'Til Death (A Rebel Ridge Novel) (20 page)

“You are a beautiful woman, Meg Lewis.” Moments later he buried
his face against the curve of her neck. “Oh man, you smell good. What are you
wearing?”

The feeling of déjà vu was bittersweet. Being held in Lincoln’s
arms made her ache. The only thing going through her mind was, what was she
waiting for? Then she realized he was talking to her, and she stuttered some
kind of response that she hoped made sense.

“Huh? Wearing...uh, no perfume. It’s probably just vanilla. I
made cookies.”

He pulled back long enough to get a good look at her face. Her
eyes said yes and her lips were parted. He didn’t wait for her to change her
mind.

He centered his mouth on her lips and then groaned as the kiss
deepened. She tasted as good as she smelled.

“Cookies,” he whispered as he lifted his head. Then he kissed
her again—softer, longer—before lifting his head again. “Chocolate chip?”

Meg’s sanity was teetering. Did he want to make love or
eat?

“Yes...with pecans.”

“Have mercy,” he whispered, and kissed her again. “Are you
going to let me have some?”

Her knees went weak. She was completely lost as to where this
conversation was going.

“Have what?”

“Whatever you’re willing to part with.”

“Lord have mercy, Linc. Cookies are in the kitchen. My bedroom
is the last door on the left at the end of the hall. Take your choice.”

He held out his hand. “Can I have both?”

Her heart was pounding, and there was a slight roaring in her
ears, making it difficult for her to hear what he was saying, but she could tell
from the look on his face that he wanted it all. She sighed.

“I have no shame. I want to make love with you.”

He grunted softly as he scooped her up in his arms and carried
her down the hall to her bedroom. The door was ajar as they went inside. He toed
it shut and laid her down on the bed.

Meg’s hands were trembling so hard she couldn’t unfasten her
jeans.

Linc’s shirt was already off when he saw her struggling and
pushed her hands aside.

“Let me, baby.”

The snap popped, the rasp of the zipper was loud in the
silence, and then magically the jeans were on the back of a chair. She was
thinking that his skills in this department had definitely improved when her
sweater was suddenly over her head. Seconds later he kicked off his boots and
stripped out of his jeans.

The burn scar spanning his body enhanced the play of muscles in
his chest and arms as he stretched out beside her on the bed. She rolled toward
him, arching her back as he unfastened her bra. When he hooked his thumbs in the
elastic of her panties and began pushing them slowly downward, she wanted to
scream. Even though it had been a very long time since she’d made love to a man,
there were no awkward moments between them. He’d taught her how to make love,
and she had been an exceedingly good student. She’d known everything there was
to know about the boy he’d been, but this man was a stunning enigma, and she was
shaking with the need to be with him.

Their gazes caught, the passion and lust they were feeling
mirrored in each other’s eyes. He cupped the back of her head and slid his mouth
across her lips, then straddled her body, pinning her between the soft mattress
at her back and the rock-hard muscles of his body. It was but a hint of what was
to come.

Blood was roaring in Meg’s ears. Every muscle in her body felt
as if it was strung too tight to move, and yet she reached for him, curling her
fingers around his forearms as he put his hands on her breasts.

Then he rolled her nipples between his fingers, and before she
could catch her breath she climaxed. Too many years of doing without—then one
man’s touch and she came undone. The moan that came up her throat was an echo of
every night she’d spent alone.

The moment she began to come Linc rose up and slid inside her,
taking her hard and fast. His erection was throbbing, and the wet heat of her
body was like gasoline to a flame. He needed to make love to make it better, to
put his stamp on the woman the same way he’d marked the girl. So he did, rocking
thrust after thrust—remembering how it had been and at the same time making
memories. He didn’t slow down and he didn’t let go until he felt her coming
again. After that he lost his mind.

He heard her crying, felt her arms around his neck as he
collapsed on top of her, and couldn’t think—couldn’t move. Eighteen years of
rejection had just been cured by making love to the girl he’d left behind.

He felt blessed.

He felt healed.

And too soon or not, he felt love.

It wasn’t his fault it hadn’t died, and there was nothing he
could do to slow down the emotions rushing through him. He cupped her cheek,
wiping away the tears on her face, then ran his hand down her neck, across her
breast and stopped, splaying his fingers on the flat of her belly.

“You are so beautiful, Margaret Ann.”

A fresh set of tears suddenly blurred her vision. It was the
same thing he’d said to her the first time they’d made love. Her voice
cracked.

