Wedding Bell Blues (3 page)

Okay, I hadn't settled completely back into rationality yet.
But
things like getting shot at and knocked cold do tend to bring out the
worst in me.

"Tell me once more what you saw just before you got hit."
Colton's
voice was low and soothing, his expression calm. This had to be his
cop's face because the Colton I knew would never sit still when a
woman, even if that woman happened to be me, had been hurt.

"Colton, it's a blur. I couldn't have seen what I thought I
did." I
dropped the ice pack onto the curb and bit my lip. It simply didn't
make any sense. I know I saw the red face of the Devil. But there's no
way he could have done this. He doesn't exist.

Please don't let him exist. My life's complicated enough
without Satan himself being manifest in my neck of the woods.

"Please, Jess, just tell me."

"All right, but don't laugh. I'll be seriously pissed if you
laugh
and will have to hurt you." I relaxed some when the corners of his
mouth lifted in a slight smile. Still, it was gone all too quickly.
"All right. I swear I came face to face with the Devil himself."

For a moment, Colton just sat there, staring at me. It felt
as if
he was trying to look into my very soul. Then he reached into the left
pocket of his suit jacket. A moment later, he held out a photo and
nodded for me to take a look.

"Is this what you saw?"

I looked at the photo and nodded, relieved. I hadn't lost my
mind
nor had I imagined it. Whoever hit me had been wearing one of those
Halloween masks that look almost real. Did the fact Colton had a
picture of the mask mean they'd caught the guy?

I hope, I hope, I hope. Oh, dear God, I hope.

"No," he said, when I asked. He stuffed the photo back into
his
pocket. "We found the mask out back when we got here." He looked over
his shoulder as the EMTs moved back in our direction. "You need to let
them finish with you. Then go on home and get some rest. I'll probably
need to ask you some more questions later, if that's all right."

"Sure." I watched as he climbed to his feet. "Wait!" I
couldn't let
him leave without finding out what had happened inside the store.

"Yes?"

"Colton, what about Manny?"

When he didn't answer right away, my stomach did a long, slow
roll. Damn. DAMN. But maybe I was jumping to conclusions.

"Jess, I'm sorry." He spoke softly, his eyes suddenly dark
with regret. "We found Manny in the back room."

"Was there anyone else?"

"No."

Blood pounded in my ears and my lungs refused to work. This
couldn't be happening. It just couldn't.

"M-M-Manny's d-dead?" My teeth chattered and I suddenly felt
so very cold.

He nodded and had the presence of mind to jump out of the way
just in time as I lunged forward and vomited in the gutter.

"Easy, Jess. It's all right. Just relax."

His voice soothed and his hand gently stroked my hair as he
cradled
me against him. My head and face hurt and my eyes streamed as reality
cruelly crashed down on me. I'd been lucky. I knew it. But Manny hadn't
been. Whoever hit me had killed him. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't
fair.

"Detective, we need to take her to St. Mary's to be checked
out,"
one of the EMTs said softly from Colton's side. I felt more than heard
Colton's agreement.

"No!"

I pushed out of Colton's arms, falling on my butt. Graceful
I'm
not. I dabbed at my eyes, careful not to press too hard against my
injured eye or cheek, before swiping that hand across my mouth. I
didn't care what they said. There was no way I was going to the
hospital and especially not to St. Mary's. Sooner or later I'd have to
tell my parents what happened but, coward that I am, I chose later.

"Jess, don't be foolish. They need to check you out," Colton
rasped impatiently.

"I said no."

"Ms. Jones, we're worried you might have a concussion,
especially
after the way you just booted in the gutter," the EMT said. Maybe I'd
have paid more attention to him if he looked older than fifteen.
"Worse, there's a good chance your cheekbone might be fractured. You
need to have a doctor check you out."

"I said no." I crossed my arms and did my best to look stern.
I am
a teacher, after all, and that is one expression I've mastered. "And,
for your information, I booted in the gutter because someone I know was
killed in there." Idiot.

