Gold Fire (36 page)

“No, you aren’t.”

“I need to leave town.”

He looked relieved. “I was afraid I’d have to argue the point.”

“I’m not stupid. I don’t want to get shot, and I don’t want you shot because of me. You’re probably still in danger.”

“Agreed—this won’t end until Matt’s caught. If his company is in as much trouble as you think, threatening me is the only reason he’s sticking around. If I leave, he’ll disappear, too, and we’ll never know when he might show up again. I’m staying until it’s over. But I can look out for myself better if I’m not worrying about you. Once we catch him and this is over, you can come back.” He stood, picking up the shotgun.

That was the hard part. She swallowed the tightness in her throat, speaking to his back as he carried the gun back to the bar. “I can’t come back. I need a job, and none of the resorts here will talk to me. Maybe someday they will, when the whole story comes out, but for now they’ll believe Matt.”

He stopped, and pivoted toward her with a frown. “So find some other kind of work.”

“Resort management is all I know, Jase. I’ve worked at the Alpine Sky since I was twenty-one. I can’t go back to waiting tables to pay the bills.”

An intense look came over his face. He set the gun on the bar, striding back to her. “Why not?”

“Because it’s not enough money.” She would have thought that was obvious.

“It’s not just about money.”

“Of course it is.” She shook her head over his
apparent disinterest in money. She’d never understood it. “Maybe you can turn down a few million dollars, but I have a car payment.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He brushed off her reasonable concern for income. Apparently she’d never learn his secret to living without money.

Squatting in front of her, he took her hands in his own. “Zoe, why did you choose to go into hotel management? I’m betting it wasn’t something you’d always wanted to do.”

She lifted a shoulder. “Not really.”

“It was part of your plan to repair your image in this town, wasn’t it? Because the resorts have all the power and prestige in B-Pass, and managing them might allow a little of that to rub off on you.”

She wondered if she was that transparent to everyone. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, if your goal is to repair your reputation. Is it?” His gaze held her in place. “Is that what you still want most in life?”

She’d already told him it wasn’t. Getting respect from the residents of Barringer’s Pass shouldn’t be more important than respecting herself, than doing what she wanted to do. But she’d let it be, for ten years. And it hadn’t gotten her anyplace.

Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly as she shook her head. “You’re right, hotel management was never what I
wanted,
it was just what I needed to do. But, Jase . . .” She worked to keep desperation out of her voice. “I don’t know what I want most in life. Between doing what I had to do to shock my family, then what I had to do to repair the damage, I never thought about what I
wanted
to do.”

He smiled. “Didn’t make a list for that, huh?”

“Maybe I should have.” And she was starting to think that if she made one, Jase belonged near the top.

“This is your chance to change direction if you want to, Zoe. Don’t lose it.”

The sketchy outlines of an idea teased her mind, a product line and marketing plan for wool items made from the commune’s sheep. With enough time, she was sure it would work. It sounded tempting, but . . . “I can’t afford to, Jase. I need an income,
now
.”

“So work for me.”

“What?”

“As soon as this is over and you come back. Wait tables, tend bar, balance the books, whatever. You’re hired. It’s not as much money as you made before, but it’ll keep you going for a few months while you figure out what you really want to do.”

“That’s nice of you, really. But I can’t. I need medical benefits—”

“The Rusty Wire offers a health care package.”

“It does?”

“Hey, I’m a responsible employer.”

And she’d be sleeping with the boss, which goes over so well with fellow employees. “I don’t know . . .”

“Please.” He brushed a stray hair off her face, stroking her cheek as he did, turning her insides quivery with longing. “Once this mess with Matt is over, stay in Barringer’s Pass while you figure out what you want to do with the rest of your life. If you need a day off, take it, anytime. Work as few or as many days as you need to.”

“That’s a ridiculously generous offer.”

His fingers trailed over her cheek again, his thumb
smoothing along her lips. He leaned in, kissing her where he stroked. “I want you to stay, Zoe.”

She wasn’t made of stone. Her heart pounded crazily against her ribs, and she barely managed to keep her smile calm. “I guess you’ve got yourself a waitress.”

