Last of the Red-Hot Riders (4 page)

“No one is afraid of Ivy,” he said, his head starting to pound. A smart man would lock the doors and drive away, with Cameron safely in his truck. Better yet, a smart man would grab this delicious redhead and shut her up the old-fashioned way, with his mouth on her lips, inhaling her.

Neither of those options were open to him. “Just give me a few minutes to scope out the situation.” Music suitable for dancing and drinking plenty filled the air, permeating the truck. The low-slung building had its share of customers tonight, and they'd spilled out into the parking lot—chatting, drinking, or smooching, or all of the above. White lights and colored lanterns hung from the live oaks, illuminating the boots-wearing couples. The parking lot was jammed full, and it was a sure thing the interior of the Honky-tonk was every bit as rocking. The entrance to Ivy's lair was clear for ingress and egress, so that was a plus.

“Really, you don't have to do this,” Cameron said.

“I'm going to, though.” He shook his head at her tone. “You don't understand that one just doesn't go hopping into a frying pan without checking out the fire.”

“Judy wouldn't have sent us out here if she thought we'd be in trouble.”

“Judy doesn't always think.”

“Clearly I'm in a truck with a thinker. Let me know when you've finally hit max pain with that.”

“You're cute and very brave when it's not your lips that are in danger.”

She gasped. “You
are
afraid Ivy's girls are going to try to kiss you! Declan was telling the truth!”

He was going to pummel his friend for the monster fib he'd told. “If you don't be quiet, I will start tonight's kissing with
you.
”

“We'll tell everyone that you're my date. You'll be safe.”

He jerked to stare at her so fast he got a crick in his neck. “How would you being my date protect me, cookie?”

She raised a brow. “If you're with me, no one will try to get inside your space, Saint. You'll be safe.”

There was only so much a man could take. He hauled her over to his seat and took those red-velvety lips, not with the gentle exploratory peck she'd given him, but with a desperate urgency.

And yes, her mouth was every bit as soft as he'd imagined. It was delicious, and she didn't move at first, allowing him to kiss her as deeply as he wanted. He explored a soft tongue and went deeper on her moan, feeling her body give a little toward his. Suddenly she was kissing him back, practically melting him with kisses that met his mouth over and over again. He couldn't stop kissing her, falling into her sweetness, his body demanding more than this, more of her.

Several raps on the window broke them apart guiltily.

“Oh,
no,
” Cameron groaned as Harper and Declan stared in at them, their expressions astonished.

“Let us in!” Declan insisted.

Saint popped the locks. Harper and Declan dove in the back, staring at them.

“What were you guys doing?” Declan asked.

“Discussing our plans,” Saint said.

“That's not what it looked like,” Harper said.

“Not unless the plan was lodged at the back of Cameron's throat,” Declan said.

“What are you doing here?” Saint asked, annoyed at getting caught kissing Cameron when he hadn't even wanted to be kissing her in the first place. He'd really had no plans for that; in fact, he'd had the best intentions not to ever let that happen again.

But oh, how sweet kissing her was.

“What are
we
doing here?” Declan looked from Saint to Cameron. “Judy told Steel about an hour ago that she'd sent you to Ivy's. He ordered us to provide backup. How were we to know that backup was the last thing you'd want, since you weren't planning on going inside? You had your own personal kissing booth going on right in here.”

“That's not funny,” Saint said, but then Cameron laughed, and he thought it was going to be hard to make the case that Declan should shut the hell up if Cameron didn't mind the teasing.

“Can't a girl kiss a guy without you making a lot of noise?” she asked Declan. “Anyway, you're the one who told me he was afraid of women.”

“Yeah, that was a good one.” Declan sounded pleased with himself. Saint promised himself he'd give his buddy hell about that at the earliest opportunity.

“So is he?” Harper asked.

“Is he what?” Saint said.

“I'm asking Cameron if she was able to determine whether you are, in fact, afraid of women.” Harper seemed very interested in the answer.

Cameron looked at him, smiling. “He's a little on the shy side.”

So this was what his sex life had come to—getting the jazz from one and all about his desire to keep his focus on work and not women. “I'm no more afraid of women than Declan is.” He laughed at his buddy's worried expression. “I expect to see you first in line at the kissing booth I'm in charge of, buddy. Bring a fat wallet, because all those kisses mean bucks for the new elementary school.”

“Are we going in or not?” Harper asked, changing the subject quickly, Saint noticed. “I only came out here to get inside the Honky-tonk on a free pass from Mayor Judy.”

