Roundabout Road (Saving the Sinners of Preacher's Bend Book 2) (15 page)

“I don’t give a flaming bag of shit what this town
thinks of you right now. Or, what Debra might have done to you. But I can tell
you
exactly
what it says to your character . . . and what I’d like to do
to you this very minute!”

She crossed her arms over her bared chest, waiting for
the wretched bastard to remove his blasted foot from the pile of discarded
clothing so she could redress. Never mind the remainder of her body was still
visible, and he’d seen all of her, six ways to Sunday. And she did mean . . .
all
of her. Jake Giotti was a very careful, skilled lover. He always gave more than
he took.

Believe her; he gave Liddy more than she could have
ever asked for. Her innards were still throbbing.

But he kept the key to the cell door hidden, the key
to letting her out of this wretched place.

He turned kind all of a sudden, removing his foot to
allow her access to her scattered clothes, of which she donned in rapid haste.

Her movements jerky; she would have called them rather
pathetic, under the circumstances.

She had to sit down to put on her shoes. But once her
butt hit the metal of the bench, the stinging tears came at full tilt. There
was nothing she could do to prevent them. Nothing at all. She’d just made love
to a man who couldn’t trust her to do the right thing.

“I’m sorry. But it was the only way I could think of
to get you to admit you don’t want a divorce.”

“That’s right, you idiot. I want an annulment!” Her hackles
rose, prickling her senses to overload.

“No you don’t,” he promised.

“Yes. I do.” Her guts were turning mutinous.

At least she had hoped they were mutinous, because the
rest of her body was gaining a foothold toward murdering this man.

“I’m telling you . . . you don’t.” Jake crossed his
arms over his chest, trying to prove his point.

“Why, Jake? So you can have the very last word in
this?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

“Because you still love me.”

The man actually gloated about this?

Liddy shook her head. “No I don’t.”

“Yes. You do.” Again, a rather infuriating smile came her
way.

This smile caused a turn of her head and an averted
gaze as she responded, “Drop it, Jake.”

Liddy had to look away. She knew he could tell the
truth by sight alone, and that was the worst of it. She could never lie to this
man. Nor hide a lie, when it was everything she could do in her power not to
say one.

“No. I won’t just drop it. Admit it, Liddy. Admit you
still love me.”

His words made her very angry. “Never!” One of her high
heeled shoes was then tossed at his head, but missed.

“Not even if I do this?” he asked, moving ever so slowly
toward her.

Liddy was pinned in a corner, a caged tiger. She had
nowhere to escape. He physically picked her up from the bench with his hands
put to her shoulders, and pressed his mouth to hers, kissing her hard. The kiss
was passionate, melting her into a puddle of pure forgetful insanity.

“You still love me, Liddy,” he added, once pulling his
talented mouth from her lips.

“I can’t.” Her tears fell unchecked. “I can’t possibly
still love you!”

“Oh, but you do,” he warned.

She shook her head. Seconds later, she completely fell
apart. “Yes. I do. Are you satisfied, you sonofabitch? I still love you. I will
always love you. But I can’t love you. I’m not allowed to have the pleasure of
loving you. Besides, you don’t want to be loved, Jake. You never wanted it.”

He seemed stunned by this news. But his being stunned
passed rather quickly. “Says who?”

“Says . . . just about everybody living in Preacher’s
Bend. That’s who.”

“But I’m still living in Preacher’s Bend,” he
admitted. “And believe me when I say being loved was not something I didn’t
want, Liddy.”

“You just want the sex, Jake. You don’t want the love.
There’s a big difference between the two.”

“I know the difference.”

“How?”

“How?” he demanded, adding his own answer. “I haven’t
had sex in ten years. This was the first time since our last time. Did I, at any
time, say something I should not have said to you, while making love to you?”

She shook her head. “No.”

No. He’d said everything a girl could ever want to
hear while in deep passionate throes of some pretty incredible coupling.

“Did I, at all, do something to you I should not have
done?” he questioned.

