Lawman's Perfect Surrender (11 page)

Ford didn’t stop. Gemma cried out as her orgasm continued. Wild sensations gripped her and then began to taper off. She loved how he met her eyes as he reached his peak, ramming into her two, three more times, groaning.

Then he slowed and stopped, letting some of his weight down onto her as he caught his breath and settled down with her.

Trembling, ears ringing, she closed her eyes. “I can’t believe we did this again.”

“Damn it to hell.” He moved his leg, allowing her to straighten hers, and pulled out of her.

Standing, he jerked his pants on and looked down at her with mounting angst. Too many losses ravaged him, and this overwhelmed him. This uncontrollable connection they had wasn’t working for him.

Fine. It wasn’t working for her, either.

“Just go,” she said. She didn’t need to spend another minute with his regrets. Hers, either.

She pushed herself up off the stairs and went to get her jeans.

“You want me to go?”

Slipping her jeans back on, she looked at him. “Jed is dead. It’s not like his ghost is going to come to finish the job.”

“Gemma…”

“Don’t worry about anything. I’m fine. You’re fine. But this simply cannot keep happening.” She reached out her arm to point to the stairs.

“I know.” He scratched his head and raked his fingers through his blond hair. “I don’t get it.”

“Me, either.” But that was the least of her worries. “My ex was just murdered and everyone is going to think I did it.”

“We’ll see about that.”

His faith in her warmed her up a little. “You can’t be here anymore. You’ll be investigating Jed’s murder.” Yes, cling to that. He had to leave. Her self-preservation depended on it. He might be second-guessing now, but as soon as his wits returned, he’d be back to his distant self, compliments of his past.

He nodded. And then they fell into a long, tumultuous stare. She wanted him to stay and could see he wanted the same. But logic had to rule for now.

“I’ll get my things.”

Gemma nodded much the way he had, trying to hide how much it hurt to see how easy it was for him to agree. When he disappeared down the hall, she hugged her middle and kept repeating to herself that this was the right thing to do. It was the right thing. She just wished she felt that way.

* * *

The smell of prophylactic paste and some kind of sterile solution made Dillon move a step back from his six-foot-five, hulking dad. Curtis Monroe’s round glasses sat crooked on his face. Hair parted to the side was getting gray, and his light brown pants were creased at the tops of his thighs from sitting all day. His appearance clashed with his size. A middle-aged dentist with a serious self-image complex, Curtis Monroe was stuck in his own confused bubble, believing in Samuel Grayson’s seminars and dabbling in something secret.

“When are you going to get a job?” his dad asked, and not so nicely. He’d been after him all summer. “You’re going to be a senior. It’s time you started taking on some responsibility.”

“I’ve been looking.” Only cult members or those friendly to them got jobs in this town. But he couldn’t tell his dad that. His dad wouldn’t listen.

“Not hard enough. You go out tomorrow and stop by the organic food market.”

“Okay.” It was easier to agree than argue. He had no intention whatsoever of going to a market run by a bunch of crazy people.

He was about to go up the stairs to his room when his mom staggered into the living room from the kitchen, spilling drops of wine from her overfilled glass.

Uh-oh. Here we go again.

His dad saw her and scowled. “Are you drunk again?”

“What are you gonna do about it?” his mom slurred. “Hit me?”

Taken aback at his mom’s show of rebellion, Dillon took his foot off the first step and waited. His mother never talked back to his dad. And had his dad hit her again? He looked for signs of bruises and saw none. He’d been hitting her more and more lately.

Ever since his dad had joined Grayson’s cult, things had gotten out of control. More and more Dillon felt that he had to watch over his mom. Her drinking was getting bad. The rumors were spreading, too. He was worried she’d be the next one driven out of Cold Plains. There were no drunks here.

“We were supposed to go to the community center tonight,” his dad said.

“Go yourself.”

Curtis was speechless for a moment. Dillon moved a little closer, in case his dad started swinging his fists. His dad was big but Dillon was, too. Not as thick, but almost as tall, and though his muscles were leaner, he was more agile.

“You’re going with me.”

“I’m staying right here with my bottle of wine. It’s a lot more entertaining than you are.”

