Читать книгу Siren's Treasure - Debbie Herbert - Страница 10
ОглавлениеThe crunch of gravel lifted Landry out of his musings on Jet Bosarge. He didn’t know many people in Bayou La Siryna, preferring to keep to himself. Life was simpler that way, more predictable. Only a couple of old ladies at the humane shelter even gave him a casual nod of recognition. Landry went to the window and drew back the curtain.
Damn. He frowned at the battered Plymouth Duster. Only one person in the world owned that classic piece of shit. He rubbed his jaw, then stilled when two people got out of the car instead of one. And—oh, hell—they were unloading dozens of bags from the trunk.
He slipped a pair of sneakers on and walked outside. In the deepening twilight, Landry focused on the tall, lanky teenager. Which of his many half siblings was this one?
“Seth, say hello to your brother.” His mother banged down the trunk, the sound echoing in the lonely gloom.
The kid regarded him sullenly.
This was the youngest of his mother’s brood and the one he knew the least. She’d asked him if he could stay a few days this summer. Give Mom the tiniest opening and she’d bulldoze through it.
He eyed their cargo with mounting unease. “What’s with all these bags?”
“Seth’s here for a visit.” She stuffed some into his arms. “Help us get this stuff inside.”
“A little visit?” Between the three of them, there were over a dozen such crammed bags.
His mother stalked toward the porch before Seth found his voice. “You can’t make me stay here,” he complained. “This place looks like a shit hole and it stinks like one, too.”
His mother whirled around as if the words were a knife launched into her spine. “You’re staying. I’ve had all I can take of your stealing. And your mouth.”
“Stealing?” Landry asked, looking back and forth between them.
Seth kicked at the gravel with a pair of frayed sneakers. “It’s no big deal.”
Landry suppressed a sigh. “What do you expect me to do?”
She crossed her arms. “You work for the FBI, don’t you? Be a positive role model. He’s got no father to speak of.”
A flush of anger darkened the kid’s neck. “I’ve got a dad,” he said hotly.
His mother raised her hands and spun in a half circle, looking around the deserted stretch of bayou. “Really? Where is he?”
“He’s oil rigging. Making money.”
“Which we see precious little of,” she snapped.
Sounded like old times. Five minutes with his family and his stomach was knotted. He’d been on his own for so many years he’d lost tolerance for the past drama of Life With Mom.
Landry gave a time-out signal. “Truce. Let’s go inside and discuss this over dinner.”
His mother stalked off again. “I’m not hungry,” she called over her shoulder. “I need to get home real quick-like.”
“Well, I’m hungry.” Laundry motioned for Seth to follow them. At first it appeared the kid wasn’t going to budge from his slouch against the old Plymouth, but with a sigh worthy of a Shakespearian actor, he dragged his feet forward, shoulders slumped and head down.
Inside, his mother threw her load of bags onto the couch. “Nice setup. This place used to be a real dump when your grandmother was alive.”
Landry faced Seth and got his first good look at the kid. His chin-length brown hair hung in oily locks that partially shielded heavy-lidded dark eyes. He wore an olive camouflage jacket two sizes too large and a pair of faded jeans. “I’m grilling steaks. You hungry?”
“I’d rather have a hamburger. Can’t we just go to McDonald’s?”
Landry suspected the fast-food preference was a ploy for Seth to get rid of their mother faster. That had to be one tense ride from Mobile to the bayou. Landry grabbed his car keys and tossed them to Seth. In two seconds, the kid was out the door.
“You’re taking a mighty big risk with your expensive car,” his mother chastised.
Landry rounded on her. “I can’t believe you showed up like this.”
She had the grace to appear somewhat sheepish. “You agreed to a visit this summer.”
“It’s early April, not summer. And I’m in the middle of an investigation,” Landry growled. “For Christ’s sake, isn’t the kid still in school?”
Her hard eyes clouded with tears. “He was suspended for cutting classes. In fact, he missed so many he might as well stay out of school the rest of the year and make it all up in summer school. Please let him stay. You’re my only hope,” she sobbed.
The great big ole fake. He knew it, she knew he knew it, and yet it worked every time. Landry tried to remember her the way she was before their lives were destroyed. He’d lost more than a sibling that dark day; he’d lost his mother and father, too.
Landry groaned and threw up his hands. “Okay. Okay. He can stay a few days. I’ll try to talk to him but there’s no guarantee it’ll do one bit of good.”
Mom hugged him tight with a smug smile she couldn’t entirely hide. “You’re my anchor.”
“Just this week,” he reiterated.
* * *
Jet riffled through the stack of invoices and moaned. Paperwork sucked. Tomorrow would be much more fun when the delivery from Mobile came in.
