Last Kiss Goodbye (13 page)

Ivy wrestled with her nerves as she stood. “So he didn’t want me to report him, that’s why he tried to kill me?”

“Probably. Do you think you can lead me to the spot where they met?”

She nodded.

Matt cleared his throat. “It could be dangerous, A.J. Do you think it’s smart to take Ivy out there?”

Ivy reached for his arm to calm him. “It’s all right, Matt. I’m worried about Lady Bella Rue. I have to do this.”

Matt cut her a sharp look, tension vibrating between them. “Then I’m going with you.”

Ivy didn’t argue. Revisiting the place where she’d almost died had her pulse pounding. And the prospect of going into the woods alone at night with Matt’s old friend, even if he was the sheriff, made her even more nervous. Behind that uniform and badge lurked a sinister side just waiting to surface.

Ivy didn’t want to be around when he finally unleashed it.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, MATT gritted his teeth as he, A.J. and Deputy Pritchard followed Ivy through the cold, dark woods. Mud from the wet ground kept clumping on his boots. Night sounds of skittering animals, rustling trees and the river rushing over rocks filled the stony silence.

“Here’s the clearing where they built the campfire,” Ivy said, stopping beneath an alcove of trees. The remnants of the fire still lingered, smoke billowing upward. The pungent odor of pot filled the air, mingling with charred wood and dead animals.

“They’re all gone,” she exclaimed. “But there were dozens of them, I swear it.”

“The kid who attacked you must have made it back and warned the others.” A.J. walked over to a pile of rocks, grimaced and shook his head. Matt followed him and saw the blood, then the carcass of the goat that had been slaughtered. Below, on a rocky ledge, he spotted two chickens, both decapitated, along with a cluster of something that looked like bones.

“Damn kids in this town aren’t anything but trouble,” A.J. grumbled.

Just like the two of them had been, Matt thought, but refrained from comment.

A few beer cans littered the ground, along with a beaded necklace and several feathers. A.J. had brought some evidence bags, so he collected them, then turned to Ivy. “Maybe we’ll get some prints. If I can ID one of the pricks, maybe he’ll give up the name of your attacker.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist, and Matt moved up behind her. He wanted more evidence, something concrete to tie to the rotten little bastard. “Where were you when he attacked you, Ivy?”

She bit her lip, then pointed toward the woods, near where they’d entered.

A.J. gestured to his deputy. “Keep looking around here. I’ll check this out.”

As they made their way through the heavy brush, Matt searched for footprints or traces of evidence the boy might have left behind. A few feet later, he noticed indentions in the ground where the leaves and dirt had been disturbed.

“That’s where he knocked me down,” Ivy said in a low voice.

A.J. shone a flashlight on the area while Matt knelt and examined the spot. He noticed a scrap of fabric caught in a branch, and A.J. plucked it out and slid it into a paper bag.

“That looks like it came from the boy’s sweatshirt,” Ivy said.

A.J. nodded. “I’ll have it checked, Ivy, but since the school colors are gold and black, half the kids in this town own black sweatshirts like this. Are you sure you didn’t see anything else? You didn’t recognize anyone? Hear a name, maybe?”

“No. And I don’t know any of the kids in town,” Ivy answered.

“Sheriff, come here!” Deputy Pritchard shouted.

A.J. sprinted back toward the river, and Matt took Ivy’s hand and raced behind him.

“What is it?” A.J. asked as they broke through the clearing again.

“Take a look for yourself.” Pritchard pointed to the dirt at the edge of the woods.

The three of them joined the deputy, and Matt’s stomach clenched.

“Oh, my God!” Ivy rasped. “They did find a body.”

“Yeah.” Pritchard grunted. “And the poor bastard’s been here a while.”

Ivy stared at it in shock as Matt tugged her against him. Rotting skin had disintegrated from the bone, bugs having feasted on the flesh. What was left of the body looked brown and gray, just brittle bone.

A.J. reached for his cell phone. “I’ll call a crime scene unit and the medical examiner.”

“Come on,” Matt said softly. “I’ll take you back to your cabin, Ivy.”

She nodded against his chest. “But my car—”

“We’ll get it later.”

Tension hovered in the air as they hurried to his Pathfinder, climbed inside and drove toward Cliff’s Cabins.

Who was buried there by the river? Matt wondered. Had the kids known the corpse was there, or had they just happened upon it during their cult ceremony?

An image of Ivy almost dying flashed back, and panic slithered through his limbs. He wanted to take her into his arms. Wanted to hold her all night. Remind himself that they were both still alive.

Hell, he wanted to make love to her. He had from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her again.

But what did Ivy want?

HE WANTED IVY. But he couldn’t have her.