He smiled back.

For several seconds she absorbed the warm feeling, saying nothing, with a dopey smile stuck on her face.

“Touching.”

Jase jerked to his feet. Zoe turned a startled glance toward the back hall.

Jennifer stood watching them, a cardboard box in her arms.

“God, Jennifer, you scared me to death,” Jase said. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I was quiet.”

Zoe thought she looked a little annoyed as she set the box on the bar. If she’d been there long enough to hear Jase offer Zoe a job, it might account for her bad mood.

Jase paused, as if unsure of what to say to her simple statement. “So what are you doing here? Did you bring supplies for the bar?”

“That?” Jennifer looked at the box. “It’s just some old newspapers soaked in whiskey. But I guess you could say it’s for the bar.”

The casual statement fell like lead in the sudden silence. Zoe could think of only one purpose for spilling alcohol over newspaper.

Chills crept over her. Jennifer showed no emotion either way about setting fire to the saloon. She simply didn’t care. A new crop of goose bumps broke out along Zoe’s spine.

Jase was very still, but she saw his muscles tense. “I’d feel better if you took that box outside.”

“I’m sure you would.” She reached for the gun Jase had left on the bar. “But I no longer care what you think.”

The sharp edge in her voice left no doubt about her intentions. Zoe rose cautiously, standing on weak legs beside Jase. She felt slightly less vulnerable than when she was sitting, even though there was no chance she could outrun a blast from the shotgun. She hadn’t asked Jase what the shells were loaded with, but it didn’t matter. At this range, even a slug would be deadly in experienced hands. More likely, it was loaded with bird shot, which meant Jennifer’s aim wouldn’t have to be nearly as accurate for the scatter pattern to kill.

Jennifer competently slid the bolt back to see if it was loaded. Jase eased in front of Zoe as he spoke. “I was about to put it away.”

“That’s okay, I would just have to get it out again.” She eyed him casually. “I didn’t expect you to hang around here after your girlfriend was nearly killed.”

The words sank in as everything else seemed to slow down. Jennifer knew about the shooting. Knew Zoe had been the target. Zoe doubted Jennifer spent her time listening to a police scanner.

She glanced at Jase, fighting a sense of unreality, not wanting to believe what her brain was telling her. He didn’t move, but standing so close she saw what Jennifer probably missed, the momentary flinch, as if he’d absorbed a hard blow. The pain of betrayal.

“
You
shot at Zoe?”

“God, you’re slow.” Holding the gun at her waist, she steadied the barrel with her other hand. “But you caught up just in time to appreciate the ending.” She smiled with satisfaction at her own words as she thumbed the safety, then raised the shotgun and leveled it at Jase.

Chapter
Twenty

H
e didn’t care about the saloon. All Jase could think of was protecting Zoe.

He angled his body to shield her better, but stopped at Jennifer’s oddly melodic “Uh-uh-uh.” She shook her head in warning. “In case you were thinking of moving, don’t. Obviously, my aim is rusty, but at this range I can’t miss.”

He didn’t doubt it. It was the only thing he was sure of. “What are you planning to do, Jennifer?”

“Put things right.” She glanced at the box. “And burn down the Rusty Wire.”

He didn’t try to hide his confusion. “Why?”

“Because it’s important to you. That means it has to go, along with anything else you care about.” She gave Zoe a significant look.

The panic that shot through him made him want to leap at her, wrestle away the gun—a suicide move that would only get them both killed. He tried to override his fear. To think. Her detached attitude confused him. Murder generally sprang from hatred, but Jennifer
seemed oddly unmoved. An ugly possibility came to mind. “Did Matt Flemming put you up to this?”

“No. Really clinging to preconceptions, aren’t you?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dense, Jase. But you make a good point—I’m sure Matt won’t mind. He was disappointed when the first fire didn’t do more damage. It was just dumb luck the fire truck was already on the road, coming back from a run, when I called.”

“He asked you to set the fire?”

“He
paid
me.” She laughed. “Fuckin’ idiot. I would have done it for a lot less than he gave me, too. He must want this place real bad. He’ll be glad to see it burn down.”