Again, “No,” slipped out of her mouth.

Good God, No!
Jake Giotti was very good at making love to a woman.

He then turned angry. “Then where the hell do you get
off telling me I don’t want to be loved?”

She never got the chance to answer him. The door
opened, and in walked Debra Wesley . . . with a very angry Mack Wells at Debra’s
side.

Chapter Sixteen

“Well that’s a shame,” Debra announced, moving to her
desk; just barely gave them the time of day as she began sorting through papers.

“What’s a shame?” Mack asked, leaving Debra to come
straight for Liddy.

He placed both hands on the bars and looked in, as if
he was looking at the newest zoo exhibit out on display and truly fascinated by
the fact nothing inside the cage could get out. A half-dressed man and a very
quilt-ridden woman stuck in a holding cell was a science experiment to him.
Friggin’
Adam and Eve!

Liddy could feel the color draining from her face. And
Jake? Dear Lord, the man looked momentarily speechless. Most of their clothes
were still on the floor in a great big heap. Most of his, that was. Hers were
very nicely on her body . . .
Thank you very much!

Truly, she should be thanking God. Otherwise they would’ve
been caught in little more than their birthday suits with huge smiles on their
faces. Worst, caught in the middle of round five—or was it six?—and try
explaining
that
to Mack
Wants-no-sex-until-married
Wells.

“They haven’t killed each other. It would’ve saved me
a whole lot of paperwork if they’d just gone and done each other in,” Debra
declared.

“T—they . . . haven’t . . . ” Mack faltered upon.

A powerful, influential, seen-it-all man looked flabbergasted
Deputy Wesley’s way of thinking murder would be less paperwork for her as being
just.

City folk. They just didn’t understand country folk. Did
they? City folk liked their messes taken care of before nightfall. And if not,
then there should be a damn good explanation as to why it wasn’t cleaned up.
County folk took their time making messes.

Another of those unspoken rules seeming to follow in
the wake of all those others in a town of this size, messes that lasted only one
day, no more, weren’t actual issues.

“Why would you think Liddy would try killing someone
in a holding cell, especially this particular individual?” He eyed Jake up and
down with slight disgust, even sneered at him.

Jake, at the moment, wasn’t talking to her; oddly
enough he wasn’t putting on the rest of his clothe, either. She supposed just
to piss off Mack all the more.

“Mack
.” Liddy
whispered; her throat closed to any sort of speech that was actually audible.

“Debra,” Jake said.

“Yes, Jake?” His half-sister eyed him from across the
room.

“Here.”

Debra moved toward her half-brother. “Here, what?”

“Take the key.”

Jake held the piece of created metal out to Debra.

“The . . .
what?
”

“You heard me. Just take it.” He stepped closer toward
the cell bars to hand it over to a truly stunned deputy. She pocketed the key
while shaking her head in absolute disbelief he even had possession of it in
the first place. It would seem she didn’t know what to say to him.

No one seemed to be able to speak. But there was plenty
of stuff running around in all the heads, and none of it good.

Except in Mack’s case. Mr. Attorney, Mr.
Perfectionist, Mr. All-around Surprise. He couldn’t articulate his thoughts,
though on most days he was paid enormous fees for his gift of speech. Usually nothing
could rattle his cage or faze such a powerful man. He was always in control.
Always smooth under pressure, the man always prepared.

“Liddy Humphrey? What on God’s Green Earth possessed
you to take my car without permission? Did you somehow think permission had been
granted you? Do you know how much that car cost me? How much I
adored
that car? How much I will
miss
. . . my car? And yet, this very kind
woman has informed me it is now totaled?” His eyelids slammed shut as his lips
pinched together. When they re-opened, Liddy took a step back.

“I called in the theft to stop you from doing
something stupid. And you went and fucking totaled it?”

He looked her over, head and toe. As if he couldn’t dare
himself to believe she’d be so incredibly insane, or he’d fallen for someone
with so little brains inside her head.

