Deadly Revenge, page 31
Dani handed Alex the bouquet. “Is this what you had in mind?”
The bride took a swift intake of breath and pressed her fingers to her lips.
“It’s beautiful and exactly what I wanted.” Alex lifted the bouquet to her nose. “It smells heavenly.”
Dani had mixed her grandmother’s lavender roses with magnolia and gardenia blossoms.
“Dani!” The name came out more of a gasp from Alex. “What do I see on your hand?”
Dani beamed. “I wasn’t going to wear it—I don’t want to steal any of your day—but I couldn’t take it off!”
She held up her hand, and Jenna admired the beautiful emerald-cut diamond on her finger.
“Don’t you dare take it off!” Alex said. “What? Where? When did Mark propose? Spill it, girlfriend.”
Dani glanced at the grandmothers. “At the trials in Kentucky—those two have known it for a couple of days. We haven’t set a date or anything, but I’m thinking early fall.”
“I’m so happy for you, and Mark is a lucky man,” Jenna said. Dani deserved happiness, especially after what happened in April when their former Pearl Springs pastor tried to kill her.
They all turned when someone knocked on the door. “Is it safe to come in?” a male voice asked.
Alex nodded, and Jenna hurried to let Sheriff Stone in.
“Your husband-to-be is getting a little nervous up on the mountain by himself,” he said.
“That’s our cue to leave.” Judith kissed her granddaughter again. “I’m so happy for you.”
Outside Mae’s house, two four-wheel-drive golf carts waited to take them to the top of the mountain. The two golf carts had been ferrying the guests up the mountain, and the last trip had taken Nathan and his best man, Mark, as well as the new pastor of Community Fellowship who would be performing the ceremony.
Jenna rode with Dani while the grandmothers accompanied the bride. Jenna sighed. It was a gorgeous day for the ceremony with the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the mountain, giving everything a dreamy look. Chairs lined either side of a red carpet, and Jenna waited while two deputies helped Mae and Judith out of the cart and led them to their seats.
Max appeared when Jenna stepped out of the cart. Her heart hiccupped when his gaze swept over her. “You are beautiful,” he said and brushed back a strand of her hair the wind had blown across her face before he offered his arm.
A tremor raced through her when he looped his arm in hers. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He stood a little taller. “Wasn’t sure you’d notice.”
How could she not? Even though the wedding was casual, he’d dressed in dark slacks and an open-neck white shirt.
“Mind if I sit with you?” he asked.
“Not at all.” Jenna’s attention was caught to the front when Wayne lifted a fiddle and began the wedding march. Joining him was Hayes Smithfield on the guitar. She had no idea Wayne could play the fiddle, and play it well, and the same thing for Hayes. They all stood as Sheriff Stone escorted Alex to the front.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to celebrate the union of Alexis Stone and Nathan Landry . . .”
Twenty minutes later, Nathan kissed his bride and the pastor presented the newly married couple. Everyone cheered as they walked to the waiting golf cart with Wayne and Hayes playing “You Make My Dreams.”
“Alex and Nathan hope you will join them at Mae’s for food and refreshments,” the pastor said. “Oh, and ladies, gather around—Alexis is going to toss her bouquet.”
Jenna didn’t move.
“You’re not going?” Max whispered.
“No.” She never liked this part of the wedding ceremony. “Been there done this.”
Countless times.
“You have to—Alex will be disappointed.”
“Let Dani catch it—she’s already engaged.”
He nudged. “Go.”
Jenna supposed she should . . . and joined the other women waiting for Alex to toss her bouquet.
“Okay, ladies,” Alex said. “Let’s see who’s next.”
She turned around and tossed the flowers over her shoulder in a high arc.
In slow motion, the bouquet floated down and landed in Jenna’s hands as she stretched them out at the last moment.
Acknowledgments
As we all know, books don’t just happen. It takes a collaborative effort, and I have so many to thank.
My friends and family for understanding when I have a deadline and for encouraging me when I hit a wall.
