Authors: Beverly Barton
''Jasmine's," she sa-id. ''This is Jaz-zy Tal-bot. How may I help you?"
''You're a bad wo-man. You de-ser-ve to die." The vo-ice over the pho-ne so-un-ded stran-ge.
Muf-fled.
"Who is this?"
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''Someone who is go-ing to ma-ke su-re you pay for yo-ur sins."
''Look, who-ever the hell you are, get a li-fe, will you? And don't bot-her me aga-in."
Jazzy slam-med down the re-ce-iver. When she saw her hand trem-b-ling, she bal-led it in-to a firm fist and po-un-ded her fist on the des-k-top. Pa-in ra-di-ated from her hand to her wrist and tin-g-led up to her el-bow.
It's just so-me nut-ca-se, she told her-self. The-re's no ne-ed to get all torn up abo-ut a silly pho-ne call. But it wasn't silly. It was thre-ate-ning. The per-son had sa-id that he-or she-' was go-ing to ma-ke Jaz-zy pay for her sins.
She jer-ked the pho-ne in-to her still un-s-te-ady hand, then pun-c-hed in the num-bers hur-ri-edly.
As she wa-ited for him to an-s-wer, she ma-de her-self bre-at-he in and out slowly, ho-ping to calm her ner-ves.
"Sheriff But-ler," Jacob sa-id when he an-s-we-red his pho-ne.
''Jacob, it's Jaz-zy. I-er-I just got a crank call. At le-ast I think it was a crank."
"Okay. Tell me abo-ut it." '’The vo-ice so-un-ded muf-fled, may-be dis-gu-ised.I don't know."
"Man or wo-man?"
"I co-uldn't tell."
"What did this per-son say?"
"He sa-id-or may-be it was a wo-man-that I was bad, that I de-ser-ved to die and that he-or she-was go-ing to ma-ke su-re I was pu-nis-hed for my sins."
Jacob was si-lent for what se-emed li-ke fo-re-ver, then he sa-id, "I want to put a tap on yo-ur pho-nes."
"Why? What go-od wo-uld that do? He didn't talk mo-re than a mi-nu-te, if that."
"If this per-son calls aga-in, you can try to ke-ep him on the pho-ne long eno-ugh for a tra-ce."
"You don't think it was a crank call, do you?"
"Could ha-ve be-en," Jacob sa-id. "But it just might ha-ve be-en Jamie's mur-de-rer."
"Oh, my God!" Jaz-zy's mind wrap-ped it-self aro-und the tho-ught that Jamie's kil-ler had cal-led to thre-aten her. 'Then it was a wo-man. And she sa-id… she'd ma-ke me pay for my sins."
"Where's Ca-leb?’’Jacob as-ked.
"Caleb? Over at Jaz-zy's Jo-int." 'Whe-re are you?"
"At Jas-mi-ne's, in my of-fi-ce."
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"Go over to Jaz-zy's Jo-int and tell Ca-leb abo-ut the pho-ne call. Do it now. And ma-ke su-re he ke-eps watch over you. I don't want you alo-ne from he-re on out. Not even alo-ne in eit-her of yo-ur of-fi-ces."
"You think it re-al-ly was her and that she-"
"Let's not ta-ke any chan-ces. Okay?"
Jazzy nod-ded, then re-ali-zed she hadn't spo-ken. 'Ye-ah, okay."
When she hung up, she sat the-re for a co-up-le of mi-nu-tes and let the re-ali-za-ti-on sink in. If her cal-ler was Jamie's kil-ler…
She had to tell Ca-leb. Jacob had told her to ma-ke su-re Ca-leb kept watch over her. But with the ten-si-on bet-we-en Ca-leb and her right now, co-uld she go to him? Did she ha-ve the right to ex-pect him to stand by her si-de?
No ti-me li-ke the pre-sent to find out
, she told her-self.
Caleb felt her pre-sen-ce the mi-nu-te she en-te-red the bar. God knew it wasn't that he co-uld smell her per-fu-me in this smoky jun-g-le. Too much smo-ke, li-qu-or, and hu-man swe-at to ever dis-tin-gu-ish one dis-tinct odor, he co-uldn't see her from whe-re he was stan-ding, but mo-re than one set of ma-le eyes fo-cu-sed in a par-ti-cu-lar di-rec-ti-on-st-ra-ight at the most gor-ge-o-us wo-man in the world. Jaz-zy Tal-bot. His Jaz-zy.