“It is Lidia Humphrey-
Giotti
, pal,” Jake muttered
under his breath. “And she’s not the one who smashed your expensive toy against
a tree . . .”

Mack had perfect hearing. Though Jake had said this as
a snide remark, the man heard every word, loud and clear, and took it
completely out of context.

“I thought this minor problem of yours’ would’ve been
taken care of long before now, Liddy.” He openly barred his teeth to Jake.

However, the words were meant for her.

Mack did not say ‘
little problem of ours’
. He’d
said
little problem of ‘hers’
. That made this only her fault and Liddy
very angry.

Guilty feelings aside, Mack was pissing her off. If it
was her problem, it should’ve been his problem too. They’re betrothed! He’s the
big shot lawyer. Jesus! Couldn’t he have pulled a few strings? Looked the other
way until she could settle her affairs?

Jake squared his shoulders. His bared shoulders, mind
you. Shoulders she’d kissed tenderly, touched with great passion, caressed with
her nails, and even bit into with her teeth.

Good God! The telltale bite marks are still there
!

“You thought wrong . . .
pal,
” Jake sneered.

Her furious husband looked as though having enough of
Mack and his uptight arrogance. He moved to the other side of the cell to drop
his muscular frame onto the bench. He then placed his head against the wall,
closing his eyes to the sight of one very stubborn man standing outside their
cell.

“Liddy?” Mack asked quickly.

A man who was not speaking to her had somehow found his
voice.

Liddy moved ever so slowly toward the cell bars. She
couldn’t say a single word to him. Not yet, anyway. Her eyes could barely look
at him, either.

GUILT.

All in capital letters in neon flashing clarity.

She needed to think; roll with the punches. Duck if she
had to. But with Jake right behind her, Mack right in front of her . . . each
placing a world of guilt upon her shoulders . . . she couldn’t think at all.

Nor could she move. Not one single reaction was made
to any of this.

“Would you kindly tell me why it is you are in this
two-bit town’s holding cell with your, um . . . with
him
? And it is him,
isn’t it?” he rushed her way, sending a daggered glare at Jake a half-second
later.

“Him has a name. It’s called a husband,” Jake
supplied, looking so damn smug.

Smug, and angry.

“Yes . . . um, Liddy?” Mack turned his eyes her way
again.

Wow
.

Mack did not know how to answer this?
Did this mean he also knew what actually happened in
here?
Could he tell?

Oh, God! Of course he could tell. Jake was half
dressed. Her hair was a complete mess. She was very certain she no longer had
on any lipstick. She’d even chipped a nail. They’d been very creative against
the wall; equally on the bench, floor, and if there’d been a chandelier, she
did believe they would have tried a trapeze sex act.

And Debra was smiling like a damn Cheshire cat over at
her desk. Debra’s not stupid. She knew what went on inside this holding cell.

The fact of this produced the words, “Deputy Wesley
put the two of us in here because there was no other cell to stick me into
until possible sentencing. And I would not be in here—at all—if you would’ve
answered one of my many numerous phone calls during the last seventy-two hours
to tell you where I was and why I needed your car.”

Her brain suddenly worked far faster than any of her nerve
endings were. “You should have considered
that
, before coming all this
way just to accuse me of taking a bit more time than you think as necessary in
obtaining my husb . . . um, Jake’s signature.”

“Have you?” Mack asked. The veins in his neck were protruding.

“Have I what?” Her words stalled midway through the
tirade.

“Have you gotten this man’s signature?” He pointed at
Jake, Mack’s face reddening. “Never mind that what is smashed against a tree
wasn’t just a car, but a five-hundred-thousand dollars, custom specific Porsche
Carrera GT, signed by the owner of Porsche!”

Liddy couldn’t help the large gasp coming out of her
mouth. “Are you kidding me?” She even snorted in Mack’s face.

“Not really. So have you?” he repeated, raising his
brow.