A sharp rap at the front door startled her. The shop wouldn’t open for a couple more weeks. The front windows were taped over, so she couldn’t see who’d knocked. She stuffed her feet into a pair of flip-flops, went to the door and unlocked it.
Crap. If she’d known who it was, she wouldn’t have bothered. “Sorry, we’re not open for business yet,” she said quickly and began shutting the door.
“Not looking to buy anything,” Landry Fields said, stepping inside before the door closed. His sharp eyes roamed the mostly empty space. “When do you anticipate opening?”
Jet inhaled the soapy-clean male scent she remembered from yesterday. “Not for a few more weeks. I’ve got a big shipment of furniture coming tomorrow. It’ll take some time to get everything arranged.” She resisted the urge to touch a curling tendril of light brown hair grazing the auditor’s stiff white collar. His hair was slightly damp, as if he’d just showered or combed his hair down in a failed attempt to flatten the curly ends. Jet shook her head at the sight of his gray jacket and trousers. “You keep wearing suits like that and by next month the humidity will eat you alive.”
“I’m from Mobile. I’m used to it.” Landry didn’t even give a polite smile, bearing an air as formal and reserved as his attire.
It only sent Jet’s imagination into overdrive, fantasizing about what lay beneath the conservative clothing. She tried to convince herself Landry was probably pasty-white and about as fit as a dead June bug but as he walked away toward the front counter, something about the energy of his movements refuted that theory.
Landry stopped at the huge mahogany bar that served as a front counter and ran a hand down its gleaming, nicked surface. “Nice. You don’t see these kinds of large pieces anymore.”
Jet nodded, unexpectedly pleased at the compliment. “It’s the reason I bought this space to begin with. Came with the property.” She closed the door and walked to him. “I don’t have the manifests yet that you requested.”
Landry sat on one of the counter bar stools, as if settling in for a long chat. “How could you?” he asked with a wry smile. “I didn’t specify how many years back I wanted you to go.”
Jet scowled. “Years?”
“Correct. I want the documentation on all the salvage property you sold to Gulf Coast Salvage.”
“I didn’t think about it while I was in your office, but the company should have a record of that. Can’t you get it from them?”
“You should have a copy, as well.”
Landry didn’t look at her, instead he riffled through the invoices she’d left lying on the counter. Nosy man. Her pleasure quickly turned sour. “What are you doing?” she asked tartly.
He laid down a paper and faced her. “Just curious. I find everything about you curious and fascinating.”
A warm glow settled in the pit of her stomach at the words. No one had ever called her fascinating before.
“I want to satisfy my curiosity about you and your business associations.” His eyes returned to the icy-blue she remembered from their first meeting. “Especially your association with one Perry Andrew Hammonds. The third, to be precise.”
The warm glow died, replaced by a sharp chill up her spine. Damn. She knew it; Perry had somehow brought this fresh hell into her life. “What about him?”
“Now that Hammonds is out of prison, do you plan on resuming the treasure-hunting business with him?”
That was the million-dollar question. Jet opened her mouth, but no words came out. She’d had a sleepless night, debating whether to help Perry one last time. Maybe if she did he would make enough money to go away and leave her the hell alone. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully.
“If you’re serious about operating this store, you won’t have time for long excursions.” His eyes honed in on the help-wanted sign by the door. “Hired any employees yet?”
So, he was trying to see if she was truly making a run at this venture or if it might be a front to shelter money. “No.” Jet crossed her arms and changed the subject. “What about your plans? You said the IRS field office here would only be around for tax season. When do you go back to Mobile?”
The blue chips in his eyes thawed a bit. “Trying to get rid of me? I was actually thinking of staying in Bayou La Siryna permanently and commuting.”
She almost laughed. “Why would you want to do that?” Mr. Sophisticated-Government-Man would die of boredom. Nobody visited their town and stayed. The bayou was an acquired taste—you were either born and raised in it, so that over the years the place settled into your blood and bone and brain like a fever, or you married a local. A disturbing thought hit her. “Are you seeing somebody in town?”
“No. But I have roots here.”
Jet narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him. “What roots? I’ve never seen you before.” She’d sure as hell remember if she had.
“I used to visit my grandmother most summers growing up, out by Murrell’s Point.”
“Hmm, thought I knew most everyone in these parts. What was her name?”
“Claudia Margaret Simpson.”
Simpson, Simpson... Jet ran the name through her mind’s inner database but came up blank. “How about her husband’s or children’s names?”
“What is it with people in small towns and the need to identify someone’s family history?” he grumbled. “Doubt you ever crossed paths. Mimi kept to herself a lot.”
“A family trait?” Jet observed wryly.
Landry tipped his head slightly in assent. “Could say the same about your family. In spite of the fact that your kin is one of the wealthiest and oldest in Bayou La Siryna, the Bosarges have a reputation for being aloof and reserved.”
