Roundabout Road (Saving the Sinners of Preacher's Bend Book 2) (9 page)

Rachel’s gaze snapped hurriedly to Jake’s. “What the
devil did you do, Jake? Go and get yourself hitched to . . . to this . . .
woman
?
Come on. Even for you, that’s pretty foolish.” She moved closer to the bars then
whispered the rest. “She ain’t exactly your type. I mean . . . look at her.”

Jake smiled at Rachel’s objectivity while easing his
hand from the bars. “Tell me about it,” he said, grinning sinfully.

“Oh! This is getting good,” Larry added. “Really good.
Jesus! This is much better than anything I could’ve thought to get involved
in.”

Both Liddy and Jake blurted out toward his cell, “Shut
the hell up!”

With what looked to be regret, her husband then
admitted the sordid truth to Rachel, aloud. “No. I did not get hitched to this
woman last night, Rachel. I did something even stupider.” He groaned under his
breath what this was, exactly. “But I did get hitched to her ten years ago, and
back then—” he stalled upon, turning to face Liddy, his tight-lipped smile
saying it all. “She wasn’t exactly my type back then, either.”

Rachel might have wanted a piece of Jake, but that
piece had been promised to Liddy, and yet Liddy could no longer look him in the
eye on this latest dig, too pissed to give the  man a second of her time.

“Oh!” Rachel said in response.

This followed by Larry blurting out, “Damn! Now it
ain’t as funny as it was if she’s your
wife
!”

“Would you please. . . Shut . . . the Hell . . . up?” Liddy
repeated toward a man trying to hold his own ten feet away.

Rachel backed away slowly from their shared cell. “Um,
I think I had better get back to my customers.” In other words, she needed to
get back to the start of Preacher’s Bend’s very long gossip line.

Liddy wasn’t stupid. She knew how this worked. Within
the hour those who hadn’t known she was back . . . would.

Jake nodded, reluctantly. He, too, aware the sooner
Rachel left this police station the sooner all hell would break loose on his
ass.

“That would probably be best,” he said.

Of course it would be best! Within seventy-two hours Jake
would be a free man. He’d be able to hide himself in Theo’s shack with his bees
for at least another twenty years or so.

Yet his ease of voice was nothing compared to the
unsteady beat of Liddy’s heart while she’d been mimicking his words behind his
back; even rolled her eyes when he’d called her ‘the woman’.

Preacher’s Bend’s elders were likely to get wind of her
return, and she could see Jake had no real desire to be around her when this happened.

Once Rachel was out the door and only the four of them
were left inside the local police station, Jake turned on his heel, stormed
over to her side of their shared cell, manhandled her to her feet, and yelled into
her face. “What the hell was all that about?”

She watched her husband grimace to pain the rather
foolish maneuver made. A second later, Jake broke into a cold sweat.

Liddy gloated. A foolish man tended to do very rash
things when provoked. And God help them, both were being provoked into the
point of brain-dead. Even so, she’d caught herself from swaying toward the
heated intensity of his anger.

“I was simply telling that
woman
the truth,”
she smarted.

“The truth?” he balked at. “The fucking
truth
?
Do you even know what the truth is?”

“Yes, I do, even if you don’t. Without an annulment
signed in ink, we are still married. Which makes you, whether you like it or
not, my husband.”

“On paper only, you fucking witch!” he ground out. “It
sure as hell doesn’t give you the right to be a catty bitch to Rachel. She doesn’t
deserve that shit from you. And neither do I deserve any of this.”

“Oh! And I deserve what’s happening to me?”

Her sight slipped to the man’s fingers clamped onto her
upper arm; fingers that were digging painfully into her bare flesh.

Jake noticed her downfall gaze and quickly dropped her
arm. “Damn you, Liddy!”

Catching sight of her bruising skin, he actually
seemed remorseful. That remorse lasted for one lousy second. A second Liddy didn’t
fully enjoy as he added, “Damn you to Hell!”

Chapter Nine

This was the second time today where he’d clamped his
hand onto his walkabout wife when in anger.

Jake wasn’t usually prone to hurting women, even
though Liddy deserved his wrath, and then some. He would rather love a woman,
than ever hurt one. But damnit!

Liddy took a deep breath and held it. Jake simply
flared his nostrils. Each stared the other down, each trying not to cave. However,
the one in the most pain was the first to pull away, the first to give in. Jake
glanced at his watch and groaned.
Only seventy-one hours, forty-two minutes
and ten seconds to go!
He should be able to make it through a few more
hours within Liddy’s presence. He’d certainly been through far worse in his
relatively short life. Two years in the slammer ring a bell?

He strode over to where his ice pack lay, unbuttoned
his shirt and took it off, dropped the blood-soaked material carelessly to the
floor, then placed the cold directly onto his badly damaged arm. His sigh was
heavy as he slumped onto the hard metal bench. With eyes closed, he did not see
Liddy staring at his bared flesh.

Nor did he catch sight of her shock to the nonfatal
wound.

Jake could only take one thing at a time. Getting rid
of the pain in his arm was this one thing. The rest would have to be dealt with
on a first come, first-served basis. Anything beyond it had to be shoved to the
back of the line until he could catch his breath.

