Three Weddings and a Murder (40 page)

One
.

Two.

Three
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He jumped back to the patio, rocked the baby, and this time he brought his knees up in an exaggerated tiptoe. Anna slid her chin down and then back up. That was a nod—he hoped.

He darted behind the cover of the bricks once more. He’d been miming a complex message to Anna:
I’m going to sneak around and come in the front door. Be prepared to grab the baby and run
.

Anna had nodded at him, as if she’d understood. Maybe Anna had deciphered his code, or maybe she’d simply been planning to grab Bobby at her first opportunity all along. Either way, now was the time to get back to the front and sneak inside.

He drew in a deep breath and started his silent trek around the side of the house. But he didn’t make it three feet before a thunderous crack reverberated through the bricks, nearly deafening him.

He didn’t hesitate or try to reason things out. He just ran like hell back to the patio, grabbed a chair and smashed it through the sliding glass door. Following the chair, he dove into the room in a hailstorm of glass and thunder.

First thing he saw was Nate lying in a pool of blood. He bolted over the body and tackled Carlisle from behind. The SOB started to buck and Charlie climbed him like a bronco bull, locked onto his gun hand and yanked with all his might. When that didn’t work, he dug his nails into the underside of Carlisle’s wrist. Carlisle yelped, and his pistol spun across the floor like a hockey puck.

Anna raced for Bobby while Charlie rode the adrenaline-fueled bull, doing his damnedest to steer him away from the women. Charlie’s arms ached from the tight chokehold he had on Carlisle, but not so much that he had any intention of letting go. He’d ride this motherfucker all night if he had to.

Carlisle tried a spin, like you see on those wrestling shows, and Charlie started to see spots. But he didn’t mind, because he also saw Anna handing Bobby off to Simone.

“Run!” he yelled at the women.

Simone fled with Bobby in her arms, and an enraged Carlisle reared up. Charlie held on.

Carlisle stuck out one foot, trying to trap Nate’s gun and drag it back to him.

Charlie kneed his bull hard in the sides. He was a flat-out rodeo champion tonight.

Carlisle reared again, and this time Charlie flew backward and landed on his tail. Before he could scramble to his feet, Carlisle grabbed Nate’s gun and pointed it at him. The barrel of that pistol was the deepest darkest hole he’d ever looked down.

His heartbeat sounded like it was coming out of stereo speakers, and his breath stormed through his body like a hurricane. His life didn’t pass before his eyes like he’d always believed it would, but time did give him one last gift. It slowed down long enough for him to glance up at Anna’s sweet face.

Sweet Jesus
.

Anna had a gun.

She hovered beside him, facing off with Carlisle. “Drop it, asshole.”

Carlisle snarled.

Anna snapped her wrist, and the thunder of a gunshot braided in the air with a burst of light and the stench of burnt powder, confusing his senses.

Carlisle fell backward, and the hole in his forehead left absolutely no doubt that he would never hurt his family again.

Thursday Evening

C
HARLIE REACHED INSIDE
the crate and picked out a choice specimen: soft—but not too soft, plump, and luscious with a gentle hint of fuzz that playfully tickled his nose when he tested its sweet, fresh aroma. Yes sir, this was one grade-A-perfect Tangleheart peach all right.

They’d just learned that after a rocky night, Nate was expected to make a full recovery. With Simone’s mom delayed in Phoenix and not expected to arrive until tomorrow morning, he and Anna would watch over Simone and Bobby at the farm again tonight.

“I’ve got something for you.” He offered his hand-selected peach to Anna.

“No thanks.” Anna shook her head, and a swarm of blinking fireflies went wild, jiving around her face, and then hovering above the crown of her head like an electric tiara.

Her gaze was distant and unfocused, and he had no idea where he stood with her. The night air hung hot and still around them as if it, too, were in a state of limbo. He snuggled the fruit back in the crate and reached for her hand. Maybe he shouldn’t have led with the peach.

“Simone okay?”

“She’s scared Nate will come after her again.” Even with the balmy comfort of a small-town Texas night wrapped around her, Anna shivered.

He wished he could make it all go away—make Anna and Simone feel safe again. But there was no running from the truth. Nate Carlisle was a cold-blooded killer, and the only way to keep his wife and child safe was to make sure he went to prison for the rest of his days. “I’m sure the DA will move fast on this one—just as soon as Nate’s able to stand trial.”

“He tracked Simone to the lake house by her phone, you know.”

“I kinda figured.” He traced his thumb along the silken underside of Anna’s forearm. They’d talked of little else apart from Nate and Simone for the past forty-eight hours, but right now, with Anna sitting mere inches away from him, with the smell of her skin calling up a near holographic memory of her body moving beneath him, the future of a different couple was weighing heavily on his heart.