Frustration ate at him. The trouble was escalating. Ivy and Mahoney were getting closer, land there was nothing that he could do to stop them, short of murder.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, tension knotted his muscles as he neared Red Row. If he couldn’t have Ivy…

Chantel would be good. Yes, she would do.

No. He couldn’t get too close to any one hooker. Money talked. And these girls wanted to make a dime any way they could. Scruples be damned. They’d open their legs for one man one minute, their mouths the next—and not just for sex. They’d talk for the right price.

And no one could know that he was in Kudzu Hollow.

Especially Ivy or Matt Mahoney.

Damn man.

He’d taken up with Ivy as if he owned her. And she looked at him as if he had hung the moon and her safety rested on his shoulders.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest at the irony. She was not safe with Mahoney. In fact, just the opposite. Hooking up with him had put her in more danger.

Both would have to be disposed of.

He would take care of them later. First he needed to release his tension before he exploded. He parked at Red Row, and five minutes later, sprawled restlessly in bed with a redhead with tits the size of melons. As the woman touched him, began to pleasure him, his mind drifted to Ivy. She was so beautiful. Pale skin. Delicate lips. Golden silky hair. Just like her mother.

The redhead’s fingernails scraped over the bare flesh of his belly and his body quivered. “What’s wrong, hon? You seem distracted.”

Dammit, his penis had softened. He silently chided himself for mentally losing ground. Couldn’t let this slut think he was incapable of meeting her demands.

Could she meet his?

He flipped her over to her stomach, threaded the silk cords around her wrists and tied her to the bedposts. She moaned and complained, tugging at the bindings, but the minute his tongue licked its way down her back and over her buttocks, she shivered. Deciding to test her, he pulled away and reached for her ankles, to tie them, as well. She struggled playfully, but fear echoed in her voice when she moaned.

Just the way he liked it.

He smiled and crawled above her, feathering his fingers along her inner thighs but avoiding her sensitive spot until she begged for more. Then he rammed himself inside her, and let the fantasies begin as he took his pleasure.

One kiss. Two kisses. Three kisses.

Sigh.

Four kisses. Five kisses. Six kisses.

Cry.

Seven kisses. Eight kisses. Nine kisses.

Die.

One last kiss

and then goodbye.

CHAPTER TEN

IVY TRIED TO BANISH the image of the bones sticking through dirt and leaves as she opened the door to her cabin. “Whose body do you think was buried by the river?”

“I don’t know,” Matt replied. “From the size of the hands, it was probably a man.”

“Who would bury someone like that without even giving them a proper ceremony?”

“Someone who wanted to hide the fact that the man was dead,” Matt said matter-of-factly.

Ivy halted and flipped on the lamp, realization dawning. “You mean he was murdered?”

Matt shrugged, although a hint of anger—or worry?—still darkened his expression. “Probably.”

Fear clenched her insides, but she schooled her reaction as she moved quietly to the stove, filled the teakettle with water and placed it on the burner.
Remember the routines, the patterns. The walls. Keep yourself safe, Ivy.

“Lady Bella Rue and Miss Nellie were right about this town,” she whispered.

“Who is Miss Nellie?”

“The woman who raised me after my parents died.” Ivy removed two teacups and the sweetener, then offered one to Matt, but he shook his head. She hadn’t really pictured him as a tea drinker, so brewed a pot of coffee.

“Is she a relative?”

Ivy shook her head. “She lived in Kudzu Hollow and knew of my family. She’d lost a child of her own when he was little, and thought the two of us should be together. But she took me to Chattanooga so I could escape my past.” Only she never had escaped.

Matt frowned. “You were close?”

Ivy contemplated how to answer without sounding callous. “Not really. She was always nice to me, but I felt as if she was holding something back.” Her heart mostly. “She…wasn’t very affectionate.” Guilt pressed against her conscience. “That sounds very ungrateful of me, doesn’t it? The woman gave me a home. No telling where I would have wound up without her.”

“Having a place to live is a long stretch from having a real home.”

Pain flickered in Matt’s eyes, and Ivy ached for him. Prison had been a shelter, but certainly no home. And even before prison, he hadn’t had an easy life. And when he was finally released, even his best friend still treated him like a criminal. Judging from his sarcastic comment about his mother, she hadn’t welcomed him, either.

Matt plucked a leaf from her hair, and a tingle of awareness slid though her, warming her from the chill she’d felt since the attack. He had been protective and kind to her, and that last kiss taunted her. The feel of his lips against hers. The tender way he’d held her.

But he was only being a friend, hoping she could help clear him.

The teakettle whistled, shattering the moment. “I…think I’ll take a hot bath. Clean off the dirt and leaves.”

He inched forward. His gaze met hers, and the raw masculine look in his eyes sent another shiver through her.

“Are you all right, Ivy?”

Unexpected moisture pooled in her eyes, and she nodded. But she refused to break down again. Matt had already done so much for her.