“Can’t deny that.” Jet grinned, until it struck her that he was prying again for tidbits of information about her. “Are all IRS guys as nosy as you?”
“If they’re any good—yes.”
What was good for the goose... “All right, then, since you seem to know so much about me, what are your grandfather’s name and your mom’s name?”
“Edward Fields. He died before I was born. And Mom’s name—get ready for this—is Clytie Sands-Fields-Riley-Johnston-Hogge-Riley-Grimes.”
Jet raised a brow. “Two Rileys?”
“Married and divorced twice.”
“Ouch.” Jet snapped her fingers. “It’s coming to me now. Did your grandmother live in that blue cottage on Adele Avenue and drive a yellow Continental?”
“That’s the one. Impressive memory.”
“We all knew her as the crazy cat lady.” Jet clamped a hand over her mouth. She really needed to get a mouth filter one day. She quickly grabbed a bunch of scattered invoices and stuffed them into a folder. Normally, it took a lot to fluster her, but something about Landry Fields kept her off-kilter.
A warm, large hand lay over her right arm, near the elbow. “It’s okay.”
The touch, combined with his low, husky voice, made Jet quiver even more than she had at the library. Her eyes slowly traveled up his forearm, across lean muscle and a coating of light hair that was so...damned...sexy. How could a man’s arm be sexy, for Poseidon’s sake? She met his eyes—so blue, so deep. As deep as the ocean she swam on summer nights. Landry leaned closer and Jet shut her eyes, wanting nothing more than to smell his clean scent and feel his lips on hers.
The bells above the door jangled and a cool draft lifted the hairs at the back of her neck.
“Well, shit,” Landry muttered. “It’s Perry the Pirate.”
“Huh?” Jet abruptly opened her eyes and blinked. She’d been so totally wrapped in Landry’s spell that the worldly intrusion caught her off guard. In a nanosecond, Landry’s eyes returned to their previous remote chill. She stepped back and faced Perry.
He sauntered in, smiling easily, dressed in a white shirt and white jeans, just as he had the day she first met him at Harbor Bay. The Greek-god look, she’d laughingly dubbed it. Only now it looked more like a poor imitation of Don Johnson in an old rerun of Miami Vice. And since everything Perry did was calculated for effect, Jet wondered at the significance of his attire. His dark hair was artfully, yet casually, combed back and he sported a day’s growth of hair on his chin and jaw.
“That your BMW parked out front?” he asked Landry.
“It is,” Landry said stiffly, not returning the breezy smile.
“Classy car. A little conservative for my taste, though. I drive a red Mustang.”
Yeah, a rented one. The flashy clothes and cars gave a false impression of wealth, and Perry was dead broke. Or so he claimed.
“Sporty car. But a bit too lame on the engineering for my taste,” Landry remarked drily.
Perry pulled Jet to his side in a propriety gesture that made her want to give him a good kick in the shins. His Aqua de Sexy cologne did nothing for her after being so close to Landry minutes earlier. Everything about Perry now struck her as synthetic and fake.
It could never work between them again after all that had happened and the years apart. Still, letting go was like a little death. For too long, she’d clung to the hope they could be a real, loving couple, and dreams like that didn’t die easily.
“Perry, this is Landry Fields, the IRS auditor that I spoke with yesterday.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Perry Hammonds.”
Perry held out a hand, and for a moment Jet wasn’t sure Landry was going to shake it.
But Landry played the gentleman. “I know the name. You were once in business with Miss Bosarge.” Landry withdrew his hand. “Until you were sent to prison,” he added.
Perry’s smile flattened. “How nice of you to bring that up.”
“I believe in laying out all the facts.”
“Spoken like a typical accountant,” Perry observed. “Bet you’re a blast at parties.”
Landry crossed his arms. “Yep, we nerdy types also believe in having plans. What’s your game plan? Must be hard finding employment with a felony record.”
Perry shrugged. “Something will come up. It always does. Besides, I’m doing my best to talk my girl into going back into business with me.”
His girl? Jet stepped away from Perry’s overly tight hold.
Landry swept his hand over the room. “Looks to me like she’s got other ideas for earning an income. Guess Miss Bosarge could always hire you temporarily to help with shipments and inventory as her supplies arrive.”
Jet almost snorted. Perry work as a lowly stock boy? Not happening.
“I have a higher standard than that,” Perry scoffed.
The air between the two men crackled with animosity, all pretense of politeness worn thin. Time to break it up. Jet headed to the door, motioning to Landry. “I’ll have that paperwork for you no later than tomorrow,” she promised. Of course, she had access to the papers. The problem was that most of them were bogus.
Landry followed her while Perry leaned an elbow on the front counter and watched them.
