"Give me some more kisses,"
she said.
He puckered his lips and smacked
a second series of silly kisses into the telephone. "I'll see you
tomorrow. Close up the shop early for lunch."
"Dream about me tonight?"
"I have wet dreams about you
every night, sugar."
She giggled again. "Bye now,
lover boy."
"Bye."
James hung up the receiver and rolled
over onto his back, stretching out in the walnut antique bed that was at
least a hundred years older than he was. No telling how many generations
of Grahams had slept in this bed. He eased his hand inside his pajamas,
slid his fingers down over his belly and encircled his erect penis. He wondered
how many men had lain in this bed, an unwelcoming wife sleeping across
the hall, and jerked off while they were thinking about another woman.
Johnny Mack checked the digital
clock on the nightstand. Eleven-fifteen. He sat in the armchair, the
only chair in his motel room, propped his sock feet up on the bed and leaned
back his head. Stretching his arms, he groaned. Who had said, "the more
things change, the more they stay the same"?
Noble's Crossing and its inhabitants
were not the same as they had been fifteen years ago, and yet Johnny Mack
Cahill was still persona non grata, as much now as in the past. He laughed
at the irony. His chuckles sounded to him more like self-pitying groans.
The funny thing was that fifteen years ago he wouldn't have known what persona
non grata meant. Now the phrase and similar ones immediately came to
mind and easily rolled off his tongue. Four years of college and eight years
of sharing a home with Judge Harwood Brown had polished his rough edges
and given him the ability to pass himself off as a gentleman.
But nothing and no one had ever been
able to eradicate his survival instincts, those screw-them-first-before-they-screw-you
principles he had learned the hard way and at a very young age. Actually
those savage instincts were what had helped him become the entrepreneurial
wonder of Houston during the past ten years. A man with nothing to lose
and no one to fear took chances others wouldn't.
When he'd told Lane he was a rich
man, she had seemed unimpressed. But then, Lane and her father had been
the only ones in town who hadn't judged others by the size of their bank accounts
or the prestige of their family lineage. She had been his friend when
none of the other Magnolia Avenue ladies would acknowledge his presence
in public. Like old Bill Noble, she had given him a chance and had actually
thought he was worth the effort.
Of course, he hadn't been worth
their efforts. Not then. But now, maybe he was. God knew he had tried to become
a better man. Someone Lane would be proud of.
Once, Lane had not only believed
in him, trusted him, cared about him, but she had saved his life. That
night when she'd found him beaten and half-dead, she had practically dragged
him from the riverbank to her backdoor. Then she had hidden him away for
three days, until he could stand on his own two legs and walk out on her. He
had been tempted to take her with him, to show Kent Graham and everyone
else in Noble's Crossing that their sweet, little princess had given up
everything just to be with him. But he had cared too much for Lane, respected
her too much, to drag her down to his level. He'd thought that taking her
with him would ruin her life. Now he wondered if leaving her behind had
achieved the same result.
Reaching behind him to where his
jacket hung on the back of the chair, he felt around inside the pocket,
removed his cellular phone and dialed the unlisted number of an old
friend. A fellow beneficiary of Judge Harwood Brown's generosity
and unique style of reforming bad boys.
"This had better be important,"
Quinn Cortez said, when he answered the phone.
"Hello to you, too."
"Do you know what time it
is?"
"Not midnight yet,"
Johnny Mack said. "And if I remember correctly, you're a night owl and
seldom go to sleep before twelve."
"Yeah, well, a man goes to bed
for other reasons than to sleep."
"Sorry." Johnny Mack chuckled.
Quinn's reputation with the ladies was more than gossip. He didn't
think he had ever seen his friend with the same woman twice. "I wouldn't
be calling if it weren't important. So, tell whoever you've got there in
bed with you that I won't keep you long."
"Get to the damn point, Cahill."
"I need you to be ready to take
a plane out of Houston at a moment's notice. You'll fly into Huntsville,
Alabama, then rent a car and drive over to Noble's Crossing."
"Want to tell me why I'm going
to do this?"
"Because there's a good chance
that my son's mother will be arrested for her ex-husband's murder and
she'll need the best criminal lawyer money can buy."
"That would be me, old friend.
So, how about filling me in on some details? I had no idea you had a
kid."
"Neither did I," Johnny
Mack admitted. "I'll fill you in on the details later. By the way,
when you do come to Noble's Crossing, you'll find me at the Four Way. It's
a cheap motel, but it serves my purposes for the time being."
"Traveling incognito?"
"Yeah, something like
that."
Buddy stretched out on the cot in
the back of his office at the police station and laid the computer
printout on his chest. He had removed his holster and loosened the top
buttons on his shirt hours ago, after he'd read over the printout of
Johnny Mack Cahill's police record from fifteen years ago, when he had
been arrested for vagrancy in Houston, Texas. September 30. Less than
two weeks after Buddy and his friends had beaten Johnny Mack and dumped
him into the river.
That night had haunted Buddy for
years. He had never killed anyone before that night-and he'd been sure
he had killed Johnny Mack. He hadn't liked the guy, although at one time
he'd had a grudging respect for him and had even envied his success with
women. But their paths had seldom crossed. It wasn't that Buddy had been
one of the Magnolia Avenue boys; but he had lived on the right side of the
Chickasaw River, and his old man had been the county sheriff and one of
John Graham's hunting and fishing buddies.
Everybody in town had heard the rumors
about Johnny Mack being John Graham's illegitimate son, and it was a
known fact that Kent hated his half brother with a passion equaled only by
his determination to woo and wed Lane Noble. When Kent had found out
about Lane's crush on Johnny Mack, he'd gone into a rage. Buddy had seen
Kent in dark moods before, but nothing like the uncontrollable fury
that had driven Kent to ask him to kill Johnny Mack.