Yeah, that was rig-ht-his Jaz-zy. Damn Jamie Up-ton to hell. Ca-leb chuc-k-led to him-self. That was just abo-ut whe-re Jamie was right now-bur-ning in hell. Or may-be be-ca-use he'd suf-fe-red thro-ugh tor-ment be-fo-re he di-ed, the go-od Lord had ta-ken pity on him. Who knew? Who ca-red? He su-re didn't. But one thing he did know, one thing that did mat-ter to him was not al-lo-wing Jamie's ghost to co-me bet-we-en Jaz-zy and him. He'd ne-ver be-en the kind of guy who ga-ve up when he wan-ted so-met-hing bad eno-ugh. And he had ne-ver wan-ted an-y-t-hing mo-re than he wan-ted Jaz-zy's lo-ve.
When he tur-ned aro-und, the-ir ga-zes met ac-ross the ro-om and he felt as if he'd be-en hit in the he-ad with sled-ge-ham-mer. If this wasn't lo-ve-ho-nest-to-go-od-ness, fo-re-ver-af-ter lo-ve-he su-re as hell didn't know what el-se it co-uld be. He held her ga-ze, si-lently bec-ko-ning her to him. She to-ok se-ve-ral ten-ta-ti-ve steps, then pa-used. Was she wa-iting to see if he'd me-et her hal-f-way?
Kno-wing Jaz-zy as he did, he fi-gu-red that's why she'd stop-ped. Okay, no prob-lem. He'd do his part. Ca-leb wal-ked to-ward her, then wa-ited when abo-ut ten fe-et se-pa-ra-ted them.
She smi-led and, he-aven help him, he wan-ted to run to her, grab her and… to-night he wo-uldn't say go-od-b-ye at her do-or the way he'd do-ne last night. He'd ne-eded ti-me to think, ti-me to cle-ar his he-ad. And be-ing ne-ar Jaz-zy ma-de that im-pos-sib-le. All he had to do was lo-ok at her and he wan-ted her.
Be ho-nest, McCord, a part of you wan-ted to pu-nish her for da-ring to whis-per anot-her
man's na-me in her sle-ep
. Ye-ah, okay, so that was part of it. But who had he re-al-ly pu-nis-hed?
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Jaz-zy, may-be. But he'd pu-nis-hed him-self, too. The-re was no pla-ce on earth he wan-ted to be ex-cept with her.
She mo-ved to-ward him slowly. He he-aded in her di-rec-ti-on, one easy, un-hur-ri-ed step at a ti-me. They ca-me to-get-her in the mid-dle of the bar, bet-we-en the dan-ce flo-or and the tab-les scat-te-red thro-ug-ho-ut the ro-om. From the juke-box, Wil-lie Nel-son and Julio Ig-le-si-as cro-oned abo-ut all the girls they'd lo-ved be-fo-re. Be-er bot-tles and frosty glas-ses clin-ked. Po-ol balls clan-ged to-get-her. The din of hus-hed vo-ices blen-ded with rowdy la-ug-h-ter.
Caleb and Jaz-zy sta-yed fo-cu-sed on each ot-her, not bre-aking eye con-tact for even a mil-li-se-cond. She smi-led at him aga-in. He grin-ned at her.
"Want to dan-ce?" he as-ked, des-pe-ra-tely ne-eding to ta-ke her in-to his arms.
She nod-ded.
He held out his hand. When she pla-ced her hand in his, he wal-ked her ac-ross the bar to the dan-ce flo-or and eased her in-to his arms. They mo-ved to the mu-sic, a co-up-le of in-c-hes se-pa-ra-ting the-ir bo-di-es.
"I Mis-sed you last night," she sa-id.
"Yeah, I Mis-sed you, too."
"Do we ne-ed to talk abo-ut it?" she as-ked.
"Probably." He pul-led her clo-ser, alig-ning her body to his. "But not to-night."
"No, not to-night."
She se-emed to melt in-to him, all soft fe-mi-ni-nity and wo-manly he-at He brus-hed his chin aga-inst her tem-p-le and tho-ught he'd lo-se it when she sig-hed. This was whe-re she be-lon-ged, in his arms.
They we-re right for each ot-her, and he fi-gu-red she knew that fact as well as he did.
One song en-ded and anot-her be-gan, this one a lo-ud, bawdy me-lody not me-ant for slow dan-cing. Ca-leb kept his arm aro-und her and whis-pe-red in her ear. "Want to sit this one out?"
