Carolina Girl (36 page)

“To see where we’re going?” Although why
anyone would care was beyond her.

“And if we kept on going, into Charleston or
somewhere, they’d be cursing now that we’ve lost them. But
I’m wagering they let us have our little joyride because they figure they
know where to catch up with us.”

“You think it’s the police?” She
definitely wasn’t getting this. In the movies, wasn’t it the FBI or
private detectives who tailed cars? “The state and a few others are
probably pretty riled at us about now, but it’s hardly a police
matter.”

“We’ve ‘riled’ the state, the
tourist commission, the bank, and probably half the developers within a hundred
miles of us by delaying the zoning. You’ve told the bank we’re
building a multimillion-dollar business. Cissy has told the developer to piss
off. No, I don’t think it’s the police out there.”

Rory rubbed the goose bumps rising on her arms. She gaped as
he drove straight toward the bridge and home. “If they’re
dangerous, you’re driving right into their hands.”

“Something like that.” At a sedate rate of
speed, he drove the Jag past the parking lot at the base of the bridge.

He was deliberately steering right into trouble!
Wasn’t he supposed to be avoiding it? Maybe those were car thieves out to
carjack a Jag. If their followers knew they had to cross the bridge to go home...
The man was insane. Reckless. Taking risks...

Risks that she wouldn’t take. That didn’t mean
they shouldn’t be taken. Biting her thumb, she watched out the
windshield. She didn’t see any sign of TJ’s white SUV. The
convertible with its top down left her feeling overexposed. Nervously, she
checked over her shoulder again. A long black car pulled out of the parking lot
and followed at a cautious distance.

“I thought your brother was driving a white
car.”

“He should be.” In the light of the dashboard, even
Clay’s jaw looked tense.

It relaxed a minute later as the headlights of a tall
vehicle hidden in the shadows of a tree lumbered onto the highway at the last
minute, falling in line behind the black one.

Feeling conspicuous, Rory quit looking. Holding her elbows
and trying not to shake, she stared straight ahead. “This is not at all
how I anticipated ending this evening.”

Clay chuckled. Chuckled!

“I’m good at games,” he reminded her.
“I have the controller in my hands and all the points are on my side. Unless
there’s a trap that I haven’t encountered on my other trips through
gameland, the sorcerer wins.”

She wanted to smack him. He was playing games with their
lives
.
“You’re certifiable, really, truly certifiable. This Viking
princess wants a sword and shield before she plays any more.”

She’d hate to see the antique Jag bubbling in the
marsh. She’d hate worse to be inside when it did.

“It’s brains that beat the evildoers, not
swords,” he declared.

“He could have killed Cissy,” she whispered.
That was the fear that had her skin crawling. Cissy had been forced off the
road by a black car. And while Rory might not want to concede the implications
of the accident, she couldn’t ignore them either.

“Maybe. Maybe not. For an optimist, you sure see the
worst side of everything.” He glanced over at her. “Give the guy a
thrill. Lift your hair and stretch as if you’re enjoying the
evening.”

She kept her arms crossed. “The guy back there
won’t be the one getting the thrill, will he?”

“Nah, he can barely see you. But I can. How often does
a real hot babe step off the screen and into my life?”

The comment was so jarring that she immediately reacted with
fury. There was the difference between them. Cheap thrills made her miserable.
She wanted certainties and safety. Whatever had she been thinking to even get
in the same car with this unpredictable man?

She’d been thinking that he had a sound head on his
shoulders. And she was just learning to accept that he was utterly predictable
in some things... like when someone needed protecting. “You’re
trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

And it was working. There for all of half a minute
she’d wanted to bop him over the head instead of worry about flying
headfirst into the marsh. Another piece of her heart melted at the idea of Clay
trying to ease her fears.

Clay swung the Jag in another of his sharp turns, taking
them off the highway and down the lane to Cleo’s. As they slowed to bump
over the ruts of Cleo’s sandy lane, the black Lincoln turned off its
headlights and rolled into the shadows of the overhanging trees.

Clay’s cell phone rang. Stopping the Jag in the middle
of the lane, he picked it up. “Where are you?” he asked over the
static.