“Ah, Linc, it makes me sad to think of all the years we
lost.”

“No regrets, Meg. No regrets. We have now, and that’s all that
matters.”

She traced the ridge of scar tissue beneath her fingers. “I
used to tell you right about now how much I loved you.”

Linc took her hand and held it against his heart. “I
remember.”

A soft sigh slid from between her lips. “I don’t know what
you’re thinking, but I have to be honest because it’s how I am. For me...what
just happened here didn’t happen for old time’s sake.”

“Not for me, either. I’ve only loved but one woman in my life,
and that was you. The love didn’t die. I never dreamed that when I came back I’d
find you free. I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance to make this
right...although I won’t make a commitment to anything or anyone until the
people who killed Dad are brought to justice.”

She gasped. “People? As in more than one?”

He nodded. “It’s something Aunt Tildy said about Dad being too
big to be taken down by one person. She said she always believed there had to be
more than one killer, and it makes sense to me, too.”

Meg’s voice was shaking. “Then that just adds to the danger
you’re in.”

“I know, but I will be careful.”

She heard him, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

Linc rolled off and then pulled her toward him, until they were
lying face-to-face with nothing between them but the truth. He slid a hand
beneath her hair, searching her expression for regret that they’d gotten here so
fast.

There was none.

“Meggie...sweetheart...losing you was always the single biggest
regret of my life. There are no words to express what I’m feeling right now
except that I am so damned grateful for a second chance. I don’t take this
lightly, and I will do everything in my power to stay safe. What does concern me
is someone using you to get to me.”

She cupped his cheek. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll do anything
I can to help you.”

“I don’t want you involved in this in any way.”

“But—”

He put a finger on her lips. “No buts. I’m serious.”

She sighed. “I get it, and okay.”

“Thank you. Now...about those cookies...”

She grinned. “They’re cooling on a rack in the kitchen.”

He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll make
coffee.”

“Already made.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” he said, and rolled out of bed,
gathered up the clothes they’d shed and tossed them back up on the mattress.

Meg sorted through the stack for her clothes and headed for the
bathroom, leaving Linc on his own. By the time she got to the kitchen he was
swallowing his first cookie and had another in his hand.

“I poured coffee,” he said, eyeing her long stride with
appreciation as she sauntered into the room. He handed her a cookie and
winked.

“Thank you,” she said, and then sat down at the table and
pulled the hot mug toward her. “Tell me about your dinner with Aunt Tildy. How
did it go? Was anyone mean?”

He picked up his coffee and sat down. “Oh, there was a little
dustup just as we were about to leave. I had my say, and then Aunt Tildy lit
into the middle of all of them, pretty much told them my daddy’s ghost sent me
back for justice, threw out a verse from the Bible about no one there being
clean enough to cast the first stone, then threatened to cut off her healing
treatments to anyone bad-mouthing me. It was a pretty staggering vote of
confidence.”

She laughed. “Oh, my Lord, I would have liked to hear that!
Most everyone on Rebel Ridge is superstitious. Throwing out the ghost business
and then threatening to cut off the healing will definitely shut them up.”

A clap of thunder abruptly ended the conversation as Honey
began to bark.

Meg frowned. “I can’t believe it’s going to rain again. Poor
baby. She doesn’t like storms. I need to go let her in.”

She darted out of the room.

Moments later Linc heard the dog whining and her toenails
clicking on the hardwood floors as she followed Meg back into the kitchen. Meg
gave her a treat and then settled her on a rug by the stove.

Linc was standing at the window, looking up at the sky as she
came up behind him, then ducked under his arm and leaned against him.

“Here it comes,” he said as he slid an arm around her shoulders
and pulled her close. And just like that, the sky opened and the rain came down
in sheets. “Do you have evening chores?”

“I already fed the chickens and shut them up because I knew the
weather was changing. I was milking at night, but the cow finally dried up. I
already fed her, too, but I’m glad not to have to milk her this winter.”

He was quiet for a few more moments, watching the rain coming
down. All of a sudden he turned her loose, shoved his hands in his pockets and
turned to face her.

“You said you wanted to help.”

“Yes!”

“There
is
something you could do,
and no one would know you’re doing it. Do you have a laptop?”

“I do now. Quinn fixed it for me so that it uses the same
signal I use for my cell phone...at least I think that’s how it works. I use it
to contact my customers. What can I do?”

