 
SOUTHERN NIGHTS

By Sara Mercier

Copy Right 2013 Sara Mercier

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support. Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Coming Soon

About the Author

Chapter One

He never forgot the smell of roses as she lay beneath him, her cries, or the way his fist sunk into her flesh again and again and again.

She laughed at him like she was too good for him. The first time she told him no he came with flowers. He stood on her porch, sweating from the humidity despite the shade while her little girl played in the front yard. She wouldn't even take the flowers. Just told him that she didn't want him, gave him some lemonade, and sent him on his way.

He came back with wine and candy and more flowers. And he kept coming back, despite her objections. It got to the point where she'd start frowning when she saw his car, like he was some kind of stray hound nipping at her heels.

He started to hate her. The hate added fuel to the lust. She must have seen it. He smelled fear on her whenever he stopped by. She didn't greet him on the porch. When she saw him coming, she grabbed her little girl, ran into the house, and locked the door.

He'd had wife, a pale little blond thing with rabbit teeth. She left him when she got tired of his fist plowing into her face. She went back to her people in Georgia, and he was more than happy to see her go.

But this woman. He went to sleep with her vision stored tight behind his closed eyelids and woke up hungry for her in the morning.

He planned for weeks, relishing each detail, the planning a kind foreplay. What he would do to her, how he would hurt her, show her. She'd never say no to him again.

No sir, not ever again.

When he got to the house, she met him with tears and fury. She was the most beautiful woman in North Carolina – probably in the South and she stood there with panic blooming on her face, gasping for breath, her only defense a butcher knife.

It was easy getting the knife away from her, easy to drag her down to the floor, tear her clothes from her body.

It wasn't until he was done that he remembered the girl. He looked for her for hours, until he heard a car coming up the road.

But he never, ever forgot. And he watched. And he waited.

Prin drove into Kingstree on fumes and Xanax. She was so desperate to get the hell out of Charlotte she forgot to fill up the gas tank, and the Xanax kept those annoying little panic attacks away.

She pulled into the local BP gas station. She could take care of the gas. Taking care of her big bag of crazy was another matter entirely. Mr. Hubert came out to the pump. She hadn't seen him since the last time she was home and he streaked bare assed down Lee Street after last call at the Charmed. It wasn't a sight she was soon to forget.

He leaned into the car. His breath smelled like mint and his full white beard made him look like a sun baked Santa in the summer sun. "Prin. How are you, sweetheart?"

So it began. The looks and whispers and curiosity and pity. She knew what she was coming home to, but staying in Charlotte was no longer an option. "Fine, Mr. Hubert. Better than I ought to be, and luckier than I deserve."

Mr. Hubert tugged at his beard, trying to think of something to say. He must have fallen short because all he offered was, "Prin, this too shall pass."

She nodded her head. "I hope so. Pray I'm still standing when it does." It was hard to talk to him and not see him naked. Prin shuddered at the image.

"I certainly will. You come on by and let Lizzy know if you need anything."

"Thank you, Mr. Hubert. How is Ms. Lizzy?"

"She's fine. Being run ragged by all the grandkids."

Mr. Hubert and Ms. Lizzy had been married thirty odd years, had three children, and enough grandchildren to start their very own football team. "Tell her I'll stop by after I settle."

"That I will, Prin. That I will. I saw your Poppop. He sure is relieved to have you home."

"Yes, he is, but we all know he never wanted me to leave in the first place."

Mr. Hubert was too polite to point out that Poppop had not only been right but prophetic. Poppop told her nothing good was going to come out of her hightailing it to Charlotte.

Prin drove through Kingstree with the windows down so she could take deep breaths of the sweet summer. It took her less than fifteen minutes because that's how small Kingstree was. It had Lee Street, the main artery of the town, surrounded by streets named after lesser confederate generals (Johnston, Polk, Ramsuer) and, after the Civil Rights Movement, leaders of slave rebellions (Prosser, Vesey, Turner). Kingstree took its history seriously.

Lee Street housed City Hall, the police station and jailhouse, and an entire assortment of small businesses: The one lawyer and doctor in town, Charmed, Ms. Althea's diner where Annie Rose was the chef and where Mr. Hubert never missed last call, a craft shop, and a bookstore. Big Macs and Route 66 jeans could only be had on the expressway coming into town.

When she pulled up to Poppop's, Annie Rose was waiting on her, her curly red hair, which was her pride and joy, blowing like a flag of welcome. She fisted her hands on her curvy hips and smiled wide. Her milk white skin was already red from the sun, but Annie Rose was too vain to wear a hat. She just slathered on sunscreen and hoped for the best.

It was Annie Rose who ran up to Charlotte when the shit hit the fan, stayed with her as she made the not so hard decision to leave, and helped her pack up her small apartment. It took less than two weeks to box up four years of her life.

Annie Rose dragged Prin out the car and straight into her arms. They had been best friends since first grade when Annie Rose was teased because of her red hair and Prin because her mama was the other woman. The other woman was still something to gossip and gasp over in small southern towns. Prin couldn't imagine what it might have been like for Mama almost thirty years ago.

"Princess, you are a sight for glad eyes. How was the drive, sweetie? You should have let me come up and drive back with you. I don't see why you had to go and play Joan of Arc."

Only Annie Rose and Poppop ever called her by her ridiculous first name. What was her mama thinking? Prin tied her hair in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. "Yes, well, since you were about to get fired because you ran to my rescue the first time, I didn't think it'd be fair to call you again. You need that job."

Annie Rose laughed, "No, I don't either. I'm about to find some naïve man to take care of me in the manner I deserve."

"Good luck to you. Poppop home?"

Annie Rose started unloading the car. "You think Mr. Jim going to miss a day of work? Not hardly. I'm all you got right now, so let's get to work."

It didn't take them long to get her every single possession in life unpacked and stored neatly in her old room. Poppop didn't believe in change the way revival preachers believed in old school religion and an eye for an eye. Her room was the same as when she left it. White washed walls, pastels curtains and bedspreads, and old furniture that she and Annie Rose spent an entire week painting white their sophomore year in high school. They were going for shabby chic at the time but ended up with just plain shabby.

After they were done, they sprawled on the bed. Annie Rose at the top and Prin at the bottom just like they used to when the only real worry they had was who was going to ask them to the latest school dance. The ceiling fan hummed as Annie Rose studied Prin's face feature by feature.

Finally, she came to a verdict. "Well, you look better. Got some of your weight back. Unlike me, you cannot afford to loose a few pounds. And you don't look quite so shell shocked. You scared the hell out of me in Charlotte. I don't ever want to go through that again."

Leave it to Annie Rose to write her lovely self into the tragedy. She couldn't help it like she couldn't help her red hair, milk skin, and honey accent. But without her, Prin would still be curled up on the bathroom floor in Charlotte. "I wished I felt as good as I apparently look. I feel like I'm walking around with my insides on the outsides."

"Insides on the outsides?"

"You know, raw and oozing and bleeding. I hurt just about everywhere."

"Thanks for the visual, sweetie. Okay. None of that now. You couldn't do anything to prevent what happened to that child, and you can't do a thing to change it."

"Really? It doesn't feel like I did enough, Annie Rose."

Annie Rose sat straight up, and her eyes were sharp with sympathy. "Maybe, but maybe it wouldn't have changed a thing. You can't play that game because there's no winning to it."

"You're right, Annie Rose. I know you're right. I'm counting on you not to let me wallow in self pity or run straight into crazy. And just so we're clear, I'm more concerned with running into crazy."

Annie Rose lay back down on the bed. "Don't you worry any more about it, and if I can't keep you from crazy, I'll sign on for the ride."

It was the sweetest relief that after everything Prin could still laugh.

The North Carolina sun sat heavy on Prin's back as she made her way down the long stretch of dirt road leading to the creek and away from the house she shared with Poppop since the night Mama died. She tried not to think about that night because the only thing she remembered was Poppop pulling her away from Mama.

And, really, she was already on Xanax and had nightmares and cold sweats that had nothing at all to do with Mama. Still, her therapist, Belinda with the soothing voice and sweet eyes, said one day it might come back to her when she least expected it.

Belinda was the only thing she was going to miss about Charlotte. Finding a good therapist was like finding a good husband. It took a lot of time and effort and compromise and even then there were no guarantees. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it ended in a messy breakup.

The green woods of Kingstree swallowed her. She stopped, took of her shoes, and carried them in one hand so she could feel the dirt between her toes. She just wanted to walk around, get her bearings, and reacquaint herself with the town that was in her blood and flesh.

She loved the pace and the way there was never any rush to go anywhere, to do anything. She loved the people, and knew everyone in town by name. But it was enough to choke her during high school, and especially right after college when all she wanted was to be grown and not have everybody know every little thing about her life.

It was like jail, being surrounded on all sides by lovable prison guards who had her best interests at heart, or at least said they did.

She knew better. Some folks were just gossips and loved to tell a tale or spread a rumor. That was what ruined things between her and Gabe. Small town gossip and speculation just about broke her heart. Granted, there was never actually anything between them, but she was working on it, and almost brought him round to her way of thinking.

She veered deeper into the woods and the shelter of the trees. She walked until she hit the creek. She sat her shoes on the bank, pulled her dress higher up her thighs and stepped in, careful of the sharp rocks lining the bottom.

"I've been waiting on you to get on home, Prin."

She lost her footing and fell in the creek.

Gabe Conner smiled down at her as she stared up at him wide eyed, legs sprawled, showing a hint of hot pink panties. Her legs were long, darker than the skin of her thighs from sun exposure. Her hair had loosened from her ponytail, was wild about her face, fell down her back in soft, black curls. She continued to gape at him, the soft pink of her tongue showing between her teeth.

He felt his cock harden at the sight of her pink tongue, her red mouth, and frantically started counting in his head. There was still ten years age difference between them no matter how he added it up. And he had all but helped raise her. It made him some kind of pervert to want her underneath him and begging.

And this wasn't some little glad to be home visit for her. She was coming home for good wounded and tired. He might as well set up his umbrella in Hell now for thinking about her naked.

He bent down to lift her from the creek. She was slender, didn't quite reach his heart. He was big, had played football in high school and college because of his weight and size and because football was the second most popular religion in the South after good old fashioned Baptists. His transformation into sheer bulk and muscle was completed by the Marines and two tours of duty in Iraq. He was a hard son of a bitch and he knew it. Way too hard for a woman as sweet as Prin.

He lifted her easily against him. It about killed him to think of her alone and hurting up in Charlotte far from her people and anyone in the world that really cared about her. He almost drove up to get her till Annie Rose talked him out of it by reminding him she wasn't sure if Prin would let him past the front door.

Her body was sun baked, fragrant with amber, infinitely fragile in his arms. She tried to pull away, but he held tight until she settled. And they stayed that way while Black Bellied Plovers flew overhead and the humidity sank into their skin. Since he could remember all of his summers included her tagging along beside him when he was a boy, and then later, as he ran headlong into manhood and wanted nothing to do with little girls, sprinting to keep up with him.

She was good and grown but he couldn't forget those long summer days he spent helping her dig up garden snakes, build mud pies, and teaching her how to swim at the lake. When he closed his eyes, she was still that skinny little girl with big eyes and curly hair hiding her face.

Most of the time, he was still able to think of her that way. He only had problems when she was flush against him, warm, curvy, and so sweet she made his back teeth ache. He put her away from him before she could feel his erection rubbing against her soft belly.

She smiled at him, and pulled the damp dress self consciously from her legs. "Hey, Gabe. How you been?"

Her voice was deep, slow, peppered with the Southern drawl that was native to North Carolina, and made him want to suck the words from that red mouth, suck on that pretty pink tongue. But she was sidestepping everything that went down in Charlotte, pretending that all was sunshine and lemonade in her world.

"Good. Missed you, though." He reached out to touch the silk of her hair, thick and heavy. He ran his hands through it, and she was easy with his touch, leaned into his hand. "You're okay, Prin?"

Her eyes narrowed and she barred her teeth. "I am fine. Just Fine. I don't want anyone else to ask me that question as long as I live, Gabe."

She was never easy so to speak, but that was part of her charm. "Yup, sounds like you're just dandy."

She had the grace to look away, and then she laughed. She had always been able to laugh at herself, and that was part of her charm as well. "Sorry. Mr. Hubert down at the gas station already put his two cents in and then Annie Rose had to do her follow up. I'm feeling a bit raw right now. So, maybe I'm not quite fine, but I'm not falling to pieces either. Don't you worry none, Gabe, and don't go back spreading tales to your mama and daddy. That's all I need."

"I have no tales to spread. You know if you need me, all you have to do is holler."

She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes and reminded him of all the times he had to sidestep her clumsy attempts at seduction before she amoved to Charlotte. "Yeah, but will you come, Gabe?"

"I'll come running. You know that, Prin." And he had never meant anything more. He still remembered the first time he noticed her, really looked at her. Her grandfather had come to speak to Daddy after the night her mother died. Her grandfather, Mr. Jim, and his Daddy were good friends, served early on in Vietnam together, and came home in one piece before the war ended. Mr. Jim had come into the house, holding Prin like he was afraid to put her down. Prin hadn't looked around, had stared straight in front of her.

Daddy made him take Prin outside. She was just a little thing, and he was already in middle school. She came to him without a fight, rested easy in his arms, and he had carried her out back, sat on the porch with her, and rocked her as they both listened to Mr. Jim crying. She didn't cry, just stared up at him, her gaze locked to his face, her brown eyes huge.

He started picking her up to go to school, taking her home because for a good year Mr. Jim was inconsolable, unable to do any of those things, unable to even get out of bed some days. Mama braided Prin's hair at night, fed her dinner, helped her with her baths, and then he or Daddy drove her home. His younger brothers, Collin and Sean, played with her to keep her occupied, tried to make her smile. She talked a lot, was one of those children who was constantly into something. She liked her books, she liked to run amuck, and most of all she liked him.

And he adored her, just like Mama and Daddy and his brothers. She was beautiful, like her mama had been beautiful. She had her mama's features, her bone structure, and the same slightness of build. Her mama, according to Daddy, had men from three counties hounding after her. He took a step back, sat, and pulled her down next to him.

"Nice way to cool off." he said, gesturing to the wet skirt that clung to her legs.

"Hot as it is it'll dry soon." Her hands pulled at the grass at her sides and the smell of earth, dark and sweet, saturated the air. Her fingers were long and slender, her nails painted a soft pink. He could not resist, tangled his fingers with hers, and pulled at the grass until the dirt stained their hands.

"Does it feel good to be home?"

She crossed her legs and her wet skirt pooled in her lap. "You know, I spent most of my life plotting on how to get out of here. I thought I had enough of small towns to last me at least two lifetimes. But here I am. Back again."

"It doesn't have to be forever, Prin. Not if you don't want it to. Just because you're back doesn't mean that your life's cut off at the knees or you have no options."

"That's exactly how I feel. Like my life, such as it was, got cut off at the knees."

He squeezed her hand. "That's the South in you. No need to be a drama queen."

She pulled her hands away from his and punched him in the stomach, leaving a handprint on his white t-shirt. He grunted obligingly as she laughed at him. "Shame on you, not letting me wallow in my misery. You, Gabe Conner, are no gentleman."

"Never said I was. Besides, you got enough people going to let you wallow. I bet Annie Rose is treating you like spun silk and your Poppop like porcelain. That's not what you need."

She was no longer laughing. She rolled her eyes. "Since when, Gabe, did you get to be the authority on me? Tell me so I can be sure to listen the next time you give me unsolicited advice."

He wanted to tell her he would always be the authority on her. He wanted to tell her he went to sleep dreaming about her and woke up with her still on his mind. He wanted to tell her she was the yardstick he used for other women who, no matter how hard they tried, never measured up because they weren't her. He wanted to tell her he studied her the way preachers studied the Bible and gamblers studied a deck of cards.

He said instead, "Don't pretend that I don't know you inside out, Prin. That's what happens when you've been friends with someone most of all your life. And right now, you don't need coddling or pity, you need someone to take a firm hand."

She sputtered, "You mean you, Gabe? You're going to take a firm hand to me? Last time I checked, I was not a five year old girl and I didn't need anyone to handle me, thank you very much."

Oh, he'd like to. He wanted nothing more. "I know you're not a little girl. You can rest assured on that point. And I didn't say I was going to take you in hand. Not necessarily, but I will if need be."

She tried to stand up but got tangled in her wet skirt and trapped by his hand on her wrist. "I am more than done with this conversation and you for the day. Maybe for the rest of the week. Let me go, Gabe."

She was annoyed, no doubt about it, but she no longer looked breakable or devastated. She no longer looked so fragile he was scared to touch her.

He knew better. He surely knew better, but he tugged sharply on her wrist until she was flush against him. "Not yet, Prin. Not just yet."

Chapter Two

Gabe's neck was sweat glazed and soft, and the shadow of his dark beard scraped against her cheek. She inhaled his shampoo, aftershave, and butterscotch breath. Beneath it all his own individual scent made her want to lock her arms around him and hold tight.

Why couldn't it be like this with other men?

She tried. Lord knows she tried. First thing she did when she got to college was rid herself of her virginity with the nicest boy she could find, Bill. He was sweet and nonthreatening, and always wanted to share everything. He loved listing his feelings and questioning her feelings and wondering where the relationship was going or if she was really committed. He tried to talk her into an orgasm.

After the fiasco with Bill, she tried with her last boyfriend. Just as sweet. Just as nice. The kind of man that asked politely before he touched her. Neither of them ever stoked heat beneath her skin until she was overripe and tender. No one but Gabe. And he wouldn't let her have him.

"Gabe, I've just about had enough of you and your teasing. Last time we ended up here you told me, quite emphatically if I remember, that no means no." Prin still smarted from the humiliation. Just her luck to be stuck on a man that didn't want a woman to have her wicked way with him.

His hands circled her waist, and his rough palms snuck under her shirt and almost spanned the entire length of her back. He was so big and hot and male he made her feel every inch of her body, made her plaint. She wanted nothing more than to whisper, do it. Anything you want. Everything you want. Just, please, do it.

But she knew how this would end, how it always ended. She couldn't take more rejection from him, not right now when her world was crumbling bit by bit around her. "Gabe, I mean it..."

His mouth shut her up but good. His lips just skimmed hers, soft skin against soft skin, until she wanted to swallow his butterscotch breath, swallow each and every part of him. She gave up, not that she fought all that hard. She never fought all that hard with him and that was probably her greatest downfall. He was her Achilles heel. She tangled her fingers in his thick, dark hair. The strands were like frayed silk against her fingertips. The only way she was letting go was if God himself dragged her off of him.

Gabe's hands traveled up and down her back, the lightest of touches, as his kiss forced her head back. The taste and thrust of his tongue, the smoothness of his teeth and cheeks all left her in a kind of dazed frenzy. She didn't have to think about responding, didn't have to anticipate his every move and then counter. All she had to do was feel. He made her a creature entirely of sensation, and she drowned in it even as she realized, if she had any sense at all, she'd be sprinting for the nearest shore.

His mouth traveled along her cheek, down her jaw, then skated her hairline. He was patient, curious, and innovative. It was like he had no interest at all in ordinary sex, like it was a waste of his time and what he wanted from her required her body and soul and zealous participation. She fantasized about him sucking toes, licking necks and the backs of thighs. Even now his tongue ran lightly along her scalp between her side part. It was like Gabe was an entirely different species from the other men that she'd been with.

He laid her on the ground, and the smell of damp soil and green grass swamped her as his body blocked out the sun. His hands framed her face and he held perfectly still until she opened her eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen from their kisses, his dark blue eyes heavy lidded and hot.

It didn't make any sense for her to love him like she did, especially when he wanted no parts of her. Knowing Gabe, this was probably a bid to make her feel better. He'd been riding to her rescue, much to her annoyance, her entire life. It was doubtful that he'd stop now. And didn't it just make her pitiful that she'd take whatever he gave her.

The weight of his gaze made her nervous. She wanted to look away but couldn't. She worried her lower lip with her teeth until his fingers rubbed away the sting.

"What happened to the guy you were seeing, Prin? Kevin? Kyle?"

He would ask about that. He didn't want any parts of her love life, but he liked periodic updates. "Keith. Turns out he wasn't the staying kind. First little hint of trouble and he scurried off." She couldn't blame him. If there was any way that she could have run, she would have taken it. Problem was she couldn't run from herself.

He eyes got even hotter and he growled, "Idiot. He was an idiot."

He had no right to be possessive, no right to make her think that whatever was between them was going to end differently or ever actually be real and not something she fantasized while downing an entire bottle of Cabernet by herself. "You know what, Gabe? I only seem to be attracted to idiots. Guess I'm just lucky that way."

He actually had the nerve to laugh. "Now Prin, you know that's not nice."

He settled his body on top of hers, his weight and strength anchoring her solidly to the ground. She felt each and every inch of her body as his weight forced her hips deeper in the dirt. He nuzzled her neck, her chin, and her cheeks while the sun shone down on them like revelation and the insects buzzed at her ears.

She couldn't help circling her hips or wrapping her legs about his waist. One of his big hands caged her wrists above her head until she was stretched taunt beneath him, and her body arched hard in a sharp bite of lust. His mouth parted, and she caught a glimpse of his tongue right before she closed her eyes. It was beyond her to keep them open. He closed his mouth over hers, licked at her lips until they parted for him. She trembled, trying to get closer, and he pushed her down into the grass, pushed her down into the ground. She opened for him and his tongue went deep. He sucked on her tongue as she whimpered. He gave her his full weight and spread her legs.

She wanted nothing more than to pull up her skirt and let him have her in the dirt.

He pulled away from her and she heaved against him in protest. "Easy, baby, easy. I've got you."

His mouth was at her neck, kissing sweetly, and then biting hard. She felt marked, owned, and she arched up into the caress. He bit her again, and ground himself against her.

"You want this?" His mouth was at her ear, the erotic heat of his breath beating against her.

She had fantasized about him for years. "You are such a tease, Gabe."

"You want this?"

She had no defenses against him. "Yes."

He pulled on her hair. "Look at me."

She opened her eyes, watched as he unbuttoned her shirt. His blue eyes were bright in his tan face. He unhooked the front clasp of her bra and she wanted to scream as her breasts were bared for him.

She couldn't hold the words back, and really, what did it matter? She'd said them before for all the good they'd done her. "I want you, Gabe."

"How long?" He asked, his free hand holding her by the jaw, keeping her gaze on his face.

"Always Gabe. Always."

He bent his head to her breasts. "Watch me. I want you to watch me."

He let go of her wrist to hold her breasts together and kiss both nipples, pull both nipples into his mouth. He pulled at them so deep that she felt it throughout her body. He moaned at her breasts, and she felt her stomach tighten.

"Lord above, you are beautiful." His hand moved down across her stomach, reached for the hem of her damp skirt and pulled it up until it rested high around her waist. He cupped her, and she stilled. He slid her panties aside, encountered soft, vulnerable skin.

He shuddered, pulled himself away from her, until he was on his knees, between her thighs, ripping her panties off. Neither Keith nor Bill had ever ripped her panties from her body.

She felt him staring down at her, felt his hands running over her.

"Look at you. So pretty and sweet." His tone made her move against his hand, begging him to touch her.

His fingers parted her, his thumb tracing her. She looked up at him, his face was flushed, his nostrils flared. "Tell me to kiss your pussy."

She stilled, shocked, slightly embarrassed. She had thought that word, but had never said it aloud.

His thumb worked her slowly in circles, barely touching, teasing. "Tell me to kiss you."

He was moving between her legs, his breath feathering against her thighs, his mouth nibbling at the tender skin there. "Tell me to kiss your pussy, Prin. Please, tell me baby."

She was almost incoherent. "Please, Gabe. Please kiss my pussy."

He licked her slowly while she watched clouds lazily drift in the blue sky overhead. "Tell me again, sweetheart. Tell me like you mean it."

She lifted to him. "Please, kiss my pussy, Gabe." She had never meant anything more in her life.

She felt a tightness running down her legs, rumbling through her stomach, a pleasure so sharp and sweet she had no words for it as his tongue lapped at her before his mouth settled sweetly where she needed him most. He suckled, gentled, kissed her like he would kiss her mouth, tender.

He rose over her, tore off his shirt, unfastened his jeans, and his cock sprang free. Her body ached like a sore tooth. She reached out and touched him, her hands circling as he drew in his breath sharply. His hands closed around hers, moving her fist up and down.

He settled between her legs, and she almost fainted with joy because it looked like finally this was about to happen. She pulled his head down to her and whispered in his ear, "I love you, Gabe Connor. I'll always love you."

Her words brought him to his senses. He pulled away from her, looked at the picture she made sprawled out beneath him, her hair wild about her head. But it was her eyes, liquid and huge, promising him everything that he ever wanted that made him stop.

She smiled up at him, sad and sweet, while her hands lifted to cradle his face. She should be slapping at him, at the very least shoving him off of her, but there was nothing but understanding in her gaze and a tired acceptance. "It's okay, Gabe. It's okay."

He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he wasn't sure if he could live without her, that he needed her more than he needed food and water. But there was ten years between them, and from the first moment he started wanting her he knew it was wrong. He'd have to fight his daddy and her Poppop and his mother might just disown him.

He'd happily face all that if he didn't feel he was stealing the best years of her life from her. If he got his hands on her, he'd never let her go. He'd tie her to him using any means at his disposal. He was primitive enough to want her pregnant and glowing at his side, to take care of all her needs. He loved hard, and he had always loved her to the point of obsession.

She pushed at his chest, and he fell over to his back. Her hair tickled his belly and thighs. Her soft hands circled him and set up a slow pumping that had him moving his hips to her pace. The entire time she kept her eyes locked on his face. Her gaze swallowed him whole and he wanted nothing more than to be deep inside her, to let her nourish and sustain him. And pleasure him. No way could he forget about that.

Her hands kept up that slow, steady rhythm, never picking up the pace, never hurrying as if she'd been waiting her entire left to touch him. He gave himself over to her as the tension left his body and he relaxed into the sweetness of her hands. He came with his eyes still on hers feeling unspeakably vulnerable as she watched every grimace and shudder, as she watched the color bloom on his face.

When he was done, she laid down beside him in the grass, flesh to flesh. She collapsed against him like she was a deflated balloon, her body warm and supple and sweat misted against his. Her breathing slowed down and evened out into a sigh. They rested together. He didn't want to break the silence, didn't want to move, just stay with her like this with the sun on their faces and the grass at their backs. He stayed that way a long time, unwilling to pull way from her and see the damage he'd done.

He slowly sat up and looked down at her. There were bruises forming at her breasts and hips, and still she watched him with those huge eyes. He had loved her since she was a child and he had used her this way. He had almost had her in the dirt, with no thought to her comfort.

He kissed her, his mouth tender against her swollen lips. He tasted her blood and wondered if he caused that as well. "Forgive me. Forgive me, Prin."

He walked away, towards the stream, picking up his shirt as he went, and dipping it into the cool water. He rung it out, went back to her, and washed her. Then he helped her dress, hooking her bra, fastening her shirt, pulling her skirt down until it rested just below her knees. Her ripped panties were useless and he shoved them into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Let me take you on home, now. My car's parked a little ways up the road."

She took his hand in hers as they walked, another gesture from her childhood. He was racked with guilt.

"Gabe, there's nothing to be sorry for. I wanted you to. Truth be told, I wanted more than that. I've always wanted you. One of these days you're going to get tired of telling me no. I'm beginning to see little cracks in your armor."

God help him, but she was right. It was easier when she was three hours away, when he didn't have to see her every day, when he didn't have to hear her laughter, or watch her grin light up her face. He thought about all the ways he could touch her. He knew he would hurt her, at some point he wouldn't be able to stop himself. She wasn't for him.

"Prin, that was just... Look, you need to be with guys your own age."

She snorted. "Gabe, you make it sound like you're on the way to the retirement home any day now. Ten years is not that big an age difference."