“Blocking his escape. Jared should be pulling across
the lane as soon as you pass him.”

Satisfied, Clay glanced at Aurora. Clutching her elbows, she
looked ready to bolt as he steered the car forward, past Jared’s drive.
It was too late to calm her nerves by explaining his intentions. He was too
used to operating alone. His communication skills could use some polishing.

Cleo’s battered pickup pulled out to park across the
lane behind them. To avoid scratching the polished paint of the Jag on the
bushes on either side, Clay simply stopped in the road.

“Stay here,” he ordered, opening the
driver’s door. “Or better yet, go inside with Cleo and the
kids.”

He climbed out and noted in satisfaction that the driver of
the Lincoln had recognized the trap. The big car tried to turn around in the
soft sand of the road’s shoulder but sank its rear wheels up to its
hubcaps. The car wouldn’t be going anywhere soon.

“That’s the reason no one out here drives land
yachts,” a soft voice said from behind him. Rory.

Gritting his teeth, Clay waited for her to catch up with
him. “I’m not speaking the same language as you, am I?”

“Nope. You’re talking male gorilla. If
you’re not afraid to walk out here, then neither am I. I always feel
better when I know what’s happening.” Rory didn’t halt but
continued toward the pickup.

“Some sorcerer I make. I can’t even talk hot
babes into behaving,” he muttered, falling into step with her.
Manipulating game figures was much simpler than real life. Game figures could
explode and come back to play again. In real life, a stray bullet could rob him
of the precious gift that was Aurora.

Real life responsibility added a level of tension that had
his molars clenched.

“What if they have guns?” he demanded.
“How am I supposed to save the day if you insist on taking the controller
away from me?” Maybe if he made a joke of this, she’d walk off and
go to Cleo.

Rory shot him one of her lifted-eyebrow looks as Jared
stepped out of the truck to save Clay from himself.

“Cleo won’t like a Lincoln for a lawn
ornament.” Jared nodded in the direction of the vehicle spinning its back
tires. “Think TJ’s hulking vehicle can pull him out?”

“TJ can pull it out once we take the lead weights out
of the front seat.” Clay watched as the tall silhouette of his oldest
brother emerged from the darkness of the trees lining the lane on the far side
of the Lincoln. “I don’t suppose you know the magic words to keep
Aurora out of the way, do you? They may have guns.”

“They’d be shooting by now if they did,”
Rory said pragmatically. But Clay noticed she stayed out of the moonlight so
she didn’t make an easy target—although that white halter top sure
drew
his
eye.

Apparently without a concern in the world, TJ walked up to
the Lincoln and opened the driver’s door. Not to be outdone, Clay leaned
over and opened the passenger side. “Good evening, gentlemen.
Lost?”

He noticed Aurora’s gasp before he paid much attention
to the man emerging. He studied the passenger’s bland good looks and
sheepish expression before identifying the banker she’d once dated. He
glanced over the roof of the car to the balding skinny driver, and it took a
moment before he recognized the wimp who ran the tourist commission—the
one who had greeted Aurora at the bar tonight.

“Jeff! Terry! What in the world?” Aurora propped
her hands on her hips, and Clay’s gaze diverted instantly to her bare
curves. For a moment, he couldn’t remember why on earth they were
standing out here in the road instead of falling into his bed.

“I told you the McClouds were in this together,”
Terry said with anger. “I did the research. Between them they have
millions to blow on the swamp.”

TJ crossed his arms and stared over the Lincoln’s top
at his brothers. “You guys holding out on me? Or maybe he thinks
it’s our wives with the riches?”

Jared shrugged. “Maybe he means baby brother’s
millions, and his sources are old.”

Terry nearly turned purple. “Cissy would never have
rejected our offer unless someone made her a better one! And Rora would be out
of town by now if it hadn’t been for you. Rich Yankees have bought up
enough land down here. I don’t see why you should have what little is
left.”

Clay contemplated straightening out the half dozen kinks in
this logic, but glancing at the fury in Aurora’s lovely face, he figured
this was where he accentuated the positive and let her tear the morons into raw
meat.