“Something is bothering me about the White brothers being so
‘on the spot’ the night of the fire. Their presence may have nothing to do with
it but, either way, I need to eliminate them as suspects. There’s one weird
thing I’ve learned that may or may not have anything to do with the murder. They
owed forty thousand dollars on their home place and it was in foreclosure. Two
weeks before Dad was killed it was abruptly paid off, with enough left over for
renovations. I’m almost positive the money was obtained illegally.”

“I’d believe that,” Meg said. “But how do we go about finding
out?”

“It’ll take some time and research on your part, and if you
don’t have time now because of your quilt show, then wait until it’s over.”

“I’ll make time. Tell me what to do.”

“Find out how many unsolved thefts occurred in Kentucky in the
month Dad was killed. Thefts involving large sums of money.”

“You’ve really been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

He nodded. “I don’t know how Dad might have played into this,
but if it happened and he found out...he would have turned them in. I know it.
That could be grounds for murder and the motive that has been missing all these
years.”

She was excited to be able to help him. “I’ll make a list of
anything I think might fit the criteria, and you can go from there.”

Another clap of thunder rattled the windows. The pup jumped up
from the rug in front of the fire and loped out of the room. Meg shivered. “It’s
getting colder. I need to turn up the heat.”

Linc slid a hand beneath her hair and pulled her close.

“Or we could go back to bed.”

“Or we could go back to bed,” she echoed.

“You have the best ideas,” he whispered, and lowered his
head.

Fourteen

A
fter Fagan ordered him out of the house at
gunpoint, Prince had bawled for about a mile and then started working on his
next step. The plan he came up with was a good one. The quickest way to get
people off his back was to die. It would mean giving up his only means of
transportation, but that would be fine if it worked.

The next step was how to off himself and make it believable
that there would be no body to be found. The solution came to him just before
daylight as he was crossing a long bridge over the Kentucky River. He began
looking for another access and found a smaller bridge over another arm of the
river, and that night he went back, wedged a beer can against the gas pedal to
rev the engine, put the truck in gear and aimed it at the gap between the bridge
railing and the highway. The truck hit the bridge as it rolled toward the river,
raking paint off on the driver’s side door before going airborne.

Prince watched as it hit the water nose first and then began to
sink. He’d left the windows down, his wallet in the console and a suitcase full
of clothes on the floor, hoping that when the truck was found the authorities
would think he’d drowned and been washed downstream.

“Rest in peace,” he said, and then laughed at his own joke as
he started walking the highway in the opposite direction of Mount Sterling. It
was miserably cold, and he was wishing he’d had the sense to keep his hat and
gloves.

Just before daybreak he stole a car from a trailer park and
finally headed back to the only person he knew who might still take him in: his
sister, Lucy. Once he got to Mount Sterling he found another motel and hid out
in the lot. Then, when no one was looking, he traded license plates with a
traveler who’d stopped at the motel for the night. He watched as the man left
the next morning, unaware of the switch.

Prince knew it could be days, if not weeks, before the man ever
discovered the theft, which gave him plenty of time to work his next con. He
drove by Lucy’s house the next morning, then lost his nerve and spent the next
two days holed up in a motel by day and driving by her house at night, trying to
work up the courage to go to the door.

What surprised him during his surveillance was Wes’s absence.
He finally found Wes’s car parked at the motel across the street from the
dealership. Whatever was going on with Lucy wasn’t good, and Prince was happy to
get the gist of how desperate she just might be.

The next night, as he was watching the late news, eating
take-out burritos and downing beer, he realized the story they were doing was
about him.

The law had finally found his pickup.

There was his brother Fagan standing on the riverbank beside
the sheriff and the truck that had been winched out of the river, and damned if
the bastard wasn’t crying. Prince sloshed beer down the front of his shirt as he
reached for the remote to turn up the volume.

“I’ll be a son of a gun,” he said, and then chortled with
glee.

The camera panned to a close-up of the sheriff as someone
shoved a microphone in front of him.

“So, Sheriff Marlow, have you found the body yet?”

“No. It’s been raining a lot lately, and the current is strong.
Of course we have searchers already at work, but there’s no way to know how long
the vehicle has been in the water.”

“Has the family made a statement of any—” the newsman
asked.

Marlow nodded curtly. “That’s all. If you’ll excuse me...”

The camera swung toward Fagan again.

Prince grinned. The little bastard was bawling big-time.