"I know how you feel about the
guy," Buddy had said. "But you can't mean you actually want to
see him dead. We could just run him out of town."
"If you ran him out of town,
he'd come back. That son of a bitch won't be satisfied until he's fucked
every woman on Magnolia Avenue. He's already had my mama. Did you know
that? Yeah, I saw them with my own two eyes. In the summer house, both of
them naked and going at it like a couple of animals."
"Damn, man, you actually caught
Miss Edith with Johnny Mack?"
"Mama doesn't know I saw them,
but Johnny Mack knows. I told him that he was going to be sorry, that I'd make
him pay." Kent had grabbed Buddy's shirtfront and glared wild-eyed at
him. "Now he's after Lane. I won't let him have her. She's mine. She's
always been mine. Our families have all but had us engaged since we
were babies."
"Lane isn't the sort of girl
who'd-"
"He's been sniffing around
Mary Martha, too," Kent had said, knowing full well how Buddy felt about
his sister. "You want Johnny Mack getting in Mary Martha's pants before
you do?"
The very thought that anyone would
take advantage of his precious Mary Martha had outraged Buddy, just
as Kent had known it would. Two days later, he had rounded up six friends,
and while Kent watched, they had cornered Johnny Mack by the Nobles' boat-house.
It had taken all six of them to subdue him. He had fought like the devil,
but even Johnny Mack hadn't been able to overcome six-to-one odds.
Buddy realized if he had known
then what he knew now-that he had beaten the hell out of the wrong brother-he
would have strangled Kent with his bare hands.
The telephone rang. Buddy jumped.
As he rose from the cot, the printout fell off his chest and onto the floor.
In two strides, he made it to his desk and lifted the receiver.
"Chief Lawler."
''This is Lieutenant Mills from
HPD. I got a message that you wanted some information on Johnny Mack Cahill."
"Yeah. Sure do. It seems the
only thing y'all have on him is a conviction for vagrancy fifteen years
ago," Buddy said. "The guy's here in my town, making some threats,
and I want to head off any trouble. Have you got anything, any information,
on or off the record, that could help me find a reason to get him out of Noble's
Crossing?"
The laughter on the other end of
the phone chilled Buddy to the marrow in his bones.
"Look, Chief Lawler, I don't
know what sort of threats Mr. Cahill is making, but if I were you, I'd take
him seriously. As far as giving you any sort of damning report on the
man, that I can't do. You see, Johnny Mack Cahill is one of the big dogs here
in Houston. The pack he runs with is comprised of multimillionaires.
You know, the movers and shakers. Cahill's got a reputation for being
the shrewdest, deadliest shark of them all."
Buddy swallowed the surprise and
sudden fear clogging his throat. "Are you telling me that Johnny Mack
Cahill is a multimillionaire?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm
telling you."
"And he has no criminal record
other than the vagrancy conviction fifteen years ago?"
"That's it."
"Yeah, well, thanks, Lieutenant."
"Sure thing." The lieutenant
hesitated, cleared his throat and said, "By the way, Chief, y'all
might want to lock up your women while Cahill's in town."
Long after Buddy had hung up the receiver,
he could hear Lieutenant Mills's laughter ringing in his ears.
Lane changed clothes for the third
time since breakfast. This is ridiculous, she thought. What difference
does it make what I'm wearing when Johnny Mack comes for lunch? But, heaven
help her, it did matter. She had been a plump young girl whose greatest asset
had been her parents' social position back when she'd, lusted after
Johnny Mack from afar. She had always been the moon to her mother's sun, a
pale reflection of Celeste's striking beauty. She hadn't truly come
into her own until she had reached her mid-twenties, and with maturity,
her curves had slimmed. Regardless of her feelings for Johnny Mack, she
couldn't deny her purely feminine need for him to see her as the woman
she was today.
Lane stripped out of the red dress,
which always gained her compliments when she wore it. Red was too flashy.
Too bold. Too self-confident. But the jeans and T-shirt she had put on before
she had gone down to breakfast had been far too casual. Even Lillie Mae
had suggested she might want to dress up a bit more.
After rummaging through her wardrobe,
she chose black slacks, a sleeveless black shell and a crisp white shirt,
which she left hanging loose and unbuttoned. She added silver jewelry.
Hoop earrings. Several bangle bracelets. And a Celtic cross that hung
on a sterling silver chain and rested between her breasts.
"Why are you so nervous?"
Will asked from where he stood just outside Lane's open bedroom door.
Lane gasped. "Oh, my goodness,
honey, I didn't know you were there."
"Lillie Mae sent me up here to
tell you that she and I have had another talk and… well… I'm going to stay
for lunch and meet Johnny Mack Cahill."
Lane smiled. "Oh, Will,
that's-"
"I'll stay, but don't expect
me to be nice to this guy."
"You'll be courteous, won't
you, honey?"
"Yeah." Will shuffled his
feet. "But only for your sake."
"Thank you."
"I won't like him."
"No one is asking you to like
him," Lane said. "All you have to do is meet him and judge for
yourself. My guess is that Johnny Mack is as nervous as we are."
"I'm not nervous," Will
corrected her.
"Well, I am. I want you and
Johnny Mack to like each other. He is your father and, despite my reservations
about him, if I am arrested for Kent's murder-"
"That won't happen!"
"But if we have to deal with
the worst case scenario and I am arrested, tried and convicted, then at
least you'll have a father to take care of you."
"You think a guy like that would
want a teenager messing up his life? My guess is that once his curiosity
is satisfied, he'll be long gone."
''He didn't have to come back to
Noble's Crossing," Lane said. "When Lillie Mae sent him a message,
he could have ignored it, but he didn't. He came back to find out if you
were his son and… and to see if he could help me."