Passion In The First Degree Part 6

"That's nonsense." Billy frowned as he thought of the woman he'd married. At the time he'd thought he loved her, believed they were two of a kind, understood each other and could make a good life together.

He'd wanted children, a family, and Fayrene had made so many promises, mouthed so many lies. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "Fayrene threatened to seek custody, and that's why I hired Gator to follow her. Why would I pay him to do that if I was going to kill her and solve the issue myself?" He frowned. "Besides, Fayrene didn't want Parker. Even when we were together she had a nanny she used all the time." Again he thanked goodness for Angelique's friendship. Angelique had spent more time with Parker than Fayrene ever had. "Fayrene just used him to try to get at me."

"And people will say she did get to you, to the point that you lost all control and killed her."

"I've only lost complete control once in my whole life." He looked at her pointedly. "And that wasn't with Fayrene."

She flushed and looked away. d.a.m.n him, he was trying to unsettle her. She'd noticed that whenever the conversation cut too close, he turned it into s.e.xual innuendos intended to unsettle her and change the topic. He seemed h.e.l.lbent on self-destruction, alienating the one person who was trying to help him. She should get out of the whole mess, let him take his chances with a public defender. But even as she thought this, she knew she wouldn't follow through. She was determined to help Billy in spite of himself.

She wasn't doing it because of any lingering affection for him. Those adolescent emotions were gone, buried beneath too many years and the memory of his hateful words on that night. No, she wasn't sticking by Billy for any reason other than her intense love and gratefulness to the grandmother who had raised him and made a special place in her life for a lonely little girl.

Staring out the window, she watched as they left town, turning onto an overgrown, pothole-riddled dirt road she'd never been on before. A plethora of greenery encroached on the road, and the air was cooler, the night darker.

"Are you sure you're going the right way?" she asked, seeing nothing but darkness and overgrowth around them. There was no sign of civilization, no twinkling lights or noise to indicate the presence of a bar in the vicinity.

He grinned. "What's the matter? Afraid I'm taking you out to the swamp to have my wicked way with you?" He laughed, a flat, mirthless sound. "Don't worry, Shelby. I already told you, the next time I have you it's going to be in the comfort of a soft bed."

"And what makes you so sure there's going to be a next time?" she asked, trying to ignore the rapid beat of her heart, the sudden dryness of her mouth.

"Because sooner or later you're going to want me." His utter certainty raked through Shelby like rain on a tin roof, discordant and maddening. He looked at her again, his eyes shining their wickedness. "Sooner or later you're going to want to find out if that one night we had was really as explosive as you remember."

"You're one arrogant piece of work," she retorted with a shake of her head.

He laughed again, this time a genuine sound of amus.e.m.e.nt. "I'm only arrogant about those things I have a right to be. Sooner or later you'll want me to show you."

"You're disgusting, and you can show me when h.e.l.l freezes over." It felt wonderful, flinging his words back in his face, and she smiled smugly.

His laughter filled the cab of the truck and made a tingle of warmth creep up her spine. Drat the man anyway, drat him for his sinful attractiveness and wicked laughter. And d.a.m.n him for being so sure she would eventually succ.u.mb to the desire to physically be with him again.

She sat up straighter in the seat as they broke into a clearing and The Edge came into view. It was a large metal shedlike building with a neon sign on top that flashed the name in spastic fashion. The parking lot, little more than a cleared-off dirt area, was packed with pickup trucks, souped-up cars and motorcycles.

Billy parked and they got out. Raucous music poured from the open door, and Shelby found her heart echoing the drumming throb in antic.i.p.ation. Perhaps in the bar she would find the key piece of evidence that would absolve Billy of any guilt in Fayrene's and Tyler's deaths.

She started toward the door, but gasped as Billy grabbed her arm and pulled her close against his side. "We're going to set some ground rules here," he said, not releasing his hold on her despite her attempt to wrestle her arm free.

"What kind of rules?" she asked as she stopped struggling and stood still, offended by his high-handed manner.

"When we get inside, you stick close to me. You don't speak to anyone without checking it out with me first."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped irritably. "I can't operate like that."

He grasped her arm once again. "Then you don't operate at all." The amus.e.m.e.nt that had lightened his eyes moments before was gone, replaced by a dangerous gleam that taunted her to contest him. "You're in my world now, Shelby, and you have to play by my rules."

