moves, she swung open the kitchen door, flipped on the light, and made certain the room was empty; then she hurried back into the living room to lock and double-bolt the front door.

Suddenly she started trembling. A shuddering tremor racked her from head to toe. Slumping down onto the nearest chair, she dropped the gun to the floor. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she jerked the knitted afghan from the back of the chair and wrapped it around her naked body.

Bone-weary and in desperate need of a good night’s sleep, Jacob arrived home at eleven-fifteen. Just as he turned his truck into the parking area in front of his apartment, he noticed the bright yellow Vega. The windows were steamed up and the engine was idling.
What the hell was she doing here?
He didn’t think he could deal with Misty tonight. He was exhausted and frustrated. The last thing he needed was having to deal with a woman. Any woman.

He got out, locked the car, and pocketed his keys, then walked across the parking area and pecked on the passenger-side window of the Vega. Immediately Misty killed the motor, jumped out of her car, and rushed over to him.

“Hi, there, sugar,” she cooed.

Misty’s red lips widened in what she thought was a seductive smile. Even in this frigid weather, she wore a miniskirt, with textured stockings and flashy yellow boots. Her only real concession to the freezing temperature was the fake-fur jacket she had on.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, trying his best to keep his tone civil.

“Is that any way to treat a woman who’s here to give you a little TLC?”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?”

Misty laughed, the sound like a shrill siren screaming through the night air. “I’m freezing my butt off out here. What do you say we go inside where it’s warm?”

“Look, Misty, I’m pretty beat. Maybe you’d better—”

“All you have to do is lie back and enjoy,” she told him as she hooked her arm through his. “I’ll do all the dirty work.”

Jacob’s penis responded to her blatant offer. Apparently the old boy wasn’t as tired as he was. His body instantly reminded him that he hadn’t been with a woman in quite some time. Not since the last time he’d had a date with Misty—over five months ago. Of course, she had no way of knowing that, since she and most of the townsfolk assumed he and Jazzy had slept together when they dated.

“I appreciate the offer, but—”

“You aren’t still hung up on Jazzy, are you? I thought you two were over, finis, caput.”

“We are, except as friends.”

“I’ve just been waiting for you two to end things, which I knew would happen sooner or later.”

What the hell! It wasn’t as if Misty expected anything more than sex. He’d made it perfectly clear to her when they went to bed together on their first date over a year ago, right after her second divorce, that he wasn’t interested in a commitment of any kind.

Arm in arm, they made it up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor of the two-story building that housed eight apartments. He unlocked the door, escorted her inside, and didn’t even bother to switch on a light. He kicked the door closed with his booted foot, lifted Misty off her feet, and carried her straight to his bedroom.

When he set her on her feet at the edge of his bed, she ran her hand over the fly of his jeans. “You are glad to see me, aren’t you?”

“Part of me is,” he admitted.

She laughed again, and before the sound could turn him off completely, he kissed her. A rough, tongue-thrusting kiss that silenced her. Misty wasn’t the most beautiful woman in Cherokee County or the smartest, but she had her talents. She knew how to kiss. And she knew how to fuck.

They tore at each other’s clothes and within minutes Jacob had tossed her flat on her back in the middle of his bed. He made a hasty detour into the bathroom for his stash of condoms, then removed his briefs and tossed them aside on his way back to the bed. Standing over her, he slid a condom into place.

Wriggling seductively on the bed, Misty said, “Come on, big boy, give me what I want.”

“I thought you said you were going to do all the dirty work.”

She held open her arms to him. “Come down here and I’ll show you what I’ll do.”

He covered her body with his, sliding his erect penis over her belly before settling between her legs. When he lowered his head and licked first one pebble-hard nipple and then the other, she bit his shoulder. He barely felt the pain.

“Let’s change places,” Misty suggested. “I’m in the mood for a good, hard ride.”

Before the words were barely out of her mouth, he flipped her up and over him. She straddled his hips. He reached up to tease her nipples.

“I always get my cookies off when I’m on top.”

She lifted herself up enough to reach between them and circle his erection. While he lay beneath, his body taut with need, she guided him up and inside her. She slid down over him like a slick, hot glove covering a hand.