She nod-ded. He re-le-ased his hold on her, but she didn't mo-ve away. She sta-yed clo-se, her sho-ul-der brus-hing his arm. "How abo-ut la-ter to-night, af-ter this pla-ce clo-ses, we dan-ce on up-s-ta-irs to my pla-ce?"
He wan-ted to to-uch her aga-in, but fi-gu-red they'd al-re-ady bro-ught eno-ugh at-ten-ti-on to them-sel-ves wit-ho-ut him do-ing mo-re to pro-ve what a fo-ol he was over Jaz-zy. 'The-re's not-hing I'd li-ke bet-ter."
Her bro-ad smi-le sa-id it all. Ever-y-t-hing was go-ing to be all right. Wha-te-ver lin-ge-ring prob-lems Jamie's me-mory might ca-use, they'd de-al with them. To-get-her.
Caleb slip-ped his arm aro-und her wa-ist and led her to-ward the bar whe-re Lacy sto-od smi-ling as she wat-c-hed them ap-pro-ach. "How abo-ut a Co-ke?" he as-ked.
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"With le-mon,"Jazzy sa-id.
''Two Co-kes," Ca-leb told Lacy. "One with le-mon. One stra-ight."
"Coming right up." Sud-denly Lacy lo-oked be-yond them to so-me-one or so-met-hing on the far si-de of the ro-om. "Well, I'm be dam-ned. I ne-ver tho-ught I'd see the li-kes of him in he-re."
"Who are-" Jaz-zy tur-ned aro-und to see who Lacy was tal-king abo-ut. "Big Jim Up-ton in Jaz-zy's Jo-int. If that man's he-re to ca-use tro-ub-le, I'll-"
"Let me han-d-le it," Ca-leb sa-id, his gut tel-ling him that Big Jim was he-re to see him.
"I can fight this par-ti-cu-lar bat-tle myself," Jaz-zy told him as she mar-c-hed away from the bar.
Caleb grab-bed her sho-ul-der. "Wa-it up, ho-ney. I don't think he's he-re to see you."
"Who el-se wo-uld he be he-re to see?"
"Me."
Jazzy eyed him cu-ri-o-usly. "You? Why wo-uld-"
"Evening," Jim Up-ton sa-id as he ca-me up to Ca-leb and Jaz-zy.
Jazzy glo-we-red at Jamie's gran-d-fat-her. "What do you want?"
"I want to spe-ak to Ca-leb," Jim sa-id.
Jazzy lo-oked at Jim, then at Ca-leb. "What's go-ing on he-re?"
"Look, ho-ney, I ne-ed to talk to Mr. Up-ton alo-ne, if you don't mind?"
"Well, what if I do mind?" She fi-xed her ga-ze on Big Jim. "So who's go-ing to tell me why you're re-al-ly he-re? Why do you want to talk to Ca-leb?"
"Personal bu-si-ness," Jim told her.
She lo-oked at Ca-leb. Tell me now or tell me la-ter, but if we've got a snow-ball's chan-ce in hell of ma-king it, we can't ke-ep any sec-rets from each ot-her."
"I know, ho-ney. And I swe-ar, I'll tell you ever-y-t-hing. La-ter."
"Okay." Jaz-zy nod-ded and star-ted to walk away.
"Are you and Jaz-zy a co-up-le now?" Big Jim as-ked.
"Yes," Ca-leb rep-li-ed. "We are."
"Then why ha-ven't you told her that you're my gran-d-son?"
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Chapter 27
Jazzy whir-led aro-und, her eyes hu-ge with as-to-nis-h-ment. "What the hell did you say?" She gla-red at Big Jim Up-ton.
Caleb rus-hed to her, grab-bed her arm and sa-id, "Let's not do this he-re." He scan-ned the ro-om hur-ri-edly. "This is pri-va-te bu-si-ness. Per-so-nal."
She sta-red at Ca-leb. "Did you he-ar what he sa-id?"
Damn, why hadn't he al-re-ady told Jaz-zy? Why did she ha-ve to find out this way?