“He won’t know about it,” Zoe said. He heard a slight quiver in her voice that stabbed his heart. “Matt’s gone. The authorities are already looking for him. Looking at his financial dealings. They’ll follow the money trail right back to you.”

Jase thought it was a good try, but Jennifer laughed it off. “You think I’m stupid? He gave me cash.”

The new bedroom furniture. The realization barely had time to flash through his mind before she motioned at him with the shotgun barrel. “Would you like to start the fire yourself before I shoot you? Just set the box under the bar, knock over a couple bottles, and strike a match. It’ll be ironic, burning down your own bar just like some people thought you tried to do for insurance money. Want to do it?”

Not a chance in hell. He had to figure out how to prevent it, and all he could think to do was to keep her talking. “How can you do this? You love the Rusty Wire.”

She sneered. “I don’t give a damn about the Rusty Wire.”

“But you put in so many hours here.” He was honestly surprised by her response. “You were here even when you didn’t have to be. You did whatever needed to be done.”

“To keep you from doing it.” She shook her head with a pitying look. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Because you’re so self-centered. You only saw what you wanted to see—a cozy saloon where you could put your feet up, have a beer, and watch the bar babes.”

He winced; the description was too accurate for comfort. “You’re right, Jennifer.” He’d heard somewhere that using a person’s name made them more sympathetic toward you. “That was my life for nine years.” Not entirely, but it seemed important to agree with her. To placate her. “But I’m not doing that anymore. I wasn’t fulfilled, wasn’t accomplishing anything.”

Jennifer’s fingers turned white on the shotgun. “Figured that out, did you?”

“Someone pointed it out, and they were right. What I had wasn’t a life.”

“No shit!” She yelled it, startling him with the sudden change. Rage sped through her, stiffening her back, burning from her eyes. “You didn’t
deserve
a life! Not after taking Adam’s. And I made sure you didn’t have one. For nine fucking years!”

He’d obviously flipped a switch in her brain, and he wished he knew how to turn it off again. A crazy person with a gun was bad enough; a crazy person with a gun and a grudge was miles worse.

“I babysat you,” she said, getting into her rant. “Made sure you remembered what you’d done, kept your guilt alive. What you’d taken from me. It was a daily dose of revenge. But then
she
came along and ruined it all.” Jennifer’s heated gaze burned into Zoe before shifting back to him. “It would have been okay if she’d just jiggled her tits in your face like the others, but she pushed you to do something, and you started getting all sorts of fucking
ideas
in your head, getting interested in the business and making plans. And you
fell in love
with her.” Her scowl deepened, anger twisting her features into something ugly. “Like you had some right to be happy. Well, you don’t!” she screamed, her voice rising with a hysterical edge. “You goddamn fucking don’t! It’s your fault I’ll never be happy again, so you damn well won’t be happy, either!” A drop of spit clung to her lip, and her chest rose and fell rapidly as she regained her breath. “And I’m going to make sure of it. I can set the fucking fire myself.” She lifted the gun.

“It won’t work,” he said, thinking fast. “Even with the fire, they’ll be able to tell we were shot.”

The gun dropped a bit as she glared over it. “Who the hell cares? Let ’em pin it on Matt. They will, you know. Everyone knows he wants to get rid of the saloon, and to do that he needs to get rid of you. And he’s conveniently on the run, already suspected of crimes.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, I like it. I bet I can even fake a few sniffles on your behalf.”

A chill spread through him. She was right. Matt would get blamed, and she would get away with murder.

Beside him, Zoe tensed and her breathing quickened,
but she wisely didn’t move. He reached for her hand, wishing he’d told her what Jennifer had realized. That he loved her. Instead, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He’d get her out of this so he could say it himself.

She gripped his hand in return, and hung on. He hated to do it, but he pulled his hand away. He had to be ready to move fast if he could catch Jennifer off guard.

If he couldn’t . . . well, a gunshot didn’t kill right away, despite what TV and movies would have you believe. He’d have time to reach Jennifer and overpower her, enough time for Zoe to get out of here.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” he said. Still trying to soothe her. To stall her.