And what had she done for him except add to his trouble?

He swept a strand of her hair away from her face and traced a finger over her cheek. “Go get your bath, Ivy. I’ll be waiting when you’re finished.”

“You don’t have to stay, Matt. I’m fine now.”

His mouth tightened, his feral look daring her to argue. “I want to stay.”

She wanted that, too. She couldn’t deny it any more than she could deny the heat rippling between them. But there was more than heat. She was falling in love with him. Matt was tough, had seen the darkest dregs of society in prison, yet his touch remained so gentle that she ached for more of it, for the feel of his fingertips along her nerve endings.

She couldn’t ask for more from him, though, or get accustomed to having him in her life.

No. Ivy had been alone forever, and would be once again, when she and Matt discovered her parents’ murderer.

Afraid she might give in to the temptation to drop her defenses and allow Matt closer, she poured her tea, then escaped to the bathroom. But as she stripped off her dirty clothes and slipped into the warm bubbles, fingers of need and desire coursed through her. She closed her eyes and imagined Matt touching her, gliding his hands against her sensitive skin, stirring passions and pleasures that she’d never experienced before with a man.

Pleasures that only he could give her.

AS THE BATHROOM DOOR closed, separating him from Ivy, Matt felt the invisible barrier between them being erected again. Ivy was cautious. Had been hurt. Didn’t let anyone close. He knew that without asking. And he didn’t want to hurt her.

But God help him, he wanted her.

An image of her taunted him—Ivy removing her clothes, her naked body glistening with moisture, her nipples peaking and begging for his lips, her arms drawing him into her embrace, her legs spreading for him….

His sex hardened, the ache that rolled through him creating an emotional need as strong as his physical response. He wanted her so badly he could taste her. Could almost feel her skin beneath his fingertips. Her feminine body pulsing as he slid inside her.

But reality whistled as sharp and jarring as that damn teakettle had. Ivy had just been mauled and nearly strangled. Remnants of fear had rimmed her beautiful eyes, the leftover horror of seeing that skeleton lingering in the shadows. He could not act on his needs tonight.

His stomach growled, reminding him of another kind of hunger that he hadn’t bothered to satisfy lately. When had he last eaten? When had Ivy?

Determined to be a gentleman instead of exploring the heat that had ignited between them, he knocked gently on the door. “Ivy, I’m going to drop by the diner and pick up some supper for us. Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she called.

“I’ll secure all the doors and windows before I go. Don’t answer them for anyone.”

“I’m okay, Matt, really.”

For a brief second, he leaned against the door, listening to the splash of water. Every cell in his body burned, urging him to open the door and join her. But thankfully, the rational side of his brain throttled that more basic nature. “My cell number is on the table. I should be back in ten minutes. Call me if you need me.”

She agreed, and he checked the windows and doors, then rushed outside. More rain hovered on the horizon, the swirling wind and dark clouds a reminder that there was no relief in sight. He glanced back at the cabin, searching the perimeter with his gaze before he drove away. Anxious about being away from Ivy, he phoned the diner and ordered two of the daily specials to go. Barbecue and Brunswick stew. He hoped to hell Ivy wasn’t a vegetarian, and realized he should have asked. There were a lot of things he didn’t know about her. Her favorite food. Favorite color. The type of music she listened to. All trivial things that he wanted to explore. All personal…

But the more he knew about Ivy, the more he liked her.

And the more he wanted her.

FANTASIES OF MAKING LOVE with Matt played through Ivy’s mind, igniting a maelstrom of need. How could she want something from him that she’d never even considered with another man?

Because you’re letting down your defenses. Remember, your heart is involved. Protect it.

The revelation shattered her fantasies, just as the chill of the bathwater hit her. All her life, she’d closed herself off from others, the pain of losing her parents the catalyst for locking herself in a self-imposed prison. Miss Nellie had maintained the same type of distance, probably due to her own traumatic loss. The two of them had been perfect together, coexisting but never really forging a close enough bond that it would destroy them when they parted.

Ivy didn’t want to feel this way about Matt. Didn’t welcome the gut-wrenching pain she would experience when he left her. And he would leave. Everyone she’d ever loved had left….

But she felt helpless to stop the need building inside her.

Maybe if she wasn’t so frightened of what she would find in her past, she could have a future. But what about Matt? Would he even consider building a life with someone who’d stood silently by while he suffered in prison? How could he possibly want to be with such a coward?

Trembling, Ivy climbed from the tub, dried off, donned a thick terry-cloth robe and combed her tangled hair. The bruises on her neck looked stark in the mirror. Another image replaced hers: her mother’s face. Her bruised cheek. A swollen eye. A fractured wrist.

Ivy closed her eyes, shutting out those pictures and focusing on the good memories.

Her mother singing softly to her at night, promising that they would have a better life. She’d sounded so convincing.