"Stubborn as always." With that, Colton simply scooped me up
and
carried me across the parking lot to the waiting ambulance, the EMT
trotting after us. A moment later, he plopped me down, hard, on the
gurney and pinned me with a firm look. "Stay!"
My mouth opened, but all that came out was a short shriek of protest.
How dare he!
"Colton," I growled, levering up on my right elbow.

"Damn it, Jess, I said stay and I meant stay." His eyes
flashed and
his hand shoved me flat. "You need to be checked out, whether you like
it or not, and I need to finish up here. I'll be in touch later if I
have any more questions."

As soon as the EMT was inside, Colton slammed the doors,
beating on them to let the driver know it was safe to leave.

My head throbbed and my pride stung as the EMT once more
forced me
to lie back. The ambulance pulled out of the parking lot, siren
blaring. None of which did my aching head any good.

The sun had long since set by the time I finally got home. My
head
throbbed to a beat I really wished would slow down. My face ached and
my last nerve had frayed hours ago. It was bad enough every unexpected
noise made me jump and look around frantically for the source, sure
devil-guy had come back to finish the job he'd started at Manny's.
Worse, I'd been forced to listen to my mother's harangue when she first
saw me in ER.

Not that I'd sent for her. Oh no. I might be many things, but
I'm
not a fool. At least not too very often. I knew how Mom would react and
wanted to put it off as long as possible. Unfortunately, one of the
nurses on duty had recognized my name when the EMTs called in, and
she'd wasted no time notifying my parents. By the time the ambulance
pulled into the bay, both Mom and Dad were there, waiting to see for
themselves what sort of trouble I'd gotten into this time.

Of course, once she'd assured herself I was all right, Mom
went
ballistic. How dare I do something like this? All she'd done was ask me
to pick up the wine she needed for the party. But I couldn't do that.
No, I had to go let myself be someone's punching bag. Now all the
wedding photos would have to be retouched so my black eye and injured
cheek wouldn't show. How could I be so selfish and inconsiderate?

Fortunately for my sanity and my mother's continued
existence, Dad
stepped in. He simply reached for my hand and asked me what happened.
His soft voice and worried expression were all it took for everything
to come pouring out. By the time I'd finished, Mom was holding me
close, tears filling her eyes as she apologized for reacting so badly.

Maybe miracles do still happen.

Then, before I could beg them to spring me from the ER, the
poor
resident assigned to my case arrived. He took one look at the
hospital's chief of surgery and top orthopedic surgeon, turned three
shades of green and began stammering like a schoolboy. His attack of
nerves might have been amusing if I hadn't wanted to get out there so
badly.

Finally, Dad drove me home, but not without trying yet again
to
convince me to go home with him. Mom would have my old room ready for
me, he assured me. Thankfully, he didn't argue when I said I needed
some alone time.

We stopped by Manny's long enough to find out it would be
morning
at the earliest before I could retrieve my car. The cops were still
going over it, looking for anything that might help them find the guy
who hurt me and murdered Manny.

Murdered. I swallowed hard against the gorge that once more
rose in
my throat. Part of me wanted to shout to the heavens in joy that I
hadn't been killed, but there was another part that knew just how lucky
I'd been, and it was scared the killer might just come after me to make
sure I didn't tell the cops anything.

Foolish, I know, but it's how I felt.

"Jessie, are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Dad asked
as we climbed the three steps to the front porch.

"I'm sure, Daddy. Thanks." I managed a smile and hoped he
wouldn't
worry too much about me. But I needed time and space just then.
Besides, Mom in caretaker mode is almost as annoying as Mom in
matchmaker mode, and I simply didn't have the stamina to deal with her.
"I promise I'll be all right and I'll join you in the morning for mass.
Thanks for driving me home."

For a moment, he just looked at me, his eyes searching my
face. Then he bent and lightly kissed my uninjured cheek.

"Lock the door behind you," he said, just as he always did. I
knew
he'd wait on the porch until he heard the deadbolt slide into place.

An hour later, with only the light from the TV illuminating
the
living room, I fought back the tears. Who would have wanted to hurt
Manny? Why had they killed him? I no more understood that than I
understood why they'd left me alive. Not that I was complaining. I
happen to want to live a long, full life. Still, Manny couldn't have
had that much cash on hand, certainly not enough to die over.