At the door, he handed her a card with his phone number. “My teenage brother is staying with me a few days. A temp job would give him something to do while I’m at work. Think about it and give me a call later if you’d like to meet him.”
Suddenly, Landry bent down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t do it. Don’t go back into business with that guy. You’re better than that.”
Jet gasped at the feel of his hot breath at her ear, the touch of his cheek as he temporarily pressed against her neck. Even with the protective scarf to hide the gill markings, the silky material only served to make the contact more provocative.
Landry pulled away, his blue eyes inches from her own, intense and full of warning. Without waiting for an answer, he abruptly exited.
“Looks to me like that IRS dude is interested in more than your tax returns,” Perry drawled after Landry shut the door. “What gives?”
“None of your business,” she snapped. “Why did you come by?” She sat on a bar stool next to Perry and rubbed her temples.
Perry smoothed back her hair behind one ear and ran a finger along the marking. “Let him get too close and he’ll wonder about this.”
Jet slapped his hand away, hard enough that Perry winced slightly. “That your way of saying I should stick with you since you know my deep, dark secret?”
“It should weigh in my favor that I know all about you and it doesn’t bother me.”
“Of course it doesn’t. If I weren’t a mermaid, you’d still be collecting penny-ante treasure crumbs all by your lonesome.”
“That’s not true. I want us back together,” he said huskily. “The way it used to be in the beginning. Remember?” He leaned in and softly kissed her lips. “I remember. And while I was in that stinking prison I thought about you every single night.”
It wasn’t true. He’d never written or called. And when he got out, he took plenty of time getting back to the bayou. He nuzzled the tender flesh of her neck and rubbed her shoulders. “I missed you. C’mon, baby. Give me another chance.”
Don’t do it. You’re better than that. Landry’s whisper drowned out Perry’s coaxing. Jet sighed. “We can never be business partners—or anything else—ever again.”
His eyes narrowed. “Is it because of that accountant nerd? I saw the way he looked at you.”
Jet’s heart gave an odd tug at the idea. “Don’t be stupid. We just met.”
“Doesn’t matter. I heard him ask you to hire his brother. That’s his way of keeping an eye on you.”
“We were talking about us.” She took a deep breath. “It’s over.” There, she’d said it.
A deep red flush lit his pale face and his jaw clenched. “You don’t mean it.”
Jet stood. “Yes, I do.” She held out her hand. “Good luck with whatever you decide to do in the future.”
Perry grasped her hand. “Do this one last job with me. Help me get back on my feet.”
“No, but I’ll help you out.” Jet shrugged out of his grasp and lifted her backpack from a shelf. “I’ll write you a check. Enough for you to move and set up in some new business.”
Perry’s mouth dropped open and Jet smiled inwardly. He’d obviously expected her to fall into his lap. She found a pen and opened her checkbook.
Perry grabbed her writing hand. “I don’t want your money. I want you to go with me to Tybee Island.”
Jet jerked her hand away and gazed at him in surprise. “Since when do you not want my money?”
His flush deepened. “I like to earn my money and this is a big deal at Tybee.”
“I don’t have time for this. I’m opening the shop back up and moving on with my life.”
He rolled his eyes. “Bor-ing. You’ll be stir-crazy in two weeks.”
“Shows how little you know me.” She signed the check with a flourish and handed it over.
“I told you I don’t want your—” Perry read the dollar amount and paused. “On second thought, I’ll take it. Thanks.” He grabbed the check and stuffed it into his white jeans. “But I still need you for this job.”
Jet snorted. What had she ever seen in this man? “I gave you enough money to start over doing something else.”
Perry stood. “This is your last chance. Say no, and I’m never coming back.”
“Have a good life.”
Perry’s lips clamped together so tightly a thin white line edged the rims. “You’ll be sorry,” he warned.
“Get out,” she said flatly.
He stared at her with an unfathomable expression. At least he didn’t stoop so low as—
“I love you, Jet.” His eyes softened. “And I’m begging you. Let’s go now, right this minute. Forget your shop.”
Don’t do it. Landry’s whisper echoed in her brain. You’re better than that.
Yes, she was.
“No,” she said firmly.
He stiffened. “If that’s the way you want to play it.” Perry slapped the countertop. “But you’ll regret that decision before the week is out. Consider yourself warned.”
Chills skittered down her spine at his set face. There was something there behind the words, something twisted. Something more than Perry believing she would miss him.
She picked up the invoice stack Landry had looked through, determined to get right to work and set her mind on business instead of worrying. A strong scent of baby powder tickled her nose and she lifted the papers to her face. Hmm, why would paper smell like powder?
The shop door slammed shut as Perry left, chimes exploding in a riot of discordant clangs.
Jet no longer cared. Landry’s expressed faith in her character harmonized in her heart, outweighing Perry’s threat and pique.
