Last Kiss Goodbye (20 page)

The scents of weed and booze stifled the air. Empty pizza boxes littered the mahogany coffee table in the den. Cigarette stubs and Cheetos bags added to the mess, at odds with the plush furnishings. Terri Lynn had taken pride in her home, had hired a decorator to give the house a formal, sophisticated look. Her son’s lack of respect was obvious.

A.J. worked his way upstairs, and checked the bedrooms but found them empty. Blood stained the bedsheets and white satin comforter in the mother’s room, and a trail of it dotted the gray carpet leading to the door. He sniffed and leaned closer to check it out. It was pretty fresh. He’d get the crime unit out here right away.

Frowning, he strode back down the steps when he noticed the basement door ajar. Placing his hand over his gun, he eased down the steps. Pitch-black silence greeted him, until he flipped on a switch and light flooded the basement. Tommy and Clete both groaned and rolled over, shading their eyes with their hands. Still wearing the black hooded sweatshirts, black paint covering their faces, they looked like two hooligans.

Clete threw his shoe across the room. “What the hell? Get out!”

“Turn off that light!” Tommy bellowed. “You’re blinding us!”

A.J. braced himself. “It’s the sheriff, boys. You’re under arrest for murder.”

Tommy suddenly shot up, but staggered and crashed into the wall. Cursing like a sailor, he toppled over, rubbing his foot, obviously still half-stoned. Clete reached for a baseball bat on the floor beside him, but A.J. removed his gun from its holster.

“I have a weapon and it’s aimed right at you,” he snarled, letting them know he meant business. “Now, put your hands up above your heads where I can see them. And don’t make any sudden moves or I’ll shoot.”

IVY HAD ALMOST DIED the day before. The thought reverberated over and over in her head like a video that had been stuck on Rewind. As Matt helped her into his SUV, she breathed the fresh damp afternoon air, grateful to be free of the hospital room and on her way back to the cabin. The majestic Appalachians rose around her, the sweeping canyons and mountain ridges reminding her of the daunting beauty of the area, and the breathless exuberance of simply being alive. Yes, there was beauty here, as she’d first thought; she simply had to look hard enough beneath the evil to find it.

Although her body still struggled with exhaustion, her heart fluttered at the protective way Matt had been treating her. He hadn’t strayed more than a few feet from her side since the attack and the fire. She didn’t want him more than an arm’s length away, either.

She had never felt this close to another person. Especially a man.

Tension throbbed relentlessly in the air between them as he checked behind him to make sure no one followed.

“Should we talk to Arthur Boles tonight?” Ivy asked.

Matt’s fingers tightened in a death grip around the steering wheel. “No, rest one more day. We’ll confront him first thing in the morning. I want to do a little more homework before I approach him.”

“Homework?”

“Research,” Matt answered, although he didn’t elaborate.

Ivy accepted his silence, anxious that he might be keeping information from her. But fatigue lines crisscrossed his face, and she realized he hadn’t slept the night before because he’d stayed alert guarding her, so she didn’t push him.

He stopped long enough at the diner to pick up two dinner trays again, and the scent of turkey and dressing filled the car as they drove on to the cabins. Inside, they ate in virtual silence, then Matt excused himself to shower.

Ivy stared at his back as he retreated into the bathroom, worry knotting her insides. Matt had withdrawn from her. But why? What had happened?

Two nights ago, they’d almost made love. The beautiful memory still taunted her with what-ifs. And when Matt had pulled her from the burning trailer, she’d felt his body trembling with fear. When he’d held her…she’d sensed that he wanted her.

Why did he keep resisting, continually holding her at a distance? Did he think if he made love to her she’d demand a commitment?

Granted, she thought she loved him, but she didn’t expect him to return the sentiment.

Shadows from her nightmares threatened to steal into the cabin, but Ivy mentally blocked them. For one night, she simply wanted to forget that her traumatic past had brought her here. That her father hadn’t loved her. That everyone deserted her.

That if she hadn’t repressed her memories, then Matt wouldn’t have suffered.

Tonight she wanted to feel alive again, and she wanted Matt to know that she loved him.

Even if she couldn’t speak the words out loud, she could show him.

Summoning her courage, she tiptoed toward the bathroom and eased the door open. The hot spray of water clouded the room. Matt’s clothes lay on the floor in a heap, the outline of his naked form silhouetted through the frosted shower door. Her heart stuttered.