"Are you trying to frighten me?" she asked softly.

"This isn't a game, Shelby. You're out of your league here and I'm talking about survival."

She searched his face, unsure whether he was playing macho mind games with her or was honestly warning her for her own good. At that moment a man came flying through the open doorway of the bar, landing in a heap on the ground near where they stood.

He stood, brushing the seat of his filthy pants with one hand and flipping the middle finger of his other hand toward a tall figure silhouetted in the doorway. "You'd better watch your back. I'll get you when you least expect it." The brawler jumped on the back of a gleaming, chromed motorcycle and roared off into the night.

Shelby looked back at Billy. "Okay, you win," she conceded. "We'll play by your rules."

It was his turn to smile smugly. "I thought you'd see things my way." As they walked toward the door he kept his hand firmly beneath her elbow, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that she was with him.

When they stepped into the bar, Shelby reluctantly admitted to herself that he was right. She was out of her world here, and she was grateful for Billy's strong presence beside her.

Nowhere Shelby had ever been in her life prepared her for the interior of The Edge. Smoke hung in a noxious layer, deepening the gloom that even the neon-lit beer signs couldn't pierce. The din was earsplitting, a combination of violent curses, rowdy shouts and breaking bottles. The smell inside was nauseating-the scent of sweaty bodies and cheap booze underscored by the more unpleasant odors of urine and vomit.

Looking at the patrons, Shelby could have sworn she recognized half a dozen from FBI posters in the post office. Everyone looked as if their face could easily adorn a Most Wanted list from any law enforcement agency in the world.

Billy was obviously no stranger. As they walked toward the bar at the far end of the huge room, he was greeted by men and women, their easy familiarity letting Shelby know Billy was a frequent visitor to The Edge.

"What do you want to drink?" Billy asked as they reached the bar. Shelby slid onto a stool and he stood just behind her, one hand resting casually yet possessively on her shoulder.

"A club soda."

"Two specials, Pete," Billy yelled to the bartender, who grinned and flashed a thumbs-up sign.

Shelby raised an eyebrow. "Club soda is the specialty?"

"Shelby, if you drink a club soda in this place, somebody will think you're an undercover cop. If you want to rub shoulders with the bad boys, you're going to have to drink like the bad boys."

At that moment the bartender plopped two gla.s.ses down before them, a grin on his face as his gaze lingered on Shelby. "Two of those and he'll snort like a stallion all night long," he exclaimed. "I guaran-d.a.m.n-tee it." He slapped the wooden surface of the bar, then walked away, cackling like a half-possessed demon.

Shelby felt the blush that began at her neck, warming her face to the tips of her ears. She heard Billy's husky chuckle and resisted the impulse to elbow him in the ribs.

"Who, exactly, did you want to talk to in here?" he asked.

"Gator told me Fayrene was friends with a waitress here, Winnie Mae Ralston. Do you know her?"

Billy nodded, his gaze darting around the crowded room. "There she is." He gestured to an older woman who was serving drinks to a group of men surrounding one of the three pool tables. "You sit right here and I'll go get her. Don't move from this chair," he warned, then left her to weave his way through the crowd.

Shelby picked up her drink and took a tentative sip, gasping as the alcohol content exploded in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't discern what kind of alcohol the drink contained, only knew it was exceptionally strong.

"Hey, sweetcakes," a voice purred right next to her ear.

She turned to look at the man leering at her, his eyes glazed with the effects of too many drinks and not enough brain. He was clad in leather, with a filthy bandanna twisted around his head to hold back stringy blond hair. A hoop earring dangled from one pierced ear, the shine competing with the gleam of a gold front tooth.

"How about you slide over here and sit on my lap and we'll talk about the first thing that comes up." He laughed uproariously, his fetid breath hitting Shelby full in the face.

"I'm waiting for somebody," Shelby replied curtly, looking back to where Billy had reached the waitress.

"Aren't we all? Why don't you dance with me?" He placed a hand on her arm and Shelby noticed the dirt crusting his fingernails.

She jerked away from his touch. "I told you I'm waiting for somebody," she said coolly.

"Ah, be nice," he protested, the glaze in his eyes hardening as his gaze brazenly lingered on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Don't be so uptight." There was an ugly sneer in his words. "Maybe I should teach you some manners."