"It is when I helped raise you."

"You didn't help raise me. You were just around when I was growing up. There is a distinct difference. I can't remember you ever taking a switch to my bottom. Now that I think about it some, I'm sure I wouldn't mind in the least if you were so inclined now."

"Don't tempt me. You don't need someone like me pushing up on you..."

She pulled her hand away from him, and put her hands on her hip. "Gabe, I swear, I'm about to lose all patience with you. I mean it. Next time you're overtop me, you'd better be prepared to finish what you started or I will. I want you. Don't you want me, Gabe?"

Hell yes. Hell yes, he wanted her. And she goddamn well knew it. Wanting her was never the issue between them. "You are a beautiful woman, and I love you. You know I love you, don't you?"

"Yes." She trusted him. She had always trusted him and he would never lie to her.

"But baby, you are not for me. Hear me? You are not for me."

She backed away from him, shaking her head. "You drive me crazy, Gabe. Really. All this honor and angst. Enough all ready. I don't need a ride home. I'm fine."

She was embarrassed and pissed off. He knew he was courting bodily harm, but he said, "Let me take you on home, Prin."

"I can walk. I don't need anything from you." She turned and walked slow through the woods back to the road. She had too much pride to run from him.

Chapter Three

Jim Johnson was so tall his head touched the ceiling like a mere house couldn't contain him. He liked to joke that he was the entire offensive line when he played football in college. Prin could believe it. Jim Johnson was a man who could not be moved.

And didn't that make growing up with him one useless battle. It wasn't even a battle. It was all out war. She was so good and vanquished the only way she could get out from beneath his thumb was hightailing off to college and then to Charlotte.

She knew he loved her. He probably loved her too much for her own good, but it was the kind of love that took no prisoners and tolerated no dissent. He was first and foremost a marine; surrender was a four letter word to him.

He stood on the porch of the house with his legs braced and hands on his hip looking like a taller version of the Green Giant. Even though he was in his late sixties, his back was still ramrod straight. He narrowed his eyes as she approached, studying every little thing about her. She was his greatest worry and, sometimes she felt, his greatest disappointment. He stumped down the steps. He never walked. His size made sure everyone within a good mile knew he was coming. The sun threw sparks off his steel gray hair.

He stopped when he was a few feet away from her and opened his arms. She ran to him and he enfolded her tight. She wallowed in Old Spice, pipe smoke, and clean sweat. His hands roamed over her head, his touch light and hesitant. She knew she'd scared him. She'd scared the shit out of herself.

He set her a little bit away so he could see her face. "There's Prin mine." His brown eyes were laser sharp, hard as stone, but beneath it all was real worry and so much love she felt it like a weight around her neck. When she was growing up she drowned underneath the weight of all that love, like he had a death grip on her ankle and pulled her under. She clawed and kicked and bit to get away from him.

Now all that love was a blessing. She was safe. She could rest. She could try to heal. Relief hit her so hard she swayed on her feet and tried to suck back sobs. "Poppop, I'm so glad to see you. I'm so glad to be home."

He wiped at her tears with his big hands. His hands were soft against her cheeks, and the calluses on his palms lightly scratched her skin. When she was a little girl and he used to braid her hair and give her baths, she was always amazed that a man so huge was so tender. "It's okay, Prin mine. None of that now. You're home and there's nothing to cry about anymore."

He led her to the steps and settled them so she was sitting close with her head resting against his shoulder and his arm around her waist. "You ready to talk about it yet?"

She was surprised he was giving her an option. Demands were more his style. Maybe age was mellowing him out finally. Or maybe she was such a hot mess right now he was terrified she'd crumble to pieces if he pushed too hard. "Not yet. I just want to settle some. Be quiet and rest my soul."

He laughed at that. It was one of his favorite sayings for her because she drove him crazy with her constant activity and chatter when she was growing up. He'd ask God in complete bewilderment, "Why, Lord, can't this child rest her soul?" God apparently never answered because Poppop never stopped asking.

It would be so easy to stay like this with him forever, let him wrap her up in little girl fantasies and kiss all her cuts and bruises. He'd let her pretend as long as she wanted. And that's why she couldn't do it. It would be nothing more than pretend and she'd just get better and better at faking like nothing was really wrong with her. "I was going to stay through the summer while I renovated Mama and Daddy's old house."

"You sure you want to do that? I was thinking you might want to start over. They've just built some pretty little condos right outside of town. Just enough space for you, beautiful grounds, and it even has a pool."

A pool did sound nice, but she had the lake. It had a stone bottom and shade and the water was clear enough so she could kind of see her toes. And the ocean was a nice drive away. White sand beaches and teal blue water made a pool a little redundant. Condos were too crowded, people living on top of each other. She learned in Charlotte she needed tons of elbow room or she suffocated. She didn't want to look out her window and see anyone unless they were coming to visit.

Mama and Daddy's house had enough land so that there were no neighbors in shouting distance. Enough land to plant a vegetable garden and plant some flowers and get the silly assed dog she'd been dreaming of. No pure breeds because she wasn't the type and no lap dogs because, really, what was the point? She wanted a huge pawed mutt long in loyalty and sense and short in dignity.

She shook her head against Poppop's shoulder. "I don't want the condo. I want my own place. I want to make some more good memories in that house. We made lots of them before Mama and Daddy died."

"I've kept it up for the most part. Some cosmetic work will probably need to be done and we can redo the hardwood floors. Take a look at the kitchen and maybe modernize it a little."

"I have a little bit in savings, but not enough for all that, Poppop."

"Most of the work we can do ourselves. I'll help you. Have to admit, the idea of you living out there makes me nervous. I'd prefer you stay with me or go on ahead and move into the condo. Lots of young folks live in that condo, Prin." He pulled her hair and teased. "You can start looking for a husband and make me some grandbabies before I get so senile I can't remember their names."

"You're not going to get senile. I'm not sure you even age. You still look the same way you did when I was a little."

Poppop raised his hand to his head. "You don't see all this gray hair, girl?"

She laughed. "A little Just For Men will knock that right out. Then you can start dating and work on getting me a grandma. I always wanted a grandma."

Poppop grimaced. "What do I need a wife for, Prin mine?"

"What do I need a husband for?"

Poppop's arm squeezed her waist hard, making her squeal. "Miss independent, huh? I was happily married to your grandmother for twenty years before she passed. If I found somebody I loved as much as I loved her, I'd marry in a heartbeat. I want you to have what we had. I want you to have a man that's going to love you unconditionally, in sickness and in health. I want you to have your own children."

Poppop had always been a closet romantic. He listened to Blues late at night. His favorites were the Blind Boys of Alabama and Betsy Smith. He was also partial to Frank Sinatra and Lena Horne. She remembered dancing with him as they made dinner when she was little, her feet stacked on top of his. His favorite book was Anna Karenina. She once told him that it was a romance novel, and he was mortally offended. He didn't forgive her for almost an entire week. She kissed his cheek. "You find him for me, and I'll marry him without argument."

Fireflies lit up the dusk. Prin used to catch them and keep them in jars poked with holes at the top and filled with grass when she was little until Poppop told her it was wrong to cage something so pretty and free. One landed on her arm and she watched as it made its slow way up to her elbow before jumping off. Annie Rose sat next to her in Poppop's back yard, her legs spread out, and her hands on her belly. Her red hair was piled high on her head in deference to the heat and damps strands stuck to her cheeks and neck. The dusk stillness was alive with the hum of grasshoppers and the call of owls.

"You know, I never heard this in Charlotte. Only thing you can hear at night is traffic and the neighbors. Sometimes a police or fire siren."

"That doesn't sound all that bad. I miss the noise of New York. Sometimes the quiet here drives me straight crazy. The thing about nights here is they're for lovers. The heat, the smell of magnolia and roses, the owls... It's all like some mating call. And, just my luck, I have no mate."

"Me neither."

"Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you haven't exactly improved your prospects by moving back home."

"Surely, there is someone somewhere in Kingstree that I can work my womanly wiles on."

"Gabe still out the picture?"

"Oh, we moaned and groped a little this afternoon."

"Really? And you're just telling me?"

"Yes, well, it's not something that I want to broadcast to Poppop. As always, the moaning and groping was fantastic. However, Gabe is nothing if not consistent, and he keeps on telling me no."

Annie Rose snorted. "How he can resist your womanly wiles is beyond me."

"That's exactly how I feel."

Annie Rose smacked at a mosquito that landed on her thigh. The citronella candles were burning and they were slathered in insect repellant, but mosquitoes were the price paid for living in the South. "This has been going on for years without resolution. You're the star of your very own soap opera."

"Don't I know it. I'm hoping my evil twin sister doesn't show up, kill me, and take my place."

"As interesting as that may be, my point was surely you can wear this man down."

"Maybe. Probably. But I want him to want me as much as I want him. You know what My Butter says? She says I should never love a man more than he loves me."

"I'm sure she didn't realize that the man you love is her son."

"Huh. How awkward would that be? Taking her advice about how to deal with her baby boy?"

"Don't take her advice. Don't tell her. Continue to have these clandestine moan and groan sessions with Gabe. Just don't forget to tell me all about it."

"There aren't any other prospects? What about Wayne?"

"That man got married over three years ago. He has two kids, a dog, and tons of bunny rabbits procreating like mad in his backyard."

"How about Richard? I used to kind of have a crush on him in high school."

"He's living with his partner, a truly beautiful man, down in Savannah. He's brought him home a couple of times but I guessed you missed him. Shame."

"What about..."

Annie Rose glared at her. "I'm not going to play this game with you all night, Prin. Every single man we went to high school with has married, moved far, far away, or is gay."

Prin glared right back. "No need to be bitchy."

Annie Rose sighed, "You're right. I know you're right. It's just thinking about my lack of dating prospects always puts me in a foul mood."

"You should try online dating."

"Believe me, I've thought about it. Thought about it long and hard. I'm not quite there. I keep hoping the man of my dreams is going to get a flat tire and be forced to stop in Kingstree so I can wow him with my charms. And I'm not quite ready."

She and Annie Rose ran away from Kingstree around the same time. Annie Rose was always more adventurous, so she hightailed it to New York where she attended the best culinary school in the nation, and afterwards, worked in the kitchens of five star restaurants until Jason, her shitty ex, broke her heart and arm. Soon as Prin got word from the hospital and police, she called Annie Rose and told her to pack. Enough was enough. And that son of a bitch better hope she didn't see a hair on his head because she was bringing Poppop's gun. To hell with homeland security.

Prin flew up to New York and dragged Annie Rose home. Annie Rose was still nervous around men even though she believed in romance and happily ever after more than anyone else Prin knew. But being in an abusive relationship for years did that to a woman. Prin pushed Annie Rose's witch red hair away from her face. "You do have ample charms."

"I know it well. And it's all going to waste. I have begun the process of rotting at the vine. I'm over ripe."

Prin laughed. "I didn't know that could happen in your twenties."

"Mid twenties."

"You hag."

Poppop hollered from the kitchen, "You ladies need a beer or some wine?"

Annie Rose hollered right back, "Yes, please, Poppop. And your ribs smell divine. I swear, my mouth is watering."

Poppop was famous throughout North Carolina for his ribs, could open a rib shack if he wanted to, but he liked his job down Kingstree Beer Company, and liked working with Mr. Aiden, Gabe's father. For as long as Prin could remember, Poppop was a man that loved food and drink and loved to work with his hands. He tended his yard, grew his flowers and vegetables, and did all the upkeep on his house and anyone else's house, too.

Especially if they were pretty widow ladies that didn't mind entertaining and cooking for a hungry man. At Kingstree Beer Company he helped create craft beers and oversaw the production lines. He also worked on the intricate design labels that were the trademark of all Kingstree beers.

Poppop kicked open the screen door. Annie Rose jumped up to help, and he waved her back down. "Annie Rose, you stay right where you are. I'm not so old I need help bringing two pretty girls a drink." He handed them the beers, Kingstree Summer Wheat, and went to check the grill.

The bottle was icy cold in Prin's hand. She rubbed it against her hot face before bringing it to her lips. The beer was light with a hint of cherry and went down nice and easy. The only beers she drank were Kingstree, anything else would have been flat out disloyal. Kingstree beers were also the best.

In Charlotte she got used to drinking beer from a tumbler, especially when she went bar hopping with her friends. To do anything else was considered redneck backwards. But there was nothing in the world like chugging beer straight from the bottle. There wasn't any need to fancy it up. Sometimes simple was best.

Soon as Poppop lifted the grill, smoke snaked out, chasing some of the mosquitoes away. It had been so long that she had down home cooked ribs she'd almost forgot what they tasted liked. The spicy smell of the smoke reminded her right quick.

Poppop closed the grill and sat down, waiting for the ribs to heat through. The secret to good ribs, according to Poppop, was to slow cook them in the oven until the skin was falling from the bone, and then put them out on the grill. Annie Rose patted her belly, "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."

Poppop frowned at her. "I thought I broke you both from using clichés while you all where in high school. It's the mark of a lazy mind."

Annie Rose laughed. "Wait a second now, let me think. I'm so hungry I could wring a pig's neck, suck the meat, and chew the gristle."

Prin's face scrunched up. "I think you've done turned me off eating meat altogether, Annie Rose."

Poppop nodded his head. "That's much better. And good thing for you since the ribs are pork."

Poppop reached his hand across the table for Prin's hand. "It's good to have you home, Prin mine."

She should have come home a long time ago, before it went all to shit in Charlotte. She should have come home the first night she didn't hear crickets. She should have come home the first time a bartender poured her beer into a glass. She squeezed his hand, and leaned down to kiss the back of his palm.

She took another pull from the beer, and they sat in companionable silence, the sounds of the night echoing from the woods surrounding the backyard. She heard the car before she saw the headlights. "Poppop, you expecting company?"

"I didn't tell you? Aiden and Blanche coming out, bringing Gabe and the boys. They're dying to see you. Plus, Gabe can eat all these ribs by himself."

She panicked, knocked over her beer, and fumbled with the napkins as she tried to wipe it up.

Poppop stared at her. "What's wrong, Prin?"

Annie Rose snickered and started humming the theme music to As the World Turns.

"Nothing, Poppop. Nothing."

"You sure, honey?"

"Poppop, I'm fine. Really."

She listened as the cars came to a stop, and stood up when she heard the jumble of voices coming around to the back of the house.

Chapter Four

Prin went to Blanche Connor first, and walked easily into her arms. Blanche Connor was slim, elegant, had short, blonde hair, and sharp green eyes. She was tall and her arms wrapped tight around Prin, held her so close Prin breathed in her Channel #5.

Blanche pulled away to look at her. "There's my girl, just as beautiful as ever."

She'd recognize Blanche if she were blind. She fell asleep to Blanche singing to her those first years after Mama passed when Poppop hadn't been able to.

"I missed you, My Butter." Prin still remembered when she started calling Blanche My Butter. She was eight years old and snuck butter out the fridge to eat at the Connors, loving the coolness as it slid down her throat. Blanche had caught her, bewildered by the sight of her oily, yellow smeared face. Prin crawled into her lap. "Don't be mad. I love you. You're My Butter."

"I missed you too, sweetness."

Aiden Connor pulled her from Blanche. "Stop hogging the child, Blanche. Let everyone else get a chance to get at her."

Aiden Conner was big like his sons and had the same dark blue eyes and black hair. "Girl, you going to make me and your Poppop have to pull out our shotguns."

She held tight to him. "It's so nice to be home, Mr. Aiden."

He passed her to his two younger sons. Collin was sneaking up on thirty and habitually full of shit. He picked her up and spun her around. "When you going to marry me, Prin?"

Prin snorted. "Soon as you get some sense."

He laughed and handed her off to Sean. He lived in Charlotte so she saw him more than his brothers. Sean was the baby boy.

"Didn't I just see you, Sean?"

"So, you can still hug me, too."

Annie Rose stepped in between them. "And all this time I thought you were pining for me, Sean."

Sean backed away from her. "You terrify me, Annie Rose. Always have and always will."

"I do seem to have that effect on men. It's so nice to see you again Mr. and Mrs. Connor. Let me take you all inside and make some drinks. Poppop, come show me where you keep the expensive liquor so we can start this party. Last time Prin was home you hid it from us."

Prin narrowed her eyes as she watched Annie Rose usher everyone inside like she was Scarlet at her first picnic at Tara. She was left standing alone with Gabe. He fought a losing war against mosquitoes. "Didn't you put any bug spray on?"

"I forgot to after my shower. I was in a hurry to get over here for some of Mr. Jim's ribs."

She could play Scarlet just as well as Annie Rose. "And what about me? Were you in a hurry to see me, Gabe?"

She slid in close till she rested lightly against him. He smelled of soap and shampoo and she wanted to devour him in huge, fast bites. She'd gladly forgo Poppop's ribs until Jesus ushered in Judgment day for a taste of him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hunting beneath his t-shirt for warm skin and felt him shudder. She wanted to beat him over the head with a painfully sharp object for being so dense.

"You ran a close second after the ribs." He pulled her into his arms and she went stiffly. He held her so long their breathing synchronized. He kissed the crown of her head. He was expected to hold her longer; everyone knew that they were close, but didn't know exactly how close they were.

She walked her fingers up his back, tracing the ridges of his spine, luxuriating in the play of muscle and bone beneath his skin. She hoisted herself up by his neck until her feet were off the ground and her lips reached his ear. "You are just the cutest thing, Gabe Connor."

He swatted her romp lightly. "Behave yourself. Lord knows, you make me want to do bad things to you..."

"Yeah? Just how bad can you be, Gabe?"

Gabe pushed her off him so fast she stumbled and he had to set her right. "Prin, you are formidable, but you're not going to win up against me."

Annie Rose was ushering folks back out to the yard. Mr. Aiden had a bottle of scotch in his hand and My Butter had snagged three bottles of red wine. Collin and Sean carried a metal tub full of ice and beer and bickered as the ice spilled over. Prin smiled sweetly and whispered softly as a kiss, "Gabe Connor, you arrogant ass."

He watched her as she walked away from him. Her hips swayed beneath her shorts, her tank top outlined her torso, the elegant slope of her back, and the sides of her breasts. She had some nerve.

Here he was trying to stay away for her own good and his sanity and she damn well knew it. He was getting mighty damn tired of this battle she was waging against him like he was made of brick and mortar. She's better pray long and hard she was no where in his vicinity when he finally crumbled.

Wait a minute. She already had him picturing his defeat. She was already in his head psyching him out and had been for years. But this was a battle of wills, and he simply did not lose them.

He wanted to pull her over his knee, and then he flushed as he pictured her bottom red from his hand and how much they'd both enjoy it. So, maybe that wasn't the best way to get his point across.

It hit him, as he stood back and watched his family dote on her, that she was spoiled. As a child she had been so sweet it had been easy to give to her. As a teenager she'd been so charming and funny her many transgressions were easily overlooked and forgiven.

He went over to the table, and sat down as Mr. Jim piled plates of ribs on the table. Prin went to the kitchen to get the corn, biscuits, and potato salad he knew Annie Rose prepared. Annie Rose got up to help.

His mama shook her head at Annie Rose. "You sit and eat. That's too much food for you all to carry. Go and help her, Gabe."

He got up from his seat and followed Prin into the kitchen. She ignored him as she turned off the fire and pulled the corn from the pot of boiling coconut milk on the stove.

He was known in both the Carolinas for his even temper and endless patience. He didn't yell at children, no matter how annoying they were, didn't get road rage, and listened patiently as every person over the age of 60 in Kingstree regaled him with their life stories. She was the only person who could pour gasoline on his temper and took pleasure in watching it burn. "Don't do this, Prin. You don't want to piss me off."

She reached into the oven, and pulled the biscuits from the warming rack. He was transfixed by the sight of her bent over, her shorts molded to her ass.

Surely he was a sinner. He knew it well, and sometimes reveled in it. What was the point of church on Sunday if he didn't have anything to repent? He might as well stay home in his bed. But he never felt quite so much the sinner as he did when looking at her bent over at the waist.

His mad shot straight to lust. God help her because he could control his anger with her, but his lust was another matter entirely. She turned him into a mess of testosterone and want. All his blood, not to mention his common sense, rushed to his jeans so fast he felt light headed.

Before he was aware of what he was doing, he was behind her, pushing the oven closed with his foot, taking the pan of warming biscuits from her and setting them on the counter.

He pulled her hair out of the ponytail, curly and dark and soft as a kitten and falling almost to the center of her back. His fingers massaged her scalp, and released the smell of her shampoo, roses and amber. He kissed the soft skin of her neck, nibbling as she tilted her head for him.

She gave him her weight, relaxing into the shelter of his body. "It doesn't make sense for anything to feel this good, Gabe."

That's exactly how he felt. He could fight her when she was at a distance but he was completely done in by her up close and personal. She was going to be his Waterloo. He could see it coming clear as day. But he wasn't sunk. Not yet. It took everything in him to pull away from her.

She stopped him by reaching up and entwining her arms around his neck. "Oh, no, you don't, Gabe. I'm not some doll you can play with and then leave on the floor whenever the mood strikes you."

From his height he could see her lifted breasts, the shadow of her cleavage, and the goose bumps rising on her fine grained skin. Out of necessity because of his height, she was up on her toes. He gathered her waist in his hands and pulled her back so they were touching from chest to heels. "Prin, if you let me have you, I'm going to take everything. Do you hear me? There won't be a part of you I don't touch, and there won't be a part of you I don't own."

She arched her back, offering her breasts to him, grinding her round bottom against his erection. "Anything. You can have anything. Do Anything. I've been throwing myself at you for years. Do anything you always wanted with a woman. You want to take from me? That's fine because all my life I've wanted to be everything to you."

He had never heard her talk like that, didn't know she could. He still thought of her as innocent. And in comparison to him, she probably was. He loved women, and devoted enough time chasing them in his well spent youth to develop an appreciation not only for their bodies but for the humor and the sweetness and the comfort provided when life unexpectedly turned sour. But, yeah, he liked their bodies best of all.

And he studied women like Einstein studied physics. No point in doing anything half assed. Prin, for all her enthusiasm, touched him like he was some new and alien creature she was still trying to figure out. He tried to bite the words back, but they came out anyway. Somewhat because he was curious, but mostly because he wanted to know how fast and how far he could push her. "How many men have you been with, Prin?"

She took in a deep breath and held it. He could actually feel her measuring a lie and then settling on the truth. "Two."

She was in her mid twenties and sexy enough to bring a man to his knees half a mile away. His arms encircled her protectively and he squeezed tight. He was an ass and a Neanderthal and probably a sexist because he had slept with too many women to count, but he liked that she was so discriminating. "That's it?"

"You know good and well that I've been waiting on you, Gabe Connor. You're just some kind of sadist and like to make me suffer."

She wasn't too far off the mark and, although he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath or Poppop's ribs, although she swamped him with equal parts tenderness and lust, he was compelled to warn her again for both their sakes. "Listen to me, baby, you have no idea of what I want to do to you. I want you in ways you can't imagine."

She shoved back against him. "Gabe, I'm about sick of you. Why can't you get it through your head that I'm not scared of you? There's nothing you can do to make me not want you. Get off me or touch me like you mean it. Your choice."

Oh, he'd touch her like he really meant it. He unsnapped her shorts, and palmed the hot flesh of her bottom. "I want deep inside you, want to hear you begging me for it. I want your mouth, want deep down your throat. And that's just the beginning. You want that?"

He'd fantasized for so long, ashamed of himself and racked with guilt, about what he'd do when he finally got his hands on her. Touching her was infinitely better than the fantasy, and better than nights spent touching other women and wishing they were her. Her skin glowed like the underbelly of a firefly, smelled like roses, and was resilient and plush. He wanted to wallow in her softness, loose himself in her, and take her in every way known to man and God.

She moved against him, her body fluid and pliant, bumping against his hand like a kitten looking to get pet as he palmed her bottom and then slipped his fingers lower. She was so steaming and wet, he broke out in a cold sweat, but he was never clumsy.

He raised his free hand to her breasts, pulling up her t-shirt and pulling down her bra so that it framed her. He feathered her nipple while down below he teased her with gentle touches, never venturing where she needed him most. She tried to force the issue, her hips seeking him in frustration. He stayed one step ahead of her, enjoying the feel of her writhing in his arms, enjoying the caress of her hair against his arms each timed she tossed her head in impatience.

When she figured out that he would not be rushed or hurried, she quieted down. She took great deep breaths, almost panting, and her heart stuttered beneath his palm. He waited on her next move. When he told her he wanted her begging, he meant it. If he couldn't reign himself in around her, she was going to discover he meant everything he said and, in the bedroom at least, expected to be obeyed.

Her voice, when she spoke, was ripe with tears of frustration. "Please, Gabe. Nobody else can make me feel this. Nobody else can do this to me. Don't hurt me with it. Please."

He felt a great surge of tenderness that almost made his knees buckle and, of course, his jeans felt like they were four sizes too small. He looked out the screen door. They were hidden from view, but could hear everyone else. Mr. Jim was telling one of his stories about Vietnam, something so tragic the only way he and Daddy managed to deal with it was to laugh about it.

He knelt down behind her, and pulled her shorts and panties halfway down her legs. "Hush now. I won't hurt you. I'll give you what you want. I need you to watch the door. Can you do that, baby?"

She was pushing her bottom against his face. "Yes."

"Good girl." He kissed the smooth skin of each cheek, and felt her shudder. She braced her hands on the edge of the counter and arched the small of her back in offering. He kept his kisses light and then paused, considering how far to go. If he was going to do this with her, he needed to start the way he'd continue. He bit her, hard enough to leave marks, and she gasped in surprise. But he knew she liked it by the way she went limp against him. He pulled her cheeks apart for his kiss and she moaned in shock.

"Quiet, baby. Don't let them hear you." He listened to the laughter coming from outside as he lightly moved his tongue where she'd probably never been touched before. She tasted like she had just come from the bath, and he hardened his tongue, pushing it deep. She clenched around his tongue and he growled, loving it. He reached up, used his hand to force her to bend over the counter. She was open to him, and he eased two fingers inside of her heat moving them in time to his tongue.

She was whimpering and the laughter was fading outside, the story was over.

Mr. Jim hollered, "Prin, where's the food?"

Gabe murmured, "Answer him, baby."

She moaned softly, gathered herself, and hollered back "We're waiting on the corn, Poppop."

"Don't let it overcook."

"Okay."

She was so wet, his jaw clenched and he struggled to hold on. And she was begging him, her hips moving frantically. "Please, Gabe. Please."

He removed his tongue long enough to ask, "Please what?"

"Please, just like that. Oh, God, just like that."

He felt her orgasm build, felt her clench and shudder around his fingers. He stayed on his knees for her until her shudders stopped and then stood. He held onto her with one hand while he reached over for the rack of paper towels next to the stove. He dampened the towels in the kitchen sink, and washed the smell of sex from her. He pulled up her shorts, turned her and kissed the side of her neck. She whimpered. She was dazed, looked every bit of innocent, and he felt like an obscenely dirty old man because he hadn't even touched the surface of what he wanted from her and she was already looking like some kind of virgin sacrifice.

"You okay, Prin?"

She pulled away from him, reached for the corn and the biscuits. For once, she was quiet, like the orgasm had rendered her mute. It was just like her to be so contrary. When he wanted to know what was going on in that head of hers, she pulled back from him. He wanted to gather her tight and hold her close, but she looked so spooked he wasn't sure she'd let him.

"I'm okay, Gabe. Please, look in the fridge and bring out the potato salad."

He watched her walk away from him again, hard and hurting.

He stayed in the kitchen until he got his erection under control, then he got the potato salad and headed outside. They were waiting on him to say grace, Prin sitting demurely at the table with her head bent. Annie Rose raised one eyebrow at him and shook her head. Goddamn Annie Rose. His daddy watched him carefully as he placed the potato salad on the table and sat down. His daddy saw entirely too much. Gabe forced himself to look away from Prin, willed himself not to think about her butter soft skin.