“You didn't come with me because you wanted to?” Declan asked, and Saint thought his buddy sounded a little hurt. Or maybe intrigued. But it served him right for being such a pain in his neck.

“I came for the party,” Harper said. “Judy and Steel are babysitting for me, so this is my big thirty minutes on the wild side.”

“Well, the Honky-tonk certainly is the wild side. Let's go. It's boring with these two old fogies, anyway,” Declan said.

Harper and Declan practically fell out of the truck in their eagerness to get inside the disreputable fun house. Cameron looked at him. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“They didn't have a plan. They didn't build a monument to planning. They just went inside.”

He watched sourly as Declan pulled Harper across the two-lane road in front of the Honky-tonk. “So they did.”

“I'm going too.” She hopped out and ran to catch up with her friends.

Saint got out in a hurry, not about to let Cameron out of his sight. There was no telling what could happen inside the Honky-tonk—and there was no predicting what Cameron might decide to get into. He followed his team, his sixth sense and all the rest of his senses running hot with caution.

Of course, those same warning bells had been going off in the truck when he'd been kissing Cameron.

And he hadn't listened to those, either.

“My, we've been graced with extra-special visitors tonight!” Ivy Peters looked at the four of them, her gaze bright and laughing. Clearly she was the queen bee of her hive, holding court in a crowded wood-framed ballroom. Cameron was always struck by how gorgeous Ivy was; she might be growing older, but she certainly wasn't aging. Her long, two-toned hair caught the eye with its edgy allure, highlighted strands over dark, with bangs under which large expressive eyes stared directly at you. She wore a gold-threaded western blouse, tight faded jeans that showed off all the assets she wanted shown, and boots decorated with roses and gold leaves that had never seen the inside of a stall. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” She perched herself on top of the bar, peering down at them. “Or should I just cut to the chase and ask you why Judy's sent you out tonight?”

Cameron stepped forward to make certain she could be heard over the country music. “Judy wants to invite you to participate in the Hell's Kissing Booth for the parade.”

Ivy smiled. “My girls get plenty of kisses here, for much more than a buck.”

“It's for an elementary school Judy's planning to build in Hell.” Cameron felt Saint behind her. A couple of Ivy's girls eyed him hungrily from the opposite side of the bar. He needed her to protect him, so Cameron vowed to stay close to him.

“I don't care about giving to charity, sweet girl. Charity begins at home, and this is my home.” She smiled again, but Cameron didn't think she meant it as a friendly gesture. “I pay my taxes in Hell, and that's enough. I'm sure Judy's mentioned to you that she wants to settle Hell, and I want it to stay man-friendly. Bad girls for bad boys. It's better for my business.”

Harper stepped forward. “Having some of your girls participate would be good advertising for your, um, business.”

“Well, aren't you the venture-minded member of the gang?” Ivy laughed. “Do I look like I need advertising, darling? Word-of-mouth works just fine for me. Besides, did you ask Judy if she'd let me paint ‘Honky-tonk and Dive Bar' on the outside of my booth at her family-friendly charity event?”

These were salient points. Cameron wondered if Judy had thought this through.

“Hello, Saint,” Ivy purred. “Long time no see. Well, not
that
long.”

Cameron whipped around to glance at Saint's face before catching herself. Ivy laughed, but Saint had looked a trifle guilty.

“Good to see you, Declan,” Ivy said. “I've had about ten girls asking when you were coming back out to see us. Let me get you studs a drink. On the house.”

The girls behind the bar went into action, their busty tops barely covering their assets and jiggling with movements that were practiced and sexy. Cameron found her voice again. “Ivy, Judy wouldn't have sent me if she didn't believe that having you take part in the parade was the best thing for Hell.”

Ivy gave her such a long and narrow stare that Cameron felt herself recoil a bit. Maybe she had, because Saint put his hand at her waist suddenly, applying just enough pressure to let her know he wasn't going anywhere.

Ivy slid down off the bar, a practiced slink that was mesmerizing. Drinks were given to all four of them, the barmaids making extra sure they got as close to Saint and Declan as they could, pushing their assets up against their arms. Cameron could tell Saint tried really hard not to look, but it was impossible not to—even Cameron had to take a peek.

