Roundabout Road (Saving the Sinners of Preacher's Bend Book 2) (5 page)

“God, I hate you!” she repeated, mumbling the words.

With any hope, she could make her escape as a clean
getaway before unable to do so; unscathed and slightly intact. At least any
further humiliation added to an already perfectly ruined day couldn’t happen.

However, his next words stopped her cold. They stopped
her hasty exit, too.

“Darlin’, you should not be putting thought to hating
God right now. You should be asking for
His
help, and doing some bloody hard
thinking on bruised knees to how it is you’re going to file for divorce. I
figure it should take a good long time . . . if I choose to drag my feet on the
matter. Or, choose to disappear for ten years without fucking telling anyone of
my whereabouts!” He pounded his fist on the table then glared at her. “By then,
I am quite certain
lover boy
will have found himself someone else to
cuddle up to—and you, my dear, will be out on your sweet, tight ass. Or, as we
still like to say in Preacher’s Bend . . . you’ll be the virgin left inside the
church, while holding the bottle to her sinfully naughty lips. And damn, if you
don’t have a pair of very sinful lips.”

His eyes darted to her jeans.

Liddy’s gasp audible, her spine stiffened while trying
very hard to hold herself ramrod straight, and her emotions in check. She swiftly
informed him, “You’re a horrible, wretched man. Do you know this, Jake Giotti?
I should’ve known you would turn out like this. Turn out to be such a bloody
damn idiot!”

He smiled at her rather narrow-minded description to
his character. “No, Liddy, I would say I am an incredibly smart man.”

“You’re not smart, Jake. Not at all. You never were
smart. You’ll never
be
smart. A smart man would’ve realized I could’ve
made this easy on him,” she warned, swiping at stubborn stinging tears with the
back of her hand.

“Easy?” he suddenly choked out.

Liddy watched Jake’s spine stiffen as well, his temper
rising to a certain degree. “Hell, Woman! You should have tried doing
easy
for me a good ten years ago! I wouldn’t have spent two goddamn years inside a
jail cell, rotting in my own piss, if you’d done your job at making life
easy
for me.”

“My job?”

“Yeah, babe. It’s what a devoted wife is supposed to
do.”

“Devoted wife?” she choked on.

“Okay, I’ll back off on that one. How about a woman
who cares about someone other than herself?”

“Ohhhh . . .I’m not the one who drove a forty-five
thousand dollar, custom-built motorcycle, while intoxicated, through the front
window of the police station! Now am I?”

“No. You just drove me to drink,” he threw back,
knowing he’d screwed up his own life. Not her.

She had nothing to do with his stupidity levels.

Liddy couldn’t gather anymore words together, so she openly
glared at him, huffed out her anger, stormed over to her table, made a mad grab
for the expensive briefcase and matching large leather purse off the vinyl seat;
as Jake sat in his booth, watching her every move.

With any hope, he was doing so with trepidation
because there were certain times in a man’s life he shouldn’t try angering his
wife. And this was one of those times.

She already paid Rachel for her untouched meal. There
was no use in her sticking around only to be deeply insulted by a man she hadn’t
seen in years. And Jake could certainly pay for the half-drank cup of coffee and
strange breakfast, or not. Liddy really didn’t care. She had to go back to
Miami with her tail between her legs, file for a quickie divorce from the
wretched man, then wait.

Divorces weren’t quickie things. Nor, were they easy
to get these days; more often than not, there’d be the required counseling and
the usual dragging of feet.

Damnit. She was so screwed. It would probably take at
least a good six months or more to secure a reasonably partial judge to get
theirs finalized. Mack Wells wasn’t likely to wait around until a divorce came
through the chain of command. Good heavens! Not by a long shot. Mack liked
things done to his precise calculations and with very precise timing: trials,
acquittals. Fuck! Wedding plans.

Even . . .Well, the man did have a ticking clock on
when sex would happen.

This would kill Mack. First, he was a bit more likely
to kill her for doing this to him. Then he’d probably let it kill him, slowly,
so the agony of watching him die would be far worse than it should be.

Mack loved to be a bit theatric about life.

He had six-hundred people invited to a wedding that
could not take place. Not until one very stubborn Jake Giotti gave her what she’d
come back to Preacher’s Bend for. And, by the look of things, this wasn’t about
to happen—today, or any day within the next fifty years.

Storming out of the restaurant and directly into the
wretched heat of a mid-summer morning, Liddy stopped dead in her tracks. Right
in the middle of the parking lot to Rachel’s Café she looked both ways, then slowly
hung her head. Her shoulders followed suit.

A woman with no luck at all? Shit. That was her.

She couldn’t even begin to put a cost to how screwed she
was, because it was far more than she’d thought she could afford, and certainly
more than she’d be willing to pay from this point on. Even a mouse down a rat
hole wasn’t as screwed as she was.

