Wilde Nights in Paradise (A Wilde Security Novel) (Entangled Brazen) (17 page)

“You’re not going to get away.” Another step. “We’ve seen you. We know who you are.”

“So you’ll have to kill each other. There’s so much bad blood between the pair of you, nobody will doubt that. Especially not after I tell them what happened eight years ago. By the time the police are through, they’ll uncover every bit of that nastiness. I’ll tell them I tried to stop you, but Elliot attacked you because he was so enraged that you had your disgusting hands all over his daughter.” His voice lifted to a near screech on the words. Yeah, it wasn’t Pruitt who was pissed off about their relationship. Or at least not at the moment—the colonel would definitely have something to say about it later. Right now, Burke was the threat, and maybe he could use that anger to his advantage.

“If you know about that, then you know I couldn’t care less if you killed the colonel right now.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement and prayed it was only the cat. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor.”

Pruitt’s jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed, promising hell to pay later. Jude ignored it.

“Libby will never go with you,” he continued, hoping the lawyer would try something stupid in a fit of rage. “Not after you kill the two men she loves.”

Burke vibrated with fury. “She loves
me
!”

Shit, that was no cat slinking around the edge of the room.

Cursing inwardly, Jude forced himself not to look at her and caught the colonel’s gaze. If they were going to make a move, it had to be now. Pruitt nodded. He was ready.

They acted simultaneously, like a well-rehearsed dance. Pruitt looped his arms over Burke’s head and pulled the chain of the handcuffs tight across his throat. Jude swept out with a leg and took his knees out with a kick. He sagged, but only for a second. Whatever malfunction in his head made him think that Libby loved him had apparently also immunized him to pain, and the lack of oxygen from the handcuff chain only whipped him into a frenzy.

Jude leaped forward to help contain the guy. An elbow jabbed his ribs. A sneaker glanced off his thigh and dug into the vulnerable spot between his legs. Fuck! Pain shoved his stomach into his throat, and he doubled over.

Burke lifted the gun and fired wildly. The bullet ricocheted off a ceiling fan and splintered the wood. The kickback sent his arm flailing and knocked the colonel off balance. Together they bounced off the back of the couch, crashed into the dining table. Chairs fell, the sturdy table skidded across the tile, and they both slammed into the floor with enough force to stun the breath out of anyone’s lungs. Pruitt went limp for a moment, long enough that Burke squirmed his way out of the fight. He stood, limping, and gun still in hand, raised it to Jude’s head.

Jude threw his weight forward and hit the floor flat on his stomach as the gun fired. Something glass shattered, raining water and shards over his head. A body thumped down beside him, and for one horrible moment, he thought,
Libby.

But he opened his eyes and Burke lay next him, unconscious, a stream of blood flowing steadily from a cut in his temple. Libby stepped over Burke and kicked the gun away from his hand.

“Handcuffs,” Pruitt groaned, still flat on his back several feet away. “Key’s in his pocket. Get these off me and on him.”

Libby knelt to go through the unconscious man’s pockets and spared Jude a quick, worried glance. “Did he shoot you?”

Jude lifted himself to his hands and knees, shook away the cobwebs in his mind and ran through a mental checklist. He hurt, but in a general, not-moving-for-a-week kind of way, the pain originating from nowhere specific. Even the nausea from the ball busting was starting to fade.

“Nah. I’m good.” He sat up on his knees and surveyed the scene as she unhooked the cuffs from her father’s wrists and snapped them around Burke’s like an old pro. Slivers of glass sparkled in puddles of water on the tile floor. “What the fuck did you hit him with?”

“A vase.”

Pruitt stared at her in horror. “A what?”

Jude laughed, and pain spiked through his ribs. A vase. After all that, a fucking vase ended it. It was almost too funny—but then it wasn’t, because something colorful lay limp under Burke’s head, a splash of pink that didn’t belong.

Holding his breath, he reached out and extracted a flower from under Burke’s cheek.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“You kept it.”

“What?” Libby stopped worrying over her father and followed Jude’s gaze to the limp flower he held between his fingers. “Oh. So now you notice.”

“You even put it in a vase,” Jude said in amazement. He lifted his head and stared at her. “You
kept
it.”

That expression. God, she wished she had a camera because the mix of surprise and excitement on his face was picture worthy.