Mr. Jim said grace, and there were a chorus of Amen as they all reached for the plates stacked high with ribs.

Daddy smiled at Prin around a mouthful of meat, "So, you're going to teach school in the fall?"

"Kindergarten."

Gabe grinned because only his daddy could tiptoe around the reasons Prin left her students in Charlotte and make it seem as if it were all some kind of deliberate decision or grand adventure. Leave it to his daddy. For him, the glass was always half full.

Daddy wiped his hands with a wet napkin and took a long swallow of beer. "You'll never be rich, but at least you have job security."

Prin smiled at him. "And summers off. Don't forget summers off."

Daddy laughed. "Sure you're right. Speaking of summers off, you want to work down at Kingstree Beer this summer? We always got a position for you."

Gabe shifted in his chair and swiped his hands down his face. Last thing he needed was her working with him every day. At the rate they were going, he'd have her legs spread up in the air by the end of the first week.

Annie Rose reached over and rubbed his back like he was some kind of cranky child. "You okay, Gabe? Looks like you have a little headache. Can I get something for you? Or do you want Prin? I mean, do you want Prin to get anything for you?"

Goddamn Annie Rose. Gabe frowned at her and she smiled sweetly. He knew Prin told her just about everything and that had him shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Prin didn't even spare him a glance. "I appreciate that, Mr. Aiden. But I've already planned a sit around and do nothing summer."

Daddy nodded. "You sure, sweetheart?"

"Absolutely. And don't you judge me for my laziness either."

Daddy laughed. "Okay then, I won't judge you."

Prin winked at him. "Thank you."

His mama reached over to pat her hands. "I can't tell you how nice it is to have the whole family here."

Gabe almost choked on the guilt but swallowed it down.

Daddy asked, "Jim, you got more ribs need to come off the grill?"

Mr. Jim didn't look up from his plate. "Yeah, go ahead Aiden."

Daddy stood and motioned to him. "Gabe, give me a hand."

They went to the grill set away from the table because of the smoke. Gabe carried a plate and felt like a boy of ten as he walked behind his father. Daddy lifted the lid off the grill, and the smoke rose high into the night. "I can smell the lust on you, Gabe. You touch her yet?"

He was quiet, stared out into the dark woods.

"Jesus, Gabe. Are you sleeping with her? That child is the daughter I never had. Her grandfather is my best friend, saved my ass more than once. Answer me."

"No, sir." But the not yet rose in the humid night air.

"I don't believe this. That girl is family. How long this been going on?"

He felt incestuous, like he wanted to have sex with his sister. "I've wanted to touch her a long time."

"She's barely legal."

"Don't you think I know it?" He was done with the conversation. He was a man grown, had money, owned his home, dated who he pleased. Gabe loaded the ribs on the plate and turned away.

Daddy grabbed his arm. "I can't tell you not to sleep with her, but don't hurt her, Gabe. Think about what she's been through."

And the guilt was back, rolling over him in waves. "I know it, Daddy. I know it."

Chapter Five

She looked just like her mother. Watching her grow up was an exercise in patience and self control.

Whenever he saw her, he had to fight himself not to stare, not to touch. He tried to get her alone once or twice, but she was well protected, well guarded. And he knew that taking a child was no small thing – he would be hunted down. Women, on the other hand, disappeared all the time, got hurt all the time.

No one paid any attention to the violence done to women.

He started counting years, waiting for her to move out of childhood and adolescence. And he watched, loving her innocence, her shyness. She looked like her mother, but didn't have her mother's fight in her. She was sweet and malleable.

That would make her screams all the more pleasurable, all the more addictive when he held her down.

At fifteen she had still to fill out, still remained flat as a board. Her hips had a bit of roundness, just enough to hint at the woman she'd become. But that face - it was a face men painted, a face men went off to war for.

By eighteen she was still slender, but had filled out in all the necessary places. Her breasts were heavy and lush, her hips and ass generous, and still she retained that hint of vulnerability, that delicious look of extreme fragility.

Before she went off to college, he would drive to her house, park his car down the road, walk the rest of the way, and then jerk off beneath her window. The lust consuming him as he thought about her sleep in bed, her nightgown bunched about her thighs, her innocence wrapped around her like a blanket.

He'd ached with lust, there beneath her window, and felt his seed erupt from his body like a festering boil.

He knew her better than anyone else, better than she knew herself.

He knew what she liked to eat for breakfast in the morning – cereal and fruit – and what she ate for dinner.

He knew her favorite color, her favorite outfit, favorite perfume...

And he knew her nightmares, fed on them as he jerked off either beneath her window or to her image dancing before him.

He was, in fact, the star of her nightmares – nightmares that begun when she was eight years old.

He understood how important he was to her, knew that she would never forget him, that he would stay buried in the depths of her subconscious.

He was the most important event of her life, the only event so far that had any real meaning for her – he relished the power that gave him, relished what he could tell her about that night, tell her about the way her mother had begged, and screamed, and begged some more.

She belonged to him. She was his.

And he would take her – eventually. He began to plan. And he began to practice on other women.

There were always women who didn't pay attention or were thrown out and mistreated by the very people that should have loved and protected them. They were easy to find, easy to hurt, and a sure enough pleasure to kill.

Prin's hair was no match for the humidity and framed her face in a halo of curls. It was only 10:00am, and the sun sat high on the horizon with not a cloud in sight. Already sweat gathered between her breasts and around her waist. Her air conditioner sputtered, and she gathered her skirt on her lap to keep her thighs and bottom from sticking to the leather seats.

When she woke up Poppop had already left for work. The house was dead still and the stillness settled around her like a hand at her throat.

She fumbled for her purse on the nightstand and downed a Xanax without a chaser before she could get out of bed. She hopped in the shower while the water was still cold and dressed like a wild pack of frat boys was hounding her heels. She was home, and sure enough that helped, but she wasn't ready for a nice, long sit down with herself yet. She and her inner voice weren't on speaking terms and probably wouldn't be anytime in the near future.

She ended up in her Focus driving without a destination or a purpose other than to keep moving. She turned the radio up as loud as possible, hoping to drown her thoughts. She was surprised when she pulled up in front of Mama and Daddy's old house. The grass hadn't been cut in a few weeks and the flower garden needed a good seeing to, but other than that the house was in good shape.

She killed the engine and got out the car. She studied the white washed wood, the yellow shutters, the wrap around porch, trying to find something just a little different, some kind of hint of change or decay.

But there wasn't any. She was sucked back in time to when she was little and used to play in the front yard. Mama had cornbread or cookies waiting for her when she came in and at night Daddy read Green Eggs and Ham or The Places You'll Go before he said prayers with her and tucked her into bed. That was before Daddy went off to fight in the Gulf War and was sent home in a body bag and before Poppop dragged her out of the house the night Mama died.

So many sweet memories and good times despite the fact that Daddy had left his wife for Mama and Mama was the closest thing Kingstree had at that time to a certified home wrecker.

She wondered if Mama cared about the woman whose home she'd taken a sledge hammer to, wondered how Mama justified her happiness when it came on the back of another woman's misery. And Mama and Daddy had been happy; all they needed in life was each other. Sometimes she felt like a nuisance, a small intruder begging for attention because Mama and Daddy loved so hard they shut the world out, even her.

She shook off the past and climbed the steps to the porch. A willow tree danced to the left of the house even though the breeze was so slight it teased instead of cooling the skin. She went to the porch swing, sat, and rocked. She dropped her head back and closed her eyes and finally the tightness in her chest let up. She pulled in deep breaths and fully relaxed for the first time since she got up this morning. Bees buzzed in the garden as the porch swing creaked and the heat wrapped around her like a handmade quilt.

It was enough to put her asleep, especially when she spent the entire night battling nightmares and trying to rewrite a past that was already over and done with and buried. She was almost asleep when she caught the smell, musky and sickly sweet, more pungent than the flowers and the grass.

It could be a sick animal that took cover beneath the porch or crawled underneath the porch to die. She vividly remembered Daddy pulling carcasses from under there while she watched with eyes big in horror. Whatever was under there was going to have to stay there until Judgment day. There was no way she was getting on her hands and knees to crawl into that dark space to rescue something that may or may not be alive and just might bite her hand off for her trouble.

But the smell ruined her nap. She lifted the old flower pot beside the front door for the spare key. She had her own key, but forgot it at the house in her hasty dash to get out the front door. She had to stop thinking of the house as Mama and Daddy's.

It was her house now. She couldn't stay with Poppop forever and relive her horrid high school years. Knowing Poppop and how old fashioned he was, he might even try to give her a curfew. And then she'd be obligated to rebel and it would be just like she was sixteen again. According to Poppop, sixteen was not one of her better years although she remembered having a hell of a good time running amuck with Annie Rose. She spent more time on punishment than the law should allow but it was more than worth it. How else would she have learned to drink scotch or bourbon on ice or how to chase a cigar with port?

It was better for her to have her own place, her own rules, and her own life. But the thought of leaving Poppop when she had just come home left her cold inside. She knew if she didn't leave as soon as possible, she might never leave. She'd put up with Poppop's curfews and demands just to feel safe. When she was sixteen she stared danger in the face and laughed at it. She knew better now. She wanted no parts of it.

The house was dark and cool. Blinds at the windows kept the sun out. The walls were white washed and the furniture covered by tarp. She walked through the living room and dinning room, marveling how the house had shrunk to size. As a little girl the house had seemed huge, like a mansion with endless places to hide and daydream. It was still a spacious house, built for entertaining and to let air move freely through, but it was nowhere near what she remembered. She lifted the tarp off the dinning room table. It was cherry wood, handmade with intricate designs, and still retained its luster like it had been faithfully polished once a week all these years. Mama loved this table, loved to drink iced tea there in the morning with the daily paper spread out all around her. She covered the table back up, not wanting it to gather dust while she got her life together enough to actually move in and went to the eat in kitchen.

The kitchen had Spanish tiles, and she slipped and almost fell. She had to brace herself against the door before she looked down. Her feet were wet with blood pooling around the woman sprawled in the middle of the floor. Her face was battered and her throat was cut. Prin choked on the smell, musky and sickly sweet, more pungent than the flowers. For a moment she was eight years old again and staring down in shock at Mama's lifeless body. And then she screamed and screamed.

John Wayne had been Kingstree's sheriff for the past five years. He was easy going until someone mistreated the weak and helpless or pissed him off. He had a fair streak a mile wide and two miles long and was so methodical it frustrated his deputies who thought real detective work was C.I.S. Miami.

He looked nothing like his namesake although his mama must have been hoping real hard to stick him with the name. He was Viking blonde and the only man Prin ever saw who was taller than Poppop. His muscles were cut with frightening precision, and had been since he made varsity football in ninth grade. He already looked like a man full grown in high school and most girls either chased him or ran the other way when they saw him coming. Prin was still in grade school then but even she had enough sense to get out of his way.

Prin sat in the grass next to the police car. John and Billy, his deputy, tried to get her in the car, but there was no way she could stand being hemmed up in the backseat. She dug in her purse for her Xanax and washed it down with the water John gave her. The tightness was back in her chest and her skin itched like she wanted to turn herself outside in. She smacked lightly at her arms to give her body another sensation to focus on.

John knelt in front of her with his elbows resting on his thighs. He should have looked funny all scrunched up with his height and his heft, but he still was intimidating as hell even though he was watching her with nothing but sympathy in his eyes. "Okay now, Prin. Let's just go through this one last time to make sure I got everything. You still holding up for me?"

The Xanax was starting to do its job. They weren't candy and she knew popping them one after the other was going to come back and bite her in the ass, but better to deal with that than the big bag of crazy waiting for her if she tried to cope without it. At this rate she needed to buy stock in the whole damn company. "I haven't wilted just yet, but it's a near thing. I want to go home, John Wayne."

John gathered her hands in his and squeezed before letting them go. "Of course, you do, sweetheart. And I'll get you there as soon as I can. Let's go through it once more and that's it."

Prin took a deep breath and went back to slapping at her arms. "I got up this morning and just wanted to get out the house. I wasn't planning on coming here. I wasn't planning on anything if you want to know the truth. I just got in my car, started driving and ended up here. I walked around outside a bit. It's been awhile since I've been here. And then I sat on the porch in the swing. That's when I noticed the smell, but I thought it was just some animal that died underneath the porch. I went inside and walked until I got to the kitchen. I slipped and looked down and my feet..." She looked down at her feet covered in dried blood and went so dizzy she swayed.

John Wayne caught her by the elbows and held her up. "Take deep breaths, Prin. It's okay. I got you and nothing can hurt or scare you now."

She was gasping trying to get the words out. "My... feet... look..."

John Wayne looked down at her feet. "Hush now." He motioned to Billy, "Bring me an extra water bottle or two, please."

Billy's long legs ate up the ground as he grabbed a few water bottles from the police car. He bent down next to John, his dark brown eyes, almost the exact color of his skin, narrowed in worry. "How's she doing?"

John opened the water bottle and poured the water over her feet and sandals. He was too much of a man to consider taking them off. "She's doing just fine, aren't you, Prin?"

Prin didn't answer. She damn well was not fine and all of them knew it. She wiggled her toes as the bloody water formed a puddle around her feet. John grabbed hold of her legs and shifted her feet a few inches. "There now, you're all out of the mud. All good and clean, too. So you walked in the kitchen and saw the body and then what, Prin?"

"Then I ran from the house, got in my car and locked the doors, and called you all on my cell."

John nodded his head in approval. "Smart girl. Billy, let's do one more look through. You call Gabe?"

Billy stood up and headed for the house. "He's on his way."

She wanted him, Lord in Heaven she wanted him, but not like this. He was forever seeing her vulnerable and scared, forever riding to her rescue. It in no way helped in her campaign for him to see her as an adult woman and not a child. "John Wayne, you shouldn't have called him. I can get myself home."

"You want Gabe to kick my ass? Or your Poppop who, truth be told, I'm much more afraid of? We're just going to wait here for Gabe to come take you home so I don't have fear for my life or worry about you. Prin, you shouldn't be alone."

She didn't want to be alone. She never wanted to be alone and that was part of her problem. She liked comfortable silences with other people. All alone silence was never comfortable. She felt like she was trapped in a padded cell, which, if she didn't slow down with the Xanax and stop tripping over dead people, might be in her very near future.

Gabe's gas guzzling Cadillac Escalade sped up the drive and parked next to the coroner's van. He jumped out the car looking handsome and really hot in a tailored three piece suit. He never wore a full suit to work unless he was meeting with important clients with loads of disposable income. John Wayne helped her to her feet and handed her over to Gabe with real relief.

She didn't blame him. She knew she was all kinds of trouble. Gabe held her tight to him, wrapping his body around hers as his big hands cradled her scalp. She went almost punch drunk with fatigue, and her entire body collapsed in his hold. He was here, as much as she didn't want him to see her this way again, he was here and she was safe.

"What the fuck happened, John?" She felt the tension in his body even as he continued to shelter her.

"She walked into a murder. Young woman. Her throat was cut. Evidence of sexual assault, but we can't be sure until we get the labs in."

Prin saw that woman sprawled out on her kitchen floor, legs spread and eyes vacant. "She was in my house, Gabe. In my mama and daddy's house."

Gabe lifted her off her feet. "She's done here, John. I'm taking her home." He carried her to the car. The leather seats were still cool from the air conditioner, and she sank into them gratefully. She tried to fasten her seatbelt, but her numb fingers kept slipping. He folded her hands in her lap and reached over to buckle her in. Then he pulled her hair from face and raised her head so she was looking into the brilliance of his ice blue ices. "You're going to be fine. Try to close your eyes and not think about it until I get you home. I got you, baby."

She nodded her head and closed her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of him. That would shove him even further out of her reach than he already was.

Chapter Six

Her name was Jenny Ward. She was twenty two years old and just graduated from North Carolina Chapel Hill with a degree in nursing. She had two younger sisters still in high school and a fiancé. Her daddy was a pastor at Fellowship Baptist church in Raleigh and her mama was an elementary school librarian. Jenny Ward's picture in the paper was grainy and dark but her prettiness was obvious. She was a nice girl that didn't deserve to die the way she did and the picture of her lying broken and bloodied kept Prin up late nights.

It reminded her too much of Mama. Jenny Ward reminded her too much of Mama. Not that Mama was ever all that sweet. She was impulsive and wild and full of life and fun. She was larger than life, and Prin got used to basking in her shadow.

Mama did whatever she pleased, and to hell with consequences like having a baby with a married man and then having the nerve to raise her baby in the same town as Daddy's wife and daughter.

She still saw Daddy's wife, now widow. Ms. Savannah wore her dignity like a shield and wielded her politeness and manners like a sharp sword. She never hesitated to draw blood. Her tongue could carve the flesh off grown men, and she did it all with a smile and graciousness that left them thankful she hadn't unleashed the full extent of her temper.

Ms. Savannah in all out wrath was not something Prin ever wanted to see. She could just imagine her head doing a 360 on her neck and her skin turning all kinds of interesting greens.

Ms. Savannah knew about Prin. The entire town knew about Prin. Mama was never ashamed of anything she did. As far as she was concerned, Prin was some kind of miracle to be enjoyed and loved by all. Mama was many things, but overly concerned with other people's feelings, especially when they were in the way of something or someone she wanted, wasn't one of them.

Ms. Savannah didn't say two words to Mama and would kill her as soon as look at her, but she was never mean to Prin. Prin didn't think Ms. Savannah had it in her to be unkind to a child for any reason, especially something that was not her fault.

Her half sister, Ellie, was as blonde as Prin was dark and as cool as Prin was hot. She was two years older than Prin, married with a one year old daughter, and had long since left Kingstree for Atlanta. Growing up had been hard for both of them. Any time they were in the same room together people stared and tongues started wagging. They weren't friends so much as friendly. They texted and emailed, but they didn't really have all that much to say. Daddy left Ellie and Ms. Savannah for her and Mama. How do you get over or forgive that?

As a child, Prin didn't understand the sheer devastation Mama heaped upon Ms. Savannah without ever looking back. As an adult, as a woman, she found her sympathies aligning more and more with Ms. Savannah.

Jenny Ward was killed in her house. John Wayne said it was probably because it was empty and every one knew it was empty. When Mama was killed they were all just children, but Prin didn't think it was only coincidence that Mama and Jenny Ward both had their throats slit in the same exact house. She believed in signs and omens. She did not walk under ladders, she crossed the street when she saw a black cat, she did not leave her house mornings if it took her more than ten minutes to find her keys, and she did not trust men who wore rings and neck chains. Jenny Ward was a sure enough omen, but of what Prin didn't want to think too hard on.

"Prin, it don't make no sense how trouble goes out of its way to find you." Annie Rose was helping her in the yard. They went to Best Gardens and got a bunch of annuals, perennials, topsoil, and mulch. They picked out Morning-glories, Sunflowers, Zinnias, Tulips, Daffodils, Lilies, and Begonias. She wanted bright colors and life. They turned the soil, huffing and puffing the entire time. Prin forgot how much work gardening actually was, but the sun firing into her back and the ache in her shoulders and arms reminded her quick.

Gabe and Collin had cleaned the kitchen for her, wiping away every bit of blood. Prin hoped at some point she wouldn't step in the kitchen and immediately think of Jenny Ward. She wasn't quite there yet. She thought about all the life Jenny Ward was supposed to live each time her feet hit the tiles.

"Trouble didn't find me. It found Jenny. Rest her soul." She meant that from deep inside. She hoped Jenny and the family left behind to struggle through life without her found some kind of peace.

Annie Rose paused in tilling to raise her hands high and stretch her back. "I know you're right."

Prin went to her knees to dig holes for the first flowers to go in the ground. When things went all to hell in Charlotte, she was ruined. What happened to Jenny Ward chased her straight into pissed off.

She'd had enough. Enough of good people getting hurt and being thrown away. Enough of tragedy and sorrow. The day after she found Jenny she woke up and reached for her Xanax like it was her best friend, but something stopped her before she popped the pill. Jenny Ward was gone, but she was still here and she was going to fight for both of them.

And she wasn't going to let anyone run her out of her house or hometown. She was all done with running. From now on, she was going to stand her ground, mark her line in the sand, and kick the ass of anyone who crossed it. She owed herself that much, and she certainly owned it to Jenny Ward.

Annie Rose plugged her I-pod up into speakers on the porch and they grooved to Motown as they planted. Annie Rose, of course, wasn't wearing a hat and in a few hours her head was sun baked. She stopped planting to wipe her face with the back of her hands, smearing dirt into her layers of sunscreen. "I'm about to faint, Prin. Much as I love you, I need some shade and a drink. Preferably something alcoholic and fruity."

Prin wasn't faring too much better. Her shirt stuck to her back and her hat was glued to her head with sweat. Her knees and lower back killed her, and her eyes were watering from all the pollen. She got to her feet slowly and then dragged Annie Rose up.

Annie Rose just couldn't resist stumbling dramatically into her and they both went down again, crushing some of the flowers they just planted. Prin laughed but tried to sound stern as she said, "Annie Rose, you cut out these shenanigans right this minute, you hear? It's too damn hot for you to start running amuck."

Annie Rose rolled off the flowers and sprawled on her back in the grass. "You're not the boss of me, Prin. If I want to act the fool, then I damn well will."

Prin sprawled out next to her. "I'll make you a big picture of something cool."

"With alcohol?"

"Enough to keep you cross eyed for days."

"That sounds just fine, Prin. You know, you are such a good friend."

"Yeah, well, friends help friends drink and then drink some more."

When Gabe pulled up they were sitting on the porch with a pitcher of whiskey sours between them and Lil Wayne blasting from Annie Rose's I-pod. Annie Rose had the foresight to bring chips, guacamole, and salsa, and they had crumbs scattered down their shirts.

Annie Rose scooped some guacamole on a chip and chased it with a sip of her whiskey sour as Gabe parked his truck. "Now, what is he doing here, I wonder?" Annie Rose asked, tongue in cheek.

Unlike Annie Rose, Prin was way past sipping anything. Besides, Annie Rose was driving. She gulped her drink and her throat tightened deliciously with the tart coldness. "He has this compulsion to baby sit me. I don't think he can help himself."

Annie Rose laughed. "Sweetie, that was a rhetorical question. We both know why he's here. And it's not to baby sit you."

Gabe had a pimp swagger, all loose in the hips, and walked towards them like he owned every bit and parcel of God's green earth or, at the very least, Kingstree, North Carolina. They watched him approach in silence like he was their very own peep show. He stood over them with his hands on his hips, looking down on them like they were fifteen and got caught knee deep sneaking liquor.

Annie Rose shooed him away. "Gabe, no one likes to be glowered at. Fix your face or leave us alone."

Gabe plucked Prin's glass from her hand and took a sip. "Annie Rose, you are supposed to be keeping Prin out of trouble, not helping her find it.

He took her drink. He talked about her like she was a child. Prin tried to kick him in the shins. Her aim was off, and he easily sidestepped, laughing. "Now, Prin, be nice."

She took Annie Rose's drink from her and gulped it down quick out of spite and because it was really, really good. "I don't have to be nice to you. I don't have to listen to you. I don't need you checking up on me. Annie Rose has my back. Don't you, Annie Rose?"

Annie Rose took her glass back and filled it to the brim. "Sure I do. Just call me the girl you don't want to fuck with."

Gabe sat down on the porch steps. "How much have you all had to drink?" He raised his glass and toasted them. "These are damn strong."

Annie Rose opened her mouth, and Prin glared at her. "Don't answer him. It's none of his business. If he doesn't want to have hot, sweaty sex..."

Annie Rose asked, "How about rough and fast?"

Gabe snorted. "Honey, I'm never fast."

Prin tried to get the conversation back on track. "The point is that if he doesn't want to have sex with me, I don't want to tell him how much I had to drink or anything else for that matter. None of your business, Gabe." She said the last as if she was scolding a two year old, each word sharp and painfully clear.

Gabe shook his head at Annie Rose. "Annie Rose, the deal was you'd stay with her and keep her busy until I got here."

Annie Rose shrugged her shoulders. "And so I did, Gabe, so I did. There wasn't any way in hell we were getting through the day without drinking. She needed a distraction and she needed to relax. Besides, I'm sober. Mostly."

Prin was stunned by the betrayal. "Not you, Annie Rose?"

Annie Rose leaned across the guacamole and chips until her lips pressed against Prin's forehead. "Because I love you, girl. Besides, you can't stay angry with me. Who's your BFF? Come on, who is it?"

Prin mumbled with ill grace, "You are."

Annie Rose pulled away. "Huh? I can't quite hear you. Who is it?"

Prin set her mouth mulishly but she shouted, "Annie Rose is my BFF!"

Annie Rose smiled sweetly, got up, and pulled her keys from her purse. "And you're my BFF, too. Now, don't pout the rest of the night and try to be a little nice to Gabe. It's not his fault he has issues."

Gabe toasted her again. "Thank you, Annie Rose. I can always count on you to defend me."

Annie Rose's smile went viciously bright. "I like sarcasm even less than I like being glowered at, Gabe." She hitched her purse on her shoulder and skipped down the steps.

Gabe sat next to Prin on the porch swing. Her body naturally fit into the curve of his and she wilted as his arm went around her. Even with the heat and humidity, his bare arm felt like heaven against her skin. He rocked the porch swing and she tilted her head back, looking out into the half finished flower bed through a haze of alcohol and contentment.

"You remember when you taught me how to swim down at the lake?"

He laughed and his fingers skimmed across her collarbone. "I remember. You looked like some kind of drowned cat. You weren't a natural by any means."

"I'd rather stay on the beach. But I remember how patient you were and how sweet. Poppop tried, your mama and daddy tried and my stubbornness and lack of coordination had them dropping like flies. You hung in there, though."

He hand on her jaw turned her face towards him. His whiskey scented breath was sweet against her skin and his eyes grave. "I will always hang in there with you, Prin. You know that."

She kept her eyes open on his as she leaned in for his kiss. His lips were soft and full, lemony sweet, and they parted easily for her. His mouth was cool from the whiskey sour and kissing him was like licking a pop sickle on a hot day. She framed his face with her hands, stroking his cheeks scratchy with five o'clock shadow, smoothing the thickness of his eyebrows.

And all the while she kept her eyes on his, willing him to see just how much she felt for him. He was everything to her. Always had been and always would be. His kiss was more potent than the alcohol she'd been tossing back all day. She was dizzy drunk off of him.

He gentled her with sweet kisses against her mouth, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and chin. He pulled away and tucked her back into his side. He took the band from her ponytail and his hand worked in long sweeps through her hair. "Sweet, beautiful girl."

She wasn't a girl. Sooner or later he was going to have to deal with her on her terms. She couldn't keep doing this with him. It was too frustrating. It hurt too much. And each time she saw him with another woman she was tempted to kill them both slowly and painfully and be done with it. Gabe, poor thing, had no idea of the bodily harm he courted. He had, apparently, never listened to the song It's A Thin Line Between Love and Hate.

But right now she was too drunk and too content to lead another attack in this odd, unending war they were engaged in. She snuggled even closer to him as the sun set and a breeze promising rain cooled their skin.

Why he didn't recognize that she was his happily ever after was beyond her. He could out stubborn stubbornness, and his sense of decency was straight from the 18th century, but when she touched him she felt him tremble. She knew she absolutely quaked whenever he put his hands or mouth on her. Tomorrow was soon enough to convince him that he couldn't live without her.

Tonight she wanted to talk to her best friend, the one person she could count on never to judge and always understand even when she was unclear about what she wanted and needed. "I feel like I'm on this rollercoaster from hell. All these twists and turns and dips and I can't get off. Each time it slows down and I think the exit's coming in view it speeds up again and I'm off. My stomach's jumpy. I have this constant headache. And the panic attacks keep coming no matter how much I will them away."

"I don't think you can will away a panic attack, love. Are you taking anything for them?"