Ivy gestured to them to follow her, and they did. She wafted into an inner room Cameron had never seen, and closed the door behind them. A chandelier glittered from the ceiling, and a large mahogany desk with a tufted leather chair took up most of the large room. It was filled with leather-bound books, and two Tiffany lamps graced either end of the desk. Ivy sat in her leather chair but didn't invite them to sit in the accompanying leather club chairs. They stood there with their drinks in their hands, trying to act professional since they were on a mission from Judy, but feeling tense. At least Cameron did. There were drawers behind the desk, some of which hid filing cabinets, and from one of these Ivy pulled a file, which she laid on the desk in front of her.

“Judy should have saved you a trip,” Ivy said. “But as she chose to use you as her pawns, let me tell you what Judy really wants, to save you from coming back out here disguised as a charity mission.”

Cameron looked at Ivy. “We're listening.”

“Judy and I are first cousins. Neither of us has children.
You
are her children, I suppose.”

Cameron raised a brow. “I'm pretty sure that's not how she sees us.”

“We'll see.” Ivy put a delicate hand on the folder. “Judy and I own a considerable amount of real estate and land together.”

Now, this was a surprise. “How? You two don't get along,” Cameron said.

“And neither did our mothers. But these properties have been in our family for years. This establishment, for example, is partly owned by Judy.”

Cameron and Harper gasped. “That can't be. Judy thinks this place is a blot on Hell,” Cameron said.

Ivy laughed. “She may, but that's jealousy talking. I get far more customers than she'll ever get with her silly parade, and my Honky-tonk brings far more revenue into Hell than any establishment on the
right
side of the highway.” She smiled. “I should say that the combined establishments of Hell don't bring in the money that I do.”

Cameron thought Ivy was probably telling the truth. With a total citizenry of about two hundred, there weren't all that many super-profitable businesses in town. In fact, there weren't any hopping businesses, now that she thought about it. There was Stephen Redfeather's place, but they all ate there out of habit and loyalty. Even the most hapless tourist quickly figured out that Hattie's had the more refined atmosphere and the better food. Madame Chen sold flowers, which couldn't bring in all that much. But the Honky-tonk was packed to the rafters every single night.

“So you're saying that Judy wants you to participate because she owns part of this place?” Cameron asked.

“Well, she's been trying to put me out of business for years.” Ivy leaned back in her chair, but she didn't look relaxed. “Now she's just trying another tack.”

“If this is true, why wouldn't Judy just sell her portion of the real estate you two own?” Saint asked.

“Because she can't. Neither of us can. By our mothers' wills, it has to be passed down to the next generation. It was this way from our great-grandmother's days. But Judy and I were only children, and neither of us will have children. Life is so strange that way, isn't it?”

Cameron looked at the sexy woman. “What will happen to everything if neither of you have heirs?”

“Well,” Ivy said, leaning forward at her desk as if she were taking them into her confidence, “my guess is that Judy's hoping to outlive me. Wouldn't you think? And then she could give all of our parcels to any Hell charity she wanted. Knowing Judy the way I do, that's what I think she has on her mind.”

“You don't know that, though,” Cameron said, but she thought Ivy's guess might be on target. Judy was very civic-minded, Hell's greatest cheerleader.

“I
do
know that,” Ivy said, winking at Saint, who stood protectively behind Cameron. “Judy's just waiting me out. This place would come down, and no doubt a hospital would be put here. Or a junior high school, or a day care, or anything that would bring families to Hell.” Ivy smiled, her beautiful lips curving sexily. “But Fate has dealt us an interesting twist recently. Not that she'd want you to know, since she indicated she would appreciate my keeping her confidence, but my dear cousin has just discovered she has breast cancer.”

Harper and Cameron stared, stunned. Cameron wanted to deny it, wanted to reach across the desk and slap Ivy for being such an evil bitch—there was no reason to play so hard-core. But then she remembered how tired and pale Judy had been at dinner last night—and she knew Ivy was telling the truth.

“How would you know that?” Declan demanded.

“Because she told me.” Ivy held up the sheaf of papers. “When you own a lot of real estate together, you're sort of tied together for life. She had to tell me. So you go on back to Judy, and you tell her that all the do-gooding in the world isn't going to convince me to give any of my time or my girls' time to her latest scheme to make Hell the place where the best families in Texas dream of raising their kids. We won't be opening Babyville or anything like that. As far as I'm concerned, I'm the Queen of Hell, and I like it just the way it is. Nice and
hot.
”

Saint didn't think his truck had ever been so silent with two people in it. He didn't dare turn on any music to break the silence, and he didn't know what to say. He was shocked into absolute frozen pain. Any moment he expected Cameron to burst into tears, and while he wasn't a guy for emotions, he'd be glad when the dam finally burst.