“You will not! Now do what I tell you and go gargle with something.”

“I’m not your daughter, I’m your wife, so stop ordering me around. I’m staying here, and I’m drinking!”

“You need those seminars more than I do. You’re turning into a drunk! You’re starting to ruin our reputation.”

“Good, then maybe we can get our old lives back,” she slurred some more.

His dad started to storm toward her, fists clenched and his big body intimidating. That’s what had always made Dillon cower. But not anymore. He stepped in his dad’s way and planted his hand on his chest, stopping him.

“You got a problem?” his dad challenged, looking down at Dillon’s hand and back up again.

Dillon had reached his limit. No longer could he stand by and watch his dad beat his mom. Once smart, happy, loving and beautiful, now she was a shell of that woman. Unhappy. Dull. Cringing in fear of her husband. They both cringed in fear of him.

No more.

His dad pushed his shoulder, giving him a jerk. “I asked you a question, boy.”

Dillon stepped right back up to his dad. “Yeah, I do have a problem. And it’s you!” He shoved his dad, sending him a stumbling backward.

Astonished, his dad stared for a few seconds, and then recovered with an angry furrow shadowing his cold brown eyes. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“If you want to keep going to those stupid seminars, go alone.”

Rage contorted his father’s round, pudgy face. “Don’t you talk back to me like that!”

“I’ll talk to you any way I like.”

His dad stepped closer. Dillon didn’t back down. The fear he’d always felt for his abusive father was gone now. He didn’t move an inch and met his father’s angry eyes dead-on.

“It’s good for her to go to them. She’s drinking too much.”

“Maybe she drinks to put up with you.”

Once again astonished, Curtis replied, “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m sick of you and I’m sick of watching you let Samuel Grayson treat you like a pawn. You’re letting him run your life. He’s manipulating you. Can’t you see that?”

“Samuel made this town what it is.”

“A circus? Yeah, he sure did.”

Trigger-quick temper flaring, his dad raised a fist that Dillon caught in one hand. He squeezed hard. He stumbled back again.

“I’m not a little kid anymore,” he growled. “I won’t let you hit me or my mom.”

That caused a flicker of doubt to test the coldness in Curtis’s eyes. Coldness won. “You were always a disappointment. I should force you to go with us to those seminars. Maybe ask Samuel to give you a few private lessons. It would do you some good. Look at you. You have no ambition to succeed in life. You don’t have a job and your grades are bad.”

“I’m still in school and my grades aren’t bad. My GPA is three-point-eight. Not that you’d know, as little as you’ve been paying attention. All you care about is getting your way, and if we don’t give it to you, you start hitting.”

Flashing rage swarmed Curtis’s eyes and puckered his lips. “Don’t you talk back to me. I’m your father!”

“You’re not my father. Not anymore. I won’t call any man who beats my mother a father.”

Curtis tried to punch Dillon again. Dillon easily avoided the swing and then shoved his dad hard. He stumbled back again.

Stalking forward, Dillon put his face very close to his dad’s. “Leave my mother alone. If she doesn’t want to go to those seminars, she doesn’t have to.”

“Dillon…”

At the sound of his mother’s pleading voice, he saw that she’d put her glass of wine down on the buffet next to the dining-room table.

“It’s all right. I’ll go with him.”

“Mother, you don’t have to. This has gone on long enough. It’s time it stopped. I can protect you from him.” He gestured toward his pathetic excuse for a dad.

“I don’t want you two to fight over it.” She turned to Curtis. “I’ll go brush my teeth and we’ll go to tonight’s seminar.

“Mother, no.” He approached her. As he drew near, he saw pain in her eyes. Pain she tried to drown in wine.

“I don’t want you to fight. He’s your father, Dillon.”

Whether he liked it or not. He turned to glare at his dad, who met the look with triumph.

“I’ll wait for you right here, honey,” Curtis said.

“Mother,” Dillon tried once more. “At least think about it. You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to stay with him. We can go somewhere else and start over. I can take care of you. I only have one more year of high school left. I can get a part-time job—”

“Dillon—” she stopped him “—don’t.”

“Mom.” How could he reach her? He didn’t know how much wine she’d had, but he was pretty sure that was what had her backing down.