"Xanax. At least I was until I realized I was throwing them back like jelly beans. That's all I need is to wind up in rehab somewhere."

"There is nothing wrong with getting help when you need it. If you're still having panic attacks take the Xanax until they stop or you can manage them. You don't get any points for making things harder on yourself, Prin."

"I stopped taking them when I found Jenny. It seemed self indulgent to take Xanax and bitch and moan about how rough I've had it. Somebody just stole her life from her and her people. How do you do that, just steal a life?"

Gabe gathered her on his lap. "I don't know. It's a horrible tragedy what happened to Jenny. It's horrible that it happened in your house and that you found her. I'm sure you will never forget that long as you live. And I don't think you should either. She deserves to live on in all of our memories. But you cannot feel guilty that you're still alive and she's not. That's not your weight to carry, Prin."

"If not me, then who, Gabe?"

"The sick fuck that killed her. He's the only one who should feel any guilt or any shame. John Wayne will get him, don't you worry about that. He'll get him."

"You have such faith in John."

"Damn right. He was my offensive lineman all throughout high school and college. I know, from first hand experience, that John Wayne can move mountains."

Chapter Seven

Summers in North Carolina were hot and so humid a fine mist of sweat always covered the skin. Gabe didn't mind the heat and humidity. He grew up in Kingstree and liked the sun on his back as much as anyone who had a lake and the ocean close at hand. He liked drinking Kingstree Amber Ale in his backyard after the sun went down, barbeques and long, lazy days at the beach or the lake.

He liked summers in North Carolina just fine. In fact, his only complaint about summer in general was it wasn't football season. He made do with baseball, and actually enjoyed the sport. He often drove to see the Durham Bulls or Greensboro Grasshoppers play. Granted, North Carolina had no major league teams, but the minor leagues were fun, the tickets reasonable, and the beer cheap and plentiful. It was great way to enjoy a hot summer night, but it wasn't football.

Gabe, John Wayne, and Collin sat in the den of his house watching the Phillies beat up on the Astros, kept cool by central air conditioning and beer. Gabe had the grill going on the patio and they each had their own family size bag of barbeque chips. As far as Gabe was concerned, that was dinner.

John was off duty but still managed to look just as intimidating and mean as hell in jeans and t-shirt. His huge feet were propped up on the coffee table and his body took up almost all the couch. Collin barely had room to squeeze in. Collin was built big, almost as tall and wide as Gabe, but John was built like a battle ship and if he wanted to sprawl out across the entire couch, there weren't too many people that were going to tell him to move.

Gabe stood up and headed for the kitchen. "Beers all around?"

Collin raised his chips to his mouth and inhaled them. "Two at a time, Gabe. It'll save you a trip to the kitchen. And another bag of chips. Barbeque."

Gabe kicked his legs as he walked by. "I'm not a goddamn supermarket, Collin."

Collin tackled him from behind but Gabe was braced for it and tossed Collin over his shoulder. "Boy, you know you can't get the jump on me. Not even on your very best day." And then because he could, he dragged Collin up and into a headlock, both of them laughing as Collin tried to break his grip.

John didn't even bother to get up. "Dumb and Dumber, I can't see the game."

Gabe tightened his grip on Collin's head. "As soon as he calls me big daddy, he can get up."

Collin was laughing and red faced. "Fuck you, Gabe"

Gabe shook him by the neck. "You always were difficult Collin. Never knew when to quit."

John shifted on the couch so he could see the television. "If you break his neck, I'm going to haul your ass in, Gabe."

Gabe gave Collin one last hard shake and then pushed him away. Collin caught himself, still laughing. "One day I'm going to get you when you're not paying attention. And then it's on, Gabe. I got a lot of ass whippings saved up especially for you."

Gabe snorted and went to the kitchen for more beers. Collin followed and searched for any food he could scrounge. "Damn, Gabe, you don't have hardly any food in here."

"You can always go home and eat."

"My food doesn't taste as good as yours."

"That's because here it's free."

Collin opened some Chip-A-Hoy cookies and shoved four in his mouth. "How Prin doing?" It was a wonder he didn't flat out choke.

"Shook up some, but she's hanging in there."

"Tough little thing. And cute as hell."

Gabe grunted and pinned Collin with a look. "She's not for you."

"You her daddy now, Gabe?"

"Nope. But you keep your deviant little mind off her. I mean it, Collin."

Collin hooted with laughter, spewing cookie crumbs all over the kitchen floor. "You, of all people, going to call me deviant?"

Gabe headed back to the television. "Don't look at her, don't touch her, don't so much as breathe in her vicinity unless you do it with brotherly affection."

"'Brotherly affection'? I love Prin sure enough but I'm not her brother and, last I checked, I wasn't dead."

Who was he lecturing, Gabe wondered, Collin or himself? He was a hypocrite, and he knew it. "Look, just leave her be. She's been through enough."

Collin was suddenly serious, the laughter and the play all gone. "Yeah, that's just what I wanted to say to you. Leave that girl the hell alone. Because I do love her like a brother and I will drag your ass all over Kingstree."

Sneaky bastard. Gabe wanted to hit him again, but the truth of the matter was Collin was right. If he did all the things he wanted to do with and to Prin, he deserved to have his ass handed to him. "Stay out my business, Collin. What's between me and Prin is just that, between us."

Collin slapped him on the back in sympathy. "My brother, that's where you're wrong. Any time the two of you are anywhere near each other you look punch drunk and she lights up. If you thought it was some big secret, you better revisit that. And while you're rethinking all your business, think on this. Don't toy with her. Don't hurt her. Don't ruin her. I will shoot you down like a rabid dog in the street, and I'll be first in a long line of many."

Was he some kind of hardcore playa who only thought with his dick? Was that how his family and friends saw him? If only they knew. He felt like he was Pharaoh fighting off the seven deadly plagues. But he was going to hold out. She was not going to be his Moses. Starting anything sexual with her, no matter how much he wanted her, was wrong and he knew it.

Apparently, everyone knew it. His brother would kill him like he was some kind of infectious animal and his father might just skin him alive. And there was no telling what Mr. Jim might do.

Still, after the ball game was over and Collin and John Wayne long gone, he couldn't stop himself from driving by Mr. Jim's. Prin was sitting on the steps of the front porch, long legs in short shorts, hair piled high on her head. She was, of all things, sucking on a cherry pop sickle. Lord, have mercy. He mentally braced himself, then manned up and went to her.

Her smile was wide and sweet as he sat down next to her, her lips plump and stained from the pop sickle. "Hey, Gabe. You doing your nightly drive by?"

She made fun of him and his protectiveness and he didn't even care because for the first time since she came home she looked relaxed and easy in her skin. "You look better than the last time I saw you."

She laughed and the sound chased birds from the Weeping Willows. "Last time you saw me I was as drunk as a soldier on leave. Probably smelled like one, too."

Her tongue was the same bright red as the pop sickle melting and dripping down her hand. She laughed again, raised her fingers to her face, and licked the juice away. Despite the heat, he broke out in a light sweat, and tried to keep his erection at half mast. He was not a playa. He was not lead by his dick. "I'm glad you're better. It kills me to see you upset."

She patted his thigh and the coolness of her hand burned through his jeans. "Tough guy."

He pulled at her hair until it tumbled from the ponytail. "You're the only one who doesn't seem to think so. I got everyone else straight terrified of me."

"They don't know you like I do. Plus, you're just being the tiniest bit delusional. I'm absolutely sure no one in Kingstree is scared of you."

She was, thank God, finished with the pop sickle. "Says you. Believe me when I tell you I'm not always the man you think I am."

"Here we go again. I'm not your damsel in distress, Gabe. Despite evidence to the contrary, I am not in need of a white knight."

He didn't want to piss her off. She was happy and he wanted her to stay that way, so he changed the subject. "Why are you in such a good mood?"

She leaned back on her elbows and rested her hands on her belly. "I'm not sure. Not really. I just woke up this morning and all was right in my world. I thought about Charlotte and Jenny Ward, and it made me sad. It's just so senseless. But it didn't knock me to my knees. I'm tired of being the kind of woman who curls up on the bathroom floor and cries. I'm tired of being that woman who just takes what everyone else wants to give me and never asks for more. Life is hard and sometimes things so awful happen to you that they literally steal your breath. But you know what I'm learning? I can handle it. I can handle it and come out on the other side just fine."

Gabe was hit with a mix of tenderness and pride that cut him off at the knees. "You are extraordinary."

Her smiled died on her lips. "Thank you, Gabe. You know, you're the only one who ever thought anything remotely close to that about me."

She was getting sad again. It seemed it wasn't his day to do anything right where she was concerned. "Wait a second now. That doesn't mean you're not just a little bit spoiled and too stubborn for good, common sense."

She shot up straight and clutched her breasts. "You wound me, you scoundrel. You, sir, are no gentleman."

He was transfixed by her hands on her breasts and her willingness to play. He hadn't seen this side of her in far too long, and he'd missed it.

He pulled her on his lap, easily controlling her arms and legs as she tried to get away, and tickled her until she was gasping for breath and tears streamed from her eyes.

She was like a fish hanging from a hook. He could barely keep her in his arms. "Call me names now, Prin. Go ahead, sweetheart."

"Gabriel Conner, if you don't stop this instant, I'm going to pee my pants." She squealed.

He let her up and settled her in his lap, holding her tight as she gasped for breath. He wanted to kiss her, taste her cherry red tongue. He wanted to bury his hands and face in her hair. He wanted to kiss and lick each and every part of her. And, Almighty God, he wanted to sink into her, lose himself in her softness and heat. But more than all that, he wanted to sit on the porch with her while her laughter echoed all around them.

Chapter Eight

Prin knew it was a piss poor idea, but where Gabe was concerned piss poor ideas were her specialty. He sat next to her like a gun was at his head, tense and alert and miserable. And after all the maneuvering she had to do to pull this off. She and Annie Rose had planned tonight like it was the senior prom. And what a fiasco that had been. All she remembered was spiking the punch. After that, everything was a blur. She should have known better. What looked flawless on paper didn't always turn out so well in real life.

Annie Rose convinced her Gabe wasn't the type to go for slutty; he was more prone to sweet. No stilettos or skin tight skirts. Her sundress was white, and tied about her neck and flared at her knees like she was trying to invoke the spirit of Marilyn Monroe. Her hair fell down her back in messy curls that took nearly an hour to get just right. And her make-up was barely there. She felt like a present waiting to be unwrapped, but Gabe hadn't looked at her sideways all night.

Annie Rose had to threaten Collin with bodily harm to get him to drag Gabe out to the bar where they blindsided him with all the stealth of a fox in the chicken coop. Prin wasn't above a little subterfuge, but this was one clumsily operation they were running. Gabe was simply biding his time before he made a quick escape.

Buddy Guy was loud enough to have heads nodding, but not so loud as to drown out conversation entirely. She leaned into Gabe until she rested against his arm and her mouth was at his ear. "You want another beer?"

He'd downed his beer in one long swallow soon as the waitress dropped it off to the table. She didn't want him drunk per se; she just didn't want him all the way sober. Her white sundress was no match for Gabe when he was in charge of all his faculties.

For some reason, her question made him start and then smile. She knew he was thinking about all the times she and Annie Rose stole beer from whoever was foolish enough to leave them unattended when they were teenagers. Gabe himself caught them switching out the vodka at Poppop's house for water. He had given them a lecture that went on for what seemed like hours, but then he went out and replaced the vodka without ever telling Poppop. "Are you buying?"

"For you, I'll run a tab." She motioned the waitress over. The waitress, blonde and tan in short shorts and a tight top, dismissed her as a threat and focused all of her considerable charms on Gabe. Gabe wasn't as immune to slutty as she and Annie Rose had supposed.

"What can I get you, honey?" Her accent was Georgia peach instead of North Carolina, and she drawled her words like they were sugar on her tongue.

Gabe smiled at her like she was the prettiest thing he'd seen all day. "Another Kingstree Pale Ale if you don't mind."

"Never worry about that, honey. I certainly don't mind at all." She sauntered away and Prin turned Gabe's face towards her. She wasn't sure if he'd be idiotic enough to watch her retreat, but he was, after all, a man. That made him susceptible to lapses in judgment when pretty women were involved.

"Careful, Gabe. You don't want me to hurt you in this bar. In front of your brothers and Annie Rose, too? You'd never live it down."

He laughed reluctantly. "You think you can take me?"

"With the right provocation, I know I could. You don't want me to do you bodily harm now, do you?"

"No, Ma'am. That's the last thing I want. In fact, I'm not all that sure of your restraint. I'm going to leave before Sandy comes back with my beer. Somebody will drink it."

Her eyes narrowed. "You know her name?"

"Prin, everyone knows her name. She announced it first thing, and she happens to be wearing a name tag."

"You're making me crazed, Gabe. I'm no good at playing the woman scorned, but that's the only role you throw my way."

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again at her glare. She nodded her head. "Good man. I'm going to take a bathroom break and you better be here when I get back. After all the time I spent on my hair, you can't quit the field. Besides, that's something a coward would do. And you, Gabe, are no coward. Either way, we're going to play this out tonight."

Gabe stayed put. Prin, Annie Rose, and his brothers laughed at his foul humor. The bar was dark, and smelled of ribs, fries, chicken, and stale beer. A live blues band was in between sets, but they still had to scream to be heard over the crowd. Sean was with his girlfriend, Ava, a petite Asian girl with a face so stunning she didn't have to bother with hair at all – her black hair was cut shorter than most men.

Prin wore a sundress that tied at the neck, and dipped low between her breasts. She looked soft and sexy, and he watched the men circling her, jealousy settling hard and deep in his belly. He knew that she wasn't for him. He knew it.

The women got up and went to the bathroom, and he watched them go. It puzzled him the way women did that, like they needed moral support to piss. Sandy returned with his beer and set it down like it was an offering before the king. "You need anything else, and I mean anything, you just let me know."

Gabe saluted her with his beer. She was attractive enough and shoving it down his throat and he was utterly uninterested.

Collin took a long swallow of beer. "Remember what we talked about, Gabe. Don't make me have to drag your ass outside to remind you."

Gabe took a swallow of his beer. "That's the second threat I've gotten tonight. I'm damned tired of it."

Collin snorted. "Then stop being an ass."

Gabe carefully placed his beer on the table. "You set me up, Collin?"

"Why would I do that? I'm trying to keep you from taking that leap. You know I don't really want a part in this little melodrama. This was all Prin. I'm not as smart as I thought I was."

Sean, who was habitually broke, ordered another beer expecting Gabe or Collin to pick up the tab. "You sitting there like we smell like shit, Gabe. We smell like shit, Collin?"

"Not me. I showered before I left the house."

Gabe ignored them. "I'm going to get out of here..." He was a coward after all.

Collin just stared at him. "You just got here. Man up."

The women were walking back to the table. Gabe watched as a man stepped in front of Prin. She smiled sweetly at him, laughed, and shook her head. "I need to leave right now."

Sean laughed. "There we go. You want to do Prin."

The women were almost to the table. Gabe glared at Sean. "Shut up."

Collin wasn't amused. "You know that's just wrong, Gabe, to think about her like that. There are plenty of women between here and Atlanta – go and fuck one of them. Leave her alone."

Gabe felt the fury and the guilt rise up. "Don't you think I'm trying?"

The women sat back down to a dead silence. Annie Rose glanced around the table. "Well, boys, what happened while we were gone?"

Collin stared down at his beer. "Nothing."

Ava stole Sean's beer from him and drank deeply. "Nothing, huh?"

The band was back on stage – people were dancing. Ava got up and pulled Sean to his feet. "I want to dance."

Sean rolled his eyes. "You know I'm going to step all over your feet."

"I don't care. I want to dance."

They went out to the dance floor, followed by a reluctant Collin and Annie Rose. Gabe stared out at the dance floor, refusing to look at Prin.

He felt her hand on his arm. "Gabe, are you going to act pissy all night? I meant what I said. We are settling this."

He snorted. "We have nothing to settle, Prin. And men don't act pissy."

She laughed. "That's what you're doing. I almost attacked poor Sandy. You want John Wayne to come and arrest me? We have some settling to do."

He turned to her, wanting her so bad he actually hurt. "Lord in Heaven, Prin, let me be. Please. I don't want to hurt you. I need to get out of here."

She bit her lip, and he was slammed with lust. "Why are you being like this? How many different ways can I say I want you? And you act like you can't stand to breathe the same air as me."

He laughed. "Baby, right now it's either that or drag you out of here."

She stilled, and color rode her cheeks. "Why don't you?"

"Why don't I what?"

"Why don't you drag me out of here?"

His jaw clenched as he thought about her amber scented skin, her body pliant and giving beneath his, how good she tasted. "I'm trying. God knows I'm trying. But you keep pushing me and I might just give you exactly what you're asking for."

She leaned in close to him, and he took deep breaths of her, the smell of her heating his skin. Her hair hung down her back and framed her face in soft curls.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life, and he had thought so for years. He was aware of Collin glaring at him from the dance floor, of Sean's amused smirk, and Annie Rose's triumphant grin, but he simply didn't give a damn. He was tired of fighting her, at least for tonight.

He raised his hands to her face, and pushed her hair back until his palms landed on the softness of her warm flesh. Her skin was flawless, and he rubbed his fingers along her cheekbones as he brought his mouth to hers. He heard her breath catch, swallowed her long, shaky exhale as his tongue and teeth played at her lips. She tried to get closer. He pushed his chair away from the table and pulled her into his lap, resting her head against his shoulder.

She sighed against him and brought his sexual beast to the forefront. His hands skimmed over her breasts through the dress, and her back arched slightly. Then he was lifting her off his lap, pulling her up and out of the front door, ignoring Collin as he called for him to wait up and Annie Rose's laughter.

She followed him, her hand in his, her breathing labored, and her heels clicking loudly in the parking lot. He got her in the car and started the engine, not sure where he was going, not sure how far he'd make it. He drove down the highway a good ten minutes before pulling off the road. He parked the car, pushed her seat back, and kissed her.

Gabe drew her deep into his mouth, even as he spread her thighs with his hands. His hand skirted the edges of her panties, and danced along her inner thighs. His free hand untied her halter and cupped her breast. After his hurry to get her out the bar, Prin was expecting urgency. But he slowed the pace like he was in no hurry, like she was the only thing that truly mattered in his world.

She strained against him, not wanting to give him the space to think and change his mind. The more she strained, the more patient he became until she realized she was shooting herself in the foot. She relaxed completely, and he must have been waiting on just that because he pulled her panties to one side, and then his fingers were on her. She lifted her hips high for him as his fingers slid deep inside her, stroking the hot slick flesh, making her cry out in surprise. "Nothing on Earth should feel this good, Prin."

She could not speak. His fingers moved in shallow strokes, and his lips and tongue ate at her breasts, pulling on her nipples.

"Open you eyes, baby, and look at me. Let me see everything you feel, everything you want." His voice was harsh and guttural, sweetly demanding.

Sweat dripped from his temples, his eyes had darkened until they were almost as dark as hers. She felt her belly clench in anticipation, and pulled the hand at her breast into her mouth and nibbled at his fingers.

His eyes, if possible, darkened further. Then he was lifting her somehow, shifting until he was seated and she lay sprawled across his lap, her skirt lifted and her bottom in the air. He drove a spacious SUV, but she still felt cramped in the position and shifted in protest.

He ran his hands over her bottom, molding and parting the flesh. His fingers teased between her legs as she rotated her hips. "So pretty. I'm going to get you all red and ready for me, baby."

He spanked her and she stilled in shock. His hand grazed her again, hard enough to make her cry out but not hard enough to really hurt. Was there anything he could do that wouldn't turn her on?

"You like that?"

Oh, yes, she did. He spanked her in a series of precise blows that brought tears of frustration to her eyes, and had her lifting up for more, the heat setting fire to every nerve in her body. He stopped, and she writhed against him, trying to get him to continue. She could feel his hot gaze on her. "You are so beautiful, Prin."

He shifted her again until she was straddling him. She felt his hands between them, listened as his zipper was undone. He lifted her up slightly so that he could lower the jeans around his hips. He pulled her against him, his cock slipping and sliding along her entrance.

And she was begging him, begging like she had never begged for anything else in all her life. "Please, Gabe. Please."

He positioned himself just right and rubbed the thick head against her, and her entire body jumped with pleasure.

She tried to move her hips, tried to force him inside, but his hands were tight about her waist, holding her in place. She rode him in fury and desperation, as the knowledge that he was still refusing her sank in.

She felt her climax building, despising both herself and him as she exploded in an empty release. Even as her body was racked with pleasure a feeling of hopelessness gathered in her gut. She whispered, "Goddamn you. I hate you, Gabe. I hate you."

It took everything in him not to have her. She fought him, trying to take him deep inside and he almost let her, almost forgot all the reasons why this could not happen. He spread her legs wide across his lap, leaving her open and vulnerable, and grinded against all that wet heat, frustrated and blinded with lust.

His teeth sink into her neck, a caress just short of pain that had her arching and stiffening against him. He milked the skin there, and imagined being deep inside of her.

Her hips moved frantically over his, but even as she rode him she groaned, "I hate you."

That was just fine by him. He wasn't too fond of her either. All he wanted was to stay away from her, at least sexually, and he was slowly beginning to realize it was impossible. She was so responsive, so open to his touch, her flesh heated and wet against his, scented with sex and perfume.

The climax caught him off guard. It shot lightening quick through him, so much unspeakable pleasure that he wanted nothing more than to do it again. Over and over until she was no longer his obsession.

Her curly hair formed a halo around the loveliness of her face. He wanted her more than he'd ever wanted anything in his entire life, and he could not have her.

He could not.

He pulled her away from him, settled her in the passenger seat, and put her seatbelt on.

She stared out the window, refusing to look at him. "How is it that you always get your way, Gabe? No matter how I scheme or plead or demand. I never had to chase after a man, not in all my life. But with you, I do nothing but chase. And you run like you're some kind of perverse Forest Gump. Do you honestly think my self esteem is high enough to face constant rejection? Gabe, I'm not going to wait on you forever. I'm done."

He knew a threat when he heard one, but he let it go; he'd already done enough damage for one night.

Chapter Nine

Lee Street was lined with vendors selling anything and everything that could possibly be made from peaches. There was peach perfume, peach jam, peach bread and donuts, peach juice, peach wine, candied peaches, grilled peaches, peaches and pork, peaches and chicken, peach preserve and butter, peach pie, and, Prin's favorite, homemade peach ice cream.

Prin and Annie Rose walked Kingstree's annual peach festival devouring everything in sight like they were no better than a plague of locusts. Prin was sure she'd already gained a good ten pounds and they had only made it to half the vendors and stands. By the time the festival was over, she was going to need a whole new wardrobe.

She licked at her peach ice cream in a sugar cone because she figured out a cake cone was for the faint of heart a long time ago, and eyed Ms. Savannah as they came up to her table. She liked Ms. Savannah. It was neither of their faults that fate made Prin the illegitimate child and Ms. Savannah the discarded wife. Besides, Ms. Savannah made the best pies in three counties.

Ms. Savannah was in the middle of giving change to Ms. Millie. She looked up and smiled as she saw them approaching. Prin was drenched by the heat and humidity, and Annie Rose was sun baked, but Ms. Savannah looked perfectly cool and composed. Her blonde hair was pulled into a knot at the nape of her neck, and she looked like she'd just stepped from the shower and was powdered and perfumed.

She was so different from Mama Prin was often baffled by the thought that Daddy loved them both. The only thing Mama and Ms. Savannah had in common was they both had the kind of beauty that made men do a double take and stare.

Ms. Millie had dark brown skin and wore her hair in a bun on top of her head. Before she retired, she used to teach Theatre at the High school. Prin stayed far away from anything that forced her to center stage. Annie Rose, with her flair for melodrama, starred in the high school musical from 10th grade until graduation.

Annie Rose hugged Ms. Millie, and they air kissed cheeks. "Ms. Millie! You're looking absolutely wonderful. Retirement hasn't bored you out your mind yet?"

Ms. Millie snorted. "I can find plenty of ways to occupy myself that don't include a bunch of rowdy teenagers. Don't you worry none about me, Annie Rose. I'm having the time of my life."

Prin hugged Ms. Millie but air kisses simply weren't in her. "You make me want to be retired, Ms. Millie."

Ms. Millie laughed. "Hands down the best thing that ever happened to me. If I had known it was going to be like this, I'd have done it way before now." She turned to Ms. Savannah. "I'll see you this Thursday at the meeting."

Ms. Savannah pulled another pie from beneath the table to replace the one Ms. Millie bought. "I'll be there with my gardening gloves."

Prin hugged Ms. Savannah lightly when she came out from behind the table, always aware that she was the result of Daddy's infidelity and Ms. Savannah's humiliation. "How have you been, Ms. Savannah?"

Ms. Savannah pulled away and held Prin's hands at arm length. "I've been just fine. No complaints at all. But look at you. Still pretty as a sunflower."

Prin smiled at that. Only Ms. Savannah with her love of gardening compared everything and everyone to flowers. "I'll take that compliment. My self esteem is not near where it should be these days."

Ms. Savannah squeezed her hands. "Little girl, no body gets through life without some tarnish. You'll get your shine back." She turned to Annie Rose. "Well, Annie Rose, you going to join me and Millie?"

Annie Rose hugged her. "Between the two of you, I don't see that I have much choice. I'll be at the meeting Thursday."

Prin was already eyeballing the pie. "What meeting?"

Ms. Savannah cut them each a piece of peach pie. "Millie and I started ourselves a Kingstree improvement society. This Thursday we're going to start beautifying Kingstree."

Annie Rose took in the brown grass and lack of flowers and green along Main Street as she shoveled in pie. "It could use some beautifying. That's for sure."

Ms. Savannah looked up and down the street to make sure no big ears were in the vicinity. "Prin, Ellie is coming on home."

Prin ate the pie in slow bites because it was too good to rush. "How long is she staying?"

Ms. Savannah dropped her voice to a whisper. "For good, I think. She and Henry are getting a divorce. She and the baby are coming on home to stay."

Prin had been in the wedding and had envied her princess like sister as she walked down the aisle. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Ms. Savannah."

Ms. Savannah shrugged her shoulders. "I'm much more sorry to tell it. She's going to need you, Prin. Are you going to be there?"

She and Ellie were not close, had never been close. But what choice did she have? "Of course, I will."

Annie Rose was sweet talking Mr. Donald out of some of his candied peaches when Prin spotted Gabe and My Butter. Mr. Donald was a sucker for a pretty girl in a short skirt. His pale, Irish skin was flushed and his mouth hung open. He looked dazed as Annie Rose flirted mercilessly, twining her hair about her fingers, smiling at everything Mr. Donald said, looking up at him like he was the next best thing to Superman.

And all the while, she nibbled at the candied peaches with Mr. Donald watching avidly. Mr. Donald was harmless, always had been and always would be, but Annie Rose had better hope his wife didn't catch her sweet talking him. Ms. Kate didn't mind doing a little harm now and then.

Prin left her to it and went to Gabe. She was still so hot with him she was smoking, but she couldn't stay away. And what did that say about her? Was she that much a glutton for pain or simply straight crazy?

She caught up to them at the art and crafts table where My Butter picked over vases and quilts and journals. Prin never knew that peaches could be used to such glaring effect, but the utter tackiness of the peach flower pots and oven mitts was somehow charming.

"Hey, My Butter." She couldn't stay away from him, not unless God Almighty stepped in, but she didn't have to speak or be nice. And she didn't have to chase him like some abandoned and abused puppy. She was all done with that. Truth be told, she should have been done a long time ago.

My Butter pulled her close and she wallowed in Este Lauder's Pleasures. "Here's my girl. And thank God because Gabe has no taste whatsoever and he's been acting like I'm torturing him." She held up a peach water pitcher and one of the six matching peach cups. "Isn't this just too cute? What do you think, Prin?"