Good. It’s what he gets for running me off
like that.

And if they thought he was dead, the warrant for his arrest
would slide right off Marlow’s list of things to be done.

Prince swung his feet from the bed and began getting dressed.
If Lucy thought he was dead and he showed up suddenly resurrected, she might be
more likely to forgive and forget. A few minutes later he was in his car, taking
alleys and back roads to get to her house.

* * *

The liquor cabinet was empty. The two bottles of
champagne that she and Wes had been saving in the fridge for New Year’s Eve had
long since been popped and emptied, as well. Lucy was more sober now than she’d
been in days, and it was only because everything alcoholic was gone and she was
too hungover to drive. She had called a liquor store that they frequented to see
if they would deliver, only to have her credit cards—all of them—rejected when
she’d tried to pay.

At first she’d been shocked, then confused. It didn’t occur to
her that Wes had anything to do with it until she called the bank and found out
the bank accounts had been emptied, as well. For all intents and purposes she
was broke and about as close to being homeless as she’d ever been. She was
scared, and she was desperate.

When she got a phone call from Fagan telling her that they
thought Prince was dead and the law was pulling his truck out of the river, she
didn’t have any emotion left to spare on anyone else.

“Fagan...will you help me? I’m desperate!”

“Help you how? Our brother is dead, and all you can think about
is yourself?”

“Wes cut off my money. The next thing coming will probably be
divorce papers, and I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose everything I’ve worked
so hard to get.”

It was the silence on the other end of the phone that made her
panic, thinking he’d hung up on her again.

“Fagan? Fagan! Are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. What do you expect me to do about your marital
problems? Whatever is going on between you two is not my business.”

She hesitated, then blurted it out. “I need to stop Wes before
he can get to a lawyer. For all I know, he may already have done it. But until
I’m served with papers, technically I would know nothing about it.”

“So?”

“So...make me a widow. If something happened to him before he
had time to file, then everything would be mine.”

This time there was no mistaking what she’d asked, and there
was no mistaking the click in her ear when he hung up.

This latest setback was yet another nail in her coffin.

She sat, staring blankly at a painting over the mantel, going
back over the past few days and trying to figure out what she could have done
differently that would have kept her out of this mess.

She still had one hand to play. If she could just find a way to
appeal to Wes’s sympathies, she could handle the rest. She took a deep breath
and dialed Wes’s number, praying he would answer.

* * *

Wes was staring at an odd mark above the television,
wondering how the outline of a man’s shoeprint had wound up that high on the
wall, while his life flashed before his eyes. He was reliving every mistake he’d
ever made, beginning with the day he’d stolen a candy bar out of Barney’s
Groceries down in Boone’s Gap when he was ten.

You reap what you sow, Wesley. You reap
what you sow.

He groaned. For the past few days he’d been unable to get that
out of his head. Mother had always been right. It was just a damn shame it had
taken him the better part of his life to admit it. When he realized the people
in the news clip on the television were people he knew, he upped the volume. He
was stunned that he knew them, and even more so when he recognized one of his
brothers-in-law.

“What the hell?”

A few moments later he figured out they were looking for
Prince’s body. The way he felt about the family, he couldn’t see how Prince’s
death could be a bad thing. He heard the sheriff say the family had been
notified, which meant Lucy knew, too.

Lord. He couldn’t wrap his head around ever talking to her
again, and yet he knew it would happen. No sooner had the thought gone through
his head than his cell phone rang.

He saw caller ID and sighed.
Think of the
devil and he—or she—turns up unannounced.

Lucy.

The thought of hearing her voice begging him to come home was
going to kill him, and he knew she was going to beg, because he’d taken away the
single one thing she valued most. Money.

He let the phone ring a couple more times just to make her
wait, then answered gruffly, needing the antagonism to help him keep his
edge.

“What?”

Lucy heard the anger in his voice and wanted to scream at him,
but this was not the time to be confrontational. She needed to play on his
sympathy and started to weep, but quietly, not shrieking in anger.

“Oh, Wesley, something terrible has happened. Prince is dead,”
she said, and then started to sob more loudly.

“I already heard.”

“What am I going to do? I’m so sad I can’t bear it. I want you
to come home. Please, Wes, come home to me. I need you. I can’t lose
you,
too.”

“No.”

She choked on a sob. “What do you mean, no?”

“No, I’m not coming home.”

She took a deep breath and turned off the tears. “Ever?”

