Last Kiss Goodbye Page 6

  “Hell, no,” Matt muttered. “The law is the last damn thing I want to see my first night in town. But if someone’s threatening you, you have to inform the cops.”

  He was right. She grabbed the phone and punched 911. Seconds later, an operator’s voice echoed over the line, and Ivy explained the situation.

  “I’ll send Sheriff Boles right over,” the operator said. “Are you sure you’re all right, miss?”

  Ivy squeezed the phone so tightly her fingers grew numb. No, she wasn’t sure. Matt Mahoney’s steely look had started her heart pounding.

  “Miss?”

  “Y-yes, just send the sheriff.”

  “All right. Hang tight.”

  Ivy’s hands trembled as she placed the handset back into the cradle. “The sheriff’s on his way.”

  Matt grimaced. “It looks like someone doesn’t want you in town, Ivy.”

  Her frayed nerves shattered at his blunt tone. “But no one here knows my real identity.”

  A deep sarcastic chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Apparently someone does.”

  She shuddered. He was right. The sideswipe incident earlier suddenly took on a more dire meaning. But who had figured out her identity? And why would they want to run her out of town?

  Matt cleared his throat. “I imagine they won’t be too happy to see me, either.”

  She bit her lip, a million questions racing through her mind. “Why did you come back?”

  “Why do you think?”

  He stepped closer, so close she inhaled the scent of soap, something clean and fresh like Irish Spring. But another more woodsy odor radiated from him, as well, all primal male. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he waited for her reply. But she couldn’t find her voice.

  “I came to see you,” he finally said in a gruff voice.

  “Me?” Her voice quivered. “But…why?”

  He lifted his big hand and twirled a damp strand of hair around his finger. Tension radiated from every pore in his body, the heat between them igniting a mixture of fear and excitement in her belly. He had the darkest, deepest eyes she’d ever seen. Brown. No, black. He looked so lost and angry. So alone.

  The way she’d felt so many times.

  His pain drew her. She suddenly wanted to wipe it from his eyes. Assure him that life wasn’t all evil.

  Miss Nellie would say she was a sucker.

  That erotic dream floated back. Matt Mahoney kissing her. Stripping off her clothes. Touching her in secret places. Eliciting feelings she’d never felt before. Making her come alive.

  A bold and sexy look flared in his eyes. Hunger. Lust. The urgent need of a man to take what he wanted.

  She backed away, frightened by the potency of that desire. Half wanting it, half terrified of the desperate need that accompanied it.

  He chuckled sardonically. “Don’t worry, Ivy, I’m not going to attack you.” Still, he moved closer again, until he was only a breath away, until his masculine scent trapped her like honey did a fly. With a soft sigh, he traced a finger down the side of her cheek, and her skin tingled.

  “I’ve been waiting a long time for us to meet face-to-face, so you could explain why you didn’t tell everyone what happened that night,” he said in a husky voice. “Why you let them throw me in a cell to rot for the rest of my life when you knew I was innocent?”

  MATT STEELED HIMSELF AGAINST the pain that flashed on Ivy’s face. He had every right to be angry. To confront her. After all, he’d waited fifteen damn years to do so. Half a lifetime, during which his life had disintegrated, where he’d been shunned and cast aside. But he hadn’t banked on the fact that frightening Ivy would carve a pit of guilt in his belly. Make him feel like the low-down criminal everyone thought him to be.

  Or that the sudden attraction he felt for her might be reflected in her own expressive eyes.

  No, he’d imagined her reaction. Been so desperate for a woman that he’d twisted fear into desire. Ivy was too young, too beautiful, too innocent for a man like him.

  She licked her lips and his throat went dry.

  “I…I’m sorry, Matt.”

  “Sorry?” he hissed. “Sorry doesn’t make up for prison, Ivy.”

  “I know.” Her eyes flickered with regret, and he silently cursed, wishing he could drag his gaze away from her soft, luscious-looking mouth. The other half of him wanted to kiss her. Taste those sweet pink lips. Swirl his tongue inside and watch her fall apart in his arms.

  Damn. Ivy was not a little girl anymore. And he wanted her with a vengeance.