But the need to touch Matt and hold him overwhelmed her, and she moved forward. He had his back toward her, his head turned upward, water sluicing down his throat and body. He looked tormented. Troubled. She eased the shower door open, her breath catching at the sight of his taut muscles and lean, strong body. So male. So perfect.

But anguish dug at her throat at the sight of the long gashes and jagged scars on his back. Dear heavens, what had happened to him in prison?

Matt suddenly jerked around, his eyes feral, his expression tortured as he grabbed her arms. It was almost as if he couldn’t see her.

“Matt?”

He gripped her wrists so hard she thought her bones would snap.

“Matt, you’re hurting me.”

He suddenly blinked and stared at her in horror. “God, Ivy… I’m sorry,” he said in a gruff whisper. “I…can’t stand for anyone to sneak up behind me.”

The truth dawned on her, and her stomach roiled. Then his eyes met hers and raw misery darkened the depths.

The need to take away his pain overrode her own feelings.

“I want to be with you,” she said.

He dropped his head forward, rubbing his eyes as if to clear them, but mumbled no.

She gripped his wrists this time, and forced his hands away from his face. “Look at me, Matt.”

He groaned. “Please, Ivy, go back in the den.”

“No, I told you, I want to be with you.” She released his hands, then slowly began to remove her clothes. Her shirt fell to the floor, and his eyes darted to the garment. Her bra went next, then her jeans and socks and underwear.

“Ivy…”

A second of shyness assaulted her. She’d never felt so vulnerable. Never thrown herself at a man. What if he didn’t want her?

HE KNOCKED ON TALULAH’S door, his body jumpy with tension that needed to be released. Ivy had survived and Mahoney was hovering over her at that cabin. He should just finish them both off tonight. But he’d already taken enough chances the last two days. He needed to lie low for a few hours. Regroup. Rest. Figure out his next move.

Tomorrow he’d find a way to kill Mahoney and get Ivy.

Tonight, he’d satisfy his cravings with whatever choice Talulah had for him. Hell, Red Row was every man’s fantasy come true. Beautiful, available women. Always ready when a man wanted. Great sex. No ties. And the girls would do anything he ordered.

Just like Lily Stanton years ago. Until she’d gotten greedy…

He knocked again, and lights flickered inside, the soft glow of a red light bathing the interior as the door opened.

Piles of blond hair topped her head in some kind of glittery comb concoction, but wispy tendrils escaped, feathering around her perfectly made-up face. She dotted perfume between her breasts as he entered.

“Come on in, sexy stranger. Talulah has just what you need.”

“I hope so,” he said in a low voice. “Because I’m feeling pretty needy.”

Her light laughter floated through the air like music, and a sea of candles flickered on every piece of furniture in her bedroom. Talulah had been one of his first. He wondered if she remembered. Half hoped she didn’t. That would be dangerous. Then again, he wanted her to remember. He had been good; she’d said so. One of her best pupils.

But he’d first had Lily Stanton, and she was pure heaven.

Talulah sprawled on top of the sheets, her skin glistening from bath oils, the flutter of the candlelight painting her in soft golden shadows. The red satin robe she wore parted, revealing luscious, plump breasts, and tight, red-tipped nipples. For a woman her age, she looked athletic and fit. Only the softening of her thighs told him that she was not the same young girl she’d been when he’d last seen her. Some things just got more beautiful with age, better with experience.

But those thighs had seen a lot of men over the years, and those bad times had carved tiny lines along her mouth. With a throaty sigh, she murmured, “Tell me your name.”

He smiled and shook his head. “No names, just bodies touching.”

She wiggled her eyebrows, picked up a long red feather, rose onto her knees and drew it along his cheek. Excitement stirred within him, pumping his blood through his body in a hot stream. She nipped at his shirt with her teeth, and his breath hissed out, ragged, uneven, sweat already beading on his lip, come already rising to the tip of his erection. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them to the floor, desire and pure lust rippling through him. Her gaze traveled down his chest, across his stomach to his cock. An appreciative smile tipped her ruby-red lips.

Her gaze rose to meet his while she circled one hand around his length.

“You know how I like it, Talulah.”

Suddenly an odd look flashed into those age-old eyes. He grabbed her wrists, threw her facedown on the bed and tied her wrists to the bedposts. She made a small protest, then angled her head to search his face.

“Lily wouldn’t let me take her this way,” he said, the memory clear in his head of the last time he’d been with her.