“Ever. I don’t know who you are anymore. I’m not even sure I
ever knew you.”

“Why did you cancel my credit cards and take the money out of
our account? I didn’t think you could be this cruel. Wesley, please...what do
you expect me to do?”

“You’ve been using me for years, Lucy. I don’t intend to be
used like that again. I have reparation to make, and I don’t know what’s going
to happen to me after it’s done. For all I know we’ll both wind up in prison for
what we did to Lincoln Fox.”

Horror swept through her so fast she forgot she meant to stay
calm.

“No! You fool! You crazy fool! You don’t mean it! Wes,
please...don’t. If you ever loved me, don’t do this.”

“We committed an unforgivable sin, Lucy. We lied about an
innocent boy, and the lie sent him to prison for a crime he did not commit.”

“That’s not true.”

“Even now you’re lying, Lucy. When will it stop?”

“Are you going to divorce me?”

“What do you think?”

She was so mad she was shaking. “What do I
think?
I think you’re weak. I think you’re a quitter.
That’s
what I think!” Lucy screamed. “I don’t deserve
to be abandoned like this.”

“Why? It’s what we did to Lincoln.”

Lincoln. He kept harping on Lincoln. Too bad
he
hadn’t died in the fire, too. “I’ll get the best
lawyer in the state. I’ll take you to court for all the alimony I can get,” she
screeched.

Wes sighed. “You still don’t get it, Lucy. The law is not going
to ignore what we’ve done. We committed perjury, and they’ll reopen the murder
case. When they do, it will be interesting to see who crawls out from under the
rocks on Rebel Ridge.”

She was still screaming when he disconnected. He laid the phone
on the bedside table, and then turned off the television and closed his eyes.
He’d already contacted his lawyer and made a full statement about his part in
the lie and how it had come about. They’d sent the notarized confession to the
sheriff’s office in Boone’s Gap and another notarized copy to the district
attorney. Lucy’s anger was the least of his worries. It was only a matter of
time before the proverbial shit hit the fan.

* * *

Prince pulled up in the alley behind Lucy’s house and
parked. The air was so cold it stung his face as he got out. He turned his coat
collar up around his neck, thankful for the gloves he’d found in the stolen car,
and slipped through the gate leading into her backyard, confident that the
eight-foot privacy fence would conceal his presence from the neighbors.

Lights were on in the kitchen. When he looked through the
window he expected to see her, but the room was empty. What he did see, however,
was shocking. Dirty dishes were piled all over the counters and in the sink,
while dozens of empty liquor bottles were scattered about. Lucy always
had
been a hard drinker. He didn’t know what was going
on with her and Wes, but whatever it was, she was drowning her sorrows.

He knocked on the back door, then waited, hoping she wasn’t
passed out somewhere. A couple of minutes passed and he knocked again, louder
and longer. Finally he heard footsteps, saw a curtain shift slightly at the
window, and then the door opened and Lucy was standing in the doorway in her
pajamas.

“Hey, Lucy...”

“Oh, my God,” she moaned. Her eyes widened, then rolled back in
her head, and she fainted at his feet.

Prince sighed. At least she hadn’t shut the door in his face.
He slipped inside, dragged her out of the way and shut the door.

“Lucy! Hey, Lucy!”

She didn’t move. He put his boot on her shoulder and gave her a
shake.

She moaned, then slowly opened her eyes. When she saw her
brother standing over her, she screamed and covered her face.

“Lucy, what the hell’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“They said you were dead. I thought you were a ghost come to
take me to hell.”

He frowned. “Well, that’s stupid. I never heard of a ghost
being able to take a living person anywhere. What the fuck have you been
drinking? Oh, wait. From the looks of this place, I should have asked, what
haven’t
you been drinking?”

She moaned again and held up her hand. “Help me up.”

Prince pulled her to her feet, then got her to one of the
chairs at the kitchen table.

“I’m here because Fagan said you wanted to talk to me. What’s
going on? This place is a mess, I saw Wes’s car at a motel, and you’ve got the
mother of all hangovers.”

“Lincoln Fox convinced Wes that he was innocent. Wes confronted
me. It got ugly after that. He’s taken away all my money, canceled my credit
cards. I’m about to be homeless because he’s filing for divorce.”

Prince frowned. This wasn’t what he’d bargained for. He’d come
to her for help, not to fix her damn mess.

“Why did you call me? I can’t fix your marriage.”