“What did you think following us would
accomplish?” she asked in tones of utter disbelief that almost disguised
her rage.

Jeff shrugged indifferently. “That was Terry’s
half-baked idea. He thought maybe you’d lead us to a meeting with the
Binghams and that we could go in and speak for ourselves. Once he gets a few
beers in him, it’s easier to play along.”

“That’s bullhockey, Jeffrey Elmont Spencer. You
always egged Terry on. What did Terry do—run right over to the country
club to tattle about seeing Clay and me together? He probably thought we were
celebrating a deal with the Binghams. And then the two of you sat there pouring
alcohol down your throats, wondering where the poor white trash Jenkinses could
have found enough money to pay off their mortgage, and you concluded it
belonged to rich Yankees. You thought Clay was paying me? For what? Services
rendered?”

Clay watched as Jared and TJ pretty much imitated him,
backing off, crossing their arms, and staying the hell out of Aurora’s
way. He felt a confusing but comfortable camaraderie with his brothers as the
three of them stood guard while Aurora ripped off heads. He had a feeling
she’d just unleashed her inner rebel.

“It wasn’t like that, Rora!” Terry
protested. “I just told Jeff I saw you having a good time at the Monkey
with McCloud, and someone mentioned that his family had money, and I was mad
because he quit the state job and used the Bingham list against us, and one
thing just led to another.”

“Don’t give me that, Terry. Was it you who drove
Cissy off the road the other night and smashed my car to pieces? Cissy could
have been killed! Crippled for life. What were you doing following her
then?”

“I wasn’t!” Talbert looked terrified.
“After the zoning meeting, I just went out to check the survey stakes. I
saw your car and didn’t want you knowing I was there, so I got panicky
and hit the gas. It spun in the sand, and kind of jerked out to the road. I
didn’t even see her go off, I swear. I’d never... If I’d
known...” He started stumbling over his tongue and shut up.

“You’re supposed to be working with the state to
build a park for the public good, Terry. Why would you want to steal the
Bingham land? What possible use could you have for a swamp?” Aurora
demanded with escalating rage.

“You’re not the only person in the world who
wants to make something of themselves!” Terry shouted back. “The
state park plum just fell in my lap. My construction company could be on the
ground floor of something really big.”

Aurora advanced on him like a prizefighter about to throw
the finishing punch. “You endangered my sister, set fire to an entire
neighborhood, threatened a way of life and the ecology just so you could throw
up a few cheap condos that will get wiped out in the next
hurricane—”

Figuring that sentence might never end, Clay finally
intervened. “I suppose you were just checking up on me to see if
I’d finished my project when you walked into my house in the middle of
the night?”

Almost gratefully, Talbert turned away from Aurora’s
fury. “I was jogging the beach and saw your place and just thought to stop
and see how you were doing.” Sullenly, Terry glanced around at
Clay’s brothers and left Aurora’s charges unanswered.

“Breaking and entering, reckless driving, leaving the
scene of an accident,” TJ began reciting stoically. “I’d have
to look up the statutes on invasion of privacy, and there may be a case for
threatening behavior.”

“If there’s any way of nailing him for the fire,
Cleo will do a war dance, round up the natives, and have him hanged,”
Jared added helpfully.

“Oh, leave the jerk alone,” Jeff said while
Terry tried to unknot his tongue. “We’ve got everything we own tied
up in making something out of this useless land. A man’s got a right to
look after himself. Aurora, I thought you told me you were with us on the
zoning. If the McClouds are buying off the Binghams, did they buy you off, too?
Where else could you get the money to pay the mortgage?”

“Go on, Jeff, say it again—you can’t
believe I’m siding with swamp rats and derelicts. I should be cheering on
the rich white guys willing to cheat the poor out of their land so they can
turn a swamp into a
profit base
.”

Clay shot his gaze to her, fascinated. An MBA banker saying
profit
base
as if it were a curse. It looked good on her. He’d known the
rebel in her would have to come out sometime.

“Swamp rats—I can use that,” Jared mused,
leaning against the Lincoln’s trunk and contemplating the moon. “We
come crawling out of the murky waters to snap off the tails of what...toads?
No, they don’t have tails.”