Authors: Beverly Barton

Tags: #Suspense, #Contemporary romance, #Fiction

What She Doesn't Know (20 page)

BOOK: What She Doesn't Know

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“I’d appreciate that.” He didn’t smile, but humor twinkled in his eyes.

“My father could have been responsible for the cover-up twenty years ago but not now. So who does that leave? Roscoe Wells is the only name left on my short list.”

Max eased closer to Jolie. “Why would Roscoe want to cover up what really happened here at Belle Rose?”

“He wouldn’t, unless he was somehow involved,” Jolie said. “But why would he want to kill my mother and Aunt Lisette and Lemar? What possible motive could he have had?”

“Good question. Roscoe is a wily old fox, with a mean streak a mile wide, but personally murdering three people in broad daylight isn’t his style.”

“Then what could it be? There isn’t anyone else with the power and money to have manipulated a CIB agent and the local sheriff.”

“And possibly the county coroner.”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Who was the coroner back then? Wasn’t it Dr. Madry?”

“Dr. Horace Madry,” Max told her. “I double-checked this morning to make sure he was the county coroner back in Eighty-two. He was. But Horace is dead. Died two years ago, at the ripe old age of eighty.”

“What if we went to see Roscoe and—”

“Bad idea.” Max shook his head, then took another step closer to Jolie. “He’s not going to admit anything. He’ll deny any guilt, any connection, hollering his denial at the top of his lungs. And we could tip our hand, if we accuse him outright. What we need is evidence. Something in black-and-white.”

“The files that are missing. There has to be something in those files that would point to him.”

“I wouldn’t put anything past Roscoe, but for the life of me, I can’t think of any reason he’d murder two of the Desmond sisters. Or have them murdered. He’s always considered the Desmond family to be Mississippi royalty, on an equal footing with his own family.”

“How did Roscoe react when Felicia told him she was going to marry you?”

“Don’t you mean why did he allow her to marry a bastard without a family pedigree?” Max snorted. “She didn’t tell him until after we were married. We eloped.”

“That’s right. I seem to remember Aunt Clarice mentioning that she and your mother were terribly disappointed because you and Felicia didn’t have a huge formal wedding.”

“We needed to get married in a hurry,” Max said.

“Oh?”

“Felicia told me she was pregnant.”

“Pregnant?”

“She wasn’t. She lied. Of course, I didn’t find out the truth until a few months later.”

“Oh, Max, why would she lie to you about something so important?”

“Because she’d used sex to blind me to her true nature, and she knew that sooner or later, I’d find out what a conniving bitch she really was, what a self-centered little whore. So she decided to trap me before I saw her for who and what she really was.”

Jolie heard the anger in his voice, but she also caught the hint of pain. Without thinking about the consequences, she reached over and laid her hand on his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Max. Did you love her terribly?”

Max cradled his big hand over her small one and pressed her caress deeper. “Yes, I loved her. But it didn’t take her long to destroy any tender feelings I had for her. By our first anniversary, I loathed her.”

“Do you still?”

He shook his head. “When I think of her, I don’t feel much of anything. Bitterness, maybe. That’s all.”

They looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Mirrors to the soul, someone had once said. What she saw in Max’s eyes had nothing to do with the past, nothing associated with a lost love.

He pulled her hand away from his cheek and brought it to his mouth, then planted a kiss in the center of her palm. Self-preservation instincts warned her to flee, but the primeval mating call ruled supreme. When he took her in his arms, she went willingly. His mouth covered hers. She threw her arms around his neck as he cupped her buttocks and brought her closer, pressing her against his erection.

Neither of them heard the door open. Lost in the heat of passion, consumed by a need that rode them hard, they didn’t even hear the loud startled gasp.

“What the hell is going on?” Mallory demanded. “Max, have you lost your mind?”

Jolie and Max broke apart, their breaths ragged, their faces flushed. When she glanced toward the doorway, Jolie saw the horrified look on her half sister’s face.

“You should knock before you enter a room,” Max said. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Screw being polite!” Mallory’s gaze bored into Jolie. “Want to explain why you were eating
her
face off? You can’t be that hard up for a woman.”

“Mallory, I think you’ve said enough,” Max told her.