Gabe sighed long and hard. "Mama, why does anyone need a peach pitcher and cups? You need some kind of intervention. Put it down right now. You won't respect yourself tomorrow."

My Butter gave him a good glare. "Nobody asked you, Gabe. I was talking to Prin."

Prin didn't see the need for a peach pitcher and cups either, but she knew better than to ever say so. Besides, My Butter had an entire set of dishes in the shapes of farm animals. Peach pitchers were her natural forte. "It's adorable. Looks just like a long, hot summer."

My Butter smiled triumphantly at Gabe. "You see? I don't even know why I asked your opinion. The only knick knack you have in your house is the television. You don't know the first thing about decorating."

Prin looked Gabe up and down and then frowned. "Tell the truth and shame the devil, My Butter. Gabe doesn't know much about a lot of things."

My Butter shrugged her shoulders. "Can you imagine? And he's my child. What, I ask you, did I do wrong?"

Prin never took her eyes off Gabe. "Not a thing. Some people are just too hardhead and too arrogant for their own good."

My Butter finally realized that while she was teasing, Prin was dead serious. She paid for her pitcher and hurriedly quit the field. "I'm just going to take a look see around before the fireworks start. Gabe, come find me after you apologize to Prin."

Gabe was red faced he was so angry. "Apologize for what, Mama?"

My Butter shook her head at him like he should have had more sense. "For whatever you did, Gabe. For whatever you did."

Prin held her tongue until My Butter was out of hearing distance. "I'm waiting on my apology, Gabe."

He took her hand and dragged down one of the side streets. She was getting sick and tired of him pulling her every which way, but she didn't want a scene at the Peach Festival. Knowing Kingstree, everyone would talk about it for years. He let her hand go as soon as they didn't have an audience like touching her was some kind of chore when she couldn't forget how hot his hands and mouth were against her skin, how much she wanted him, how much she loved him. He folded his arms across his chest and just stared at her.

She put her hands on her hips and glared right back. "What, Gabe? You have something to say, go on ahead and say it."

"You know that wasn't right, Prin. How are you going to involve my mama? Now she's going to think I've been mistreating you." He sounded disappointed in her.

She was hopping mad. "You have been mistreating me. You have been shit awful to me. And you and I both know it. Who spanks a woman's ass, gets her all hot and bothered, and then doesn't have the decency to have sex with her? Who does that, Gabe? Who?"

He stared down at her from his towering height looking hard and inflexible and completely male. It was enough to make her want to jump his bones, but, then again, she always wanted to jump his bones.

He reached out so quick that she didn't see it coming and pulled her flush against him. He tilted her head up until their eyes met, ignoring her stubbornness and evil expression. She wanted to hurt him and hurt him bad. It was either that or settle against his chest for a good, long cry.

His hand stayed firm on her chin, the hand at her back snuck beneath her shirt, and his fingers skipped lightly along her spine. "I've been being shit awful to you? Really? Shit awful would have been fucking you in my truck on the side of the rode for everybody to see."

The warmth from his body jumped from his skin to hers and heated her from the inside out. "No, that would have been flat out terrific. Stupendous even. What you did to me was shit awful, and there was no reason for it. You could have me."

His hand left her jaw to cradle the back of her head and pull her in close. "Oh, love, you are far too sweet for me, and I know I'm not any good for you. You have to trust me on this. You have got to stop blindsiding me and setting me up in bars."

His words caused her anger to burn hard and bright. "I will if you do the same, Gabe. Don't come by my house to check on me. Don't seek me out when you're lonely and bored and missing me. And we both know you're going to miss me. You want me to leave you alone? Then help me. I've tried, but I can't stop myself. So, you stay the hell away from me from now on. I want all of you or nothing. I am not going to straddle this fence anymore for you."

His squeezed her tight, lifting her off her feet, and she had to fight against relaxing against him. "I won't do that, Prin. It's not in me."

As always, he wanted everything his way. She was tired of feeling like an open wound around him. She was just tired all around. "Gabe, let me go now. Who knows? It probably won't be forever. Just until I get my head straight. I need to train myself to not want you. I can't do that if you're always underfoot."

Her feet touched the ground and he let her go. "Is that what you really want, Prin?"

How could he not realize he was breaking her heart? "You and I both know that's not what I want. But it's what I need."

He reached for her, and she stepped away like he was some kind of rabid animal. That's how she had to think of him from now on: dangerous to her physical and mental well being. She had to move beyond obsessive can't help myself love and focus solely on self preservation. That was the only way she might get through this. Even still, she had her doubts. She didn't know how to not love him the same way she didn't know how to not breathe.

"Gabe, what are you doing accosting pretty young women in the streets?"

Prin smiled at Gabe's Uncle Simon in real relief. "Don't worry about me. I was just about to make my escape. How have you been, Mr. Simon?"

Mr. Simon was tall like all Gabe's people and had the same inky black hair and blue eyes. He was a deacon at one Kingstree's only two churches and he carried himself with all the gravity the position required as if he alone kept the fire and brimstone away. "I've been just fine. In fact, I was hoping to see you today. If you need any help or want someone to pray with and for you, come see me. I am entirely at your disposal."

Prin schooled her expression and hoped it didn't reflect her sheer horror. She could just imagine praying with Mr. Simon, revealing all her sins, all her scrapes and bruises and failures. She'd run down Lee Street singing Yankee Doodle Dandy buck naked first. "That's really kind of you, Mr. Simon. But I will be fine. Just give me a little time."

Mr. Simon smiled at her, and Prin felt it like a reprimand. "The church doors are always open for you, Prin." Mr. Simon turned and gave Gabe a hard stare. "You too, Gabe. I promise the church won't go up in flames if you step a foot inside."

Gabe laughed. "Oh, I have my doubts, Uncle Simon."

Mr. Simon was gearing up to save Gabe's soul. It was a battle he'd been fighting tirelessly since Gabe first asked him when he was a boy, "But how do you know it's really God's word?"

"Well, I'm going to leave you to make sure Gabe somehow gets to Heaven, Mr. Simon. It was nice seeing you." She stepped around them both. She needed to get away from Gabe and stay away from him.

"Prin!" Gabe called, and like Lot's wife she knew that she should not look back. And just like Lot's wife, she turned around.

Gabe's mouth was pulled tight into a flat line. "Sweetheart, we're not done. You can walk away, but we will never be done."

The house was lit up like a Christmas tree when Prin finally made it home heart sick and suffering heart burn. That third piece of pie and that second ice cream cone might have been a bit much. But after the argument with Gabe, all she wanted to do was drown her sorrows. The Peach festival was a family affair, so alcohol was out. The next best thing was food, and she ate hoping that an obscenely full stomach would somehow fill the emptiness in her heart. No such luck.

Poppop left all the lights on when he was spending the night with one of his lady friends. He had hinted as much when she saw him at the fireworks with somebody's child sitting high on his shoulders for the best possible view. He didn't like her coming home by herself to a dark house. She wondered where exactly he was, and who he was sweet talking. Poppop played it closed to the vest, and women of a certain age in the South didn't know any other way to play it.

The photos spread across the front porch reflected the lights from the house, and she stared down on them in fascinated misery.

Jenny Ward smiled back at her with sightless eyes and a cut throat, her hair matted with blood. There were at least half a dozen photos from different angles like she was a model in some kind of fashion shoot.

Jasmine Haines also smiled up at her, her front teeth missing, her hair braided and framing her face with brightly colored beads. In children that young, pictures mirrored their personality almost perfectly. She was sweet and shy and one of those kids who desperately wanted to please. Her face was even circled in their kindergarten class picture as if Prin needed some kind of help to locate her, as if she could ever forget her. Prin stood next to Barry Johnson, her hand on his shoulder to discourage any funny faces or, knowing Barry, crude gestures. And, because Jasmine was never a problem and one of the tallest children in the class, she stood on the opposite side.

Prin didn't know she was crying until the tears stung her lips. And then she looked at Mama. Mama young and innocence as a girl sitting on Poppop's lap, as a teenager in a short skirt with a bright red mouth, as a woman big and pregnant with Prin, as a mother holding Prin's hand as they walked down Main Street, and finally, dead, her eyes rolled back in her head, the gash at her throat looking like a huge, bloody grin.

Prin stood in a rush and ran to the side of the porch. She choked on her tears and anger and grief until it all came up. Her body heaved and shook as she vomited into Poppop's flowers. When she was finished, she wiped her hand across her mouth trying to get rid of the taste. And then she dug her palms into her eyes as if she could erase the sight of those photos.

She kept her eyes closed and felt her way around the porch until she reached the front door. She unlocked the door and went inside. It was only then that she opened her eyes. She made sure the door was locked and then took a few deep breaths, trying hard not to throw up again.

If she had known this was what she would come home to, she wouldn't have eaten like Judgment Day was coming tomorrow. She waited a good five minutes for her stomach to settle. The first thing she did was go to her room and get the Xanax. And then she called the Police.

Chapter Ten

Poppop and John Wayne hovered over her like she was spun from glass. John Wayne and Billy had already gathered all the pictures and bagged them for the lab. Prin knew he was hoping for fingerprints or something. Her only point of reference for Police labs was CSI New York or Law and Order, but she was sure Kingstree's lab didn't work quite the same way.

She had already popped her second Xanax. She wasn't as steady as she thought. Coming home to a porch littered with pictures of dead people knocked her right back on her ass. Despite the Xanax, anxiety and dread almost had her physically ill. Her stomach kept bouncing around like a kid on a rollercoaster. Only there was no end in sight to the ride for her. It seemed she was doomed to rollercoaster hell forevermore.

Poppop stopped his pacing and sat beside her on the living room couch. His shirt was wrinkled and inside out, and he smelled like Windsong perfume. Prin had called his cell after she hung up with the police. It took her two tries before he answered, and his voice had been lazy and sleep heavy. She didn't want to think about who and what she had dragged him away from.

He took her hand in his, ignoring her damp palms. "What now, John?"

John Wayne stared down at them grim and focused while Billy watched with concentrated fascination. Prin just knew he thought her situation screamed CSI Miami. She was waiting him for him to start humming the theme music any time now.

John Wayne hunkered down until he was at Prin's eye level before he answered Poppop's question. "We get the lab results back, and then we go from there. If we're lucky, we get hard physical evidence."

Poppop, who never watched television, shook his head in disapproval. "That's not much of a plan John Wayne. What are we supposed to do in the meantime? What is Prin supposed to do? Somebody left pictures of my murdered daughter on my front porch. You got to give me more to work with than that." Poppop didn't rage. His voice iced over and got real quiet. Somehow that was worse.

All Prin wanted to do was pop another Xanax and go to bed. She didn't want to deal with Poppop or John Wayne, and certainly not Billy who was now applying chap stick like hidden cameras were rolling somewhere in the room. Prin took her hand away from Poppop's and wiped her palms on her shorts. "John Wayne, you're saying that there's nothing more than you or anyone can do tonight, is that right?"

It pained him to admit it, but John Wayne nodded his head as he stood up, knees cracking. It must be hard for someone that tall and huge all around to bend that close to the ground. "That's exactly right, Prin. You shouldn't be here alone until we figure out what's what. Billy or I can park out front."

Poppop stood up as well. "Appreciate it, John. But I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I'll make sure she's alone as little as possible."

John Wayne nodded and rocked back on his heels. "I'm okay with that. Keep your gun close at hand, Mr. Jim."

Poppop shook John Wayne's outstretched hand. "I always do, son."

Prin wasn't a fan of guns before Charlotte, now she absolutely despised them. She knew Poppop had one, almost every man of drinking age had one in the South. But, like so much in their relationship, they subscribed to a don't ask policy when it came to guns. She didn't ask and he didn't tell. "There's no need for that, Poppop. You keep your gun safely locked away so no crazy people can get it. I mean it. I think I might lose what little sense I have left if I catch you walking around this house with a gun at your hip."

Poppop patted her shoulder soothingly. "It won't be anywhere you can see it, sweetheart. You know me better than that."

Prin nodded her head sharply. "Well, that certainly makes me feel better. I'm much more comfortable with concealed weapons."

Poppop and John ignored her sarcasm, and she realized this was a battle she wasn't going to win. They took her safety too seriously to rely on luck. Nothing less than the threat of deadly force was needed. She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, hoping to blur the memory of those pictures, those lives all cut off at the knees. She was the only thing Mama, Jasmine, and Jenny Ward had in common. To know her was to die. She was a bad turn at the dice. She had to make sure Annie Rose stayed far, far away.

Prin took deep breaths trying to calm down, trying to work up the courage to make it up the stairs by herself and crawl into bed. She dropped her arms at her sides, but couldn't help balling her hands into fists like she was waiting to be knocked on her ass. Again. "John Wayne, are you done? Do you have any more questions? Lord in Heaven, all I want to do is go to sleep."

John Wayne hugged her lightly while Billy smiled at her sympathetically with lusciously moisturized lips. "We're done, sweetheart. We are going to keep a sharp eye out and we're going to get whoever did this. Believe me?"

John's word, like Gabe's, was as close to a promise from God as she was likely to get. "I believe you. Thanks. You're going to tell him?"

John let her go and pushed her towards the stairs. "Of course, I am. It's bad enough that you didn't let me call him right from the jump."

The last thing she needed was Gabe's coddling and over protectiveness, especially when he wouldn't let her have him. She was terrified she'd wrestle him to the ground or the nearest bed the next time she saw him. "I didn't want him here, John."

John stared down at her in disappointment from his towering height. "Prin, if you were mine, I'd want to be here. And I'd kill the man who kept me away."

Prin forced herself to laugh to keep from crying, especially since she managed to suck the tears in most of the night. Poppop's face was wrinkled in a frown as he considered John's words. She really shouldn't be surprised anymore by how obtuse men were. "I don't belong to him, John."

She heard John snort in disbelief as she made her way up the stairs. "Yeah, you tell him that then, sweetheart."

When she got to her bedroom, she closed the door and locked it. She was undressed and in bed before she realized that the men willing to carry loaded firearms to protect her were on the other side of the door.

She scurried out of bed, unlocked the door, and even left it open a small crack. She felt like she was eight years old again and still afraid of the dark, of all the monsters that growled and destroyed in the night. She knew the monsters weren't figments of her imagination. They were real, walked the earth on two legs, and she was more scared of them than anything else on God's green earth. Light from the hallway slithered across the floor. She kept her eyes trained on it until they closed in exhaustion.

When Prin woke in the morning, Gabe was sitting at the side of her bed with a plate of toast and a cup of coffee. She sat up, pushed her hair away from her face, and accepted the coffee. She took a hesitant sip. It burned her lips and tongue a little, but warmed her insides.

Gabe wiped his thumb over her mouth when she lowered the mug. "Careful, it's still piping hot."

His thumb rested on her lower lip, his calluses slipping easily along her warm, wet skin. The coffee plus Gabe's touch had her smoking with heat, and it was sweet relief. She hadn't been really warm since she found those pictures. Her insides still felt frozen and hard. Breakable.

She kissed his fingers before she reluctantly pulled away. It behooved her to remember they were on time out. All he had to offer was slices of himself when she wanted the whole cake, icing and all. There wasn't anything worse, in her mind, than wanting something she couldn't have when it constantly stared her in the face and ran her down in the streets.

She took another sip of coffee. He sat the plate on her lap before lifting a piece of toast to her mouth. She obliging took a bite, the homemade strawberry jam from one of Poppop's widowed ladies and butter exploding on her tongue. The bread was Annie Rose's special recipe, dark and chewy and soft and crunchy with nuts and seeds.

Gabe watched her like eating toast was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. "Why didn't you call me last night, Prin?"

She had wanted to. She always wanted him. She could not forget she had a problem. The first step was admitting her addiction. Now all she had to do was walk away. It was beyond hard. She'd only recently started down this path and she wanted nothing more than to backtrack. Her new mantra was I will not want what I cannot have and she repeated it over and over to herself.

She took another sip of coffee before she answered him. "I need to learn to get through life without you, Gabe. You know how I feel about you, so it doesn't bear repeating. And you couldn't have been any clearer about how you feel. So, I need to manage all my hurts and disappointments without you. I'm retraining myself."

He sucked in his breath like she struck him. "I hurt you that bad, Prin?"

She put her coffee and plate on the nightstand and folded her hands in her lap. "It's not your fault, really. You've been telling me the same exact thing for years. I can't blame you because I refused to listen."

His big hands reached out to cradle her face. His blue eyes were like dark clouds gathering just before a hurricane. "John Wayne called me last night. I would have come over then, but he said you'd already gone to bed. And the last thing I wanted to do was drag you from sleep to make sure you were good, to hold you. Somebody's going out their way to try and hurt you, Prin. I'm not sure if I could stay away from you if that wasn't the case. It's impossible for me to stay away now. Don't ask me to."

She'd known this, and it was one of the reasons she was so adamant Poppop and John Wayne didn't called him last night. He was too much like them. They were warriors, professional soldiers, used to protecting the weak and helpless. Their lives were guided by courage and honor. Forget the right thing. They always did the hard thing. If she were in any kind of danger, the only thing that could keep him away from her was death itself.

She tried to smile at him and through her tears she watched the hurricane in his eyes calm. She could no more deny his protection, deny him than she could do physical harm to herself. "Okay, Gabe."

He pulled her into his arms, and she collapsed there. If he was going to force his strength on her, she was going to take full advantage. Poppop did not raise a fool. All she had to do was be vigilant and keep her heart from breaking anymore than it already was.

The very last place Prin expected to end up when she woke in the morning was at a dog Kennel two hours away in the backwoods of South Carolina. As Gabe's SUV navigated the long, dirt driveway Prin bounced in excitement in her seat. At the end of the driveway they were greeted by a man just as big as Gabe with cinnamon skin and the most beautiful brown eyes Prin had ever seen.

What was it about the Marines? Was being built like a brick house and drop dead gorgeous a requirement for joining? For a moment, she was completely dazzled. Gabe saw and frowned at her. She laughed at him. "It doesn't hurt to look, Gabe."

Gabe got out and walked around the car. As he opened her door to help her out, he growled. "Long as all you do is look, Prin, we're good."

Gabe draped his arm around her and pulled her close to his side while he introduced her. "Prin, this is Dwayne Wharton. He served under my command in Iraq before he decided to breed and train dogs."

Dwayne held out his hand to her. "How do you do, Ma'm?" His mama had surely raised him in the old fashion Southern school. His voice was a deep baritone, and he spoke slowly as if he'd never be rushed for any reason.

Prin laughed as she shook his hand. "Please, I'm nobody's ma'm yet. Call me Prin."

"Oaky, Prin it is." Dwayne's smile was just as pretty as his brown eyes and Prin felt herself falling under his spell again until Gabe's arms tightened around her shoulders. She had never seen Gabe jealous and after all the times she felt herself ready to kill because some woman was flirting with him, she took pity on him. She turned into his body, wrapped her arms about his waist, and squeezed for all she was worth. It took him a minute, but he hugged her back, lifting her off her feet. With her mouth at his ear she whispered, "He's just pretty, Gabe."

He kissed the side of her neck, and when he put her back down he wasn't standing quite so tense beside her. Now that the first shock was over, Prin was sure she had herself under control. She would not be bedazzled again. This man was Gabe's friend. More than that, he was his brother.

As Dwayne led them to the kennels he explained the kinds of dogs he bred and the various ways they were trained. "I only breed German Shepherds. There are a couple of reasons for that. First off, I just think that they're absolutely beautiful dogs. And, man, they're smart. These dogs are smarter than most people I know..."

Gabe snorted as they walked with Prin sandwiched in between them. "That's not saying much."

Dwayne laughed. "Right. But more than being smart, these guys are compassionate. Sympathetic even."

Dwayne walked them past large kennels to an open field where a few dogs were being handled by trainers. Dwayne led them over to a slender woman with a long, blonde ponytail and bronze skin. She looked all of sixteen and the dogs obeyed her without question.

"Cookie, this is Gabe and Prin. Gabe was my commanding officer in the Marines. They're looking for a dog. Why don't you put these guys through their paces?"

Cookie did just that. Prin watched in fascination as the dogs obeyed both voice and hand commands. Cookie gave them treats or verbal praise when they completed each task. They were beautiful to watch with shiny coats, bright eyes, and powerful bodies that rippled with muscle as they ran to fetch balls.

Dwayne let them watch in silence for a while, before he pulled them a little bit away from the dogs. "So, we have three levels of training. German Shepherds are guard dogs. That's what they're bred for, and that's a huge part of their temperament. But we train them different ways to get different results."

Gabe, with his military background, nodded. "That makes perfect sense. What are the levels of training?"

"The first level of training is for attack dogs. These are the dogs we train for the military and local and state police. I'd say attack dogs alone account for about sixty percent of our business. They are trained to attack, almost like professional soldiers. In fact, that's basically what they are. They are trained to kill if necessary. You need specific training to work with one. Without the owner or handler being trained, the dog may attack the wrong people. Sometimes they may even attack the owner."

Prin could just see her and Annie Rose fleeing for their lives. And it was highly doubtful that they'd be sober. "That doesn't sound like a good fit for me."

Dwayne laughed. "We're not talking about fit just yet. The next level of training is sentry. These dogs are trained to guard an area or property. Usually warehouses and things like that. And then the last level of training is what we call personal protection. These dogs are trained to protect a person or family. They'll make a lot of noise if a person or property is threatened, and they'll attack if they have to, but they won't attack to kill. In general, these dogs are friendly and well socialized, great with kids, loyal, loving, and protective. All around awesome dogs."

Prin stared at Dwayne, then Gabe, and back at Dwayne. "I guess that means I'm not getting a puppy?"

Dwayne shook his head. "I don't think so. How real is the threat to her, Gabe?"

Gabe reached out for her hand. "I told you what's been happening so far. I think it'll get worse before it gets better. In any case, I'm not taking any chances with her."

Dwayne shook his head again at Prin. "Then no puppy for you. Besides, puppies can be overrated. They're like having a newborn. They don't sleep at night, they cry and whine, they need constant care and attention, and they need consistent training from good owners. There are plenty of great dogs ruined by poor owners."

Prin sucked in her disappointment. She let go of the dream of snuggling and rolling around with her puppy, cuddling him on her lap while she watched television or read. There was no way a fully grown German Shepherd was going to fit comfortably in her lap. He probably weighed just as much as she did if not more.

And, if she were completely honest, she really didn't want to get up all hours of the night to deal with a crying dog, and she had no idea how to train one. She just assumed her puppy would come home already housebroken and eager to obey her every word and wish. She took a deep breath and let it out along with all her expectations. "Okay. No puppy. So, what are my options?"

Dwayne opened his mouth, closed it, and then tried again. "Why don't you both come up to the house with me."

As they walked to the house, they passed a kennel full of nursing puppies and their patient mommies. How anything on earth could be that sweet was beyond Prin. They rooted at their mommies' bellies and made soft suckling sounds interspersed with baby yelps and impatient growls. They were fat and healthy and all she wanted was to grab one and make a mad dash for the car.

She was distracted from her plans by the two story house with a wrap around porch surrounded by a well tended garden. The porch hosted charming tables, chairs, and potted flowers. There were even stained glass wind chimes in the shape of birds hanging from the rafters.

Prin was impressed. And suspicious. Dwayne didn't sport a wedding ring, but a single man usually didn't have an eye for whimsy or even plain old good taste. "Are you married then, Dwayne?"

"Every woman who has ever come to my house asks that. I'm not married. I'm just a mamma's boy. She did most of the decorating in and out. I didn't know the first thing about it. Besides, I love her and I'm still just a little bit scared of her."

Prin understood all about these Southern men and their mothers. She'd watch My Butter lay into her boys on more than one occasion. They just stood there and took it, all the while hoping she wouldn't send them outside to find a switch. Grown and big as they all were, Prin was pretty sure they'd still go find that switch.

Dwayne put his fingers to his mouth and let loose a high pitched whistle. Three huge German Shepherds came charging from around back of the house. Prin knew she didn't have time to get out the way and braced herself for impact. She thought about moving behind Gabe for shelter but couldn't justify throwing him to the dogs for her own safety.

Dwayne raised his hand high above his head in a closed fist. The dogs came to a quick halt and sat with tails wagging and panting tongues. Dwayne gave each one loving pats on their sides as they licked at his hand frantically. He laughed at them. "You'd think I'd been gone for weeks and not twenty minutes. These are my babies. The smaller one in the middle is Tallulah. And she is the love of my life, aren't you, sweetheart? The one to her left is Charlie, a fine, old, Southern gentleman. And last but not least, there's Dozer. A monster of a dog with a heart just as big."

A monster of a dog was an understatement as far as Prin was concerned. Dozer towered over the other two dogs and was just as wide as he was tall. "It's okay if I pet them?"

Dwayne laughed. "Can't you tell? They love to be petted. They live for it."

Prin started with Tallulah, then Charlie, before getting up enough courage to pet Dozer. As she ran her hands over him, he leaned into her legs like a big old baby, and rested his head on her stomach. Prin was charmed. "Oh, aren't you the cutest thing!"

Dozer stared up at her with liquid brown eyes in agreement, well aware of his worth.

"He's a big one, isn't he? His sheer size alone would make anyone think twice." Gabe said.

Dwayne joined Prin in petting Dozer. "So, I trained him myself. He's smart, loyal, and likes to please. He knows his strength. This guy will never jump on you or knock you down. And he's gentle, great with kids. They can pull his tail, ride him, whatever and he has nothing but patience. He's also a hell of a guard dog. Strong and quick and loud and willing to attack if needed. And, like Gabe said, his size alone would make most people back up."

Prin didn't want to get her hopes up. It was one thing for Dwayne to sell them a puppy and quite another for him to sell them his dog. "He's a sweetie, aren't you? You have another one like him?"

Dwayne smiled in amusement and Prin knew she was being transparent. Stealth was never her strong suit. "There's no other dog like Dozer. But he's yours if you want him."

"Really? I can just take him?" Prin couldn't believe her luck.

"Yeah, Gabe vouched for you. And you get him because he's the best I have and only the best will do for you and Gabe. Understand though, this guy is social. He needs to be with you. He loves being with you. He's an inside dog all the way and has to be a part of a family. If you take him, you're his family."

Gabe snorted. "Look at her. At the rate she's going, Dozer will be sleeping in her bed. Lucky dog."

They drove back to Kingstree with Dozer sprawled on Gabe's back seat. Prin tried to get Gabe to turn off the air and roll the windows down so Dozer could ride with his head out, but Gabe flat out refused saying that while Dozer might enjoy it, he and Prin would be faint from heat exhaustion by the time they got home.

Dwayne loaded them down with dog food, flea drops, shampoo, a brush, a bed, a leash, and an entire crate of dog toys. Still, Prin was already planning her first trip to Petsmart. Dozer needed treats, a new collar, and maybe a raincoat for summer storms, probably some kind of cute t-shirt proclaiming him top dog.

When they got to the house, Poppop came out to greet them. Dozer sat on Prin's command, and she wondered why she ever thought she wanted a puppy.

Poppop looked him over and petted him. "That's a fine looking dog you have there, Prin. Looks mighty fierce and that's just what we're shooting for. Let someone else come sneaking around you, they're going to get some kind of unpleasant surprise."

Prin wasn't so sure. "He's nothing but a big old sweetheart, Poppop."

Poppop knelt until he was staring into Dozer's liquid brown eyes. Dozer did not break his gaze. "Maybe. But this fellow here knows what his primary job is. Don't you, Dozer?"

Chapter Eleven

Whenever she saw Ellie, Prin felt like she was falling through the looking glass and wondered if Ellie felt the same. Ellie was average height and Prin might be described as petite on a good day. Ellie was thin and willowy where Prin was all curves. Ellie ran track in high school and college and probably still ran each morning. Prin would rather slit her wrists than ever put on a pair of running shoes. Ellie was quiet and Prin, according to those who knew her best, never shut up.

But there was a similarity in the shape of their noses and eyes, and wide, full mouths they both inherited from Daddy that spoke of blood ties.