He was planning to sneakily wipe his own eyes when, a couple hundred feet from his house, she finally spoke.

“Ivy's more poison than ivy,” Cameron said, sounding mad as hell. “Why didn't I reach across that desk and slap her into the next county!”

It wasn't a question, more a determination that next time, she'd take a crack at Ivy. Saint cleared his throat, pretended to mop his forehead while taking a fast pass over his eyes. How could Judy not have told them she had a major health issue?

“
Next
time,” Cameron said, her voice practically shaking with rage, and Saint cleared his throat again as he parked the truck in his drive. “Take me to town, please.”

“You want to go to the Honeysuckle Bungalow?” Maybe she wanted to go meet up with Harper, though he had a funny feeling that Declan might not be taking her home anytime soon. Judy and Steel were babysitting Harper's son, so picking up Michael would mean seeing Judy. Harper probably wasn't ready to face her yet.

He
wasn't ready to face Judy yet.

They needed a plan. But first, he had to catch his breath.

“I want to go to Hattie's,” Cameron said.

Hattie and Judy were best friends, and Hattie had more common sense than anyone else in town. “I doubt Hattie knows, and we can't let the cat out of the bag. Not until we have a plan.”

Cameron looked at him. “Plans are good. Mine got shot all to hell back there. Let's hear yours.”

“Okay. First, I'm getting out of this truck, and I'm going inside my house. I'm going to have a good strong whiskey. If you're not comfortable being alone with me—”

“I'm fine.” Cameron got out of the truck. “Besides, I could use a glass of wine.”

He couldn't remember the last woman who'd crossed his threshold. He reminded himself that Cameron was off-limits and vowed not to do anything to spoil the just-friends comfort level they'd gotten to. It wasn't enough—but it was better than awkward. Getting out of the truck, he let out a startled yell as Eli Larson jumped down from the truck bed.

“Damn it, Eli! You've got to stop doing that!”

The bedraggled man stared at him, his eyes not quite focused. His hair hadn't seen a brush in a long time, although he would get a cut at the barbershop soon enough, courtesy of the town's fund for the hometown veteran.

“Oh, look. A puppy!” Cameron exclaimed, coming around the truck bed to examine what Eli was holding.

Eli handed the puppy to Saint and loped off down the road.

“Eli!” Saint yelled. “I don't want this animal! Holy crap.” The occasional stray managed to wander through Hell, which was usually a lucky thing for a stray because Dr. Jack always fixed them up and found them homes. So far Saint had managed to avoid taking on one of Dr. Jack's special causes. He looked at Cameron's delighted face, studying the animal with eye-to-eye concentration as he held it. “Oh, shit. I'm going to want this animal, aren't I?”

“Of course you do!” She frowned at him. “And you want to give him a bath right now and then make an appointment with Dr. Jack.”

“That's just what I was planning to do tonight,” he said gloomily, following Cameron to his front door and letting them in. It was some comfort that Cameron was actually with him and in his house, but this smelly cur was going to put a real damper on any further exploration of her lips he might have been fortunate enough to pursue.

Oh, who am I kidding? That was a one-shot deal.

“I can't believe Ivy,” Cameron fumed. “How dare she sit there and smirk about poor Judy! I don't care how much they hate each other, she ought to be sympathetic about Judy's health. Cancer! Oh, my God. Poor Judy!” She went into the kitchen like she lived there, got out two glasses while he held the smelly dog. “Over here?” she asked, pointing to the stock of whiskey he kept on top of his bar for what he called medicinal paybacks.

“And if there's wine, it's in the cabinet underneath.” He looked at the dog with some loathing. “Animal, you are an ugly beast. Where did Eli find you?”

“He's not ugly!” Cameron was horrified. “Saint Markham, you speak nicely to your fur baby!”

He gulped, realizing he could find himself in the doghouse permanently if he didn't get ahold of himself. “Yes, ma'am.”

“That's better.” She brought him a nice-sized slug of whiskey. “I'm guessing he's going to be a big best friend. I think I see some German shepherd and maybe some golden retriever.”

“I'm going to name him Trouble,” he warned her.

“You do, and you really will have trouble.”

He gulped again. “Lucky?”

“That's better.” She put her drink down and took Lucky from him. “Let's go find your father's bathtub for a nice rinse-off, so you'll look your best for Dr. Jack. No doubt you have all kinds of worms and fleas and other icky things your new dad will need to address.”