A Grave Mistake. Stella Cameron
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“You’ve always had Joe. Now you’ve got a sister-in-law, too, and Ellie’s one of the best. You’ve always had a lot of people in this town. You’ve got…” Whoa.
“Yes? What else have I got?”
“I’m not the same as family, but I hope you think of me as a good friend,” he told her rapidly, feeling the hole he’d dug open up beneath his feet. He smiled at her and reached for her hand. “Jilly, you’re the best friend I’ve got and you know it. That’s why I worry about you so much.”
She smiled back. “Thank you. Forget what I said about that man. You’re probably right and he wasn’t looking at my house at all.”
He’d let it go at that, even though the thought of Daddy and his expensive gift made him crazy.
Jilly got up from her bench and came around the table. She slipped her arms around his neck, pressed his face to the soft, bare rise above her bodice, and hugged him. She rested her cheek on top of his head and rocked a little.
What was he supposed to do? Be real careful, he guessed. His hands fitted around her waist and came close to touching at the back. “You are a sweet thing, Miz Gable. You’ve had too much hardship and it’s time for the good stuff to come along for you.” If he had his way, it would, even if it probably shouldn’t be with him.
Her face dropped to his neck.
This could so easily go further than he had promised himself it ever would.
Lifting her with him, he got up and swung her around before setting her feet firmly on the ground. She smiled up at him and he smiled back, tapped the end of her nose with a forefinger, tried not to stare at her mouth.
Over her head he saw a black Corvette slide past the gas station and come to a stop. The driver maneuvered until the nose of the car pointed uphill.
Ready to get away fast, Guy thought.
Jilly felt his attention move away and looked behind her. A man got out of a flashy black car. A man with a linen fedora tipped over his eyes, and a shirt so white it made him look even darker than he was, especially where the sleeves were rolled back over his bunched forearms. His pants were dark, his tie loosened, and he carried a suit jacket tossed over his shoulder.
Guy waved, shouted, “Some wheels you’ve got there.”
“Hard work and clean livin’ pay off,” the other man said, walking toward them. “Less vices a man got, the better he lives, and I got no-o vices, Guy.” The grin was as white as the shirt and he was one spectacular looker. The dimpled grooves beside his mouth only got slightly less defined when he turned serious and looked at Jilly.
“We get good cell reception down here, huh?” Guy said in the most obvious attempt at distracting someone that Jilly had ever heard.
“Yeah,” the man said, nodding.
Jilly wished she could sit down again. Guns were a part of life in these parts, but this man wore a shoulder harness with the kind of ease that yelled “cop,” and she didn’t have to work hard to figure out this was someone Guy had worked with.
She didn’t like to be reminded of his other life.
The man’s eyes went from Guy to Jilly and back again. “Son of a gun, Gautreaux, you never did have manners. You gonna introduce the pretty lady?”
His easy manner made Jilly grin.
“Jilly’s a friend of mine,” Guy said. “She was just leavin’. Take it easy as you go, kid.”
He might as well have said, get lost. A creepy sensation shot up her spine and she felt sick. “Yes, right.” She backed away, perfectly aware that the newcomer was just about as uncomfortable as she was. He shot out a hand and she took it, shook it and tried not to wince.
“Nat Archer,” he said. “Guy and I go way back. Like I said, he’s got lousy manners.”
“Jilly Gable,” she told him, and waved her hand at waist level before running uphill toward her car.
“Hey, Jilly,” Guy hollered. “I’ll call you later. Maybe we can get a late bite.” And he had to make sure she didn’t mention Nat to anyone else.
“Not tonight,” she called back. “I’ve got plans.”
2
“You might need some new hookup lines,” Nat said when Jilly was in her car and driving away. His deep voice was pure, tumbled gravel. “That girl didn’t buy your ‘get lost now but I may have time for you later.’ No, sir.”
Guy didn’t intend to give anyone the pleasure of seeing how teed off he was, especially smart-mouth Archer.
“Jilly, darlin’—” Nat used his slow, most reasonable drawl “—this is my good old friend, Nat Archer. He’s come to discuss a little business. I don’t want him sharing a minute of my time with you. Make yourself comfortable awhile, cher, but first say, yes, you’ll join me for a sexy little dinner for two later. I’ll—”
“Can it, Archer.” He couldn’t help grinning. “You don’t change, do you, partner? Jilly and I understand each other.”
Nat pushed his hat to the back of his head. “You don’t say? Guy, I think something’s breakin’. I didn’t want to say too much on the phone, but it may be time for you to come back where you belong. The department needs you.”
Where did he belong? Once he thought he knew, but he didn’t anymore. “What’s up? Last time you called, some girl’s daddy was after you with a shotgun.”
Nat punched Guy’s arm. “Trust you to mangle history. The girl was a woman in her thirties and her brother was the goon on my tail. I spoiled their scam. They thought they had a patsy with deep pockets—me. They’re guests of the State.”
“Such excitement,” Guy said, rubbing stubble on his jaw. “Makes a quiet type like me feel giddy.”
Nat quit smiling. “Is there somewhere we can go where we won’t be interrupted?”
“It’s quiet here,” Guy said, “but it can pick up anytime. There’s just me till Homer gets back. I could call someone in so we could go to my house. It’s the safest place I can think of.”
Nat nodded. “I admit I’m tryin’ to connect some long wires here. But we could be about to skate over the thinnest ice you and me ever stepped on. That’s saying somethin’. I’m not sure—I can’t be yet—but it could be somethin’ big is about to blow up in Toussaint. And if it does, yours truly is going to be right here with you.”
Curiosity strung Guy out tight. “That so?” He had never known Nat to embellish things.
Calling Ozaire back didn’t rate high on Guy’s list, but he wasn’t about to bother Homer, who would be over at Rosebank—a resort hotel owned by his daughter-in-law, Vivian Devol, and her mother, Charlotte Patin.