"How's it going, Louis." Billy's voice caused a shudder of relief to sweep through Shelby. "You bothering my woman?"

"Your woman?" Louis frowned drunkenly and tugged on the gold hoop at his ear.

Billy grabbed the back of Shelby's hair and tilted her head back. Before she could protest, his lips covered hers, possessing them in a kiss that spread fire through her veins as effectively as the sip of her drink had done only moments before. She was vaguely aware of Louis's hoots and other catcalls as the kiss lingered, his tongue slipping into her mouth to ignite more flames. When he removed his lips from hers, she gasped for air, eyeing him resentfully.

"Billy, you know I wouldn't have messed with her if I'd known she was with you." Louis backed away from them, his hands held out in front of him to indicate no problem, no foul.

Billy watched the man until he'd moved to the other end of the bar. "That was completely unnecessary," Shelby hissed angrily.

His eyes glittered with entertainment. "Perhaps," he agreed indolently. "Winnie is going to take a break in about ten minutes and will come over and talk to you."

Shelby nodded, still reeling from the kiss and angry that he appeared so unmoved by it. However, one thing was certain-she was grateful she wasn't here alone, that Billy was with her. He'd been right. She was definitely out of her world. She belonged in a courtroom, not in some sleazy bar chasing down leads for charges that hadn't even been officially pressed.

For the first time Shelby realized how impulsive it had been for her to drop everything and come back here to help Billy. It had been more than just the promise of a big case. She'd been pulled back by the provocative thought that Billy needed her. It had been a power trip, and after his initial phone call to her she'd felt a sense of poetic justice that now somehow shamed her.

She cast Billy a surrept.i.tious glance. As always, even standing still he radiated a vital energy that seemed to pulse in the air around him. Although his stance suggested lazy relaxation, on closer a.s.sessment she recognized the coiled muscles, the darting gaze as those of a man prepared for anything.

His strength and masculinity both comforted and unsettled her. She liked having him standing so protectively close to her, yet hated that she could feel the furnace of his body heat, smell the evocative scents of his spicy cologne and maleness.

He was the only man she'd known in her life who struck her on such a gut physical level. What made her more angry than anything was that he'd been right when he'd said that eventually she would be curious about making love with him again. There was a small part of her that wanted to experience making love with Billy, this time as a grown woman.

She took another swallow of the drink, welcoming the warmth that exploded in the pit of her stomach and overwhelmed the heat of thoughts of Billy.

His fingers softly touched the nape of her neck, just to the side of where her hair was clasped with a barrette. "You doing all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she snapped, swatting his hand away.

He grinned lazily. "While we wait for Winnie Mae, you want to dance?"

Shelby looked out to the dance floor, where several couples gyrated in X-rated fashion to the beat of the jukebox. She instantly imagined Billy holding her, his hips pressed insinuatingly against hers. "Not with you," she replied.

He laughed, a low, wicked sound that coiled more heat through Shelby. She took another deep swallow of her drink, repressing a shudder as the alcohol swirled down her throat.

Gratefully she saw the waitress she'd come to talk to approaching, her bright red hair gleaming like a beacon in the dismal environment. "Billy said you wanted to talk to me. I just got a few minutes, so make it fast," she snapped, slapping her serving tray on the bar next to where Shelby sat.

"I understand you and Fayrene Whitney were friends," Shelby began, thankful as Billy moved away and started talking to another nefarious-looking older man.

Winnie frowned and plucked nervously at a gray eyebrow. "I wouldn't call us bosom buddies. She was in here a lot and we talked most evenings during my breaks." Winnie sat down on the stool next to Shelby and pursed her ruby lips. "Fayrene was an odd one, not much for sharing confidences. d.a.m.n shame the way she died."

"Did she ever talk to you about men?"

Winnie snorted. "Wasn't much else Fayrene liked talking about."

"Anyone in particular?"

Winnie's heavily lined eyes darted to Billy. "Him. Fayrene was crazy when it came to Billy."

"Crazy how?"

Winnie grinned and shook her head ruefully. "I wouldn't be surprised to find out that Fayrene killed Tyler, then stabbed herself just to get Billy's b.u.t.t thrown in prison. There's nothing worse than love gone bad, and Fayrene was ate up with bad love for Billy."

"But Fayrene didn't inflict those wounds on herself. When was the last time you saw her before her death?"