The fine team I have at Revell—my editors, Rachel McRae and Kristin Kornoelje, and proofreader Barbara Curtis. Thank you for making my stories so much better. I’d be lost without you!
To the art, editorial, marketing, and sales team at Revell, especially Brianne Decker and Karen Steele, who have to deal with me directly—thank you for all your hard work. And to the ones behind the scenes, you’re awesome!
To Julie Gwinn, thank you for your direction and for working so tirelessly with me and for being my friend.
To Patricia Preston, who helped me brainstorm this story.
To the many contributors at the Crimescenewriter2 group who are so willing to answer my questions, Wes Harris in particular.
To my readers . . . you are awesome! Thank you for reading my stories. Without you, my books wouldn’t exist.
As always, to Jesus, who gives me the words.
Patricia Bradley is the author of Standoff, Obsession, Crosshairs, and Deception, as well as the Memphis Cold Case novels and Logan Point series. Bradley is the winner of an Inspirational Reader’s Choice Award, a Selah Award, and a Daphne du Maurier Award; she was a Carol Award finalist; and three of her books were included in anthologies that debuted on the USA Today bestseller list. Cofounder of Aiming for Healthy Families, Inc., Bradley is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and Sisters in Crime. She makes her home in Mississippi. Learn more at www.PTBradley.com.
1
NATCHEZ, MISSISSIPPI
Brooke Danvers checked her watch. Her dad had said six and it was almost that. She quickly twisted her hair into a ponytail and then buckled her Sig Sauer to her waist. While she hadn’t been sworn in as a law enforcement ranger yet, Mississippi was an open-carry state, and her dad had okayed her wearing it.
She hadn’t stopped smiling since he’d asked if she wanted to ride along with him tonight. It didn’t even bother her that he’d chosen Sunday night because there wouldn’t be many cars out and about.
Brooke glanced toward the flat-brimmed hat that she’d worn all day at Melrose, the almost two-hundred-year-old mansion where she’d led tours. At times it felt as though the August heat and humidity would cook her head. She wouldn’t need the hat tonight, though, and left it sitting on her childhood bed.
Returning home after fifteen years while contractors finished the remodel on her water-damaged apartment was proving to be an experience. She’d always heard grown children shouldn’t return to the nest, and now she knew why. At her place, she came and went as she pleased without anyone asking questions. But now it was almost like she’d stepped back into her teenage years. Not that she wasn’t thankful her parents had offered to let her move into her old room, but it would be good to get back in her own apartment in a couple of weeks. The chimes from the grandfather clock sent her hurrying down the hall to her dad’s home office.
It was empty. He’d said he had work to do before they left . . . She quickly walked to her mom’s studio.
“Where’s Dad?” she asked.
Her mom turned from her easel. “He got a call and left. Said to tell you if you still wanted to do the ride along, text Gary to pick you up.”
Disappointment was swift, and Brooke ground her teeth to keep from letting it show.
“He said something about you riding with him tomorrow night.”
That brightened her mood slightly. Her phone dinged with a text. Gary, the retiring ranger she was replacing.
Are you riding with me?
She quickly texted him.
Yes. What time?
Give me an hour and I’ll pick you up.
She sent him a thumbs-up emoji and hooked her phone on her belt.
“Come see what I’m working on,” her mom said.
Brooke edged into the room. It wasn’t often she got a chance to see an unfinished work by her mother. The painting was of her very pregnant sister. “Oh, wow,” she said. “That’s beautiful. She’ll love it.”
“I hope so. Meghan’s feeling kind of . . .”
“Fat? That’s what she told me the other day,” Brooke said. “I tried to tell her that wasn’t true, and maybe this will show her.”
“I’m glad you like it. I should have it finished in time to take with the others to Knoxville next month.”
The baby’s due date was a couple of months away, just after her mom’s gallery showing of her work ended. They both turned as the doorbell rang. It couldn’t be Gary already, and besides, he would just honk. “I’ll get it,” Brooke said and hurried to open the front door.
