Part 16 (2/2)

He reached for the switch on the wall, sending electricity to the single bulb that hung down from the roof rafters. He'd have more light if he opened the larger, main roll-up door, but of course he would never do that.

Not ever.

The bulk that took up s.p.a.ce in the middle of the building, covered by an old tarp, rested exactly in the same place as it had been since the day he put it there, what-fourteen years ago? More? Less? He forgot and really, it didn't matter.

He'd scattered talc around the ma.s.s, so he'd be able to tell if anyone had been close to it. No prints of any kind marred the white powdered surface.

Do ghosts leave tracks?

He stepped forward to get a better look, and his foot kicked something that skittered ahead of him on the concrete floor.

Bruce Smith looked down at the crack that dissected the cement, and the piece of loose concrete that he'd sent flying with his foot.

He felt his heart thud heavily in his chest. As he walked and looked, he noticed that several other cracks had opened up, the pattern reminding him of a shattered winds.h.i.+eld.

This is worse than a shattered winds.h.i.+eld. This could be a shattered life.

He inhaled deeply, and fought for calm. There were no such things as ghosts. He'd simply done a poor job of laying this concrete pad all those years ago. He hadn't let it cure properly, because he'd been in a hurry to have it covered over with a structure, and out of sight.

He'd taken a short cut here and that-and only that-was what was going to haunt him.

He turned from his inspection and headed for the door. Anger fueled his motions as he flicked down the light switch and slammed the door behind him.

It didn't take long for him to put the locks back in place. Then he stepped back, slipped the key ring back in his pocket, and considered his options.

No one could see into this building, and no one would be opening it and looking around inside of it. It was just not going to happen. He had to quell the fear that had begun to blossom deep into his chest and pulse with each heavy heartbeat into his blood. No one was following him, no one was watching him, and there were no such things as ghosts.

People got away with stuff all the time-it was simply propaganda from law enforcement agencies that maintained every criminal would be caught. The truth was that very few criminals were ever caught. So he didn't have to worry about any f.u.c.king thing except one, and that was his own nerves. His only enemy at this point was his own stupid, asinine fear.

If he let it, that fear could eat him alive-or make him do something that would ultimately prove to be his downfall.

Bruce Smith inhaled deeply, then ran his hand over his face. He decided to ignore the fact that his hand was shaking. Instead, he cast his thoughts in search of a solution.

He didn't feel safe and he needed to feel safe.

Of course! He was a little embarra.s.sed that he hadn't thought about it before. He headed back into his house. He walked through the kitchen to his bedroom. He reached into his sock drawer and pulled out the bank envelope he kept there. He counted out the money he thought he would need.

His movements were automatic as he stuffed the money into his pocket, s.n.a.t.c.hed up his keys and headed out again.

Because he had lived in this area for so long, he knew where a man could get most anything he wanted-whether he should have it, or not.

Ol' Bill was a man he'd met and talked to now and again, over on the other side of Morehead. He had a collection of guns and rifles that would make a military man proud.

And he knew that Ol' Bill would sell him a nice little Glock for a couple hundred dollars, and then forget he'd done so.

Smith started the car and headed out. Having a handgun with him at all times would be just the thing to make him feel safe and secure.

Emily Anne's step faltered as she neared the front door of l.u.s.ty Appet.i.tes. She couldn't believe what she was seeing-who she was seeing, right there before her two disbelieving eyes!

The last time Emily Anne had seen Billy J, she'd been certain that her heart-and her self-esteem-had been shattered beyond repair. She'd even sung along at the top of her lungs as Miranda Lambert's ”Mamma's Broken Heart” played on her car radio while she'd made her way to San Antonio for her retail therapy.

Her own mother bore an amazing resemblance to the mother in Miranda's song, more concerned with appearances than feelings. True, it hadn't taken her very long, once she'd arrived in l.u.s.ty, to understand she was better off without Billy J. Cooper. He'd treated her shabbily and as she'd opened her eyes and seen what real love looked like, and how real relations.h.i.+ps worked, she'd healed not only her broken heart, but far more significantly, she'd begun to heal her broken self-esteem. But before she came to l.u.s.ty she'd believed that day-the day Billy J dumped her-had been the worst day of her life.

How could I have ever been so stupid?

Today she'd used her lunch break to go down to Chloe's to have her bikini line waxed. She was working up her nerve to get a full Brazilian-she planned to ask Connor and Mel if it was something they'd like her to have done. If their eyes lit up at the prospect then by d.a.m.n she'd do it, and suffer the discomfort gladly.

Emily Anne dragged her attention back to the here and now. About the only good thing she could think of to say about what she was looking at was that it sure as heck took her mind off the lingering burn from Chloe's wax.

Inside l.u.s.ty Appet.i.tes, right there at a table beside the front window, bold as bra.s.s, sat Billy J. The foolish man had his attention fixed in a way she knew meant he was looking at one of the women inside there.

Too bad I know Chloe's not in there. It sure would be interesting to see Billy J's reaction if Grant and Andrew Jessop caught him ogling their fiance.

Then another thought took over center stage of her brain. How the h.e.l.l had that little p.i.s.sant even found her?

Oh, Momma, what have you done? Emily Anne's heart hurt from the thought of parental betrayal. She shook her head. That was something she would have to deal with, later.

For one fleeting moment she thought to spin on her heel and go back toward Chloe's. She'd call and speak to Kelsey, and explain that she'd be back to work as soon as that low-down, no-good son of a...No.

No, this was her town, and that was her place of employment. She belonged here, and Billy J. Cooper most definitely did not.

Emily Anne inhaled deeply and walked right through the door and into the restaurant.

Billy J didn't see her at first, and wasn't that just typical? He had his gaze fixed on Mich.e.l.le Grant or, more specifically, Mich.e.l.le's b.u.t.t. Her friend and co-worker had her back to him as she was serving lunch to Miz Bernice and Miz Abigail who were chatting with Mich.e.l.le. Not one of those good women had a clue about the lech seated so near to them.

I ought to go right over there and slap his face.

Then she blinked and looked around. Those ladies may not have any idea of what was happening in their midst, but some of the men sitting around, finis.h.i.+ng their lunch, sure as h.e.l.l did. Emily Anne held on to the urge to laugh. She could see Colt Evans and Ryder Magee, at a table beside Carrie's two husbands, Chase and Brian Benedict, who were sitting with their brother Greg and Cody Harper and all six men looked p.i.s.sed.

Emily Anne didn't call out to him, or call him any of the nasty names that came to her mind. She simply took the steps needed to stand so that she blocked his view of Mich.e.l.le's b.u.t.t.

Billy J could never be called swift. He scowled, then looked up. For a heartbeat she thought he didn't even recognize her. Then his expression cleared, and he pasted on the smarmiest smile she'd ever seen on anyone anywhere anytime.

”Emily Anne! Sweetheart! There you are.” He jumped to his feet and made as if to grab her into a hug.

She stepped back, held up her hand. ”Don't you 'sweetheart' me, Billy J. Cooper. What in the h.e.l.l are you doing here?”

If Emily Anne hadn't been forewarned, if her mind hadn't been worrying the problem of why her mother had wanted her to give this no account another chance, she might have been fooled by the downcast turn of his face, as if he was fixing to fess up to some horrible sin.

But she was paying close attention and she caught the glitter in his eyes and knew what was about to come out of his mouth for the bulls.h.i.+t is surely was.

”You know that sayin' you don't never know what you've got till it's gone. That's me, right there, Emily Anne. You left and I realized that I had made a terrible mistake. I...I owe you an apology for the way I treated ya. I'm sorry, and I'm hoping you'll forgive me and take me back.”

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