A loud knock at the door shattered the quiet and had me
jumping for
the ceiling even as I looked around for some place to hide. Damn! I
didn't expect any company. I didn't want any company. I wasn't up to
any company.

Maybe if I ignored them, they'd go away.

Another knock, this one more demanding than the first. The
neighbor's dog yapped in response, sending my headache ratcheting up
another notch. Wonderful. I'd better see who it was before every dog in
the neighborhood got into the act and my head exploded.

"Jessie, open up!"

Crap! This was the last thing I needed - or wanted - even at
the best of times.

I wrenched open the door, snarling in ill-temper. Colton
stood on
the top step of the porch. Gone was the rumpled business suit he'd worn
earlier. Instead, he wore a pair of faded jeans and a black tee shirt
that looked like they'd been molded on him. His eyes were dark with
concern. Then, recognizing my mood, his expression clouded. Not that it
prevented him from stepping inside without a word.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I demanded even as
he drew me aside so he could close the door.

"I said, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Had he lost what was left of his mind? How dare he act like he
still
had a right to come into my home. He'd lost that right ten years ago.
Cop or not, he'd better get the hell out before I called one of his
buddies on the force to make him leave.
Colton's brown eyes flashed, a perfect match to my own rising temper.
Recognizing it, the one small part of my brain still capable of
functioning at least somewhat rationally forced me to step back and
breathe deeply. There was no need to piss him off - yet. He'd said he
might need to ask some follow-up questions. That had to be why he'd
come. There was no other reason for him being there, so why give him
the satisfaction of letting him know he could still get under my skin -
even if it was just to annoy the hell out of me.

"Sorry." I motioned him further inside. "I didn't expect to
see anyone tonight."

"Are you all right?" He looked at the white patch covering my
injured cheek and his eyes flashed angrily again.

"I will be." I frowned, puzzled because he didn't seem to want
to
move out of the entry hall any more than he seemed eager to ask
whatever questions had brought him there. "Look, Colton, I don't want
to seem rude -" He grinned slightly and I felt the beginning of a blush
burning on my cheeks. Crap. "Okay, more rude - but I'm tired, sore and
more than a little bit out of sorts. So why are you here?"

For a moment he didn't respond. Instead, he shuffled his feet
nervously, like a kid trying to screw up his courage to do or say
something he's sure will be laughed at. Then he held out his left hand.
Hanging from it was a plastic grocer's sack. I took it and looked
inside.

"I thought you might be needing these," he said and the left
corner
of my mouth quirked up in a grin. Damn, but he was good. He'd not only
remembered my favorite flavor of ice cream but my favorite brand of
single malt as well.

"Trying to bribe me, detective?"

"What?" He blinked once in surprise and then chuckled as he
realized
I was teasing. "No. But you've had a hell of a day and I heard your
mother tried to rip you a new one in ER for ruining Maryanne's wedding
pictures. Besides, I thought this might soften you up some before I
asked you few more questions."

"Come on back to the kitchen."

His thick eyebrows arched expressively but I chose to ignore
it. If
I didn't, we'd go down that part of memory lane best left forgotten, or
at least not mentioned. If we did go down that particular path, our
emotional baggage would simply get in the way of anything either of us
might want to say.

Not that it was easy. Still, if he was willing to try, so was
I.

After all, I'd gotten rid of that particular dining table long
ago.
There's nothing like a nice bonfire to satisfy a girl's need for
vengeance, especially if that bonfire is fed by something the man
causing the heartache really liked. And Colton had really, really liked
that table.

Doing my best to ignore him and the memories that tried to
push
their way to the surface, I dished up some of the ice cream, wishing I
dared have a drink. But I knew better than to mix single malt with the
painkillers I'd taken earlier. My cheekbone might not be broken but it
still hurt like a son of a bitch. By morning, I'd have a doozie of a
black eye to go with the swollen, discolored cheek. The plastic surgeon
Mom called in once she calmed down some had assured me there'd be no
scar from the cut that ran from just below the corner of my eye half
way across that cheek. Still, I planned on doing everything he said
just to be sure. I'm not particularly vain, but I didn't want a scar to
remind me of what happened today.