Those blond eyebrows rose, the blue mascara above her eyes climbing upward as she twisted toward him. “Oh, my goodness, sugar…it can’t be.” She hesitated, recognition dawning as she licked her lips. “It is you, isn’t it?”

He swallowed, his body as hard as a rock, his mind ticking away the inevitable.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Talulah whispered. “Your mama said you were dead….”

A rumble of laughter escaped him as he lowered himself onto the bed beside her and nudged her thigh with his dick. “Do I look dead, Talulah?”

Her appreciative gaze flew to his sex, then back to his face, but her smile disappeared. “I don’t understand. You…where have you been all these years?”

“You shouldn’t ask questions, Talulah.”

Too late, awareness flooded her. Talulah knew she had made a mistake in recognizing him. He couldn’t let her go now, not and take the chance she’d reveal his identity.

No, once he had his fill of her, it was bye-bye, Talulah.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

IVY DESERVED BETTER, but Matt’s resistance shattered. He wanted her with a need so strong it defied logic. Watching her offering herself to him so unselfishly only stoked the fire burning in his body.

But she had seen his scars. Had seen his reaction…

He had to make her understand that sometimes the inner beast inside him snapped, that someday he might hurt her. Not that he’d intentionally do so, but if she came up behind him and the dark trapped him…well, sometimes he simply reacted.

“Ivy—”

“Shh.” She licked her lips, the vulnerability of her innocence glowing softly in her sparkling eyes. And some other emotion—tenderness? Affection? Love?

No, he couldn’t allow himself to believe in love. Not for a man like him.

But one night of touching, holding, intimacy…

How could he possibly turn away from her offering? After all, he had almost lost her once.

And he would lose her when this whole mess ended.

But tonight they could be together. Create a beautiful memory for him to carry with him during the lonely nights ahead.

She gripped the edge of the shower door, and he drank his fill of her naked body as she climbed in the shower with him. Hot water sluiced off his back, running down his torso. Without speaking, she took the soft bath sponge, dotted it with soap and began to rub it over his chest. A shudder rippled through him, but he smiled and savored her gentle ministrations. Slowly, she swirled the soapy bubbles through his thick, coarse chest hair, over his nipples, then to his stomach. His muscles clenched as she trailed the sponge over his erection. Then she gently turned him around.

He swallowed hard, feeling raw and exposed, but she simply leaned up and kissed the soft, puckered scars on his back, trailing the soapy bubbles, then her fingers, then her lips over each wound that had been so deeply and violently embedded in his skin. He closed his eyes, willing her loving touches to heal him. Then something miraculous happened. His shame and pain slowly faded. Somehow Ivy magically made them float into the distance.

Her arms lowered, the sponge dropping to the floor as she spread her hands across his buttocks and massaged his cheeks. Pure hunger speared through him, and he whipped around, knowing he would never last if she tortured him further. He desperately wanted to touch her now. To feel her quiver in his arms before he finally made her his.

With a wicked smile, he retrieved the sponge and resoaped it. “Your turn, sugar.”

She threw her head back to give him access, the moment of abandon unlocking yet another closed door to his emotions, and his heart opened. In all his life, he’d never seen anything as beautiful as Ivy with her long blond hair damp with water, soap dribbling over her puckered nipples, her pale throat glistening with moisture as he bent to kiss it. His hands trailed over her breasts, circling each nipple until she groaned and arched into him. He suckled them next, discarding the sponge to slide his soapy hands over her flat stomach, then lower into the curls at the juncture of her thighs. She clung to his arms, moaning as he parted her legs and slid first one finger, then a second inside her. Wet and panting, he finally kissed her mouth, catching her sighs of rising euphoria into his own throat as he moved his fingers deep inside her, then withdrew to tease the rosebud of her desire. She stiffened and deepened the kiss, pressing herself into his hand as she cupped his sex and began to stroke his length. His cock was engorged to the point of exploding. But sanity emerged a second before she guided him inside her.

“Condom,” he whispered.

She hesitated, clenching back her orgasm, as he jerked open the door and reached inside his jeans pocket. Seconds later, sheathed and anxious, he lifted her hips, thrust inside and felt her splinter into a thousand quivering pieces as pleasure rippled through her. Her cry of ecstasy heated his raw desire, but he hesitated. She was so tight…. She was a virgin. The realization humbled him. He didn’t deserve her. Why had she chosen him as her first? “Ivy?”

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t stop now, Matt. I love you.”