  Yet, just as they had fifteen years ago, emotions moved inside him, careening around like he was on a free fall ride. A gut instinct to protect her rifled through him. Even if it meant protecting her from him.

  Only Ivy did that to him. Made him think. Feel. Want things he couldn’t have. Dreams he couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

  “I don’t remember what happened that night, Matt,” she said in a low, strained voice. “I…that’s the reason I came back here. I need to remember.”

  He flattened his mouth in a thin line. Wanted to tell her he didn’t believe her. But the truth radiated in her tortured eyes.

  Disturbed by his reaction to her, he dragged his gaze away. Scanned the room. Saw a dingy-looking, cloth Santa perched on top of the faded wooden dresser. Memories crashed back. Ivy clinging to a Santa doll that night. Dropping it in the mud. Him picking it up and carrying her, trying to shield her against the rain.

  His gut clenched as another memory followed. One he’d forgotten. Ivy in town, stopping to give half of her peanut butter sandwich to a homeless blind man begging on the street. Her clothes had been hanging off of her, her shoes ratty. She’d barely had enough to eat herself. But she’d been kind to the old man.

  A siren wailed from outside, and Matt swallowed, every nerve in his body bunched tight. She’d seen him looking at the Santa, and her face had turned ashen. Had she really blocked out memories of that night?

  The siren grew louder. His first instinct urged him to flee as fast as he could. But running would only make him look guilty, just as hiding out the night of the Stantons’ slaying had.

  Good God. How had he landed himself into this mess his first night back in Kudzu Hollow?

  A pounding on the door brought reality back, and Ivy rushed to answer it.

  A.J. Boles, his teenage buddy, stood in the doorway, wearing a sheriff’s uniform, rain dripping off the brim of his hat. Matt couldn’t have been more surprised if his own sorry-assed daddy had returned to welcome him home.

  A.J. had been a hellion in their day, had liked vandalizing cars, playing with fire, drinking and women. Yeah, he’d especially liked women. He’d even bragged about screwing the married ones, choosing who to bang just because he hated their rich husbands. A.J.’s own daddy had been pretty well-off, was some big shot real estate developer. Matt had never understood their relationship, only known that A.J. and his old man hadn’t gotten along.

  Like he and his own old man hadn’t, but for different reasons.

  “Sheriff Boles. You’re Ann Ivy?”

  Ivy nodded, glanced sideways and met Matt’s gaze, silently asking if he’d reveal her real identity.

  But Matt remained silent, hidden by the shadows studying his former friend. The cocky attitude remained as A.J. skimmed his eyes over Ivy, mentally undressing her.

  Matt clenched his fists, that protective instinct swelling inside him again.

  No, A.J. hadn’t changed. He still liked women. Was a taker. Then again, all the women had liked him, and had given it up pretty easily.

  But the idea of him taking anything from Ivy roused Matt’s anger.

  Reining in the control he’d mastered in prison, he forced himself to tamp down his temper. A.J.’s sandy-blond hair had gotten darker. His lean body had filled out, and he’d grown an inch or two, putting him around five-eleven.

  “What’s the problem, ma’am?” A.J. asked.

  Ivy waved him in. “Come on inside, and I’ll sho
w you.”

  Three steps in, A.J. finally noticed Matt. He froze, thumbs in his belt loops, feet spread wide.

  “Holy hell, if it isn’t Matt Mahoney. I heard you got released.”

  “Word spreads fast.”

  A.J.’s gaze shot toward the wall, and his eyes widened as he spotted the blood-smeared writing and dead animal. “Shit.” He turned to Ivy. “When did this happen?”

  “It was like that when I arrived here tonight.”

  A.J. quickly glanced at Matt, his eyebrows raised as if waiting on an explanation. Matt squared his shoulders, searched for the old familiar connection between him and his buddy, felt tension knot his neck at A.J.’s assessment. He’d had fifteen years of being stared at with suspicion, as if he was a rabid dog that preyed on children. As if he deserved to die.

  He hadn’t expected it from A.J.

  “Mahoney?” A.J. finally asked.