 

Chapter Five

 

Jake, without catching on to what he was doing,
watched with fascination his walkabout wife. She seemed to be waiting for
something,
but what
? More importantly why? Hadn’t they said all that was
going to be said to each other, without involving lawyers?

Yet there was something telling him he shouldn’t pull
his gaze away. Though his brain was telling him to do so, and do so quickly,
his heart wouldn’t listen to this demand.

Expensive briefcase clasped in her one hand, large
leather purse slung over her left shoulder, head hung low; her chin was practically
touching the coarse cracked pavement. He’d never viewed the woman looking so
dejected.

In an unexpected moment of weakness an overwhelming
wave of conscience hit him. Then it passed. When a second, stronger wave hit
him right where it hurt, dead to center in the heart, Liddy was still standing
in the same spot a full minute later.

He turned his head from the sight of her and redirected
his attention to his food, to the very reason he came into Rachel’s before
checking in with Debra. But his eyes were yanked back to the window as if by
string. No matter how badly their separation had come about, or even the
reasons to why it happened, Liddy could still turn his head her way. She looked
totally defeated, as if no amount of energy could force her feet a single inch
forward.

Ah,
h
ell!

Jake held back his groan from becoming audible. It was
bad enough he’d aired out his dirty laundry in the café, but to claim stupidity
aloud?

His conscience was eating him alive. At not only what
he’d done to her, but to what he was going to do about it now. Ten years had
turned him into a bitter man. But Liddy shouldn’t have had the brunt of his
anger thrust upon her so quickly, or so publicly. She was a fragile sort of
being. He should’ve thought of this before now.

His wife was more a China doll than his comparison to
GI Joe. She could crack when least expected. Perhaps her presence in Preacher’s
Bend should’ve had the proper time to sink before he ripped her to shreds. Maybe
then he wouldn’t have been so harsh and judgmental to a woman he hadn’t seen in
years.

Christ! How could he not be judgmental? She destroyed
his life . . . and everything they ever had.

He took an extremely large bite of his hamburger,
signaled for Rachel to wrap up the remainder, and with the utmost regret rose
from his booth to move toward the cafés exit.

Liddy’s high heels were firmly planted on the cracked
asphalt.

Jake did not have to walk far to reach her. He came up
to her left side, and could already hear his wife’s sobbing from three feet
away.

He might be incredibly angry—with not only her, but at
what she’d made him do two years prior—damn, he still felt human, at times.
There was still a chance for redemption, still moments left to grab hold of.
And if not? Well, life for a man was always an uphill struggle, wasn’t it?

He turned his wife’s body toward his, placing his
hands on either of her shoulders, and caught sight of the look in her eyes
where no mere words need be spoken to tell him exactly what was wrong. She’d reached
the plateau of absolute disillusion.

Liddy slowly tipped her blurred vision toward his face
and sobbed even more. Without thought, Jake put his arms around her, drawing
her to his chest. She placed her forehead against him and let it all out. Ten
years of incredible hurt, ten years of shameful regret for leaving him as she
had, and for leaving him without saying Good-bye to the only man she’d ever
promised her love to. It all came out as dire waterworks soaking his shirtfront.

Ten years of heart-wrenching hatred must have been
eating her from the inside out.

He didn’t care about the soaking. At the moment, ten
years were being wiped away—washed clean, that from this moment forward they
would be starting with a clean slate.

When Liddy could finally speak, he pushed her away,
but only far enough and certainly not out of his grasp. He wanted to be able to
look her in the eyes. She looked ready to collapse.

“This wasn’t what either of us wanted after all these
years. Was it?” he offered softly.

Liddy shook her head.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“No. You . . . you can’t,” she sputtered.

He removed one hand from her arm and tipped his wife’s
chin upwards with only two fingers, daring her to pull away.

“Why the hell not?”

Okay. Smoothness was probably saved for a man willing
to defend his actions.

 “Because it . . . Oh, Jake! My car has been stolen!”

His head snapped back. His eyes widened. His hand
dropped her chin like a hot potato. “It w
hat
?”

“My car . . . It’s been stolen. It’s not here
anymore.”

Speechless, his gut tightening, he turned searching
for a vehicle he had no idea at all what looked like. “Where the hell did you
park it, Liddy?”

“Right fucking here, you moron!” Her high heel foot
stomped on the pavement. Then she cried plenty more tears just to spite him.

He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face.
Holy
shit!
Debra would probably arrest him for this. She’d been gunning to
arrest him for something—anything, in fact. Grand theft auto would be about a
near perfect fit to an already over-filled criminal record.

“Are you sure you did? You didn’t park it out back?”
The futile quest to the Almighty Liddy was wrong, and slightly confused as to
where she may or may not have parked her car, made the foolish words tumble out
of his mouth. Under duress, a woman could easily become highly confused of
certain things.