As Prin and Dozer walked the path leading through Ms. Savannah's immaculately kept gardens, she hoped blood ties would be enough. She wanted to be close to her sister. She wanted to call her on the phone when she had a shitty day and when, for whatever reason, her life played out exactly as it should. She wanted to get pissy drunk with her and dance with her and laugh and cry with her. But they had never been able to pull it off.

Ms. Savannah's gardens were alive with the hum of bees and the sheer sweetness of the flowers made Prin take a deep breath and hold it. So much beauty. Everywhere she looked, there were splashes of colors, flowers planted in designs that were pleasing to the eye and so peaceful that she wanted to stop for a moment and rest.

She let out her breath when she spotted the little girl tumbling towards her. She kept one eye on Dozer, but he regarded the child with gentle curiosity. She wore a yellow sundress and straw hat. Her dark curls framed her face. Her olive skin was flushed with heat, and she walked with all the impatience of a child who had just gotten the hang of it. Chloe. Her niece. Prin hadn't seen her since she was born. Ellie sent her pictures, but Chloe up close and personal was dazzling. And she looked like she could be Prin's child.

Prin knelt down. "Hey, Chloe." She said it softly, so as not startle and Chloe stared up at her with chocolate brown eyes. "Where's Mama, sweet baby?"

Just as she asked, Ellie came strolling through the gardens. Her sister, who she had always thought of as a princess from a fairytale, looked like she had gone a couple of rounds with the evil stepmother and lost each and every one. Her skin was white washed pale, dark circles framed her greens eyes, and she looked gaunt instead of lean. Prin stood up and they stared at each other across Chloe's head.

Ellie bit her lower lip in nervousness and that was enough to make Prin rush towards her with open arms. Her life was sure enough a mess with dead bodies popping up, a man she loved way beyond sanity who didn't want her, and some sick person set out to terrorize her, but Ellie's marriage was over and she had this sweet little girl to see grown. Prin didn't know which of them was worse off.

Prin wrapped herself around Ellie, her head resting just beneath her collarbone. It was a sharp as a blade. She needed to be fattened up and soon. She'd get her to Annie Rose right quick. Ellie went rigid in surprise, and then her hands sneaked up around Prin's shoulders. They relaxed into each other, and though Prin was smaller, she gladly bore her sister's weight.

Ellie brought them each a glass of sun tea from the kitchen as Prin watched Chloe flirt from flower to flower like some kind of busy hummingbird with Dozer trailing protectively behind her. Every now and then she leaned or fell into Dozer for balance. He braced himself and managed to keep Chloe upright.

They sat on a blanket in the grass with toddler paraphernalia all around. Sippy cups, picture books, baby dolls, blocks, and trucks. Baby carrots and sliced watermelon, easy finger food, was all stuffed into plastic containers.

Ellie sat down next to her and folded her long legs beneath her. Prin always wanted legs like that, and all she could do was sigh in envy at her beautiful, bruised sister. "You know, I would kill to have your legs."

Ellie looked down at her legs. "They are good for running. Which is, coincidently, what I do best."

Prin knew she wasn't talking about jogging. She thought about her flight from the nightmares about Mama, from Charlotte, from Jenny Ward, and Gabe. Sometimes flight was the only sane response. "Me, too. Biology insured the fight or flight syndrome. No shame in it."

"Yes, well I always wanted your hair. I was so happy when Chloe came out with a head full of dark curls. Least her daddy gave her that."

Chloe came over and plopped down in Ellie's lap. Dozer laid at Prin's side with his hands on his paws. She petted him in long sweeps. Since she brought him home, he'd been sleeping next to her bed, following her about and generally keeping her in his sights. Prin was convinced that nobody and nothing in the world loved you like a dog loved you.

Chloe smiled at Prin and then hid her face in Ellie's shirt. Chloe was cautious, and didn't let Prin get to close. She was going to have to work for her affection.

Prin reached out and touched her curls. "She's a pretty baby."

Ellie settled Chloe more comfortably against her and rocked her. "She's a tired baby. She'll be napping in five minutes."

Chloe lifted her head and frowned. "No nap, Mama."

Ellie shushed her. "Of course not, baby girl. Just rest for a minute and close your eyes."

Chloe narrowed her eyes in suspicion and then yawned. She relaxed like she couldn't help herself. Ellie stroked her hair until her eyes closed and hummed You Are My Sunshine. In less than five minutes Chloe was snoring loud enough to keep the bees away. Ellie spread her down on the blanket and she immediately sprawled out like she was used to taking up all the space in the world she could.

Ellie opened the container of carrots, took a few, and passed them to Prin. "You're not going to ask, are you?"

Prin chewed slowly on the carrot and washed it down with sweet tea, stalling of course, but she needed time to think. "Nope. And you don't have to tell it unless you want to. I just wanted to see you and Chloe."

Ellie hugged her knees to her chest. "Thank you for that. Everyone else wants to know all the gory details. Like my marriage was some kind of bloody car wreck, which I guess it kind of was. I'll tell you this though, I was blindsided. Never saw it coming and how stupid does that make me?"

Dozer and Chloe's snores drowned out the hum of insects. "It doesn't make you stupid at all, Ellie. You were trusting and kind and you believed in your wedding vows. That's what you were supposed to do. It's not your fault that he turned out to be a son of a..." Prin glanced down at the baby and hastily backed tracked. "A not so nice person. That's on him, not you."

Ellie patted Chloe's back. "It doesn't make it any easier to swallow. How do I tell my baby that her Daddy doesn't want her anymore? Each and every morning I wake up choking on it. You know how that feels to choke on your fear and failure and disappointment?"

Prin pulled Chloe's hair away from her sweat damp cheek. It was somehow easier to be honest when she was touching the baby. "Sure, I know how that feels. Prescription drugs help some, mind you not much, but they do take the edge off."

Ellie flushed. "Of course, you know what it feels like. The worst thing about going through a divorce is how self centered you can become. You make every little thing about you like you're some desperately pathetic reality T.V. star."

Prin laughed. "You and I are way too boring for reality T.V."

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "Really? My soon to be ex husband is a habitual philanderer who just had another baby out of wedlock and you..." Her voice trailed off and she stared down at her hands.

"It's fine, Ellie."

Ellie shook her head. "It's not. I keep putting my foot in my mouth. I don't mean to offend you. The last thing I want to do is drive you away. People think divorce is a catchable disease or they think somehow it's your fault your husband doesn't want you. Most of my friends want me to improve myself so I can get him back, or they've distanced themselves completely."

"Not me. I think we should get Annie Rose and go and slash his tires. Maybe go to his job and cause a big old scene. At the very least, have a divorce party so we can celebrate that you're free of that son of a... That not so nice person."

Ellie smiled. "I didn't know you were so vindictive. I like it."

"It's one of my better qualities. Seriously, Ellie, I'm one your side. And you can ask me. I won't get angry."

Ellie stared at her dead on. "So, what happened?"

It was a relief to finally have someone ask outright. Everyone else danced around it, hushed up quick when they saw her, tried to protect her, or wanted her to simply forget and move on. The trick was, Prin didn't know how to forget something like that and wasn't sure if she'd ever be the same, no matter how much others wanted that for her. "I'm assuming you read the papers?"

"And I got second hand gossip from Mama."

"So, you know some of it."

"I don't really know what's true. My divorce taught me everyone loves to embellish. Let me hear if from you."

Prin took a long swallow of her sun tea to calm her nerves, and then she placed her hands on Chloe's back and kept them there like the baby was her personal talisman.

Chloe's shirt was damp with sweat, and the smell of her shampoo, green apples, saturated her hair. Prin skipped her fingers up Chloe's spine, memorizing each nook and cranny and the absolute fragility of her body.

It didn't seem right for anything to be so fragile and defenseless. After Charlotte, she was constantly amazed that so many children living in God awful circumstances made it to adulthood at all. So much could go wrong. "I always thought I wanted to live in a city, always felt like Kingstree was too small to contain my multitudes..." She laughed bitterly. "Charlotte seemed to fit the bill. But cities have city problems. I was placed in one of the worst schools in the district. Sometimes driving to work I felt like I was in a third world country. Drugs, crime, violence.

"And everything is abandoned. Houses. Cars. Children. But I loved my students. They still had dreams and laughter. Oh, they had behavioral issues and learning disabilities and there was very little parental involvement."

Ellie was dumbstruck. "How did you stand working in those conditions day in and day out?"

Prin had asked herself that same question nightly when she started teaching in Charlotte. She regularly wallowed in self pity. Then she noticed that her five and six year old students had no need for self pity. "My students stood it. For a lot of them, school was their only safe place. Turns out it wasn't so safe after all.

"Jasmine was gunned down in a drive by shooting while we were at recess. I can still hear the bullets. She was caught in the cross fire. She was shot in the chest. I tried to keep her with me, but I couldn't.

"I kind of had a nervous breakdown. Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't think of anything but Jasmine's face. I needed to come home. Annie Rose and Poppop came and packed me up and made me get out of there."

Just telling it made Prin anxious. She dug in her purse for the Xanax, fumbling a little getting the bottle open before washing it down with Ms. Savannah's sun tea. She closed her eyes, took deep breaths, and focused on the rise and fall of her belly. She felt Ellie's gaze on her but it wasn't heavy with pity. In the day since she'd come home, Prin began to feel others pity like a lick against her skin whenever they looked at her. She couldn't stand it. She despised the morbid curiosity and clumsy good intentions.

When she opened her eyes, Ellie's gaze was clear and steady on hers. "Better?"

Prin took inventory of her body. The anxiety had lessened some. "I think so. In any case, this may be as good as I'm going to get."

Ellie dropped her gaze and pulled up grass. Ms. Savannah was going to sure enough kill her. "I know we haven't been close. And I know I'm being all kinds of selfish because right now I don't have anyone else. But I need a friend, Prin. I really need a friend."

Prin couldn't imagine how hard that must have been for Ellie to say what with the fact they had been Kingstree's primary scandal for more years than they either cared to remember. The good folk of Kingstree either compared them to highlight their differences or shoved them together like they were two halves of a whole.

Ellie's blonde hair fell forward, hiding her face. Her hands were still churning nervously in the dirt and a big black hole was forming where grass used to be. Chloe snorted and curled into her mama's side. Dozer lifted his head to make sure everything was alright, and then dropped back into sleep. Prin dragged Ellie's hand out the dirt and held it in her own.

Chapter Twelve

As his Uncle Simon might say, Gabe had a come to Jesus week. It started out well enough. He managed to get Prin to South Carolina, not kill Dwayne because he was such a handsome bastard, buy her a guard dog, and get her back to Kingstree without touching her in any way that could be construed as sexual. But he couldn't control his thoughts, and they were just as graphic and dirty as all ways.

He could have even handled that just fine. Men were biologically programmed to think about sex every other minute or so just like dogs couldn't help burying bones or chasing cats. It was in the genetics. It was the tenderness that did him in. He wanted to grab Prin tight, and place her in some lavish tower so she could never be hurt again. He wanted to keep her safe, he wanted to provide for her needs, he wanted her to look to him when she was hurt or troubled, and he wanted to bear her burdens.

But she couldn't have been any clearer when she told him not to touch her. The problem was he didn't know how to do that. Now some sick fuck had made her the serious object of his affection. He came to her house. What if Prin had been home by herself? The thought didn't need thinking. She was not going to be alone again. She had Dozer. She had Mr. Jim. She had John Wayne and Billy. And, most importantly, she had him. He protected and kept what was his.

But she wasn't his really. Their ages, their families, the shit that he had seen and done was a fault line between them. He still woke up in night sweats. He still had dark days where the only thing that got him through was a bottle of Jack Daniels. He killed men and he held men as they died beside him.

Some of them were just out of high school, and they asked for their mothers or their girls as they bled out in the Iraqi sands. Professional soldiers. Proud and true and brave and strong. They made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. And at night when he closed his eyes he saw the face of every man injured or killed under his command.

How does a man ask a woman, especially a woman he loved, to take that on? It was too much for him to swallow at times. And that was without throwing his sexual proclivities in the mix. The things he wanted to do to her could be considered out right criminal in some states.

He couldn't. So as soon as he was sure she was safe, he fell back to his old standbys – women and Jack Daniels. Prin was under skin and at this point he knew he had to grin and shoulder it. But he needed some kind of relief from the pressure. He wanted her to the point that he ached all over.

He called Luanne Stiller and offered to take her out Friday night. They had been fuck buddies on and off for a year. He drove over to her place, his SUV eating up the road. She answered the door, tall, stacked, and blonde from a bottle. He didn't care, he just wanted to eat a good meal and get this monkey off his back.

He drove the forty five minutes to the next town over, and valet parked at the entrance to the expensive Cuban restaurant. Luanne was her usual charming self. She was one of those women raised to cater to a man. She smiled at everything he said, and hung on his every word like God himself was speaking.

It wasn't until they were seated that he felt her eyes on him. Prin was sitting at the table with a man, in a black dress and heels, the mass of her hair pinned up at the back of her head. She didn't smile at him. She stared back and forth between him and Luanne with an expression of profound hurt.

Luanne laughed. "Who is that? She is quite taken with you."

Luanne grew up in Kingstree, and she knew damn well who Prin was. She laughed again. "Honey, isn't that your little sister? Kind of? My, but she's not looking sisterly now."

He stood up and walked over to Prin's table. The man sitting across from Prin stood up to shake his hand. "Hi, I'm Keith."

"Gabe." Keith. The ex-boyfriend. He was almost as tall as Gabe, spoke with easy self confidence. Was this a bid to get in Prin's good graces? Oh, hell no.

"Gabe. I'm Prin's..." He floundered. He didn't know what the hell he was to her. "I thought you all were done with each other?" He was being unspeakably rude and took a savage kind of pleasure in it. If his mama was here, she'd send him out to the woods for a switch.

"I'm trying to change her mind. I just moved to Chapel Hill. I'm teaching law at Duke, but Prin's the prettiest girl in North Carolina, worth long road trips. So you're Gabe, huh? She told me all about you."

Did she tell you my tongue has been all over her in places where the sun don't shine, did she tell you how she begged me to take her? he thought savagely, ready to do murder.

Prin found her voice. "Gabe, we're done with dinner. Keith's about to take me home."

She was supposed to be home safe with Dozer laying at her feet and Mr. Jim somewhere close with his loaded gun. And here she was on a date with a guy who went pussy on her when she needed him most. "Prin, you know its not safe for you to be out and about right now. You need to stay close to home where we can keep an eye on you."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew they were the absolutely wrong thing to say. He knew women better than this. Hell, he knew her better than this.

She glared at him, and he wanted to run not walk back to Luanne and all her simpering sweetness. "Gabe, Keith is not a threat to me. I haven't seen him in awhile, and I was happy to hear from him when he called. Need I remind you that I'm giving you what you said you wanted? You have got to back off, Gabe." Her voice was icy calm and he knew that meant her temper was boiling hot.

Keith was clearly puzzled. "What threat, Prin?"

Luanne was waiting for Gabe with wide eyes at their table. "Did that go well? Her date sure is handsome, isn't he?"

He didn't sleep with Luanne. He barely fed her, just rushed her home and dropped her off. He still felt like ants were crawling under his skin. The woman didn't work. So, he did the next best thing and moved on to the Jack Daniels. The central air hummed as a storm gathered outside. It was going to a bad one, and that was just fine because it perfectly suited his mood.

Jack Daniels burned going down but did nothing to relieve the ache in his gut or the itch beneath his skin. And even though his mind kept circling and circling and his heart felt like it had been blown wide apart, he knew he couldn't escape one irrefutable fact; she was not his.

When he heard the furious pounding at the door, he felt a rush of relief so strong it almost knocked him flat on his ass. He took the bottle of Jack to the door with him. He needed the courage. He opened the door when she was in mid knock to find both her and Dozer soaking wet and furious. Dozer even growled at him in warning. That's all he needed was to deal with not only her but her attack dog.

"Dozer, no!" she said sharply and then they both barreled past him. He took his sweet time closing the door and turning to face her. Her hands were on her shapely hips and her hair was plastered to her head. She still wore her little black dress and heels that made her legs look impossibly long. Dozer sat obediently at her feet and she reminded him of nothing so much as goddess Diana about to go on the hunt. And she was aiming the arrow at his ass.

"You have some nerve, Gabe. Let me be perfectly clear so I won't have to kill you at a later date. I can make my own decisions. I can see who I want when I want. I do not, in this lifetime or the next, have to answer to you."

He took a swig of Jack though he didn't really need it. The itch was gone and shrapnel no longer sliced his heart. She was what he needed. She was the only thing he needed. He stared at her and knew he was staring at his downfall. No more excuses or protests because she had stripped him down to bare bones where all that was left of him was his love for her.

"What are you doing, Gabe?" She asked just before he lifted her dress, dropped to his knees, spread her legs, and ran his tongue lightly along her inner thighs.

Dozer growled softly again. "Control your dog please, Prin."

"I should let him bite your head off. Or another part of your anatomy you'd miss more." But her hands curled around his head, her fingers scraping lightly against his scalp. "Dozer, no. Down." Dozer went down to his belly and rested his head on his paws.

He knew he was in the wrong and could admit it. "I'm sorry, Prin."

He pulled her dress up, and rested his head against her stomach, feeling like nothing so much as an exhausted child. He laughed against her soft belly. He had known that at some point she'd bring him to his knees.

Her hands still moved slow and gentle through his hair. She curled her body protectively around him and dropped a kiss on his head. "You make me crazed. I swear, you and me equal one hot mess, Gabe."

She could always make him smile. And as he knelt before her, breathing her in, feeling her belly rise and fall against his cheek, he wanted to sink beneath her skin and rest. He was so tired of fighting her. He was so tired of fighting himself. "I love you."

She tilted his head back until he was staring into her brown eyes. Her hands framed his face and she bent to kiss his forehead. It felt like benediction, and he closed his eyes in acceptance. "I know you do, Gabe. I love you, too. More than anything or anybody."

Love was never the problem between them. It didn't make sense that everything else was so complicated. A cocktail of possessiveness and guilt and obsession and need that was like a sucker punch in the gut each and every time he saw her.

Once he had her, he'd never let her go. He'd be selfish enough to do everything in his power to keep her. So, he'd better make this good for her, he'd better make sure that she'd never be able to walk away from him.

He got to his feet, and then carried her to his bed like she was a concubine. Dozer tried to follow but Prin halted him in his tracks with a firm command. Dozer settled on the rug before the fireplace as Gabe carried her up the stairs. She didn't dare open her mouth, afraid the slightest word from her would make him reconsider. In his bedroom he stripped her out of her dress, his hands gentle.

"You look beautiful."

She actually felt herself blushing. "It's the dress."

"It's you, not the dress."

He went to the bathroom. She heard water running, the toilet flushing. When he came back, he was carrying a wet rag. His sheets were cool against her flesh, his bed smelled like his soap and shampoo. The lights were off, but she could make out his shape, the paleness of his naked chest and arms, the darkness of his trousers.

He had a body like models on the cover of magazines, like he didn't have a real job and three to four hours to work out each day. He got up each morning and ran at least six miles and then went to the gym to lift during his lunch break or after work. She thought it anal, maybe even obsessive. He called it disciplined.

He raised the rag, and she rolled away from him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you comfortable and all tucked in." He washed her face first, careful of her eyes and nose, moved down to her neck, then her chest and torso, lifted her arms, then down her sides, between her legs, and finished with her hands and feet.

And then the wash cloth was gone, and his hands moved over her. They were warm and calloused and lightly mapped all her sweet spots. He lingered on her inner arms and thighs, her belly and torso, the backs of her knees, and the arches of her feet. His hands left her dazed until all she could feel and see was him.

His hands left her, and she lifted her head to stare as he removed his pants. When he came back to the bed, he settled on top of her, his chest rubbing against her breasts, his thighs between hers, and she moaned in relief. Finally, they were skin to skin, nothing between them. Still, she was suspicious. "No more teasing, Gabe. If you stop, I'll shoot you dead and be done with it."

He nuzzled her neck, his five o'clock shadow deliciously abrasive, and then his big hands cradled her face. "I might tease a little bit, Prin. No fun otherwise. But I won't stop."

"You promise, Gabe?"

His tongue traced her lips and then slid inside, sweet and addictive, making her breath catch and then stutter. "Not even God could make me stop, sweetheart. But be certain because this is the last heads up you're going to get. I can barely leave you alone now. Once I have you, I will never let you go."

She laughed. "Gabe Connor, you know good and well I'm a sure thing."

He lifted her hands over her head, pressing them into the bed. His mouth silenced her laughter, his kiss slow and thorough. His tongue moving in her mouth was some of the best sex she'd ever had and he'd barely gotten started. The weight of him sank beneath her skin. She was a star in her own story book, princess in her very own fairy tale. And she gloried in it.

His hands meandered up and over her breasts and belly, down and between her thighs. He was looking at the contrasts of his hands against her flesh, measuring their differences. Prin knew he liked the way she looked, thought she was perfect in every way that mattered. Gabe thought she was so beautiful he didn't even see her physical faults and for her there was no greater turn on.

His mouth followed the path of his hands. His lips soft and firm, his tongue hot and wet. He kissed her collarbone, his kisses like a pearl necklace that stole body heat and warmed against the skin. He moved onto her chest and underarms where the skin was unbearably sensitive. He lifted her breasts in his hands and kissed the underside.

She arched up to him, and he took pity on her and swallowed a nipple. He suckled at her breast until she was restless and desperate beneath him. His hands went to her hips, holding her still as he kissed the slight roundness of her belly. She knew what was coming, but he was taking his sweet time. She wanted nothing more than to grab his head and shove him down, but her limbs were heavy with pleasure, impossible to lift.

He raised his head, his eyes bright and fierce. "Ask me, Prin."

His voice was passion roughed and low and her belly tightened in a sharp bite of lust. It was hard to get the words past her throat. He waited, then smiled and kissed her between her thighs, so light she barely felt it, before lifting his head again. "You know what you want. Ask me, sweetheart."

She swallowed hard, gathering her courage. It was so much easier to stay quiet then to actually talk to him, tell him what she needed. But because he asked her, and it looked like he was not going to do anything else unless she complied, she said, "Please, Gabe, kiss my pussy."

She could actually feel the blush climbing her chest and staining her cheeks. His shoulders spread her thighs and he lowered his head.

His breath touched her first, hot and soft, and then his tongue opened her in gentle licks until she was drenched and panting. His mouth found a rhythm, and she stared blindly up at the ceiling as her hips rose to meet him. Her mind went quiet and still, her breathing deepened, and she came and came.

He rose, spread her out wide on the bed, and gave her his weight. His chest hair tickled her breasts and his body grounded her solidly in the bed. His hands went beneath her head, cradling her, and he kissed the corners of her mouth. "I love you, Prin."

She held her breath as he thrust deep and sure. She kept her eyes on his as he moved in long, slow thrusts. He was focused and tireless and attentive to her every sigh. Her body shook beneath his thrusts, beneath the sheer weight of the pleasure, a fine trembling that was so outside her experience it frightened her.

He must have read the panic in her eyes because he kissed her. "No, sweet baby, don't fight it. Let it happen. I've got you."

She came, her body a beautiful rope pulled between tension and release. He held himself still and high inside of her and when she quieted he rose up on his hands and thrust and thrust. All she could do was watch the muscles at play in his chest and belly and arms, the unspeakable pleasure painting his face.

He seemed to deflate on top of her, careful to balance most of his weight on his forearms. And then she curled herself around him and cried. Her body, her very soul bare and defenseless.

He stiffened on top of her. "Prin? Sweetheart?"

She somehow managed to laugh through her tears and hold him so tight that her arms ached. "Gabe, I didn't think you'd ever fall off the wagon."

He lowered his head and his kiss was salty with her tears. "A man can only take so much. You'd better realize now that I'm off I'm not ever getting back on. I flat out adore you. You're mine."

The room smelled like perfume and sweat, like them, like sex. The sheets were damp, the mattress melting beneath her. She burrowed deeper into their scent, deeper into the mattress, deeper into his care.

She was on her way home. The bar was still crowded and a two step played by the band hung over the empty parking lot. As she walked to her car, he rolled down the passenger window of his Ford and smiled at her. "Pardon me, Ma'am. I seem to be a little loss. Can you tell me the easiest route back to the expressway?" He made sure his voice was good old boy charming and his smile dazzling even in the dark.

He held a map out the window. She chewed her lower lip as she considered how much to trust him and just how close to get. He kept his gaze steady and friendly.

She finally smiled and headed his way. "Sure. I can show you the way back. You're not that far."

Despite cable television and the nightly news, most people never thought they could be a victim, and they certainly never thought they could die.

He got out the truck and showed her the map. "I sure do appreciate that, Ma'am. All I want to do is get home."

"Me and you both." Her face was sweet and stupid and young. Her dress was two sizes small and tight about her waist and breasts and just covered her knees.

He moved closer, crowding her. "What's your name?"

And there it was. The first fissions of fear and discomfort. Her smile faltered. "Laura. Laura Lee."

Laura Lee never saw his fist. Her head cracked back, and he caught her dead weight. He lifted her and placed her in the back of the truck. Once he made sure the parking lot was still empty, he took the time to breath against her neck, rub against her through the thin fabric of her dress. She smelled like fruit and cigarettes.

He opened her mouth wide. There was the soft pink of her tongue and the deeper pink of her cheeks and white of her teeth. He placed his fingers in her mouth one by one.

She belonged to him now. Laura Lee was never going home.

Chapter Thirteen

Nothing took the shine off flat out fantastic sex faster then murder. Prin was sitting in Charmed, sipping herbal tea and nibbling at Annie Rose's carrot cake when Billy walked in. It was the lull between lunch and dinner and Annie Rose sat on the stool beside Prin picking at her plate. The cake was rich and moist and so good that Prin was tempted to stab Annie Rose with her fork each time her hand reached for her plate.

But Annie Rose was her best friend and the cook besides. Prin learned early in life that you never physically injured or pissed off the cook. Poppop used to punish her with sub par meals when she was a teenager and acting the fool. He made his point by serving Hamburger Helper instead of fried chicken, homemade mash potatoes, and green beans.

Billy strolled into the restaurant with his sun glasses perched on his head and his badge spit shine bright. He was a couple of years younger than Prin and Annie Rose, almost just out of high school. He was sweet, no two ways about it, but he liked the way he looked in a police uniform more than just about anything.

"Hey, Billy." Annie Rose called out and waved him over to join them at the counter.

When Annie Rose called, men usually came running. Billy was no exception. A grin split his face, and his teeth were nothing short of dazzling in his brown face. He sat down next to them and Annie Rose got up. "Let me get you a piece of my carrot cake and some coffee."

Billy smiled like she offered to take him to bed. Annie Rose's cakes were that good. She even had one called Better Than Sex; it was a chocolate confection that gave Prin a pleasurable shudder just thinking about it. Prin remembered how scandalized Ms. Althea had been when Annie Rose insisted on putting the cake on the desert menu. Ms. Althea's offended sensibilities were finally laid to rest when Better Than Sex cake sold so fast Annie Rose could barely keep up with the demand.

Billy carefully placed his Prada sunglasses on the counter. "I sure would appreciate that, Annie Rose."

Annie Rose went to slicing cake and Billy turned his eagle eye on Prin. "How are you, Prin?"

His tone was usually reserved for the terminally ill or mentally challenged. Annie Rose slanted Prin a glance warning her to be nice. Billy was harmless after all. "I'm fine, Billy. I've got you and John Wayne on the case. No worries at all on my part."

Her slow ball sarcasm went right over Billy's sweet, vain head. "Course we are. I just thought you might have some, well, anxiety after the latest murder."

Prin lost her appetite just that fast and pushed her plate away. "Are you talking about some other murder I don't know about? Kingstree is too small to become the murder capital of the world. Especially since I just moved back home."