  Disappointment assaulted Matt at the silent implication. He’d hoped that his friend would remember old alliances. After all, they’d fished together. Set off stink bombs in the girls’ locker room so they could watch them run outside in their underwear. Hidden in the closet with nude girlie magazines and laughed at the raunchy jokes. And they’d taken their first trip to Red Row together, another bonding of sorts.

  Then Matt had ended up in jail, and A.J. had wound up sheriff.

  Strange how the world went around.

  “Matt’s staying next door. I screamed and he came to check on me,” Ivy answered for him.

  “You two are here together?” A.J. asked in an incredulous voice.

  “No,” Matt cut in before Ivy could bother. A.J. scowled. “We don’t want trouble around here, Mahoney.”

  Matt shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Who says I’m here to cause trouble?”

  “Why else would you have come back?”

  Matt grinned. “To see my old friends, of course.”

  A.J. didn’t take the bait. “When did you get to town?”

  “Tonight,” Matt said, meeting A.J.’s glare head-on. “Just a few hours ago.”

  “You’re here one day and now this?”

  A.J. gestured toward the bloody writing, then shifted on the balls of his feet. “Do you have any idea who did this, ma’am?”

  Ivy shook her head. “No…”

  “Why would someone want to hurt you?” A.J. asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ivy said quietly.

  A.J. hesitated, then turned on that charming smile. The ladies’ man was back. “If you don’t tell me the truth, I can’t help you.”

  A heartbeat of silence stretched through the room. The question stood in the air—should she confess the truth about her identity? Could she trust the sheriff to keep her secret?

  Could he help her if she didn’t?

  Matt refrained from offering advice. He didn’t trust anyone in this town. Including her.

  And A.J. wanted Ivy. That much was evident, at least to him. But he couldn’t tell her that. After all, her personal life was none of his business.

  “My real name is Ivy Stanton,” she said. “I came here under the pen name I use in my magazine.”

  Realization quickly flared in A.J.’s eyes. “I see. So no one else in Kudzu Hollow knows who you really are?”

  “Not that I know of. And I’d like to keep it that way for a while.”

  “Probably wise. It’s a small town. Gossip spreads fast.”

  Matt grimaced. And friendships died quickly. A.J. frowned. “How long have you been in town, Miss Stanton?”

  “About a week.”

  He gestured around the cabin. “Is there anything missing?”

  Ivy bit her lip. “I…I haven’t really checked.”

  “Look around and see.” A.J. strode back to the door and checked the lock, while Ivy began to search the room. “There’s no sign of forced entry. Did you leave the cabin unlocked?”

  “No.”

  Matt assessed the cabin, too, watching A.J. Essentially, the rental unit consisted of one big room, sparsely furnished. An iron bed dominated the center, with an old-fashioned quilt in green and rose covering it. A simple pine dresser sat in one corner, a desk in the opposite. A breakfast bar separated the small kitchen nook from the den. Across from the bed a small sitting area held a sofa and chair situated around a ceiling-high stone fireplace. Built-in bookshelves held a few paperback novels, a small TV set and a stereo. The floors were made of heart of pine, the walls the same, making the room dark and cozy. Except the “present” Ivy had received had destroyed the relaxing atmosphere.

  “I don’t see anything missing,” she said after checking the closet.

  A.J. took a quick run through the cabin. “The window’s open in the bathroom. My guess is that’s how the guy got in and out.”

  Ivy sighed. “I…I don’t know if this is related or not, but in town earlier, a car sideswiped me after I left the diner. I…thought it was just some teenagers, or maybe a drunk leaving the bar.”

  Matt’s instincts roared to life. Twice in one night, something strange had happened to Ivy. Someone definitely knew her identity, and didn’t want her here.

  A.J. gently stroked her arm as if to comfort her. “Are you all right? Were you hurt?”

  Ivy pulled away. “I’m fine, but the driver damaged my car.”

  “Did you get the make of the vehicle or see anyone inside?” A.J. asked.

  “No, it all happened so fast. The windows were tinted, and it was raining,” Ivy whispered. “I did file a report with your deputy for insurance purposes.”

  “So you had to give your name?” Matt asked.

  Ivy twitched, shifting uncomfortably, but nodded.