"She was in here the night it happened. I told the sheriff all this," she said impatiently.

"I don't work for the sheriff," Shelby explained. "I'm just trying to find out what happened, who killed Fayrene and Tyler."

"You ain't never gonna find out. Billy is going to go down for this sure as I'm sitting here." She nodded sagely. "When this town needs a fall guy, it's always one of us from the swamp that takes the fall. And before it's all said and done, they'll probably have him guilty of the serpent murders, too." Laughing wryly, she stood and grabbed her serving tray. "Mark my words, missy. There's some in this town who'd love nothing better than to see Billy Royce behind bars. He's spent a lot of time sticking his nose where it don't belong, getting a lot of the town people mad at him."

Shelby pulled off her gla.s.ses and rubbed her forehead. If everyone in town hated Billy Royce, how was she supposed to find the person who'd killed Fayrene and Tyler? How was she going to find out who would be happy if Billy took the fall for a crime he didn't commit?

"Just a couple more questions," she said as Winnie looked at her watch. "On the night of her murder, when Fayrene was in here, did she say anything about anyone giving her problems, or being afraid or involved in something that had her frightened?"

Winnie shook her head. "Nah, she was her usual self, laughing and drinking, dancing up a storm. Fayrene wasn't scared or worried about nothing."

"Did she leave alone that night?"

"No, that pretty boy Tyler came in and got her. They talked for a few minutes, then they left together." Winnie looked at her watch once again. "Look, it's a d.a.m.n shame, the way Fayrene died, but I don't know anything about it and I got to get back to work."

The moment Winnie moved away, Billy reappeared next to Shelby's side. "Did you get any answers?"

"I'm not even sure I know the right questions to ask," she admitted, rubbing her forehead once again. She'd drunk just enough and that, combined with the smoke and noise, had created the beginning of a headache that pulsed behind her eyes. "Let's get out of here." She slid off the stool and walked toward the door, eager for fresh, clean air to take away the stench she feared permeated her very pores.

She didn't stop walking until she reached the pickup, where she leaned against the polished side, closed her eyes and drew in deep breaths of the sweet-scented night air. "You okay?"

Opening her eyes, she looked at Billy. "No, I'm not okay." She sighed, then folded her gla.s.ses and dropped them into her purse, her mind racing with everything Winnie had said, most of which was no use to Billy's defense. But one thing stuck in her mind. She drew in another deep breath, then looked back at Billy. "I want you to make a list of all the people you've had angry words with in the last year."

"You've got to be kidding." Billy stared at her a moment, one corner of his mouth curving up in a smile. "Might be easier to make a list of the people I haven't had words with."

He moved to stand before her, an arm braced on either side as he captured her against the side of the truck. "Enough about that. I have something else on my mind." He stepped closer and trailed a finger down the side of her jaw then slowly, languidly ran his fingertips across the fullness of her mouth.

Shelby remained unmoving beneath the s.e.xual onslaught, although her heart skipped erratically, letting her know her body responded to him despite her attempt at control. "Move that finger any closer to my teeth and I'll bite it off." He laughed and dropped his hand. Shelby sighed. "Billy, you've got to stop thinking with your crotch and start using your head."

"Ah, but don't you know that the mind is the most s.e.xual organ in the body?"

"Billy, I don't care about your s.e.x life. I'm trying to find out the truth of who killed Fayrene and Tyler. Isn't it possible somebody set you up? Somebody who knew the odds were good that you'd be charged in these murders?" She pushed away from him. "Just make a list."

A loud crack resounded. A searing heat instantly exploded in Shelby's shoulder. She gasped as Billy tackled her. Together they hit the ground, a grunt escaping her as Billy's body covered hers. As her head cracked against the hard earth she momentarily saw stars.

"Are you all right?" Although he didn't move, she could feel his tension as his gaze focused on the thick brush and trees that lined the parking area.

"Yes, but-"

"Shh," he hushed her, his head c.o.c.ked alertly as he scrutinized the area where the shot had come from.

Moments stretched into minutes and they remained unmoving. Apparently the sound of the shot had not been heard over the commotion in the bar, for n.o.body came running out.

"Whoever it was, I think they're gone," he finally said. He rolled off Shelby and sat up. "Well, darlin', you can't say I'm not an exciting date."