“I haven’t even started.”

Mallory smiled, but only malevolence shined in her blue eyes. Eyes identical to Louis Royale’s.
Eyes identical to my own
, Jolie thought.

“You’ve started and finished,” Max said. “Whatever you think you saw going on between Jolie and me is none of your business.”

“Like hell it isn’t. She’s the enemy, remember? And only a fool sleeps with the enemy. I never thought you were a fool, big brother.”

“Mallory, I’m warning you.” Max glared at her.

Disregarding Max’s threat, Mallory zeroed in on Jolie. “You don’t mean anything to him, you realize that, don’t you? He has other women. One in particular. Somebody he sneaks off to screw around with whenever he feels the urge. A woman who probably knows a lot more about pleasing a man like Max than you ever could. Want to know who she is…this woman Max likes to fuck?”

“Mallory—” Max clenched his teeth.

“Eartha Kilpatrick. Remember her? The big-boobed redhead who owns the Sumarville Inn? He’s been messing around with her for a couple of years now.”

Max lunged forward, grabbed Mallory’s arm and marched her out of the study and into the hall. Jolie stood frozen to the spot, feeling strangely numb. What difference did it make to her that Max had been having an ongoing affair with Eartha Kilpatrick? She had no claim on Max.
Oh, God, then why does it hurt so much to think of him making love to another woman?
Her mind reeled with thoughts of Max lying naked in bed with the voluptuous redhead.

She heard Max’s voice, low and edged with steel, as he spoke to his sister in the hall. And she heard Mallory’s bitter tirade. But their words bled together into a confused garble.

Suddenly Max returned to the study, slammed the door behind him and came straight to her. She met his gaze head-on.

“Eartha Kilpatrick and I are friends,” he said. “I suppose if it were fifty years ago, people would say she’s been my mistress for the past few years.”

Jolie nodded.
I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care
.

“Our relationship is…Eartha and I know we don’t have a future together. I don’t love her and have no intention of ever marrying her.”

Jolie nodded again.
Damn you, Max. Damn you for making me care
.

“Say something, dammit.”

“What do you want me to say?”

He forked his fingers through his hair, huffed loudly, and turned away from her. She held her breath.

“Hell, tell me to stay away from you. Tell me not to ever touch you again. Tell me you hate my damn guts.”

“I hate your damn guts!”

Jolie ran out of the study, leaving Max cursing none too quietly.

Chapter 19

R. J. Sutton woke to a relentless pounding on his door. Who the hell? He glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Eleven-fifteen. Late in the day for most people to still be sleeping, but not for a guy who worked the evening hours he did. Some nights after his shift as the restaurant’s bartender, if the regular front desk clerk at the inn didn’t show up, he took over and worked until seven, which he’d done this morning.

“R. J., please let me in,” Mallory Royale cried as she kept beating on the door.

“Mallory?”

R. J. jumped out of bed, then remembered he was naked. What the hell was she doing here? He grabbed his jeans off the floor where he’d tossed them around seven-thirty this morning, yanked them on, and walked across the carpeted floor in his bare feet.

The second he opened the door, Mallory threw herself at him, then lifted her arms up and around his neck. Her hot wet tears dampened his naked chest. When he awoke he’d already had a woody, as he did most mornings, so just the instant touch of her body against his stiffened his John Thomas into action.

“What’s the matter, honey?” He wrapped his arms around her, then kicked the door closed. “What’s got you so upset?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she told him. “I just want you.”

“You’ve got me, sugar. I’m all yours.” He kissed the top of her head. “Stop crying. Whatever’s wrong, we’ll work it out.”

She lifted her head off his chest and gazed up at him. “Make love to me, R. J. Make love to me, right now.”

“You came here to ask me to make love to you?”

“Yes.” She swiped at the tears spilling from the corners of her eyes, then wiped her face with her fingertips.

“Are you sure?”
Hell, Sutton, what’s wrong with you? When did you ever look a gift horse in the mouth? The woman says she wants you to screw her, and you know damn well you’re ready, willing, and able to accommodate her
.

Mallory nodded. “I’m very sure.”