“I couldn’t throw it away,” she admitted and let her heart go all soft and melty at his smile, which started as a slow upward tilt of his lips and blossomed into a grin as beautiful as the flower had once been.

“You couldn’t throw it away,” he said as if savoring each word, then gave a whoop. Ignoring the glass on the floor, he leaped to his feet, closed the distance between them, and scooped her up into his arms. The kiss was soft but persistent, and she wound her arms around his neck, held on to him with everything she had as outside, police sirens screamed to a stop in front of the house.

Over. It was finally over. Which was a good thing, she told herself. No more stalker, no more threats, no more hiding.

So why had a lump lodged hard and hot halfway up her throat? And why were her eyes stinging?

Across the room, her father cleared his throat, and Jude abruptly set her back on her feet. His entire body hardened under her hands, his muscles going steely, jaw tightening, suppressed hostility humming through every vein and tendon. She glanced back and forth between the two of them. What had Kenneth meant when he spoke of the bad blood?

She opened her mouth to ask, but her father took hold of her elbow and pulled her away from Jude. “It’s time for us to go home.”

Yes, she supposed it was, but she didn’t want to. The realization hit her full force in that moment as she watched Jude all but steam with rage, his hands opening and closing into fists at his sides. That’s why she wanted to cry. No more hiding equaled no more Jude, and she wasn’t ready to say good-bye again. Not yet. Not when he was finally starting to show his true colors after all these years.

As gently as she could, she extracted herself from her father’s grasp and turned to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Dad, you know I love you, and I will do most anything for you, but I’m not going home yet.” She felt Jude’s surprise at her back as keenly as she saw the ripple of shock over her father’s face. To drive the point home, she backed up until Jude’s arms encircle her. “I have ten days of vacation time left, and I’m entitled to take them.”

“Here?” her father demanded.

“Maybe. I like it here. I like the company.”

Jude didn’t make a sound, but with her back pressed against his chest, she felt him exhale with something a lot like relief. Her father, on the other hand, looked like he was going to blow his top. His teeth clenched so hard she heard the grind of them from across the room.

“Sweet pea,” he said in the same let’s-be-reasonable tone he’d used on her when she was a teenager. “That’s not a good decision.”

“I’m an adult,” she reminded him. “I think it’s time I start making my own decisions, good or bad.” Then she gentled her voice. “Go home to Mom. I’m sure she’s worried sick about you. Tell her I’m fine and I’ll be home in a couple weeks.”

A long, stubborn moment passed.

“All right. We’ll have a talk when you get home.” With that, her father spun on his heel and marched out to meet the cops, barking orders at them as if they were his men.

“Holy shit,” Jude muttered. “He actually listened to you.”

“I didn’t give him a choice.” She turned in his arms to smile up at him. “Like I said, I’m an adult. It’s past time he realizes that. I’ve indulged his need to hang on to his little girl long enough.”

Jude’s eyes rounded. “You’ve indulged him?”

“For years. Mostly, I just did what I wanted to do and then made him think it was his idea from the start. Like law school.”

“You indulged him,” he repeated slowly.

She smoothed her fingers over the frown lines that had appeared in his forehead. “Yes, of course. Did you really think I’d let him dictate my every move? C’mon, Jude, you know me better than that.”

“Well, shit.”

“What?”

He shook his head. “I’m a fucking idiot.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks.”

“No, I’ve been one for much longer. I—”

A phone rang. Libby had forgotten she’d slipped his cell into her shorts pocket before coming out to face Kenneth. She grabbed it, checked the screen, then held it up to him. “Your brothers.”

“Yeah, I should take that.” He removed the phone from her hand, but hesitated. “Uh, Libby…”

“Hm?”

His mouth worked as if he was struggling to find the words he wanted to say. Finally, he just shook his head again, turned away, and lifted the phone to his ear. “Hey, Cam.”

She watched him walk away, frowning a little herself. What was that all about?

…

That afternoon, the skies opened up, and rain fell in sheets, splashing into the pool and sounding like bullets against on the tin roof of the portico. Thunder rumbled, long and low. Lightning flickered over the tops of the palms.