“Jeremy?” she said, her stomach fluttering at the sight of one of Natchez’s most eligible bachelors. Had she forgotten a date?
He looked behind him then turned back to Brooke with laughter in his eyes. “I think so.”
Heat flushed her face, and it had more to do with the broad shoulders and lean body of the man on her doorstep than the temperature. “I wasn’t expecting you. I don’t have a lot of time, but do you want to come in?”
“Since it’s a little hot and humid out here, coming in would be good,” he teased. “And I apologize for dropping by without calling, but I was afraid you’d tell me you were busy.”
Brooke steeled herself against the subtle citrus fragrance of his cologne as he walked past her. She’d had exactly two dates with Jeremy Steele and hadn’t figured out why he was even interested in her. She was so not his type. The handsome widower tended to lean more toward blondes.
“Hello, Mrs. Danvers,” Jeremy said to her mother, who had followed her to the living room.
“How many times have I told you to call me Vivian?”
“I’ll try to remember that,” he said with a thousand-watt smile.
“Good. A thirtysomething calling me Mrs. Danvers makes me feel old,” she replied. “And since I know you didn’t come to see me, I’ll go back to my painting.”
“Good to see you . . . Vivian.” Then he turned to Brooke and glanced at her uniform. “Are you working tonight?”
“Sort of,” she said. “I was going to ride along with Dad on his patrol, but he cancelled and turned me over to another ranger. Why?”
“I know it’s last minute, but I was hoping you’d have time to join me at King’s Tavern,” he said. “I have a hankering for one of their flatbreads.”
Her mouth watered at the thought. Brooke hadn’t eaten since lunch, and she could do last minute, at least this time. But the question of why her kept bobbing to the surface. Ignoring it, she said, “That sounds good. I’ll text Gary to pick me up later.”
“Gary?”
She grinned at him, tempted to describe the aging ranger as a hunk but instead settled for the truth. “He’s the ranger I’m replacing when he retires.”
Red crept into Jeremy’s face. “Oh, that guy. Are you even sworn in yet?”
“No, that’s next week. I talked my dad into letting me get a little early practice.” It helped having a father who was the district ranger, even if he wasn’t overjoyed about her becoming a law enforcement ranger. Then she looked down. “I need to change first.”
“You’re fine like you are,” he said.
Maybe to him, but she was not about to go on a date wearing a National Park Service uniform and a Sig strapped to her waist. “Give me five minutes.”
After Brooke changed into a lavender sundress and slipped into sandals, she gave herself a brief once-over. While the dress showed no cleavage, it accentuated curves the NPS uniform hid. She freed her hair from the ponytail and put the elastic holder in her purse. In this heat, she might have to put it up again.
Brooke checked her makeup. She rarely wore anything other than pink gloss. Thick lashes framed her eyes and the sun had deepened her olive skin to a nice tan. Brooke wasn’t sure where she got her darker complexion and hair since her mom and sister, and even her dad, were fair and blond, but she wasn’t complaining.
Tonight she wanted something more and added a shimmering gloss to her lips. Then she took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Didn’t do much good with her heart still thudding in her chest.
Why was Jeremy pursuing her? The women usually seen on his arm were ones who could mix and mingle with the rich and famous. Women who could further his career. Jeremy was a Mississippi state senator with his sights set on Washington like his daddy, while she was a National Park Service ranger who didn’t care one thing about leaving Natchez.
Her heart kicked into high gear. Had the M-word just crossed her thoughts? Impossible. It wasn’t only that she wasn’t his type, he definitely wasn’t hers. She was a simple girl with a simple lifestyle—nothing like the Steeles.
In the 1850s, half the millionaires in the United States lived in Natchez, and the Steeles were among them. A hundred and seventy years later, the family’s holdings had increased substantially, not to mention the Steele men had a long history of public service.