“Nate lied to us when he said Simone left her phone behind.” Anna’s chin dropped to her chest, and the fireflies momentarily scattered.

Gently, he tucked his index finger between her chin and her chest and nudged her face up until her eyes met his. “Nate lied about a lot of things, but I don’t want to talk about him anymore tonight if that’s okay. I don’t want to allow him to steal one more moment of happiness away from us.”

She didn’t look away. “Agreed. Let’s talk about something else—anything else. I could use a break and a little distraction right about now.” Anna inclined her head toward the door of the Carlisle farmhouse. “Simone’s finally sleeping, and so is the baby, so we need to be extra quiet.”

“That’s no problem.” He could think of lots of distracting ways to occupy their lips that wouldn’t be noisy. “We’ll just sit out here on the front porch steps and enjoy this beautiful summer night.” He turned her hand over and pressed a little kiss into her palm. “Like the old days. Remember?”

Pulling her hand away, she brushed a hank of hair off her forehead, and the fireflies went nuts again.

“How about a bite of that peach?” he coaxed.

Her nose scrunched up in distaste. “You forget I hate peaches.”

“No,” he countered. “You forget you love peaches.”

Seconds ticked by. Seconds during which a thousand warring emotions flitted across her face too quickly for him to discern.

“It’s true I used to love peaches, but now I don’t,” she said at last.

His heart sped up, and his chest expanded with fresh hope. He could work with an opening like that. In fact, Anna was headed right where he’d wanted to lead. Stopping by the farmer’s market on the way over had been a stroke of pure genius. “It’s because of that worm, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh.”

He pulled out his perfect peach once more and pressed it into her hands.

“No thank you.” She set it back in the crate.

“Just hear me out.” Leaning toward her, he mentally prepared his case. He intended to get her to bite into that peach even if it took all night. “You love peaches. You always have. I’m not making this up on my own. I’ve watched you dance a jig when the season turns, and they first hit the farmers’ stands. I’ve seen you give your dinner plate to the dog, just to get to the peach pie at the end quicker. I’ve seen you lick peach juice off your chin at a church social and not give a damn that the preacher’s wife is watching.”

“Okay, I admit it. I used to love peaches. That’s exactly what I just said. But ever since I bit into that bad one and found half a grody worm hanging out of it, I stopped loving peaches. I haven’t touched them since.”

“Exactly.” He smiled.

And then her mouth twisted into a defiant pink pucker.

She was putty in his hands.

“There’s no worm in these peaches, Anna. I checked every single one in the box. You’re making a decision based on a wrong assumption. You love peaches. You always have. It’s
worms
you hate.”

That beautiful smile of Anna’s, the one that lit his world like nothing else could, replaced her pucker. “My stars, Charlie, do you have some sort of point to this whole peach de résistance campaign?”

Trailing the edge of his hand down her cheek, he captured her gaze. His heart was pounding against his ribs, and he took her hand and placed it on his chest, so she could feel the truth of his words. “I love you, Anna. I always have, and I want a chance to earn back your trust. I want a chance to prove that no matter how sad and terrible the world around us becomes, I won’t walk away from you again. You love me, Anna. You told me so yourself. All you have to do is remember.”

She pulled her hand away, and her lower lip trembled. Moonlight was glinting off the moisture in her eyes. His throat tightened. He was beginning to lose hope again…but then, thank God, she pulled his hand to her racing heart and tilted her face up invitingly. He brushed his lips over hers, and she opened eagerly for him. The kiss was long and sweet and tender—everything a kiss should be when you’re with the woman you love.

He could’ve kissed her like that forever, and he pulled her back for more when she tried to break away, but in the end she gave him a little shove and had her way. Apparently, she wanted to be heard too.

“I do remember, Charlie,” she said and reached inside the crate. “I love you—so if it’s another chance you want, I’m all for it.”

And then Anna Kincaid, the girl of Charlie Drexler’s dreams, laughed out loud and took a great big fearless bite of a grade-A-perfect Tangleheart peach.

F
OR READERS CURIOUS
about the title,
Solomon’s Wisdom,
it has to do with the parable,
The Wisdom of Solomon,
King James Bible, 1 Kings 3:16-27.

Carey Baldwin is a mild-mannered physician (still practicing full time) who happens to write edgy romantic thrillers. What’s a nice girl like Carey doing writing scare-you-silly thrillers? When you’re a former clinical psychologist, writing about psychopaths comes naturally, and when you’re a hopeless romantic… Well, you do the math!

Follow Carey Baldwin on twitter at @
CareyBaldwin
, like her on Facebook at
http://www.facebook.com/CareyBaldwinAuthor
, or visit her website at
http://www.CareyBaldwin.com.

More about Carey’s other works, and an excerpt from her upcoming debut novel,
First Do No Evil,
can be found at the back of this book. Click
here
for a shortcut.