He hadn’t been with a virgin since he’d been a virgin himself and made out with Valerie Hovater in her bedroom one night when she’d been baby-sitting her two younger brothers. Of course over the years, he’d had his share of young, fairly inexperienced girls, but no one like Mallory. Despite his determination never to get emotionally involved with any of his conquests, he knew he already felt something for Mallory that he’d never felt for anyone else. Not love, but something more than just wanting to get into her pants.

“Come on in.” He took her hand and led her deeper into the room, straight toward his bed.

“I’m not on the pill or anything,” she told him, her voice indicating a hint of nervousness.

“It’s okay. I’ve got protection. I’ll take care of you.”

A fragile smile trembled on her lips. “I—I think I’m in love with you.”

Damn! “Do you?” He looked her over from head to toe. A walking, talking, living doll.
Don’t let your conscience get in the way
, he told himself.
If it wasn’t you, it would be some other guy. You just happen to be the lucky one
.

“Mm-hmm.” She gazed at him with those big blue eyes of hers, suddenly filled with uncertainty.

R. J. ran the back of his hand over her cheek, down her neck, and across the pink crop-top she wore. She sucked in her breath when his fingers spread out across her naked skin directly below her breasts.

“I love everything about you,” he said. “Your beautiful blue eyes.” He stared directly into her eyes. “And your long black hair.” He skimmed her hair with his fingers. “And your sweet body. And the way you make me feel when we’re together.” He knew all the right things to tell a woman, all the compliments that softened her up for the kill.

When he grasped the hem of her shirt and pulled it up over her breasts, she lifted her arms so that he could easily remove the garment. Before she had a chance to change her mind, he caressed her buttocks, then unzipped her shorts. She sucked in a deep breath, but didn’t try to stop him. A second later, she stood before him in a pair of pink bikini panties and a matching pink satin bra.

He let out a wolf whistle. “Damn, baby, you’re gorgeous.” And she was. No pretense on his part.

She surveyed him hurriedly. “You’re gorgeous yourself. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

“That makes two of us.” He kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, while he slid his hands inside her panties and kneaded her round firm butt.

By the time they came up for air, he was hard as a rock and hurting in the worst way. Keeping her attention focused on his kissing, he nibbled on her ear, then kissed her neck before adeptly undoing the catch on her bra and sliding the soft satin down her arms and off. He jerked her up against him, letting her naked breasts crush into his chest. For a couple of seconds, he thought he might lose it right then and there. He hadn’t touched another gal since he’d been seeing Mallory and he was needing some pussy real bad.

She shuddered and whimpered. He eased her toward the bed until the back of her legs encountered the mattress, then he toppled her over and onto the bed. Lying there almost completely naked, she looked up at him and smiled. Damn little vixen. She knew how much he wanted her. Forgoing any pretense at gentleness, he grabbed hold of her panties, ripped them down her legs and tossed them on the floor, then quickly removed his jeans.

“Wow!” Mallory stared at his erection.

“Like what you see, honey?”

“Yes.”

She almost choked on the word and R. J. wished she were choking on his dick.
All in good time
, he thought.
Basics first
.

“It’s all yours,” he told her. “Do you want it now?”

“I—I…yes.”

R. J. opened the nightstand drawer, took a condom out of the box he kept there, and sheathed himself. He went down over her, bracing himself so all his weight didn’t land directly on top of her. He nudged her with his sex, letting the tip dip between her closed thighs.

“Open up and let me come in.” He lowered his head and took one tight nipple between his teeth.

When he shook his head, tweaking the nipple, she gasped and spread her legs. His mouth opened over her nipple and began sucking, while his penis sought entrance into her body. He probed. God Almighty, she was tight!

When he shoved halfway into her, she tensed and cried out. Hell, she was already wet and he had the job fifty percent completed. He wasn’t about to stop now. No way. He didn’t think he could, even if he wanted to—and he didn’t.

“Take it easy, honey. It’s going to hurt a little this first time.”

“R. J. don’t—”

He lifted her hips and rammed into her, popping her cherry as he took her completely. She meowed like a scalded cat and clawed at his back with her sharp little nails.

“It hurts,” she told him.

He withdrew a couple of inches, then rammed back into her. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers biting down hard.

“Dammit, I told you that it hurts.”