His heart twisted. Emotions pummeled him. He didn’t deserve her, but Ivy’s whisper of love filled his soul with hope, longing, and he pumped inside her harder, thrusting in and out, deeper, deeper, pulling her hips closer until he could go no deeper, until she collapsed against his chest in a ragged heap, whispering his name and her love as he poured himself inside her.

THE WATER HAD CHILLED, yet Ivy’s body still burned from Matt’s touch as they rinsed off, climbed from the shower, and he wrapped a big towel around her. His dark eyes looked hooded as he gazed down at her, but a smile curved his lips, and she dropped a kiss on his neck, catching a water droplet.

She hadn’t meant to confess her love out loud, and wondered what he was thinking.

“Ivy—”

“Shh, you don’t have to say anything,” she whispered, reaching up to thumb through his dark hair. “I can’t help the way I feel, Matt.” She kissed him tenderly. “And I can’t help but want you again.”

His body went rock hard, and he quickly ran a towel over his damp body. With another deep growl, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed. When he’d eased her onto the mattress, his eyes skated over her, his look of male hunger triggering need within her again.

I can’t help wanting you, too,” he said. His fingers felt like feathers as he gently trailed them along her cheek. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Ivy. God knows you don’t deserve having another man do that.”

She kissed his palm. “You couldn’t hurt me, Matt. Not ever.”

His jaw tightened, but his hands remained gentle as he peeled back the covers, discarded his towel and climbed in bed beside her. Ivy turned into his arms, traced her fingers along his jaw, then lower to the thick dark hair on his chest, over a jagged scar, then down to his stomach. His muscles clenched, his sex pulsing harder as she explored him.

He flipped her to her back and rose above her, pausing long enough to sheath himself and stare into her eyes before he thrust into her. She groaned and gripped his arms, clinging to him as he lowered his mouth and kissed her again. The kisses were tender, but quickly turned urgent as the heat between them built to a raging inferno. His hands roamed everywhere, teasing, torturing, and his body filled hers to the core, joining them so deeply that she knew Matt had become a part of her forever. She would always remember his touch, his scent, the feel of his hard body firmly embedded inside her. Love soared in her heart as the first tremors of her release rocked through her and her muscles clenched around him. And when he cried out her name in a gruff whisper, she vowed that nothing would tear them apart, that Matt would be hers forever.

MATT CRADLED IVY IN his arms, closing his eyes as he listened to her breathing relax into the slow rhythm of sleep. She had said she loved him.

Emotions choked him even as he warned himself it didn’t matter. Ivy deserved more than he had to offer. Besides, he couldn’t even think of a future until they found her parents’ killer. Keeping Ivy safe was his first priority.

Then he had to make something of his life so he would be worthy of her.

But he couldn’t do anything until morning. So he twined his legs with hers and allowed himself to fall asleep with her in his arms. If he only had a night or two with Ivy, he intended to savor every minute.

A.J. RESTED HIS BOOTED feet on his desk and rubbed at his weary eyes, every minute that passed bringing more tension to his already aching body. From the cell block in the back room they’d had built to hold juveniles, Tommy Werth and Clete McClinton howled, bawled and cussed. One of them sounded like a damn baby, completely freaked out from coming off his high. A.J. had been forced to call a paramedic to check on the stupid kid, and had been warned not to leave the boys alone. One or both might be suicidal.

It would serve the little pricks right if he threw a rope in the cell and left ’em with it. He sure as hell wouldn’t miss their scrawny asses. They’d cussed and beaten the walls for the first hour, then taken to moaning and screeching promises vile enough to blister the paint on the scarred concrete walls.

A.J. massaged his neck, checking the time. Pritchard was supposed to come back and relieve him in an hour. A.J. had to have a few hours of sleep before morning. All hell had broken loose after he’d brought in the boys. Word of their arrest and the river cult had somehow spread to the county commissioner. The governor had heard about it, and the feds were sending over agents to investigate the town. Apparently they had had their eyes on Kudzu Hollow and the mysterious crime sprees over the last few years, and thought A.J. needed help.

He needed help, all right. He needed a way out of this town, away from the madness.

But there seemed to be no relief in sight.

In the morning the place would be covered with feds and reporters.

And he still had to worry about Mahoney and Ivy Stanton.

The telephone rang, and he shook his head, praying it wasn’t another problem. But as soon as he picked up the line, a shrill cry pierced the silence.

“Sheriff…” the woman hiccuped, “this is Chantel. I…just got to Talulah’s and…she’s dead, Sheriff.
Dead.
Someone killed her!”