Liddy turned her head toward Jake; a man who was highly
amused at this newest predicament within her life.
Signed by the owner of
Porsche? Oh, Jesus!

Out of turn, Jake answered Mack. “No. She did get some
pretty intense sexual activity, however. I don’t usually hand away my signature
without physical payment. In fact, right in this very cell Liddy got exactly
what she deserved. Lots and lots of what she deserved. Care to see the bite
marks . . . pal?” He even made a move to show Mack the actual places.

All
. . . of
them.

Mack’s eyes grew wide as his face reddened all the
more. “Y—you bloody hell did
what
?” His fingers clamped the cold steel
bars, clearly pinching off blood flow since his knuckles had whitened.

“Allow me to explain,” Liddy pleaded, trying to
capture his hands before he could pull them away.

Mack lurched back and held up his hand, clearly
disgusted. He looked as though he wanted to strangle her.
Had there not been
bars between them . . .

“There is nothing more you can say to me Lidia to
explain any of this.”

“But he’s lying!” she blurted; though, now lying all
on her own.

“No I’m not,” Jake said. “If she hadn’t asked
something so incredibly foolish from me in the first place, we’d still be
having pretty demanding sex right about now, right here on the floor.” He
pointed to the smaller pile of their clothing, much to her chagrin and absolute
horror he would turn on her in this way.

Mack white as a ghost by the end of Jake’s rather rude
assessment to the last few hours, he whispered at her, “You didn’t, oh, God, did
you?”

Liddy took a very deep breath and answered the tall
man standing in judgment. “Yes.” Her lone word slipped out of her mouth in a
squeak. It was followed closely by Mack slamming his fist against the bars of
their holding cell, causing her body to recoil.

Jake then added, “Over, and over, and over, until she
got it right. And believe me Liddy is still as hot as ever. Incredibly talented,
too. See the bite marks?” His finger pointed at the one on his neck. “She’s a damn
wildcat if you ask me.”

He then pointed to his shoulder, smiling evilly at her
betrothed, as his finger lowered in slow motion to point at his cock hidden
under suit pants.

Liddy’s head hung so low at that crass action she
doubted it would ever come back up to see what was right in front of her face.
The muscles in her neck were little more than goo. She was surely going to
prison now for stealing Mack’s car. So she might as well kill Jake while she
still had the chance, before the grand opportunity slipped from her grasp.

“Okay, you three. Enough already,” Debra yelled. “Jake
got a little action from his missing wife. So what?” She moved toward her file
cabinet.

Mack turned on the large woman quicker than wildfire.
“So what? So
what!?
Might I remind you this woman is betrothed—to me?”

“Hey, I don’t do well with polygamy, pal,” Debra
tossed over her shoulder. She then turned toward Mack. “I just take care of the
law around here. And if she’s betrothed to you, then why the hell is she still
married to him?” Debra pointed at Jake, having a tit for tat with Mack.

Besides, no amount of flashy cash would ever make
Debra buckle to any man.

Sometimes trailer trash needed to stick together, and
for one brief moment Liddy felt a kindled friendship with her sister-in-law. A
sisterhood of the damned! That moment passed.

“
Because
!” Jake and she blurted in unison. He
then took over briefly, toning it down a bit. “Just . . . because.”

“Jesus! I fucking don’t believe any of this! Christ,
Liddy!” Mack, a man who barely swears, threw his hands into the air. “I drove
all the way up here, thought you hurt in some terrible car crash . . . and you
haven’t taken the time to get a lousy signature on any one of those annulment
papers, but time enough to fuck your soon-to-be ex, and it would seem more than
once?”

He didn’t wait for her response. “I no longer have a
cherry red Porsche. It’s a mangled mess. I no longer have my sanity, of which I
do need to practice law. And you, my dear . . . we are no longer betrothed. It’s
over between us. Do you hear me? Over! Don’t you dare come crawling back to
Miami on hands and knees, begging for forgiveness. I won’t stand for it. And
I’ll make damn sure you pay dearly if you even try.”