back to Rhode Island and live in your safe little cocoon. Didn’t you ever want to leave there?” he added with a swift change of topic.
“Not particularly.” It was a lie, but he wouldn’t know that. She felt stifled in the small college town where she’d spent her entire life. Anything, even a run-down garage in the middle of nowhere, would have been preferable.
“So what’s needed to get you the hell out of here?” he said, reaching for the last cinnamon bun. It wasn’t until that moment that Jamie realized she’d eaten the other three, out of sheer nervousness.
“My purse with all my credit cards and identification, for one thing.”
“I haven’t seen it,” Dillon said flatly. “What about you, Mouser? Did you run off with the lady’s purse?”
“Not me, Killer,” Mouser protested, absolutely innocent.
Jamie was about to finish her coffee, but she set it back down with a steady hand. “Why do they still call you that?” she asked.
He shrugged, stubbing out the half-finished cigarette. “Maybe I deserve it. Or maybe my fame follows me wherever I go. So no one knows where you left your purse. What do we do next?”
“I need to have my car working, and I need enough money to pay for gas to get me back to the East Coast.”
“Little enough to ask, and I’d be more than happy to pay you off to get you out of here. But your car’s been towed to a place across town, and Mick isn’t sure when he can get to it. And it’s against the law to drive without your license on you.”
“I’ll risk it,” she said dryly. “Besides, when did you ever care about what’s legal and what’s not?”
He shrugged again. “Just thinking of your lilywhite reputation, Ms. Kincaid. Accept it—the car’s out of reach for the time being. You can stay until it’s fixed, or you can come up with another solution.”
“Like what? I need money. I need my credit cards. I need my cell phone and my driver’s license. I can’t rent a car or buy an airplane ticket without a credit card and proper identification.”
“Then I guess you’re shit out of luck,” he said mildly. “And I’m doomed to have an unwanted guest for the next few days. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Mick’s an old friend, and if he knows we’ll end up killing each other if you don’t get out of here he’ll put a rush on it. In the meantime, you’re going to have to sit back and put up with me. But then, you’re good at enduring, aren’t you? You’ve had to put up with the Duchess all your life.”
“Stop calling her that! I love my mother.”
“Of course you do. Even though she doted on Nate and barely noticed you were alive. You’re a glutton for punishment, Jamie.”
“Not anymore,” she snapped, pushing away from the table. “I don’t suppose you have a car I could drive?”
“None of my beauties. They’re worth too much to risk in the hands of an unlicensed driver,” he said in a lazy voice.
“You know I really hate you, don’t you?”
“I believe you’ve mentioned it before. As long as your mother’s whispering in your ear I wouldn’t expect you to change your mind.”
She was already at the door. “Would you want me to change my mind?”
She’d managed to startle him. He paused, clearly giving it some reflection. “It might prove interesting.”
She slammed the door behind her.
The sound of it was satisfying. The bite of the winter air wasn’t. She’d gone storming out with nothing but a sweatshirt and a pair of sneakers, and the snow was at least three inches deep on the ground.
She turned back to look at the door. There was no way she could walk back in there, not after her grand exit. She was going to have to stand out there in the cold for at least a half an hour, and in that time she’d probably develop pneumonia, which would solve everything. She’d go into the hospital, or Dillon would creep into her room at night and open the windows over her fevered, prostrate body to hurry her along. And she wasn’t quite sure which of those options was preferable.
She was shivering, her body racked with cold, when the door behind her opened. She should have stomped off, but Dillon’s garage was in a particularly unsavory part of an unsavory town, and even in broad daylight she didn’t feel too safe exploring.
She didn’t turn, keeping her back rigid, trying to control the shivers. He could apologize until he was blue in the face. Though actually she was the one who was turning blue.
“He’s gone into the garage to work,” Mouser said. “Come in before you freeze your…freeze to death.”
She turned to look at the little man. “Dillon is an asshole,” she said flatly.
Mouser’s wizened face creased in a smile. “Can’t argue with you on that one. He’s always been a difficult son of a bitch. Doesn’t mean you need to catch your death of cold. Because if you get sick while you’re here I don’t think he’s going to be bringing you chicken soup and aspirin. He’s not exactly the nurturing type, is he?”
“Not exactly,” Jamie said, following him into the kitchen and closing the door behind her. It was warm, blessedly warm, and she rubbed her hands together to try to bring some life back.
“You’re as stubborn as he is, aren’t you?” Mouser said. “That’s going to be trouble.”
“No, it’s not. I’m going to get out of here and never see him again. I don’t know what his problem is—you can’t tell me he couldn’t come up with a car I could use and a hundred bucks to cover gas.”
“I wouldn’t tell you that Dillon couldn’t do anything. He’s very resourceful. Must be he doesn’t want to help you.”
“I can believe that. But I’d think getting rid of me would be more important than his dislike of me.”
Mouser’s smile exposed a set of startlingly perfect teeth. Undoubtedly dentures. “You think he dislikes you?”
“Of course. He dislikes me just as much as I dislike him,” Jamie said flatly.
“Well, if you put it that way, that’s a possibility,” Mouser said in a dry voice. “But bottom line, Jamie, is that I’ve known him well for the last five years, and I know what he thinks about things. And in your case, dislike doesn’t have much to do with it.”
“Okay, hatred,” Jamie supplied.
Mouser shook his head. “Not exactly. You’ll have a chance to figure it out in the next few days, both of you. It’ll be a good thing. Too much unfinished business between the two of you.”
“What makes you think that?” Jamie demanded. “I can’t believe he’s ever even mentioned me. Even thought of me in the last five years.”
“You forget, Nate was here. You were mentioned. Why don’t you ask Killer about it. He just might tell you.” Mouser