He was going to do all he could to control destiny—for
now.

Unfortunately, he did not hear Liddy cross over to
him. But he certainly smelled her. The scent of rose petals brushed over strong,
painful memories in his head, causing more grief than he’d ever imagined.

“What the hell do you want now, Liddy?” His eyes
closed, his steam vented, his tongue was actually being civil for a change—wonder
of wonders.

He didn’t want to continually fight with her. Nor did
he much care to waste his breath arguing what was an unending war between the
two.

Liddy took a deep breath and sat next to him.

Jake opened his eyes to startling blue orbs staring at
his upper arm.

“So? Now you know,” he said. But the knowledge left a
bitter taste in his mouth.

“Jake,” Liddy poured out, “what did you do to your
arm?”

“I already told you. Nothing much.”

About to raise her hand to the raw wound, he highly
doubted his heart could take the contact of her fingers with his skin. He slid
over on the bench to get out of her reach.

“You—” she stumbled out, “—you changed it.”

“I know.” The words were little more than a deep moan
from the dark recesses of his gut.

“Why did you change it?”

He closed his eyes, took a moment to gather his
thoughts, and said, “I did it so I would never forget being such a damn fool.
That’s why.”

His snake tattoo now had a chain around it; captured
and tied down, the tag hanging from the chain simply read . . . ‘
Liddy’
.

“Oh, Jake.” She looked to be avoiding, at all costs,
falling apart at the seams.

 “When did you do this?” she asked, turning her head
from the sight of his arm.

She could barely look at the snake.

Captured and tied down was symbolic of how he felt
about her these days. Yet there’d been a time when she’d ran her tongue over his
snake. A time when she ran her fingers over his body. The bombarding memories
inside his head physically hurt.

“I did this the day you left me,” was all he would say,
because they were suddenly interrupted by Ceril and Debra coming into the
police station at a clip.

“Would you look at this latest mess! And neither Giotti
killed the other?” Debra blurted; a smile set to her lips.

Ceril grinned too. He then walked toward his desk.

“But already Jake has taken his shirt off,” she added.

“I’m sure given a few minutes more they would have
tried to end each other’s life,” Larry added in.

Debra stormed over to the incarcerated foul-mouthed
man. “It is about time for you to leave us. Chief Ceril will see to getting
your ass back to Sparta.” She shoved a key in the lock and twisted her wrist.

“But the fun is just starting,” Larry whined, stepping
out of his holding cell.

“Hey! What about me?” Duke asked, as Debra moved Larry
toward Ceril’s desk.

“You will just have to wait your turn. You don’t
really think I’m stupid enough to be letting the two of you out together, do
you?” she answered.

Duke sat down on the bench, clamping his mouth shut.
No one lived more than a day if ever they called Debra Wesley stupid.
To her
face
, that was. Behind her back, a man—or woman—could get away with it
every second upon every hour.

Chief Berken picked up the lone sheet of paper resting
on the top of his desk, scanned it briefly, then flipped it down; disgust written
all over his face. “This for real?” he asked his second in command.

Debra nodded as she tried locating the key to Duke’s
cell on a ring of about fifty keys.

Ceril turned his sight to Liddy. “Jesus! Wanted for Grand
Theft Auto, Ms. Humphrey?”

“Yep,” Debra admitted loudly, finding the key hidden
amongst the clutter on her desk and not on the key ring.

Liddy groaned. Aloud.

“You should probably add spousal abuse to any
charges,” Jake muttered; and looked as though unable to help himself.

Ceril gave Jake a strange look, while Debra kept up
with her grinning.

“Liddy hasn’t done a goddamn thing to you Jake, for the
charge to be made against her,” his half-sister warned.

“Not yet.” He smiled. “But I am positive she’s thinking
about it. Doesn’t thinking count for at least another ten to twenty? But without
the possibility of parole?”

Liddy hissed under her breath, “Is the act of
committing murder while inside a holding cell actually considered spousal
abuse,
Darling
?”

“How the hell should I know?” he threw back. “You’re
the hot shot lawyer’s sex toy who got herself stuck into this one. You tell me.”

Jake eyed his wife up and down with about as much
disgust as Ceril had at reading one lone sheet of paper sitting on his desk.

Debra interrupted their tiny—albeit, heated—argument
before it got out of her control. “That will be enough out of the both of you! I
have my hands full with these two deviants. I don’t need lip from either one of
you for the only reason you hate each other and somehow can’t act like grown
adults when in the same room. Get along or else!”

Ceril started to chuckle. Duke grinned from inside his
holding cell. Debra actually smirked at her very own thoughts. And to a rather
unfortunate Larry, all he got was another ‘
Shut the hell up
!’ before even
given the chance to say anything audible.

Jake wasn’t done with putting his two cents in,
either.

“Now she’s threatening me! Look! There’s a tie in
here. I might not make it through the night if she gets her hands on this tie.”
He held the tie up for all those inside the police station to view.