  Matt gestured toward the wall, irritated that A.J. was so close to Ivy, although he had no idea why it irked him so. “Are you going to collect blood samples to have tested?”

  A.J.’s mouth twisted. “Yeah. And I’ll take some pictures, too.”

  “Do you send them away to a crime lab?” Matt asked.

  A.J. grunted. “Are you questioning my abilities as a law enforcement agent, Matt?”

  “No,” he replied. “But proper testing is crucial. After all, faulty DNA evidence sent me to jail.”

  “Is that right?” A.J. asked with an eyebrow raise.

  Matt’s cold gaze met his former friend’s. “If you don’t believe me, you can look at the transcripts. And hell, test my damn blood. It won’t match that smear on the wall.”

  “Don’t worry. I will.”

  Matt glared at him. Was this the way he’d be treated the rest of his life?

  Every time a crime took place, no matter how petty, the cops would suspect him first.

  IVY DIDN’T UNDERSTAND the dynamics, but tension simmered in the air as the sheriff retrieved his camera and a crime scene kit from the car. Tension between her and Matt. And between him and the sheriff.

  “I’m going to call the owner of the cabins,” Matt said. “He should know about this.”

  “She’ll need another room,” A.J. said. “This is a crime scene now.”

  Ivy nodded. Still shaken, she slumped into the rocking chair in the corner and watched as the sheriff photographed the wall, then took a sample of the blood, and dusted the wall, doorknobs, the bathroom windowsill, even the phone for fingerprints.

  Matt remained silent, having perched on one of the bar stools as if he intended to supervise A.J.’s investigation. Miss Nellie’s warning echoed back: Don’t go to Kudzu Hollow. It’s too dangerous.

  It was dangerous only if someone still had secrets. If the person who’d really killed her parents had gotten away with it and didn’t want her back.

  Which meant Matt was innocent, as the judge had decreed.

  Ivy massaged her temple where a headache pulsed. Finally, just as the sheriff finished the fingerprinting, Cliff appeared. He looked haggard and upset at the sight of the blood on the wall. When he saw the chicken’s head, he staggered on his feet. Matt caught him.

  “Are yo
u okay?” Matt asked.

  Ivy fanned the man’s face and rushed to get him a glass of water.

  “I ain’t had no trouble out here before,” Cliff said in a weak voice. “What’s going on now?”

  “I don’t know,” Sheriff Boles replied. “Some prankster kids may have vandalized the room just to stir up trouble. You know how this weather affects them.”

  The old man nodded. “I should have moved away from here when my Gertie died. But I couldn’t bear to leave her.”

  “Cliff, I need to move to another cabin,” Ivy said.

  “Good Lord, yes. I wouldn’t feel right you staying here.” He rubbed a freckled hand over his chin, but his color was improving. “I’ll get a cleaning crew to take care of this mess.” He stood, composing himself. “Let me unlock the cabin on the other side of Mr. Mahoney. I’ll leave the key inside.”

  Ivy thanked him and walked him to the door, worried about the man’s health. He was too old for such a shock, but he assured her that he was fine as he toddled outside.

  Sheriff Boles’s cell phone jangled, and he flipped it open. “Boles here.” He hesitated. “Yeah. Jesus. I’ll be right there.”

  The sheriff stopped beside Ivy and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Call me if anything else strange happens, Ivy. That’s what I’m here for, to protect the citizens.” He removed a business card from his pocket and handed it to her. “My home phone number’s on there as well as my cell.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I appreciate your concern.”

  Matt followed the sheriff to the door with a frown. “What’s wrong, A.J.? What was that call about?”

  A.J. hesitated. “It’s started again.”

  “What’s started again?” Ivy asked.

  “The trouble. A fight broke out with some teens in front of one of the gas stations. And there’s been a murder out near the junkyard.” The sheriff leveled his gaze at Matt, an insinuation in his eyes. “You weren’t out there earlier, were you?”

  Matt’s jaw tightened. “I dropped by to see my mother, but that’s the only place I stopped.”

  “And how did it go? Was she glad to see you, Matt?”

  His shoulders stiffened. “Yeah, she welcomed me with open arms.” Sarcasm laced his voice and anguish radiated from him, stirring Ivy’s compassion.