Billy stood up quick but managed to position his sunglasses artfully on top of his head. "I thought you knew, Prin. I'm almost certain John Wayne told me that he informed you."
Prin stared him down, a trick she perfected from teaching elementary school. If she could put the fear of God into thirty kindergarteners, she could surely manage Billy. "No one told me anything, Billy. You come right on now and sit back down. Annie Rose, give Billy that cake and get him his coffee."

Billy reluctantly sat as Annie Rose placed the cake and coffee in front of him. He took a bite, cautiously looking between Prin and Annie Rose. Annie Rose leaned against the counter with a scowl on her face and Prin glared at him with a teacher's frown. Prin folded her hand beneath her chin. "Now, go on ahead and tell us what happened, Billy."

"I really shouldn't until you talk to John Wayne." Billy must have figured his best defense was a mouth full of cake and proceeded to cram it in.

Prin reached out for Annie Rose's hand and held on tight. "Was it another woman?""

Billy nodded and shoveled in more cake.

"Was it just like Jenny Ward?" Prin whispered. Annie Rose's hand gripping hers was the only thing keeping her from screaming.

Billy slowly nodded again and shoveled in more cake.

All the color left Annie Rose's pale skin so fast that for a second Prin was scared she was going to faint. Women did not get murder in Kingstree. No one got murdered in Kingstree. Prin wracked her brain for the last murder before Jenny Ward and landed squarely on her mama.

She stood and grabbed her purse, still holding on to Annie Rose's hand like her life depended on it. "I need to go down to the Police station and see John Wayne. Can you come?"

Annie Rose didn't hesitate. "Course I can. Just let me go tell Ms. Althea."

Billy looked absolutely miserable. "I'm sorry, Prin. I swear, I thought you knew."

It wasn't sweet, vain Billy's fault. He wasn't the one running all around Kingstree murdering women. "Don't worry, Billy. You just sit here and finish your cake."

If two murders hand delivered straight to his door wasn't enough, John Wayne began to think he had a serial killer on his hands. A serial killer that targeted women in his town, raped them, and then cut their throat. Sick fuck. His next step was to call in the F.B.I and, while he appreciated the help, he didn't want to alarm the town or terrify the women of Kingstree any more than necessary.

All he needed was Prin and Annie Rose storming through his gates like gunslingers. They were tight lipped and still pretty as a picture. Any other time he'd be happy to see them, but not today. Not when he had a gut instinct that all of this revolved around Prin and her mother.

He was just a boy when Prin's mother was killed. She was not well liked. She was an unapologetic home wrecker who flaunted her bastard child and didn't have the decency to move one or two towns down the road. Lots of people in town felt she got exactly what she deserved, though respect and a healthy fear of Mr. Jim kept most from voicing unasked for opinions.

He rose to his feet as they approached his desk, mostly because his mama raised him to be a gentleman, but mainly because they looked like they'd run right over him if he didn't.

His gaze focused on Annie Rose the way it did whenever she was anywhere in his vicinity. Her red hair was pulled on top of her head in a messy ponytail. Her skin was even paler than usual like she'd just gotten a nasty shock. If they were in his office for the reason he thought they were, then that wasn't too far off the mark. Her skirt and shirt were splattered with flour even through he knew she worked in a chef's apron. And she smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, something sweet and tasty just out the oven.

They stopped so abruptly he almost expected to see the dust settle around their feet. The air conditioner he considered an out right necessity because of his size groaned and the blast from the vents and played with Annie Rose's red hair. He forced himself to turn away from how the strands kissed her cheeks and tickled the corner of her mouth.

Prin, no bigger than a minute, placed her hands on her hips and somehow managed to stare him down. "Billy told me another woman's been killed."

He chewed over his response. "Yes. Just last night. A couple found her body near the bar."

Annie Rose pulled Prin close, sheltering her. "Billy said she was raped and her throat was cut just like Jenny Ward. Why didn't you let Prin know, John Wayne?"

"I was going to swing by soon as I finished the paper work." And he had been flat out dreading it. Prin was the eye of the storm in this case. "We're still waiting on labs, but it looks similar to Jenny Ward."

Prin deflated into Annie Rose and he rushed to reassure them both. "I'm doing all I can, and I called in the FBI..."

Annie Rose stroked Prin's back in long sweeps. "Why did you have to call in the FBI?"

John Wayne winced. If she didn't know, he wasn't all that keen on telling her but he soldiered through. "These murders appear similar enough that we may have a serial killer on our hands."

Annie Rose's mouth dropped open and Prin stared at him like he'd lost what little sense he had. "Is it me, John?" Prin asked in a small voice and she didn't have to explain what she meant.

Annie Rose rushed to the rescue. "Course it's not, Prin. It's all just God awful coincidence."

Prin laughed. "There's coincidence and then there's this, Annie Rose."

They both were so small and feminine they looked like they should be on a glass shelf somewhere. His feminist mama would run him over with a truck and then drag him down the street if she caught him thinking something so sexist, but he couldn't help it. They were so vulnerable standing there they made his back teeth ache. "Nothing is confirmed yet. I'm just covering all the bases. The FBI has resources I don't have as small town police."

For a moment their collective fear fouled the air, but then he watched as bit by bit they got a handle on it. A little bit of color came back to Annie Rose's face, and Prin straightened her back and lifted her chin. He could almost hear her mind working. "What can we do to keep ourselves safe, John Wayne?"

He simply adored smart women. They made his job so much easier. "Try not to be alone, especially at night. Keep all your doors and windows locked. Don't date or even encourage men you don't know. I know Southern women are famous for their hospitality but I want you to be hornet's nest mean, especially to unknown men. Prin, a little Dozer goes a long way for protection. Keep him with you as much as possible. And lean on Mr. Jim and Gabe. Even if they piss you off, which I'm sure they will, let them keep watch over you. As Marines, they're damn good at that."

Annie Rose frowned at him. "John Wayne, I don't have some old vicious dog, and I live by myself. Who's going to look out for me?"

All that hair waved around her face. When it was down it fell almost to her fantastic ass. Her lips were a natural berry red and her tilted green eyes made her look mysterious and witchy. "Sweetheart, I'll look after you. You've got me." And sure enough it was going to be his pleasure.

John Wayne's warning to stay together led to dinner and drinks with Annie Rose and Ellie at Annie Rose's small house with Dozer keeping watch by the door. Ms. Savannah was babysitting Chloe. Prin had already called both Gabe and Poppop to let them know her whereabouts and told them another woman was killed.

She was worried one of them would hunt her down and lock her up tight when they found out about the murder, especially if they heard it from some else. Poppop thought she was spending the night with Annie Rose and Gabe was going to pick her up later when she was nice and drunk and, according to Gabe, an easy lay.

She was lying about her whereabouts to Poppop for the sake of decency. She felt like she was sixteen. If not for the crazy killer on the loose, she might even be a little nostalgic.

Annie Rose served steaks so tender they melted as soon as they hit the tongue, a salad of fresh greens and grape tomatoes from her vegetable garden, and corn on the cob so sweet it didn't need butter.

Prin worried just a little as Annie Rose and Ellie tried to get their bearings around each other. Annie Rose, as always, was open and warm and Ellie was shy and cautious.

Annie Rose plated the food and set the table with her best china, fresh flowers, and linen napkins. A pretty table and great presentation was part of the pleasure of eating for Annie Rose. Prin opened two bottles of Cabernet. She didn't know how much Ellie drank, but she and Annie Rose were no light weights. And if the threat of a serial killer wasn't reason enough to drink, she didn't know what was.

Annie Rose's steak was so perfectly cooked, they could slice it with their forks. Ellie was nothing less than dazzled. "I've never had steak like this. Marry me and have my children. Or I'll have yours. Whatever works best."

Annie Rose laughed and actually blushed. The way to her heart was through her cooking. If you loved her food, then she loved you. "Don't tempt me. I'm still holding out for the man of my dreams, but he's taking his sweet time. If he doesn't show up soon, it's you and me against the world. You have to have all the babies though."

Ellie took another bite of steak and closed her eyes. Her lips moved silently for a minute like she was in prayer. "Not that this steak isn't more than worth it, but why do I have to have all the babies?"

Annie Rose topped off all their wines even though Ellie hadn't made a dent in hers yet. "First off, you've had one so you know what to expect. No need for us to put my rookie self on the line of scrimmage. And, well, it looks like it's really, really painful not to mention embarrassing. All those people poking and prodding at you while your ass is hanging out."

Ellie nodded her head. "For someone who hasn't given birth, you describe it with chilling accuracy."

Prin was appalled. "Annie Rose was joking. She's never serious. Tell me it isn't that bad."

"Sure it is. But when it's all over, there's this beautiful baby that becomes the absolute love of your life. So, sure, I'd do it again. But Annie Rose, as spectacular as this steak is, I'm waiting on my Mr. Right, too."

Annie Rose cut her eyes at Prin. "Prin's the only one getting lucky right now. Tell us, Prin, just how lucky are you?"

Prin sipped her wine. "Let's just say, I'm extremely lucky."

Annie Rose glared at her. "Oh, no you don't, Prin. Me and Ellie need details, play by play action."

"Annie Rose, you're not drunk enough for football speak yet."

Ellie lifted her eyebrow. "Football speak?"

Prin popped a piece of steak in her mouth and shuddered in bliss. "Annie Rose sounds like a football commentator when she's drunk. It's all about first downs and replays."

Annie Rose took a deep, outraged breath. "Football is the greatest metaphor for life that there is, Prin, and you damn well know it."

Ellie quickly stepped in. "I always wondered about Gabe. Be hard not to with him walking around muscle bound and stoic. I bet he takes his lovely time, doesn't he?"

Prin opened her mouth and closed it again. She was having the best sex of her life and she wanted to shout it from somebody's window. But something held her back. She felt protective of Gabe, protective of them, and the last thing she wanted to do was share or cheapen something that felt like an outright miracle to her. "He's wonderful. We're wonderful."

It was beyond lame, and Prin hoped Annie Rose and Ellie left it alone. She focused on her steak, chewing slowly so she wouldn't have to meet their gaze. She took a long swallow of her wine before she lifted her head again.

Annie Rose was staring at her like she was the mother of the bride and Prin was all decked out in white, and Ellie was ripe with envy.

Annie Rose reached across the table to grab her hand. "Ah, look at my girl all in love."

Chapter Fourteen

Gabe came. While Annie Rose and Ellie watched like he was some kind of X rated movie, he got Prin in the car and drove her to his home. Gabe followed Ellie home and waited for her to get safely in the house. Annie Rose was keeping Dozer for the night because she didn't have a big, former football player and marine sleeping next to her.

Gabe talked the entire drive but Prin didn't hear him. She was too drunk, too happy to be sitting beside him with her head on his shoulder. The whole time he kept his hands on her. He touched her face, her hair, and the nape of her neck like he was memorizing her, like his fingers could see as well as feel. "All of you need to be extra careful, Prin. The last thing I want is something happening to you."

Prin was in complete agreement. "That's the last thing I want, too, Gabe."

He pulled into his driveway and she was, as always, charmed by his house. My Butter had a heavy hand here. The gardens were well kept and blooming. The faces of huge sunflowers smiled down on a manicured lawn, rose bushes, tulips, and a lot of other flowers she couldn't quite identify. She was still working on her green thumb. The porch had a swing and plush outdoor furniture. There was a touch of whimsy in the wind chimes and bright red flower pots overflowing with more yellow tulips.

He kept his hand at her back as he guided her inside. As he locked the door behind them Prin kissed a line from his jaw to his eye. Her hands smoothed down his hair, tracing his nape and the strong line of his neck.

Despite the murders and her panic attacks, with him there was nothing to be afraid of or worry over. She wrapped arms around him, taking his weight, sheltering him, holding him close. His body was scorching, and when she placed her open mouth against his neck, she tasted salt.

She led him upstairs. She knew his house as well as he knew her own. She had no need for lights. She sat him on his bed, removed his pants and boxers, his socks and his shoes. His skin was dry and sticky with sweat. She went to the bathroom, wet a wash cloth, and wiped him down. She washed his face, his ears, his arms and chest and stomach, his groin, his feet, and between his toes. She washed him until he grew quiet, until he was pliant beneath her hands.

She was, as always, astounded by him - the firmness of his skin, the sweetness of his breath, the absolute beauty of his form. He didn't let her maintain control long. It wasn't in his nature. He pulled her down beside him on the bed, caging her body deliciously with his heavier weight. Looking up at him, she felt light headed with lust.

He kissed her collarbone, her chin, her lips, and smiled. "Prin, God above, I love you."

Her body was his. She was his. She kept her gaze on his as he removed her shirt and bra, her shorts and panties, until they were skin to skin. She listened to the hum of crickets and owls, a cacophony of sound blanketing the house. Out the window, a hunters' moon, blood red, hung like fire.

She stayed perfectly still. His big hands cradled her face while Kingstree slept. And then he turned her over on her belly. She buried her face in his pillows as his long fingers swept her hair over her shoulder. His mouth on her skin was always the sweetest shock. He nuzzled at her nape, traveled down the slope of each shoulder before lightly skipping down her spine. His tongue traced each vertebrae as he massaged her hips and ass, kneading the flesh in slow swipes.

He eased into her body, taking his time, letting her get used to the thickness of his presence. She arched to him at his first thrust. He thrust and thrust, sweet and deep, and she went pliant feeling him in the place deep inside where no man but him had ever touched. Her skin didn't fit. She wanted to peel it away. She wanted to be even more exposed. She wanted him to have all of her.

As a child, she had perfect days. Sun on her skin and running through the woods and climbing trees until her head touched the sky and all was right in her world.

His body moving in and over her was sun on her skin. His hands fisting her hair and his breath against her neck left her light headed and open. She didn't need to come when he gave her this. An orgasm was anticlimactic, but she felt it gathering momentum anyway.

He knew it. He picked up the pace and his hands gripped her hips as he went deeper. "Not yet, sweet baby, not yet."

She held it off for him because he asked. Whatever he asked, she wanted to give.

He pulled out and she moaned at the lost. He turned her over, spreading her wide beneath him, raising her hands over her head. She felt exposed and vulnerable. She was dizzy with it and wondered why it was always like this with him. The way his hands left her feeling shiny and new like neither past nor present mattered. The way he took full responsibility for her pleasure. She'd never felt so safe in all her life.

She felt his gaze on her face. His hands moved up and down her arms, across her collarbone and neck, and to her shoulders. "It's fine. You're fine. Take a deep breath and let it go for me. Give it to me, baby."

His voice was as gentle as his hands moving over her skin. His hips worked tirelessly, his thrusts slow and sure, his body hitting hers at just the right angle. And she let it all go for him. She lost herself in the pleasure, in the steadiness of his gaze, in the shelter of his body.

And when she was drifting, when her body was lush and replete, he picked up the pace and rode her long and hard until he came whispering her name on his lips.

Gabe turned on his back and pulled her close. Her face rested on his shoulder and her hand splayed over his heart. He shaped his body to hers, and kept his voice pitched low. "I've got you. I've got you. Let's just stay like this. Let's just stay like this."

She raised her leg so her thigh draped his hips and her toes burrowed into the back of his leg. In his arms was the closest she'd ever come to love. And the only time she was at peace.

Annie Rose at 5'2 made enough noise to not only wake but terrify the dead. Prin thought the pounding in her head was the aftershocks of last night's bottle of wine. Or Two. Maybe three.

A pounding head was nothing new and with luck, dogged determination, and Gabe draped like an electric blanket over her, she could sleep right through it. But never, not even in worst moments, was her hangovers accompanied by barks and whining.

Gabe yawned as his body flexed. She opened her eyes to watch the play of muscle and smooth skin. He was something to see in the morning all sleep rumpled and scratchy. He hugged her tight for a moment and she willed time to stop. She wanted to stay right here forever wrapped around him, breathing in his sleepy morning scent.

No such luck.

Gabe got out of bed and pulled on his jeans from the night before. He ran his hands through his hair and then went to the window. "Christ, that Annie Rose." His voice was long suffering and he looked completely bemused, still half sleep.

Prin took pity on him, gritted her teeth, and got dressed as best she could with her head about to explode. The early morning sun shot through the windows because Gabe forgot to pull the shades last night. It sucker punched with the force of a heavy weight champ. She staggered from the blow, grabbed hold of the dresser, and somehow managed to stay on her feet.

She, Annie Rose, and Ellie were going to have to figure out a way to bond that didn't include alcohol. Maybe they could go dancing. Or start a knitting group. She managed to get her clothes on, but had a harder time locating her sandals. She got to her knees, hunted beneath the bed and dresser. No shoes. She sat in the middle of the room absolutely stumped until Annie Rose bellowed, "Prin, I know you're in there. Poppop called looking for you. You better get down here right now."

That got Prin moving right quick. It was one thing to lie to Poppop, and something else entirely to get caught in the lie. She shot to her feet and ran down the stairs. When she opened the door, Dozer came charging in like she was a returning prisoner of war. He danced around her in circles and licked any part of her body his tongue could reach. Prin stood it as long as she could because there was no love like puppy love and she did feel the tiniest bit guilty for leaving him with Annie Rose.

But it became obvious Dozer, in his complete adoration of her, couldn't calm down. Prin got his attention and raised her hand over his head in the hand signal for sit. Dozer was too well trained not to obey, but his entire body vibrated with joy.

Annie Rose was not as happy to see her as Dozer. Huge sunglasses hid her face and her lips were thinned in either anger or pain. Annie Rose was always well put together, almost immaculate. Not this morning. Her chef's apron was on inside out, and she rocked mismatched ankle socks. There was a picture of Santa around her left ankle and bright pink flowers floated around her right ankle. And what Prin could see of her face was bare of makeup.

Prin raised an eyebrow despite the fist of pain that smacked between her eyes. "Annie Rose, you look a hot mess."

Annie Rose's mouth thinned even further. "Yes, well, what kind of friend let's another friend drink three bottles of wine? I thought I could get up and go to work with a hang over. Bad plan all around. Then Poppop called at the crack of dawn looking for you. The way I see it, my looking a hot mess is entirely your fault. You should apologize."

Prin led Annie Rose into the house and the first available chair. "You're right. Of course, you're right."

Gabe came downstairs mostly decent. He kissed Prin and smiled sympathetically at Annie Rose. "Can I get you some juice and crackers, Annie Rose?"

Annie Rose shook her head, sending her tangled hair flying in all directions. "All ready tried that. Took as many aspirin as the bottle's safety warning allowed, too. Didn't do me a bit of good." She leaned forward and hung her head between her legs. "God above, I think I'm going to die."

Prin reminded herself that Annie Rose was always dramatic. She couldn't help it. Prin was used to coddling her when she got all worked up in one of her moods. Gabe rolled his eyes at Annie Rose's theatrics. Lucky for him, Annie Rose's head was still between her legs and she was moaning too much to pay him any attention. Prin frowned at Gabe and shook her head. She wrapped her arms around Annie Rose and stoked her tangled hair.

Annie Rose leaned into her gratefully. "Sorry for being so bitchy."

Gabe, never one for inaction, headed for the kitchen. "I'm going to make you all some coffee and toast. You need it."

There was a teasing reprimand in his voice that Prin choose to ignore. She blew him a kiss as he left and continued to stroke Annie Rose's hair. "It's all good, Annie Rose. I am a bad influence and I know it. Thanks for getting drunk with me and thanks for covering up for me with Poppop."

Annie Rose lifted her head. Her milk maid skin was flushed and her eyes bloodshot. "You do know you're too old to be sneaking around with anyone anywhere."

"Old habits die hard. Besides, I'm not sure Poppop's heart can handle the fact that I'm having sex."

"Good sex?" Annie Rose asked hopefully.

"You know I can hear you all." Gabe hollered from the kitchen.

"Then stop listening." Prin hollered right back and then smiled apologetically when Annie Rose winced. "It's stupendous sex, Annie Rose. I'll give you details when Gabe's not in the next room."

"No you won't. Me and Ellie already tried to pump you for specifics last night. It's just plain cruel of you to get my hopes up. In any case, I'm sure Poppop suspects you're not a virgin."

"Hush your mouth. He thinks I'm as pure as the fallen snow."

"You mean after the dogs get to it and turn it all yellow?"

Prin was well and truly hurt. "Now you're just being really mean, Annie Rose. And what have I ever done but love you?"

Annie Rose had the good grace to blush with shame. "My head hurts and I don't want to go to work but I can't pull a no show at the last minute on Ms. Althea."

Prin was instantly sympathetic. "I know, but as soon as you get home you can take a hot shower and crawl right into bed. Promise."

Annie Rose still pouted. "I want to have stupendous sex, too."

"I know you do. You deserve it."

Prin walked through the front door hung over, but trying to look like sweetness and light. She kissed Poppop's scratchy cheek and gave him a painful smile. She stumbled through the house until she reached the kitchen and sat down at the table. She rested her forehead against the cool, dark cherry wood. Poppop's glare breathed down her neck the entire time.

Poppop walked over to Prin and let his hands wander through curls. Prin did her best not to wince at the light touch. "You know how I feel, don't you Prin, about women drinking themselves silly and sick? It's bad enough when men do it. Now, I think we've done already established that nobody's perfect, least of all me, but try not to come home drunk off your ass. It makes me nervous."

Prin didn't so much as lift her head. She mumbled against the table. "It's not a hangover, Poppop. I have a headache."

Poppop snorted. "I look blind to you?"

"No."

"I look stupid? I know the difference between a hangover and headache."

Prin gave up the fight. "I know you do, Poppop."

"Good. You want me to get you something for that?"

Chapter Fifteen

Poppop knocking on her bedroom door pulled her from sleep. Dozer was at his usual spot on the rug at the foot of her bed and jumped to his feet. She petted him absently as she winced at aches in places she didn't know she had. Her entire body was sore. She needed to get in better shape if she was going to be having sex regularly. "Yes, Poppop?"

"Blanche just called, said she coming by to take you to lunch in Charlotte. Me and Jim are going fishing for the day. I was going to take Dozer. That okay?"

Prin got out of bed and opened the door with Dozer close at her heels. "Dozer would love to go fishing, wouldn't you, baby?"

You need anything?"

"Nope. I'll see you later. Take good care of my baby."

Poppop just rolled his eyes.

She listened to his footsteps as he left the house, listened to the sound of his car as it road down the dirt road and unto the highway. She headed for the bathroom, moving gingerly in case she pulled a hamstring, loving the marks scattered along her flesh. She ran a lukewarm bath, added salts, and soaked.

By the time My Butter came for her she was wearing a cool summer dress, her hair pulled into a pretty knot at the back of her head. My Butter didn't bother to knock, just came on in the house. "Where are you at, Prin?"

"Kitchen, My Butter."

My Butter walked back into the kitchen, and looked cool and expensive in white cotton pants and a silk tank top. My Butter was the only woman Prin knew brave enough to wear silk in North Carolina summers.

Prin was loading the dish washer from breakfast. My Butter kissed her lightly on the cheek, got a cup of coffee, and sat down at the table.

"Don't you look pretty, you're practically glowing."

Prin knew she was glowing; she knew the joy balled up in her belly shined through her skin. "I just woke up on the right side of the bed, I guess."

"Much better then waking up on the wrong side. Where is that wolf of a dog Gabe got you? I was expecting him to knock me down soon as I made it past the front door."

Prin laughed because My Butter had never been a fan of dogs. She barely tolerated cats. The only pets allowed in her house were fish. And they often died from neglect. "Dozer's too much of a gentleman to knock a lady down. Besides, Poppop took him fishing with your husband."

"I doubt that. But at least he's keeping you safe. I don't know how much more of these shenanigans my heart can take."

Prin thought about the pictures and Jenny Ward. "Me either, My Butter."

My Butter watched her as she finished loading the dishwasher and sat down next to her at the table with the last of her tea. "You okay, Prin? You're walking a little stiff."

Prin fumbled with the tea cup, almost spilling it. She did not want to tell My Butter just how she had gotten sore. She couldn't imagine a more awkward moment then telling the woman who was the closest thing to a mother she had that she was sleeping with her son. "Just sore. I took a fall down at the creek."

My Butter laughed. "Still playing out in the woods? Girl, when are you ever going to grow up?"

Blanche studied Prin as they drove into Charlotte. The air conditioned hummed almost silently from the vents as the Jaguar ate up the highway. She was glowing, her thick hair pulled back into a neat bun, her skin shining. She had known Prin all her life, went to the hospital when she was born because a baby was always a miracle, especially one born out of wedlock by the daughter of her husband's best friend.

Even as a newborn, she was lovely, had a head full of black hair, and brown eyes in a perfect little face. She had just had Sean, was praying that he was a girl, and as she had held Prin in the hospital some of that disappointment eased. She loved that child, from the moment she held her, and she had loved her mother, Juliet.

She had met Aiden up North, when he was on a business trip in Philadelphia, fell in love, married, and moved down to North Carolina with him. She was wary of the South, remembered watching the sit ins, the dogs, and the hatred on the television as a little girl.

Her parents didn't want her to marry him. They had to sneak down to City Hall to do it. Her parents were third generation liberals, communist party cardholders, and she was used to all kinds of people – black, white, Latino, Asian – sitting down to dinner at her parent's house. She was even suspicious of Aiden at first, waited to see if after they were back in his home town he would turn into a caricature of the good old southern boy.

She kept money hidden a way for a train ticket, just in case. But Aiden wasn't like that at all. He took everyone on their own merit. The first week they were home, he invited his best friend over. Jim and Juliet walked through the door. Juliet was the still in school and, lord, was she spoiled. Jim let her do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. But she was charming and sweet, just liked her own way and had more heart than sense.

Blanche was the only one who wasn't surprised when she turned up pregnant at seventeen, by a married man to boot. She thought that Jim and Aiden were going to kill that boy, but Juliet always got her way. And she got him, took him from his wife and baby. Blanche knew Juliet loved him, but knew love didn't right any and all wrongs. Jim didn't speak to Juliet the whole time she was carrying Prin, just came over the house at night after work to get drunk with Aiden.

Cried in Blanche's arms, "I raised her to be decent, Blanche."

And her heart had broke. She was a mother by then and she tried to reassure him, "She still is decent. Listen to me, Jim, children wouldn't be children if they didn't break our hearts."

Then it had slipped out, what she knew was killing him. "But a married man?"

She had known it was coming, it was the South after all, a changing South, but still the South. "Jim, you got a grandbaby coming and she's yours regardless of who her Daddy is."

Jim didn't talk to Juliet until they had all went up to the hospital to see Prin. There was simply no way to stay angry at a perfect miracle, no way at all.

And then Juliet had been murdered. Never found out who did it, and they all had been left to raise Prin. Jim was an only child, his people came up from Florida and she and Aiden were the only kin he had, and they had stepped in the way kin would those horrible years after Juliet's death.

She still remembered Jim's heavy drinking, Prin's nightmares, the trips back and forth to the child psychologist. It was an awful time, and she was thankful Prin got through it with less scars than most, thankful she didn't remember anything. Prayed that she never would.

Prin was now sleeping in the passenger seat next to her, her head pressed against the glass, her light dress slipping down her shoulders so Blanche saw the marks riding along her flesh, marks left by a lover.

Her first reaction was to laugh – no wonder the child was glowing, no wonder she was stiff.

And then, like all mothers, she worried. Prin was a woman grown, she knew, but not hard or tough. She was protected, cuddled. They all had kept her soft, especially after Juliet. She used to make her boys go out back and find a switch when they did something wrong, a trick she learned from Southern women. Going to get the switch was worse than the spanking that followed. She had never laid a hand on Prin, maybe because she was a girl, but mostly because she was so sweet and funny and seemed so fragile that it never occurred to her.

She went so quickly from playing with dolls to being chased by boys and men, and Blanche knew that men weren't always kind. And now she was alarmed, imagining Prin with even more heartbreak than she was already struggling to get out from under, crying over some fool not good enough for her. She knew Prin was on the pill, had taken her to her own mid wife when she was sixteen despite her objections.