Ivy opened her eyes, contemplating the possibilities. Maybe her mother had planned to leave her father. If he’d discovered her intentions, he would have lost his temper. Maybe killed her. But who had murdered
him?

Matt had mentioned that someone had wanted to buy the property by the junkyard. Had her mother planned to use that money to escape with her and start a new life? Something nagged at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint what was bothering her.

Her cell phone rang, a jarring sound that caused her to jump. It was probably Matt calling to check on her. He’d been so protective.

She dug the mobile unit from her purse and checked the number. George.

Sighing, and half-tempted to not respond, she stared at the number. But she couldn’t keep avoiding him, not with her business at stake.

“Hi, George.”

“Ivy, my God, I thought you weren’t going to answer again.”

His frantic voice surprised her. “What’s wrong?”

“I saw the news report. They found a body in Kudzu Hollow. There’s a cult of kids there performing sacrificial rituals. And another woman was murdered.” He wheezed a shaky breath. “That place sounds dangerous.”

“I’m fine, George. I’m faxing over some photos and my notes on Lady Bella Rue.”

“Ivy,” George said softly. “You have enough for the piece. Please come home. I’m worried about your safety.”

She gritted her teeth, wishing she could return his feelings, but Matt’s face filled her mind and heart, not George’s. “I’ll come back in a few days. I…still have some things to resolve here. And I want to visit my old homestead.”

“The place where your parents were killed?” he asked in an incredulous voice. “Jesus Christ, Ivy, you don’t need to do that. You have a life here in Chattanooga. And I care about you.”

“I appreciate your concern, George, but I can’t leave now. Not yet.” Refusing to wait for a reply, and unwilling to argue further, she disconnected.

The phone trilled a second later. Feeling guilty, and expecting George to have redialed, she hit the button. “George—”

“Hello, Ivy.”

She froze at the sound of a man’s voice—a strangely familiar one. Husky. Low. Hoarse. Muffled.

“I warned you, Ivy.”

In the background, music trilled: “Here Comes Santa Claus….” The hair on the back of her neck prickled, the image of the broken Santas flashing back. “Who is this?”

“You should have listened. Now I have no choice but to take care of you the way I did your mother.” A nasty laugh echoed over the phone just before the line went silent.

MATT KEPT HIS HEAD DOWN as he paid for the food, well aware that every pair of eyes in the diner pierced his back. Whispers and echoes of disbelief and distrust fed the charged atmosphere. Talk of the body the sheriff had uncovered and the murder of Dora Leigh Werth had everyone bordering on hysteria.

“Heard there’s a cult of devil worshipers down by the river,” someone whispered.

“Poor Dora Leigh’s boy. Wonder who’ll take care of him? Just awful the way his mama was murdered.”

“And what do you think about that body Sheriff Boles found in the woods?”

“I don’t know, but it all started when that Stanton girl and Mahoney boy came back to town.”

“Sheriff ought to run ’em both out of Kudzu Hollow.”

Anger knotted Matt’s insides. He was tempted to remind them that their own children were up to evil, but he managed to rein in his temper. Reacting would only blacken his own bad reputation.

Lady Bella Rue and Talulah were seated in the corner, the old root doctor’s fingers worrying the mojo around her neck, while Talulah smiled and fluttered her fingers in a wave.

Great. All he needed to feed the rumor mill more was for the locals to think he was fanning the covers at Red Row.

And if that talk reached Ivy?

A frisson of unease tightened his gut. He didn’t like leaving her alone for a minute, not in this godforsaken town.

His boots pounded on the wooden floor as he crossed the room, and just as he reached for the doorknob, the door sprang open. His mother stood beneath the awning, beside the former sheriff, Lumbar.

Her mouth flopped open, her eyes widening in fear. Lumbar pressed a protective hand to her waist, and Matt followed the movement. Of all the confounded surprises! His mother
was
seeing Larry Lumbar. For a moment, Matt was so shocked his legs wobbled.

“Maybe we’d better leave,” his mother whispered.

Lumbar grunted. “He’s the one going to leave.”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Matt said, finally recovering, although old hurts and pains knifed through him. “I didn’t realize you were friends with the man who put me in jail.”

She swayed and clutched Lumbar’s arm. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“It’s a public place, why shouldn’t I be?” he growled.

“Stay away from your mother,” Lumbar barked. “You may have been released from prison, but we all know you’re no good. Soon you’ll be back in the pen with the animals where you belong.”

Emotions pummeled Matt. Anger. Hatred. The thirst for vengeance.

But he’d learned one thing while caged up—how to control that temper. Bottle it for later.

It was the only way he’d survived on the inside. And now it seemed the only way he’d survive on the outside. Because if he unleashed his fists on Lumbar, he wouldn’t stop until he’d killed the man, and then he
would
end up incarcerated again.