Debra’s eyes widened in jackrabbit haste. “How the
hell did a tie get in there? Damnit, Jake! You did not have a tie on your
person when I first put you in there. `Course you had on all your clothes . . .
but you sure as hell went inside the cell tie-less.” She stormed over to the holding
cell and held out a hand.

“An ever darling Rachel brought it to him,” Liddy
supplied sweetly, innocent of all fault toward the misdemeanor. “Surely he must
have asked her bring it to him to use against me? That’s premeditated criminal behavior
. . . if ever there was.”

Ceril choked on his sip of coffee.

Everyone in the station was more than aware the few
times he did get to arrest someone, the culprit was usually released once the
man’s hangover worn off. There’d never been an actual big city crime in Preacher’s
Bend when Liddy lived here. This would be the very first
, ever,
where Chief
Ceril had a real car thief within his jail. And not just any car thief.
No
!

Debra tossed Jake’s ill-gotten tie toward her desk as
Ceril raised his great berth from a small wooden chair. Swear to God, the man’s
chair sighed when his ass left it.

“Think you can handle Duke?” he asked his
second-in-command.

Debra glared at her boss’s back in answer.

Everyone also knew the two of them got along like peas
in a pod. Ceril at one end of the pod, Debra seated at the other. With a whole
lot of useless, genetically-faltering peas taking up space throughout the
middle.

“Okay, then. I should be back in about three hours.” Chief
Berken said, moving
Loose-lips Larry
toward the door.

To all parties involved, three hours translated into a
one hour drive down to Sparta, one hour drive back up to Preacher’s Bend, and
another one hour nap with Ceril holding out at home during the heat of the day
inside cranked air-conditioning.

“I can’t stay here. I have something to take care of
today. Police business,” Debra said.

“Someone needs to watch these two. One of them already
got their hands on a tie. There’s no telling what else might turn up in either
of their hands.” Ceril had announced his thoughts lightly, masking a chuckle.
Yet, he grinned at Jake through the cell bars. “We wouldn’t want the need to do
any explaining of an unexplained death on our watch, now would we, Deputy
Wesley?”

Jake pulled his gaze from Ceril’s.

“They wouldn’t dare!” Debra yelped.

“Oh, believe me . . . these two?” Ceril pointed at the
cell. “—The Giottis would dare just about anything, given the opportunity to do
so. This fine old town has gotten plenty of scars from what these two can do to
each other. Preacher’s Bend doesn’t need any more scars, Debra. It’ll have to
be up to you to make sure the old place stays scar free.”

****

Jake groaned.

Yeah, he’d be the first to claim a few of those scars.
He wasn’t going to deny this. His eyes then drifted to Liddy. Hell, she’d been
as much a culprit in her youth as he’d been. They could share the blame.

“They’ve certainly got some explaining to do. But, by
the look of things . . .” Ceril smiled. “I’d say they have to deal with each
other first. You go ahead and do whatever it is you need doing, Debra. But these
two deviants need a baby-sitter before you leave.” He pushed Larry through the
open door. “Maybe Theo can watch over them? It’s
Bitch Day
. I’m sure the
old hag won’t repeat anything either says in confidence.”

Ceril added, “But if she does, I’m sure it wouldn’t
hurt this town any to hear it.”

Neither Jake . . . nor would it seem, Liddy . . . wanted
Theodora Rosebud to come over to the police station just to baby-sit them;
simply because they couldn’t get along with each other.

“We’ll behave,” Jake promised. “You don’t have to ask
Theo to come out in this heat.”

And it was indeed hot outside, getting close to
eighty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Theodora was not a very nice person, let alone
when the thermometer read in the high eighties. Put the two together and folks could
have an internal combustion—nuclear style.

Theodora Rosebud was a bitter old hag who thought she
ran this town. Jake, more than anyone, knew this. The woman absolutely hated life.
About as much as she despised the extracurricular activities of her very
deceased husband over the last twenty years. Theodora coming down to the police
station would be far worse than his just dealing with Liddy all on his own.

For a brief moment, Ceril considered the pros and cons
of Jake’s promise. Then he gave in. “Okay. Fine, they don’t need a baby sitter.”
His head turned toward Jake. “But don’t you dare have me regret this decision, Mr.
Giotti. `Cause if you do, I’ll personally add another four years to your parole
condition. Am I making myself clear on this?”

Under the circumstances, it was pretty hard for Ceril
to be tough on him; since a complete turnaround in moral behavior had already
occurred. But as their Chief, Jake knew Ceril had to try.

He nodded. “Understood perfectly, Chief.” Another four
years under Debra’s watchful eye would physically kill him.  He wasn’t dumb
enough to chance this. Besides, he had no real desire to tempt fate when his
hands were already tied behind his back.

“Good.”

Chief Berken tugged Larry out the door. Debra opened
Duke’s cell and moved him to the police station door, as well.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Jake,” she warned her
half-brother. “Because if you do, I’ll come back here and kill you myself.”

“Nothing stupid. Got it,” he muttered, nodding. “I’ll
. . . ,” he corrected quickly, “
We’ll
. . . be as good as a child stuck
in the front row of church on Easter Sunday.” He turned his head toward his
sulking wife. “Ain’t that right,
Darling
?”