She touched his cheek and smiled at him. “I married your father for a reason. He isn’t trying to go against you, Dillon.”

Yeah, right. “He beats you. It’s okay if you leave him.”

“She doesn’t want to leave me.”

Dillon turned and faced his dad, making sure he stood between him and his mom.

“I should make you come with us tonight,” his father said, calmer now that he had his wife under control again. “You’d learn what it takes to be worthy of this town. If I didn’t know you’d make a fool of us all, I would.”

More likely his father was afraid Dillon would make
him
look like a fool. And he was right. “Does that tattoo on your hip make you worthy?”

His father’s mouth hung open with shock.

“Yeah, I know all about that. Does Mom have one?” He looked at her.

When she lowered her head, he knew she did. Anger billowed up and consumed him. He faced his dad, ready to start a fight.

“You made her do it?” he demanded.

“Stay out of that, Dillon. You don’t know what you’re meddling in.”

“Doesn’t it matter that she didn’t want to?”

“It’s just a harmless tattoo, Dillon,” his mom said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

With that, Curtis shot his wife an incensed look.

Dillon got his dad’s attention back by jabbing his finger against his chest. “If you hurt her at all, in any way—” lowering his hand, he moved closer, so he looked right into his dad’s eyes “—I’ll come after you.”

“Dillon,” his mother breathed, upset again.

Getting the response he desired from his father, Dillon backed off. No longer was he a boy who Curtis could push around. His son had grown into a man who could fight back.

* * *

“It was like someone turned a switch on me.” Gemma walked beside Lacy in the parking lot of the community center, cringing over the memory. “One minute he’s telling me someone is framing me, and the next I’m throwing myself at him. I’m a female version of Pepé Le Pew. Desperate. Easy.” Her grimace came out with an
ugh
sound.

“The pornographic version?”

Gemma shot her a look. “Is there one?”

Lacy laughed. “Not that I’m aware of. You could do better than a skunk if you made one yourself, darling.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

“Well, he isn’t staying with you anymore, so you don’t have to worry anymore.”

Because Jed was murdered. “Yeah, unless I’m thrown in jail for murder.”

“Samuel won’t let that happen.”

Samuel? Didn’t she mean Ford? How would Samuel stop her from being arrested? Before she could ask, Lacy led her into the community center. Samuel stood in the huge open space of the entry, greeting everyone with his usual suave sophistication. He was like a breath of fresh air. Dark-haired and handsome, a ready smile and an endless supply of uplifting words. No wonder all the women in town swooned whenever he appeared. Except for her. No, that was Ford’s area of expertise. He made her swoon without even trying.

Watching Samuel greet everyone who approached him, she couldn’t understand how anyone would think he was a threat. His goal was to help people, not hurt them, at least as far as she could see. Or was it what she
wanted
to see? Was she denying the rest? Like his concern for her. Was it concern or was it manipulation? She preferred concern. And why did she? Because she refused to give up the seminars.

Samuel saw her and Lacy and beamed. “Gemma!”

The crowd parted and he approached and opened his arms. She went into his embrace. He made it so easy.

With his hands still on her shoulders, he leaned back and looked her over with approval. “You look radiant.”

It must be all the sex she’d been having. “Thank you.”

“Lacy, I have to commend you for introducing her to our group. She makes a fine addition.”

A fine addition? Like a piece of an art collection? “I think an angel led me to you.” Whether he had ignoble motives or not.

He chuckled with the compliment. “I’m having a pool party next week at the Stillwater, on Saturday afternoon. Why don’t you plan to attend?”

Why did it sound as if he wasn’t asking? It was more of a demand.

“I’d love to.”

He turned to Lacy. “She no longer needs Ford’s protection, so why don’t you bring her?”

“Of course,” Lacy replied.

“Don’t you worry about Jed, Gemma. We’ll get to the bottom of that.”

Gemma was afraid her wariness was obvious. Did Samuel think he had that much influence on the law?

“My party is just what you need. It will be an enlightening affair.” He said the last with a playful light to his eyes. “Spa treatments. Pedicures. Massages. Anything you desire to fill yourself with the power of confidence and health. Consider it therapy. A follow-up to today’s topic.”