He lay on top of her, his sex buried in her body. “You wanted this and I’m giving it to you. Try to relax. Next time, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“Next time?”

Why didn’t she just shut up? A couple of more lunges and he’d come. If she could just wait, he’d be able to go again and he’d make sure she got her cookies off. Ignoring her whimpers, her scratching nails, and the tension in her body, R. J. pumped into her repeatedly. Within a couple of minutes his release jetted into the condom. Because he was embedded to the hilt inside Mallory, his climax nearly took off the top of his head. The only way it could have been any better was if he’d taken her raw, without the rubber.

Maybe next time. After all, she’d been a virgin, so there was no chance she could give him the clap, or anything more deadly for that matter. But she wasn’t on the pill, so he could get her pregnant. But hell, what were the odds he’d knock her up if he didn’t use a rubber just once?

“Where’s Jolie?”

Yvonne’s eyelids popped open the moment she heard Theron speak. She’d closed her eyes to pray just a moment ago.

“Theron?” She lifted his hand and looked into the eyes focused on her face.

“Mama.” His voice was raspy and hoarse.

“Oh, thank you, dear Jesus.” Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled from the corners.

“Where is Jolie?”

“Jolie? She’s at Belle Rose,” Yvonne replied. “Do you want me to call her?”

Theron nodded. “Call her. And call Ike.”

“Ike Denton?”

The day-shift bodyguard Max had hired peered inside the ICU cubicle. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Carter?”

“Fine, thank you. Actually more than fine. My son is able to speak.” She smiled at the big, broad-shouldered man in the nice navy blue suit who wore a large gun on his hip. His presence bothered her greatly, but she was thankful he was here protecting Theron.

“Who’s he?” Theron asked.

She debated whether to tell him the truth, then said, “He’s a private bodyguard. Max hired him.”

“To guard me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Yvonne smoothed her hand over Theron’s cheek, “Don’t upset yourself. You need to rest and heal.”

“What’s happened? Why did Max think I needed a bodyguard?”

“Nothing’s happened,” she fibbed. “It’s just that Max is concerned someone might try to harm you again.”

“Call Jolie. I want to see her.”

“I’ll call her.”

“Do it now.”

Georgette and Parry sat side-by-side in matching wicker rockers in the sunroom. She sipped on fresh-squeezed orange juice and he guzzled a Mimosa, liberally laced with expensive champagne. Over the years, she and her brother had become accustomed to the best money could buy. Fortunately, Louis had never quibbled about money. Her beloved husband had been a very generous man. Not only with her, but with Parry and even more so with Max and Mallory.

“You’re mighty quiet today, Georgie.”

“Just thinking.”

“About what? Max getting himself shot saving Jolie last night?”

“Hm—mm. There’s something between them,” Georgette said.

“Max is a man. She’s a beautiful woman. He probably wants to screw her. To be honest, I’d like to screw her myself.”

“Parry! Must you always be so crude?”

“I’m not always crude,” he told her. “But I thought I could be myself around you, just as you can be with me. We don’t have to put on false faces and pretend to be something we’re not when it’s just the two of us.”

“I could be myself with Louis. He didn’t mind that I wasn’t born a lady. As a matter of fact, I think he rather liked it when I let down all my defenses and acted like a tramp.”

“You miss him something awful, don’t you?”

No one could begin to imagine the pain she endured just getting through each day without him. If God were truly merciful, he would have taken her the very moment he took Louis. Her soul longed to be with his.

“It’s as if I died the night Louis died,” she said. “And somehow I’m trapped in this body that’s still alive.”

“Lord, Georgie, I wish you wouldn’t talk that way. You give me the creeps.”

“You’ve never loved anyone the way I loved Louis, never had someone love you as passionately in return.”

“I loved Lisette.” He downed the remainder of his Mimosa, then set the flute on the table to his right.

“Did you really? I always wondered. I thought perhaps you only loved the fact that she was Desmond County royalty and by marrying her you believed you’d gain respectability.”

“That might have been part of it. But I did love her. And I’d have made her a fairly decent husband, if I’d had the chance.”

Georgette reached out over the chair arms and grabbed Parry’s hand. “I know, darling, I know.” She squeezed his hand. “Promise me something.”

BOOK: What She Doesn't Know

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