"Yeah, ho-ney, I he-ard what he sa-id, but be-fo-re ever-y-body he-re at Jaz-zy's Jo-int starts won-de-ring what the hell's go-ing on-"
Jazzy lo-oked back at Jim. "You ha-ve so-me ner-ve co-ming in he-re, in my bar, and spo-uting off such stu-pid non-sen-se. I know you've be-en un-der a lot of stress sin-ce Jamie di-ed and Miss Re-ba had a he-art at-tack. But you don't ha-ve the right to go sho-oting off yo-ur mo-uth with so-me wild no-ti-on you've con-coc-ted abo-ut Ca-leb."
"I apo-lo-gi-ze," Jim sa-id, his ga-ze fi-xed on Ca-leb. "Lo-ok, son, I didn't me-an to ca-use a prob-lem for you with.. • are you two re-al-ly to-get-her? I me-an is she… im-por-tant to you?"
Jazzy ten-sed. Her eyes flas-hed gre-en fi-re. Ca-leb tig-h-te-ned his hold on her arm. "May we use yo-ur of-fi-ce?"
"What?" She sta-red at him, a dum-b-fo-un-ded ex-p-res-si-on on her fa-ce.
"Let's go to yo-ur of-fi-ce-you, me, and Mr. Up-ton," Ca-leb sa-id. "So we can fi-nish this con-ver-sa-ti-on wit-ho-ut an audi-en-ce."
"By all me-ans. "Jaz-zy got right up in Jim's fa-ce. "Fol-low me, Mr. Up-ton." She em-p-ha-si-zed the Mr. when she spo-ke.
When Jaz-zy sas-ha-yed off to-ward the back of the bu-il-ding, Ca-leb mo-ti-oned for Big Jim to fol-low her, which he did. Wit-hin a co-up-le of mi-nu-tes, the three of them we-re co-co-oned in Jaz-zy's small, clut-te-red of-fi-ce. Ca-leb clo-sed the do-or, then glan-ced from his gran-d-fat-her to the wo-man he lo-ved. She was go-ing to be mad as an old wet hen when he told her the truth. God damn it, why had he kept her in the dark abo-ut why he'd ac-tu-al-ly co-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te in the first pla-ce?
"Start an-y-w-he-re," Jaz-zy sa-id as she sat down on the si-de of her desk and cros-sed her arms over her chest. "Start with Big Jim's crazy sta-te-ment. Or start with who the hell you re-al-ly are. Or even start with tel-ling me you ha-ven't be-en lying to me for months now."
"Jazzy, ho-ney… ple-ase-"
"Don’t you 'ple-ase' me," she told him. "So-me-body had bet-ter start tal-king right now!"
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Jim cle-ared his thro-at. "I be-li-eve that's yo-ur cue, son." ‘’Stop cal-ling him son! "Jaz-zy scre-ec-hed at Jim.
When Ca-leb tri-ed to ap-pro-ach Jaz-zy, her de-adly gla-re war-ned him off. He threw up his hands in a ges-tu-re of sur-ren-der. "Okay. Who am I? My na-me is Ca-leb Up-ton McCord." The mo-ment Jaz-zy he-ard his mid-dle na-me, her sho-ul-ders stif-fe-ned and she suc-ked in her bre-ath.
"My mot-her was Me-la-nie Up-ton, Big Jim and Miss Re-ba's da-ug-h-ter."
Speechless, her mo-uth par-ting on a si-lent gasp, Jaz-zy sat the-re sta-ring at him.
"I had no idea my mot-her had any fa-mily," Ca-leb sa-id. "Not un-til right be-fo-re she di-ed fif-te-en ye-ars ago. She told me abo-ut her pa-rents, but… well, I was a wi-se-ass kid who tho-ught he didn't ne-ed or want a fa-mily. It was only a few months ago, af-ter I re-sig-ned from the Mem-p-his Po-li-ce for-ce, that I de-ci-ded I wan-ted to find my mot-her's fa-mily." 'That's the re-ason you ca-me to Che-ro-kee Po-in-te-to find the Up-tons?" Hug-ging her-self ner-vo-usly, her eyes dow-n-cast, Jaz-zy sho-ok her he-ad in dis-be-li-ef. "You're Jamie's first co-usin. And you knew all along who he was, who Big Jim and Miss Re-ba… you've be-en lying to me sin-ce the first night we met." Lif-ting her he-ad, she gla-red at him. "Damn you, Ca-leb. Damn you for ma-king me ca-re abo-ut you, for let-ting me think things wo-uld be dif-fe-rent with you." 'Things are dif-fe-rent with me. I swe-ar, ho-ney. I swe-ar-"