Jeremy’s dad was the retiring US senator and his son was poised to take his place in the next election. His photo appeared regularly in the Natchez Democrat, often with a beautiful woman on his arm. And never the same one.
She sighed. If they lived in England, he would be royalty, and she would be the commoner who ended up with a broken heart.
Brooke chided herself about being melodramatic and hurried to her mom’s studio. “Jeremy and I are grabbing something to eat,” she said.
Her mom laid her brush down. “What about your ride along?”
“I’ll catch up to Gary later,” she said.
When she rejoined Jeremy, his eyes widened, and he whistled. “Nice,” he said.
Jeremy Steele knew how to make a woman feel special. As they stepped out of the house, she immediately noticed the ten-degree drop in temperature from when Jeremy first arrived and nodded at the thunderheads that had rolled in. “Guess that means we won’t leave the top down.”
“I think we can make it to the tavern before it starts.”
Ten minutes later Jeremy escorted her into King’s Tavern, where the original brick walls and dark wooden beams added to the mystique of the inn that had been rumored to have a ghost. The tantalizing aroma of steak drew her gaze to the open grill, but she had her heart set on one of their wood-fired flatbreads.
“Inside or out?” Jeremy asked.
“The backyard, if you don’t think it’ll rain,” she said.
“If it does, we’ll simply come in.” He gave the waitress their drink order, sweet tea for both of them, and let her know where to find them. They had their choice of picnic tables and chose the one on the hill. Once they were seated, Jeremy reached across, taking her hand. His touch and the intensity in his brown eyes almost took her breath away. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” Brooke said, trying not to sound breathy. The question worrying around in her head wouldn’t wait any longer. “Why me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you interested in dating me? We don’t travel in the same circles.”
“But we do. We’ve gone to church together since we were kids.”
“And you sit in your family’s pew clear across the sanctuary.”
His eyes twinkled. “We don’t have a family pew.”
She laughed. “I’d hate to be the one who sat in your mom’s seat some Sunday.”
“You’re funny,” he said. “That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“But I’m so different from the women you usually date.” There. She’d said it.
He lightly stroked the heel of her palm. “That’s what I like best. You’re real . . . not saying anything bad about anyone I’ve dated, but honestly, sometimes I think the aura of the Steele name is the attraction. That and Dad’s money.” Then Jeremy smiled, popping dimples in his cheeks. “But you were never like that. Even in high school you were never afraid to tell it like it was.”
Heat infused her cheeks. She’d been accused of that many times, usually by someone who didn’t want to hear the truth. “I’m working on not being so blunt,” she said. “I hope I never hurt your feelings.”
“I won’t say never,” he said with a wink, “but you never said anything that didn’t need saying.”
Okay, she’d been rude and hadn’t fallen all over him because of who he was . . . Before she could ask why again, the waitress approached with their drinks, and Brooke pulled her hand away from Jeremy’s, missing his touch immediately. Maybe she should let go of her questions and let their relationship play out.
Once the waitress left with their orders, Jeremy took her hand again. “I’ve looked a long time for the right person.”
His brown eyes held her gaze. He surely didn’t mean her. Did he? “What about Molly? I’d hate for her to get attached to me and then we stop seeing each other.”
“I don’t plan for that to happen. And Molly is already crazy about you.”
Brooke couldn’t keep from smiling. His six-year-old daughter was a sweetheart.
“How about if we take it slow?” he asked. “Get to know one another?”
“No pressure?”
“No pressure.”
Her phone dinged and she glanced at the screen. A text from Gary.
Pick you up in an hour?
Brooke hesitated, torn between wanting to spend more time with Jeremy and getting practical experience on her job. If the text had been from her dad, it wouldn’t even be a question—she had so much to learn from him, but Gary, not so much. She’d known him all her life and he’d always been laid-back, never wanting to climb the ladder within the park service. But if her dad thought she should ride with him . . . With a sigh, she looked up from her phone. “Can you have me back to my house in forty-five minutes?”