Perhaps coming back to Preacher’s Bend made her
forgetful. Perhaps she wasn’t thinking clearly. Liddy was a woman on a failed
mission. Perhaps . . .

Oh, hell!
Who
was he kidding?
She would certainly know
if her car was stolen or not. Liddy Humphrey-Giotti was a very intelligent
woman, stress in her life dealt with on a need only basis. At least it had been
before. He wasn’t so certain of this now.

Besides, she looked him dead to rites and glared at
his idiotic questions. Certainly in and of itself should be answer she knew
what the hell she was doing.

He swallowed down the remainder of his words—hard won
battle to get them back into his throat; an even harder battle to get them back
into his head.

“Okay. Maybe Billy thought it was to be towed away, or
something?” This would certainly have made sense. Billy wasn’t always right in
the head, any more than old lady Theodora Rosebud. He towed cars at will, due
to color and make, and then lined them up at the back of his garage according
to their designation of the rainbow.

 Nevertheless, he was damn fine at his job and never
towed any out of Rachel’s parking lot on an early morning Sunday!

Nor had he done so before with an out-of-town license
plate. And he surely never towed a vehicle without getting a signature from the
owner of said vehicle, if indeed it did have an out-of-town plate. He’d been
sued for doing this once before, and once was more than enough to correct the
mistake.

“A car with Miami plates?” she snapped at his face,
declaring his thoughts aloud.

“It is possible,” he determined.

Again, he ran his hand over his face, and thought
Yeah,
right!
Tattoo? Cuddly kitten? Was any of this ringing a bell in the head?

Jake flexed his right arm under his suit coat,
groaning miserably. Anything was possible in Preacher’s Bend. But a missing car
from Rachel’s parking lot, in broad daylight? It never happened before.

However, as said, anything was possible, especially
today.

“Let’s walk over to the police station and see Debra.
She’ll take care of this.”

Debra Wesley would put out an APB. Then they’d be able
to find Liddy’s missing car, and afterwards Deputy Debra would gleefully hang by
the neck whatever juvenile delinquent took the vehicle out for a joyride.

And hang
him
by the family jewels for being
late for his parole appointment. Maybe not such a good idea.

Still, Jake started to walk the way of the police
station, figuring there was no sense in procrastinating with the inevitable. One
way or the other, there was going to be cell doors closing in his face within
the next few hours.

Liddy stopped him cold. She turned what she wanted as
her soon-to-be ex-husband physically toward her by grabbing hold of his upper
arm; and, unbeknownst to her, had grabbed ahold of a more-than-slightly painful
tattoo.

The pressure of her fingertips quickly reminded Jake
of his long night. And, why he was so late with an appointment with his
half-sister
from
Hell
. He winced to the pain but let Liddy have her way. For the
moment he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“I can’t go over there!” she wailed.

Liddy’s fingers tightened around his flesh even more.

Damn, enough was enough! A man could only take so much
agony so friggin’ early in the morning.

“Why the bloody hell not?” He yanked his arm out of
her grasp.

Okay. That time it really hurt. Jake closed his eyes
to let the sting ebb away.

Men, at times, could do foolish things. What he’d done
late last night . . . Well, the consequences of his late night activities about
topped the scales of any masculine stupidity chart, far more than the foolish
mistake made of marrying the woman standing in front of him.

“I can’t tell the police about this.” Liddy lowered
her gaze, drawing in a deep breath.

Jake tried toning down his temper but failed miserably
under the circumstances. “Damnit, Liddy! You had better tell me why the hell
not
within the next ten seconds, or you can just explain
why not
to
Debra. Either way, I’m heading over there—with or without you.”

He moved another foot forward, pushing the point.

“Jake! I can’t! I can’t tell Debra about any of this.
About the car, I mean,” she fretted, looking to have found her voice still
useable.

He raised a single eyebrow. “Liddy?” He wanted his
threat to coerce her into confession. “The truth? If not, I start walking.”

“I can’t go over there. Damnit, Jake! I stole the
wretched thing in the first place! There. Satisfied now? Happy my life has
turned into such crap, that I’m willing to take a car just to get rid of you?”
She closed her eyes and groaned. “Damn you, Jake! I can’t tell Debra about the
car not being here. I never meant to take it. I needed a ride. It was just
sitting there, collecting dust. No one would drive me up here. They told me I
was crazy, even certifiable under the circumstances. What am I to do now? Tell
me? What am I to do now, Jake?”

She rose her gaze to his, pleading for help.

Jake Giotti would have said nothing in this world or
within a normal man’s life could have shocked him more than his wife’s
startling confession, however, Liddy Humphrey-Giotti telling him she was a car
thief just about did him in.

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