A.J. cursed and dropped his booted feet onto the floor with a thud. “You’re there now?”

“Yes, at her trailer,” she sobbed. “And—and she’s all bloody….”

Hell. First the boys’ mothers, now a hooker. They couldn’t be connected, could they?

“I’ll get out there right away,” A.J. said. “Chantel, you need to stick around and answer some questions.”

But the line had already died, indicating Chantel had decided not to wait.

Probably best for her. For all A.J. knew, the killer might still be in the trailer park, primed for another victim.

A SHORT FEW HOURS later, Matt woke up, more rested and energized than he’d felt in ages. Having Ivy next to him had given him a peace he’d never thought he’d experience again. With that peace and elation also came arousal, and anticipation.

Along with hope, which he tried not to dwell on.

But the fact that she’d chosen him as her first made his pride swell, replacing some of the bitterness in his soul. He had felt connected with Ivy years ago, and now that connection had grown stronger. But would it breach when she learned the truth about him and her mother? No, she didn’t have to know.

But he had to find the killer before he attacked Ivy again. Adrenaline kicked in, and he rose and headed to the kitchen nook. He made a pot of coffee, then sat down and reread the transcripts of his trial. Next, he jotted down notes on what he’d learned so far, drawing lines to the suspects he had in mind.

Ivy’s mother had entertained men from Red Row. From what Ivy remembered, Matt thought it likely Arthur had been one of her clients. And he’d seen Arthur at Red Row recently. He’d also been at the trailer fire.

Larry Lumbar? Matt scribbled his name, but had no real information on the man. Unless he’d fingered Matt to cover his own crime?

Who else?

Maybe a person who had something to do with the real estate deal. Matt needed to stop by the county courthouse and explore the possibility, find out how much property the Stantons had owned. If they still held the deed to the junkyard, that property rightfully belonged to Ivy. She could sell it if she wanted.

But if they’d owned other property that had been sold, then who had profited?

When Ivy awakened, he’d ask her about the land. Maybe the profits from a sale had gone into an account or trust fund for her. Or perhaps the woman who’d raised her had used the money to take care of her.

He checked his watch. Damn. He couldn’t talk to anyone at the courthouse for at least a couple of hours. Restless, he opened the front door of the cabin to check the perimeter, searching the dense woods and shadows for signs that someone might be lurking nearby. The morning paper lay on the stoop, so he picked it up, his eyes narrowing on the lead story.

Two local boys arrested for murdering their mothers. Both are thought to belong to a river cult in Kudzu Hollow. Drugs have been confiscated and are thought to have been a precipitator of the crimes. Sheriff Boles stated that he will be working with county and state officials to put an end to the violence in Kudzu Hollow, as well as destroy the cult and disband the drug operations.

Matt glanced at the neighboring headline and groaned. Kudzu Hollow’s Own Resident Mistress Strangled. Talulah. Dead?

What was going on around here?

He frowned, something about the murders nagging at him as he walked back inside. Arthur Boles had to be the connection. Matt would question him today, push him for information. And maybe even a confession.

The bed squeaked, and Ivy roused, looking sleepy and tousled, well loved and at least partially rested. But the bruises on her neck stood out stark and purple in the morning light, renewing Matt’s anger.

His gut twisted, and he started toward her. But if he touched her again, they’d end up back in bed, and he had to focus on this case. Find out the truth.

Then make something of himself.

It was the only way he and Ivy had any kind of future. A future that he suddenly wanted with every fiber of his being.

IVY HAD FELT EMPTY and alone without Matt in the bed beside her. She offered him a tentative smile, and heat flared in his eyes, setting her heart aflutter. But the darkness flashed back a second later.

Matt gestured toward the paper. “A.J. arrested two boys in that cult for killing their mothers. One of them might be the boy who attacked you.”

A chill rippled through Ivy. She hoped A.J. had caught the youth.

Matt poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. “I want to talk to Arthur Boles this morning,” he said. “Then do some research at the courthouse.”

“I’ll get dressed and go with you. I want to hear what Arthur Boles has to say about my mother.”

An odd look twitched in Matt’s face, but he nodded.

A few minutes later, Ivy hugged a second cup of coffee to her as Matt drove into Kudzu Hollow. A gray haze had settled over the sky, the onset of a winter storm evident in the cold mist hanging in the air. Her cell phone rang and she checked it, frowning when George’s name appeared. She didn’t want to deal with him now, so she let the recording take a message.