Libby curled up in the wicker love seat and basked in the warmth of the blaze Jude had started in a slate and marble fire bowl. The rain was so loud that she could barely hear the crackle of the flames, but she enjoyed the storm. It seemed like a fitting end to a day that had included multiple interviews with the police followed by another go-round with her father about her relationship with Jude. He’d said it was dangerous, reminded her of the wreck she’d been after Jude left last time.

But that was then. They were both different people now, and she could admit to herself that she wanted to see what would happen between them. Maybe it wouldn’t last when they left Key West and returned to D.C., but she wouldn’t know unless she took this chance. And she wouldn’t be able to get on with her life until she knew for sure.

Jude appeared in the doorway, two mugs of coffee in hand. He left the French doors open, and music carrying the sounds of the tropics drifted out. “Did I miss anything?”

“Saw some lightning.” She curled her legs up to her chest to make room for him.

“Bolt or flash?”

“Flash.”

“Mm.” He sat, handed her one of the mugs, and slung an arm along the back of the seat as he sipped from his own.

They watched the storm for a long time in silence, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair, her toes tucked underneath his thigh for warmth. The music, the rain, the fire… It was so perfect she didn’t want to ruin it with more conversation, but it was time. She had questions for him, ones that had waited too many years for answers.

Sitting up, she set her empty mug on a side table and turned to face him. After a moment, he met her gaze. Gave one nod, finished off what was left of his coffee, and set his mug down beside hers.

“You know what I want to say,” she started.

“Yeah, got an idea.”

“Will you give me a direct answer?”

He hesitated. “You won’t like it.”

She exhaled as if she’d been holding her breath for nearly a decade. “It can’t be any worse than wondering for eight years what I did wrong.”

“Nothing.” He looked stricken and angled his body so that they sat face-to-face. “Libs, you did nothing wrong, okay? It was all me. I thought I—” He stopped short.

“Thought you could have your cake and eat it, too?” she offered. “That’s what Dad told me. He said all you young Marines were the same—it was just a part of your lifestyle. You didn’t know how to commit. I didn’t believe him, but he tried so hard to cheer me up afterward. Took me to ball games, even suffered through a Renaissance fair because he knew I liked them. He can be a jerk, but he has such a big heart, and it’s always in the right place.”

Jude’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

She waited, but he didn’t seem inclined to say more.

“Jude, it’s okay. I get it. We were so young, and we rushed everything.”

His shoulders slumped, the steel going out of his spine. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.” There was an odd hollowness to his voice and a flatness in his eyes that she decided to analyze later because she was just too damn happy that he was
finally
talking to her.

“I was young,” he said. “Had no impulse control.”

Working up a smile, she poked him in the side. “And you do now?”

“I’ve learned. It’s still not my greatest strength, but there are some lines that I won’t cross. That’s one of them.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know. I guess that’s up to you.” He lifted his gaze, and his beautiful blue eyes were as serious as she’d ever seen them. “But I do know I want a second chance.”

And here it was
, she thought. The choice. Now that there was no reason to stay together, the smart thing to do would be to leave the past in the past, let these last few weeks go down as a pleasant fling, and go their separate ways. No damage. That’s what the old Libby would do, but this experience had changed her. He had changed her, and the new Libby wasn’t so adverse to a little risk. Some things were worth it.

Jude was worth it.

She closed the distance between them and laid her hands on his cheeks, pressing her lips to his. “I seem to have two weeks left of my vacation with nothing to do.”

He caught her waist and dragged her onto his lap. “Is that so?”

“Unless you have some ideas.”

“Tons.” His lips skimmed the tendon along the side of her neck. “But I need to warn you, babe. Most involve a bed.” Grinning, he scooped her into his arms and placed the cover over the fire bowl to douse the flames.

“Sounds like fun. But, Jude?” As he carried her toward the bedroom, she nipped his ear, flicked his earring with her tongue, and felt his groan rumble through his entire body. “Don’t call me babe.”

“You got it.” His lips twitched. “Baby.”

She sighed and settled her head on his chest. This was one battle she wasn’t going to win. Time to plea bargain. “Okay, you can call me baby or babe—whatever—as long as I can call you Sugar Cheeks.”

“Sugar Cheeks. I like it. Suits me.”

She laughed. “You’re hopeless.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.” Jude kicked open the bedroom and playfully tossed her on the bed. She bounced once, but then he was there, his big body covering hers, his mouth claiming and devouring, until the storm outside paled in comparison to the one raging between them.