And Prin had protested all the way to the midwife's office, "My Butter, I am not having sex."

Her own mother had given her condoms when she was sixteen, before the pill became widely available, just in case. Blanche did something she'd never thought she'd do. She repeated her mother's logic. "This is just in case. Besides, it'll help regulate your periods."

Blanche had seen Prin pop her pill this morning, right before they left the house. But condoms? Was she using condoms? The thought of H.I.V terrified her. In this day and age getting pregnant out of wedlock was not the worse that could happen. She thought long and hard on the drive to the restaurant, woke Prin up when she pulled into the parking lot of her favorite Italian restaurant.

Prin smiled at her, slow and sweet, dreamy, not quite fully awake. Blanche watched her and paled. Not only was she having sex regularly, but it seemed the girl thought she was in love.

Prin came fully awake when she noticed the paleness of her face. "What's wrong, My Butter? You feel all right?"

She gathered herself and smiled. "Fine, honey. Let's go on in and eat now. You hungry?"

"Starving."

They headed into the restaurant, and were seated immediately. Blanche was patient while the waiter took their orders. She didn't start on Prin until she had a Bloody Mary in front of her. She needed a stiff drink.

"Okay, we're all alone now and here's where you catch me up on everything you been doing since I saw you last. Last I saw Jim he told me you were out on a date, let's start there. How was it?"

Blanche knew she was far from subtle, but the thought of H.I.V, of babies spurred her on. "It was okay. It wasn't a date. Keith broke up with me after Charlotte. It was more a kind of check in to see if I had went straight crazy. He's nice." Prin frowned. "Now that I think about it, he might have been trying to put another bid in."

"Handsome?"

"He's easy on the eyes, My Butter."

"What does he do?"

"He teaches law at Duke, and just opened his own practice."

At least he would be able to feed her, give her the life she deserved. "Good. I like a man with ambition. You all serious?"

Prin laughed. "My Butter, you have selective hearing. He broke up with me. We used to be. Right now we're just good friends."

Obviously, they weren't too broken up if the marks on Prin's skin were anything to go by. Blanche felt herself relaxing. So this was the man. He taught law. At Duke. Surely he was bright, surely he was not diseased, surely he knew enough to use condoms.

Just then Luanne Stiller walked over to the table. Blanche sighed deep in her throat. She could barely stand Luanne Stiller, knew she was cheap, knew she was seeing her son. She didn't feel any sympathy for Gabe; he should have had more sense.

"Why, Mrs. Conner, it's so nice to see you. And nice to see you again, too, Prin."

Blanche smiled politely. "How you been, Luanne?"

Prin didn't speak at all, and Luanne lifted an eyebrow and smiled viciously. "Did Prin tell you me and Gabe saw her out some nights ago? She was with some gorgeous man, looked like he wanted to swallow her whole. What was that man's name honey? I might need to look him up now that Gabe doesn't seem to be available."

Blanche knew she was missing something, looked back and forth between the two women, trying to figure out what was going on.

Prin smiled at Luanne sweetly. "I would Luanne, but don't you think you're a little old for him?"

Blanche was impressed. She was nothing but proud that Prin had claws and knew how to use them.

Luanne turned an unappetizing shade of red, and as always Blanche's first instinct was to protect, step in. "Luanne, it was nice seeing you, but we're about to have lunch...."

Luanne never took her eyes off of Prin. "Did Gabe go to you after he left me, Prin?"

Blanche felt her world tilt.

Prin shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what you're talking about, Luanne. But I'll think about getting Keith's number to you."

Luanne moved closer to their table, hissed. "You do know what I'm talking about. Did he hurt you? You know he likes to hurt his women. Tell you what, you call me and I can tell you everything you need to know about Gabe. But maybe you don't need my advice, maybe you're just like your mama, huh?"

Blanche was stunned quiet, a rarity for her. Before she could react, Prin was on her feet, her hand raised, slapping Luanne for all she was worth.

There was a dead silence in the restaurant. Luanne stood immobile with her hand on her cheek. Prin grabbed her purse and left.

Blanche stood and finished her drink in one big gulp. She wanted to order another for the road. Luanne still stood there and Blanche looked at her like she was less than a piece of shit. "Luanne Stiller, if you ever talk to me or mine like that again I will run you down in the street and gut you. Hear me?" She left the restaurant and went to the car.

Prin was sitting on a bench, waiting for her. Blanche sat down next to her, and reached for her hand. "I knew it was somebody. I knew it when I looked at you this morning. Tell me, baby, is it true? Is it Gabe?"

Prin stared down at their combined hands, and when she looked up at Blanche there were tears in her eyes. "I love him, My Butter. I love him. I always have."

Blanche pulled her into her arms, this child that she loved like she was her own flesh, the daughter that she never had, and she fought down the rage. How had she missed this? Or was it that she just didn't want to see it? "Let's go. We're going to find another restaurant and we're going to eat and then shop."

She handed Prin some tissue in from her purse. Prin took it and wiped her face. "You angry with me?"

"Not with you, baby. Not with you." But Gabe better pray she didn't catch up with him.

Chapter Sixteen

Gabe sat out in his backyard, looked at all the pretty flowers his landscaper had planted, watched the butterflies and birds play. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels on the ground next to him. He didn't bother with a glass. He had started drinking as soon as he got up this morning. He wanted to do nothing more than go to Prin's house, drag her out of bed and have at her some more. She was every fantasy that haunted him for long years, but she was more than that. She was his heart.

She was woven into the very fabric of his life. There was no way for him to pull his heart of his chest, and God help him, he didn't want to.

Mr. Jim was going to beat him down, but Gabe knew he had to tell him. He was too damn old to be sneaking around, and he wanted everyone to know he marked her, wanted everyone to know that she belonged to him. He would just have to take his ass whipping when it came.

He heard a car pull up out front. It was late afternoon, but the heat had yet to break. He took another pull from the bottle of Jack as he listened to the car door slam and heard heels clicking on the walkway leading to the back of the house. He opened his eyes to see Mama walking to him, her lips compressed, her face red, and he had enough sense to stumble out of his chair, knocking over the bottle of liquor.

She didn't say a word, just let her hand fly, her palm connecting sharply with his face.

"Gabriel John Conner! You filthy son-of-a-bitch!"

The slap stung, but he was drunk enough to be amused. "Mama, that's not the insult you want to use here."

She hit him again, this time upside the back of his head. Then she stepped back and regarded him with utter contempt. "I have never been so ashamed of you in all my life, Gabe. I didn't know that I could be this ashamed of you."

That hurt much more than the slap, and he felt like he was a boy again and she was sending him outside to find a damn switch.

She was so furious she was crying. "How could you, Gabe? How could you? You know I consider that girl my child. You couldn't go and sleep with somebody else? You had to have her?"

There was nothing he could say, he had been berating himself all day, it was nice to let someone else take over.

"She is twenty four years old. You're thirty four. I would think you'd have the good sense to stay away from any twenty something year old, but her? And, of course, she thinks she's in love with you. Of course, she does. I could kill you, Gabe. If you weren't my child, I'd swear I'd have a gun pressed to your head. Good Lord, Jim will kill, you know that, don't you?"

"I know it."

She was standing in front of him, holding his face in her hands. "Just tell me how you could do that to her, to me, to all of us?"

She was looking at him like she used to when he was a child and had been caught in a lie, begging him to tell the truth, to somehow explain. "I tried not to..."

"Don't give me that, Gabe. You're a man grown. You didn't try hard enough."

"I couldn't stay away. I just couldn't."

Mama's eyes widen. "You love her?"

"You know I do, Mama. I wouldn't have touched her if it was just lust. She means too much to me for that. She means too much to all us."

"It was Luanne who said something. Me and Prin saw her in Charlotte this afternoon. She said you liked hurting women, Gabe. Are you hurting, Prin?"

His face flamed, but there was no way he would discuss sex with his mother. "Mama, no, I'm not hurting her. I don't do anything that she doesn't want. You know I wouldn't hurt her. You know it."

She let out the breath she was holding. "I didn't think so, but the way Luanne said it..."

"Mama, you never liked Luanne."

She laughed, almost against her will. "Now can you see why? Gabe, what are you going to do? How are you going to make this right?"

Her hands fell from his face, and she stepped back, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands.

"I love her, Mama. I want to marry her, have babies, the whole nine yards."

"My God, Gabe, she's in her twenties. Women don't get married any more that young. They just don't."

"I'll wait on her."

She took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. It's not as bad as I thought, still a mess, but not as bad. You love her, she loves you... Maybe... Gabe, you need to go over there and tell Jim right now. Tell him right now and remind him that you're my child and the child of his best friend. Beg him not to hurt you."

She was laughing, still worried, but laughing. He knew that they were okay, knew that she was on his side, like she had always been.

Gabe was sitting on the porch when Mr. Jim and Dozer came home. Mr. Jim smiled at him as he made his way up the steps, leaned his fishing pool against the side of the house. "Hey, boy."

"Hey, Mr. Jim."

Mr. Jim wasn't surprised to see him. It was Mr. Jim who helped him grow into a man, Mr. Jim who picked up the slack during his teenage years when he and his father were barely speaking. He used to come and sit on Mr. Jim's porch, sipping coke while Mr. Jim sipped at a beer. Sometimes he talked, told Mr. Jim what was bothering him, but mostly he listened.

Gabe studied him. He was getting older, the same way Daddy was getting older, his hair graying, his steps a little slower.

Mr. Jim reached down to give Dozer a firm pat to his side and then straightened to smile at Gabe. "Give me a minute to put these fish in the freezer. You want a beer?"

"Yes, sir."

"Be right back."

He waited, staring out into the night. His palms were sweating, his shirt stuck to his back and chest. Dozer stared up at him with big, brown eyes. "Do your job, Dozer. Don't let him kill me." Dozer closed his eyes and settled in for a nice, long lap.

Mr. Jim came back out carrying two beers, handed him one, and sat in the chair next to him. "Prin's not home yet." It was a lazy comment to fill the night silence.

"No. She's still with Mama."

They drink their beer while Dozer snored at their feet. Mr. Jim reached over and turned on the small radio he kept on the porch. Billie Holiday's voice came wailing out. Gabe clenched his jaw because this was all so familiar, all so crucial to his life. He hoped to God he wasn't about to ruin this. He hoped to God Mr. Jim forgave him, or at least understood.

He cleared his throat, took another sip of beer, cleared his throat again.

Mr. Jim laughed. "Gabe, you going choke if you don't spit it out."

"I started seeing someone." That seemed like the easiest place to begin.

Mr. Jim laughed again. "From what I hear, you see a whole lot of women."

"Yeah, but this is different. She's different."

Mr. Jim nodded his head. "It sounds like you at your one shining moment with a woman."

"My what?"

"Your one shining moment. Some men don't get that moment ever, but the lucky do. It's when you know that the woman is your beginning and end, your alpha and omega. That's where you at?"

"Yes, sir. That's where I'm at."

"All I can say then is, don't fuck it up."

"I'm trying not to."

"You're a man, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then, of course, you won't fuck it up."

"Can I tell you about her?"

"If you at your one shining moment I don't see how I could stop you. You should have heard me when I was a young man courting my wife, God rest her soul. I couldn't shut up. Shit, you should have heard your father ranting about your mother."

"She's beautiful."

"Knowing you, I'm sure she is. What she look like then? Who're her people?"

"You, sir. You're her people."

"Say that again?"

"It's Prin."

Everything around them grew silent. Gabe could hear the slow in and out of his breath.

"You touch her?"

"Yes, sir."

He expected the blow, but was still surprised when it came with enough force to knock him out of his chair. Dozer scrambled to get out his way, and then went and settled himself at the far end of the porch. He was snoring as soon as his eyes closed. Gabe eyed him in disgust. He felt his eye throb, knew it would be black by tomorrow. He didn't make a sound, just picked himself up and sat back down in the chair, and waited for the next blow.

"Get off my porch."

He steeled himself. "No, sir."

He was ready this time, and stayed in his chair when Mr. Jim's fist pounded into his face. Mr. Jim got up from the porch, and went inside, slamming the screen door behind him. He was still sitting on the porch an hour later when Mama pulled up with Prin.

Mama kissed the bruise on his eye tenderly. "You need to fix this, Gabe."

She got in her car and went home. Prin just stared at him. Dozer rushed to his feet and licked any part of Prin his tongue could reach.

Gabe wasn't quite ready to forgive him. "Now you want to get up."

Prin made Dozer sit before she asked, "What are you doing, Gabe?"

"Telling Mr. Jim about us."

Her fingers traced the swelling at his eye, the bruise blooming along his cheek. "He did this, baby?"

And her lips were against his bruised flesh. As scared as he was that Mr. Jim was never going to speak to him again and disown Prin all he could think about was touching her. "It's what I deserve."

She kissed him, her lips sweet against his. "I love you, Gabe."

"I know you do. Go on in the house now before Mr. Jim comes out here with a shot gun"

"I wouldn't let him hurt you."

"Baby, you wouldn't be able to stop him. He's pissed off. Go on in the house and stay out of his way until it's settled between us."

"He won't hurt me, Gabe. He loves me, just like he loves you. I'm going to go on in and talk to him, see if I can calm him down. How long you going sit out here?"

"As long as it takes."

Prin went looking for Poppop, and found him upstairs in his bedroom, sitting in the dark, the stereo by the side of his bed playing Bessie Smith real low. He was in his favorite easy chair, feet perched up on the window, head back and eyes closed. She went to him, and sat at his feet.

She was quiet, rested her head on his knee, waited for him to speak. It took a long while, and she closed her eyes as Bessie Smith's voice filled the humid night, wrapped around both of them.

Finally, his hand touched her hair. "You know, I didn't speak to your mama after she got with your daddy. I was ashamed he was married. And you know it hurt, it hurt something fierce that she didn't pick someone like me. I'd never leave my wife or abandon my baby. For anything or anyone."

She knew her mama had broken his heart in all kinds of ways, knew that this was about her as well. "Poppop, Gabe is like you. I wouldn't have picked him if he wasn't. He's good and decent, loves his family, full of fun. You never let me go in want a day in my life, never let me go in need, always loved me unconditionally. Poppop, I know he loves me the exact same way. He's just like you. He is strong and capable, a man I can lean on. I love him because he's just like you."

Poppop sighed long and deep, the sound swallowing Bessie Smith's voice. "I know he's a good man, I know it."

"Poppop, my mama loved my daddy, and she loved me. We were happy in our little house. I don't think I can be happy without him, Poppop."

He laughed at her earnestness. "You're so young..."

"I've always loved him, even when I was dating other people. I was waiting for him to notice me. I knew all I had to do was wait on him."

"What do you want me to say, Prin? What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me its okay. Tell me you love and trust me enough to let me make my own choices."

He pulled her up into his arms, and she curled into his lap, the way she had when she was a little girl and sat with him late in the night listening to the Blues.

"I love you, sweetheart. If he hurts you, I'll kill him"

She smiled against his chest - she had won. "I know you will, Poppop."

"Gabe still sitting out on the porch?"

"Yes. He's waiting on you."

"I guess I better go and see about him then."

Gabe heard the porch door slam. Mr. Jim sat down beside him, handed him a bag of ice. He took it from him and pressed it gingerly to the swelling on his face. "Thank you."

"Finish what you need to say."

Gabe knew that the worse was over. "Not much, sir. Like you said, she's my one shining moment. My alpha and omega. I love her. You know I've always loved."

"You're talking marriage?"

"If she'll have me. I don't want to go down that road too early and scare her off."

"How long this been going on, Gabe?"

"I don't know. I've wanted her for a long time."

"Let me ask the question a different way then, how long you been touching her?"

"Just since she's been home this summer."

"Jesus, she hasn't been home more than two months. You crowding her?"

"No, sir. It just... No, sir."

"We need to lay down some ground rules here, Gabe."

"Yes, sir."

"I know she's grown, but she's living under my roof. You will respect my house."

He was a grown man and his whole family was trying to dictate his sex life. But he knew that this was going to happen, especially at first. "Yes, sir."

"I love you, boy. I love you like a son. But you know it you fuck this up, if you so much as harm a hair on her head, I'll kill you."

Mr. Jim was smiling, he meant every word, but he was smiling.

Gabe grinned. "I know it. I won't fuck up."

Chapter Seventeen

Prin was beside Gabe, the sun roof was down, and his SUV moved easy down the empty highway. Her skirt was gathered around her legs, her hands folded in her lap, and he simply could not stop touching her. He loosened the knot at the back of her head, ran his fingers through her hair as it fell down her back and over her shoulders. His entire face hurt, but Mr. Jim hadn't killed him, and Prin was sitting next to him.

Dozer sat happily in the backseat with his head hanging out the window. He and Gabe had long since kissed and made up. Besides, where Prin went, Dozer went unless Auntie Annie Rose was babysitting.

She turned her head to kiss his palm. "You know you're going have to take me home later on."

"I know it."

"Where are we going?"

"You care?"

"Not really. Just curious."

"My place where I am going to do things that are illegal in most states to you."

She smiled at him, but there was the slightest hesitation and he felt his cock harden in his jeans. He pulled into the driveway, walked around the car and opened her door.

She stayed in the car, staring up at him with huge, dark eyes. "What are you going to do to me, Gabe?"

There was real worry, but also anticipation. He knew when he touched her, she'd be hot and humid. "Nothing you don't want, Prin. Nothing you don't want."

She chewed at her lower lip, and let him help her out the car. They walked to the house, his hand at her lower back, moving lower to mold her hips. Dozer hopped out the car and followed them into the house, finding his customary spot before the fireplace.

The house was dark, and he didn't bother with lights, just led her upstairs to his bedroom. She climbed the stairs in front of him and he heard her breath quicken and deepen.

He led her to the center of the room. "Stand right here for me. I want you to give over to me. I want you to be mine."

She stood, her body trembling, as he turned on the lights. He undressed her slowly, taking his time with the buttons at the front of her dress, sliding it to her feet so that she could step out of it. Her panties and bra were white lace, beautiful against her skin. He unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor, slid her panties down until she was able to step out of them.

Then he moved away. She was slender, only the fullness of her hips and breasts hinting that she was a woman grown, and there was something incredibly moving about her vulnerability, incredibly erotic. She brought out the instinct to protect and, even though he fought against it, to dominate.

But she was his. He had claimed her in the face of his own guilt, Mama and Daddy's disappointment, Mr. Jim's rage. He had to see how far he could push her, how far she would let him go. He knew that this might be the beginning and the end for them. But he had to know her limitations. He had to know his own.

He kissed her, tongue stroking softly at her lips, mouth sucking slow at her tongue, and whispered, "I love you. Prin."

She melted against him, and he knew in that moment that he could do whatever he wanted. He pulled away from her. "Don't move."

He measured her nervousness, but he also measured her excitement. She stayed absolutely still as he moved away from her. She tried to turn her head to see what he was doing. "I said, don't move."

She stilled even more, if possible, the sound of her breathing harsh in the room. He got out the ropes and blindfold from the nightstand at the side of his bed, moved back to her until he was behind her, his clothed body pressing against her tender flesh. He raised his hands to blindfold her, careful of her long hair.

She tried to move away. "Gabe, I..."

He tapped her ass. "Hush"

He heard her breath break, heard her try to swallow, the sound delicious. He tied the blindfold, and let his hands roam over her flawless skin, smooth and sweet with amber, down to tender flesh between her legs. She was wet, slippery and engorged. She moaned and relaxed completely against him, her head falling to one side. He could not resist the temptation of her neck, and peppered it with slow, open mouth kisses. "You want this, Prin. You want this."

He tied her hands behind her, so that they rested on her ass, tight enough to pull her shoulders back, but not tight enough to hurt her. He walked until he was facing her. Her breasts were thrust forward, and her face was radiant, her lips pliant and soft.

He bent his head to her tight nipples, heard her moan, suckled her gently, and then nipped sharply. She cried out with surprised pleasure and he gentled again. He moved back and forth between her breasts, alternating the pressure of his mouth and teeth until she was writhing against him, trying to keep any part of her body in contact with him.

He pulled away. He calmed her with long stroked of his hands up and down her sides, over her back and ass. He pulled her into the shelter of his body, cradling her, matching his breath to hers. He lifted her slight weight against him, and carried her to bed. He sat and positioned her across his thighs.

He bent and kissed the rounded globes of her ass. "I told you not to move." His hand coming down on her flesh startled her. She stilled and then moaned and relaxed. He spanked her fast, his hand connecting loudly, reddening her flesh.

Finally he stopped and she lay on his lap trembling, gasping, choking on her excitement. His fingers found the tender flesh between her legs, and she spread wide for him.

His thumb rotated against her, as he pressed two fingers into her. She pushed hard against his hand, riding his fingers. When she was close to climax, he gentled, teasing her, holding off.

She whispered, "Please, Gabe."

He tapped her ass, startling her. "Hush."

She broke, her excitement moving to anxiety.

He gentled again. "It's okay, sweetheart. I got you. Let me show you how good this can be."

She quieted, tried to still her hips, but couldn't manage it. He placed her on the bed on her stomach. She hid her face from him in the pillow, her body slick with sweat, her ass a lovely bright red, her thighs closed tight.

"Open your legs for me. Let me look at you."

She opened her legs as he moved from the bed and undressed. At his command, she seemed to relax, instinctively looking to him for guidance. He kneeled on the bed at her hips and spread her legs wider. She was beautiful, her outer lips swollen and bare, her inner lips sweet and wet. He helped her to her knees, lifting her ass high in the air. He buried his face in her, drunk on her.

He nibbled gently at her, drove his tongue into her, felt her clench around him, and his face soaked with her. He moved away when she became frantic. "Not yet, not yet."

He placed two fingers inside her. She moaned, trying to muffle the sound in the bed. He let his free hand land against her ass. "Hush."

She whimpered. He placed three fingers inside her, loving her tightness. Her hips pushed back against him, and her hips rotated.

He kissed her neck. "Relax, just relax and take it." Her body loosened with each thrust, until she lay fully open to him.

"I want you to come for me, now." He picked up the pace, felt her legs tense, and she clamped hard around his fingers with a low keening moan.

He pulled his fingers from her in a long slow, caress, and mounted her. He rode her nice and easy, luxuriating in the welcoming heat of her body, the softness of her skin, the way she moved beneath him, the scent of warm woman and amber. He tried to hold off the most incredible climax of his life, feeling his cock swell impossibly.

The growl started deep inside his chest. He cradled her head, his fingers tangling in her curls, trying to get as deep as he could. But he couldn't fight it anymore. It was too good. He loved her too much. And he buried himself in her and came and came until his body shuddered and he collapsed against her, burying his face in her hair, drowning in her scent, at long last home.

He untied her arms, massaged her wrists. He turned her over to her back. She lay limp, a small smile on her face, utterly replete. He untied her blindfold. Her eyes were wet, her lips swollen from his kisses. She gazed up at him with big, dark eyes. She was absolutely beautiful, and she was his.

He kissed her, licking gently at her lips, her tongue, feeling her breath catch in her throat. He stroked her damp hair away from her face, and let his fingers linger on the smooth skin of her cheeks. "Okay?"

"Yes."

"I hurt you?"

"Not at all."

"Scare you?"

"A little."

"But you wanted it?"

"Yes. I loved it. I love you."

He lay down beside her, pulled her into his arms, so that she was sprawled across his chest. Her face was soft and full, no lines of tension or stress, and her skin glowed like a newborn. Her hands continued to move over him like she couldn't stop herself from touching him. They were like a benediction on his flesh. They gave him blessed peace.

For Gabe, the best thing about watching a scary movie with a pretty girl was when she grabbed on tight at the first hint of blood. Trust Prin to be contrary. She didn't grab and hold on tight. She buried herself beneath covers and pillows and hunkered down until she was almost at the foot of the bed. He tried to pry her from underneath the covers as zombies tore into the living and howled with pleasure.

"Prin, come out now."

"Did they get the girl?"

Gabe glanced at the television. The zombies were making a four course meal of the girl. The more they feasted, the harder it was to tell just who or even what they were devouring. "She got clean away, Prin. Now, come on out from under there. Let me hold you."

She came out and crawled into his lap reluctantly. "I know you're lying, Gabe. Nobody ever gets away from zombies. It makes no sense especially when you consider that they walk like a mile an hour. I've never even seen a zombie run. You?"

He held her tight and kissed her hair. "Nope. Never saw one jog let alone run. Their strength is in sheer numbers. They just keep coming and coming."

Prin sneaked a peak at the television. The zombies were finished with the girl, and had moved on to her friend. They were making their way slowly but surely through the entire town. Prin squealed and buried her head in his chest when zombies tore into their victim's arm. Her arms around his neck almost cut off his air, and Gabe adjusted until he could breathe again. But he didn't pry her loose. He wrapped his big body around her, loving the feel of her against him, loving the sheer simplicity of the moment.

"You want anything else from downstairs?" He had popped popcorn and made ice cream sodas like he was some lovesick teenage boy which wasn't too far from the truth.

"I'm good." Her full lips gleamed with the butter from the popcorn. He couldn't resist a taste. He fitted his mouth carefully to hers. She tilted her head in surrender and offered him a breathy sigh.

A woman, despite the sheer inevitability of her death, screamed in horror from the television, and Prin jumped in his arms. Her forehead connected with his chin, and his head slammed back.

She immediately grabbed his face with both hands, adding injury to insult. "Oh, sweetie, I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

He was quick to reassure her before she did even more harm. "I'm fine." He settled her back in his lap and reached for the remote. T.V time was officially over for them.

Prin grabbed his hand. "What are you doing?"

"Turning this off before you give me a shiner."

She grabbed for the remote, and he held it high over her head. "But I want to see the end, Gabe."

He snorted. "You haven't watched any of it, Prin. You've been too busy hiding beneath the covers. Light weight." But he left the movie on because she asked and he would do anything for her. Finishing a cheesy zombie movie was a small thing.

She took a deep breath and valiantly turned to the television. He squeezed her tight. "There's my brave girl."

She punched him in the shoulder and he laughed. "I can do without the sarcasm, Gabe. What's your emergency plan for zombies?"

"Say that again, sweetheart."

"What's your emergency plan for zombies?"

He laughed at her sheer craziness. "I wasn't aware I needed one."

She let loose a long suffering sigh. "Gabe, if zombies suddenly took over the Earth, what would you do? Where would you go? And before you answer, you should know I expect to be included in your plans."

"Prin, you think that I would leave you and let zombies get at you?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "You'd better not, Gabe. I'd haunt you from the grave or, because zombies don't die they just multiply, turn you into a zombie. We can be dead happily ever after."

"You have a sick, sick mind, Prin."

She snuggled deeper into his lap and let loose a loud yawn. "You better work on that zombie plan."

He turned off the television and bedside lamp and eased them down into the bed. "Don't worry. I got you."

Gabe woke to hands at his back, soft fingers against his skin. Prin's voice was in his ear, as soft as her fingers against his flesh, as giving as the small body that supported his weight. "It's okay, Gabe. It's okay. Hush now. Nothing but a dream."

It was more than that, it was his life; it was the boy he had been, the man that he was. He tried to pray it away, tried to rise above it, tried to stop it when he saw it in others but it remained in him, the thorn in his flesh, the horror and necessity of war.

Still she held him, talked to him. "The things that I've done, Prin."

Her fingers stilled altogether, and then he felt the weight of her arms around him, enclosing him. "I know who you are, Gabe. I've always known who you are. And there's not a man living I admire more."

She shifted beneath him, brought his head to her breasts. He rested against her, her heat rising to warm him, jumping from her flesh to his.

After the kill, he fantasized about her almost constantly. Fantasized about touching her, taking her, hurting her, swallowing her groans of terror.

Oh yes, he wanted to eat her up.

He had waited twelve years, twelve long years watching her body mature and ripen, wondering if she dreamed about him at night the way that he dreamed about her.

He knew that she didn't remember that night, but he also knew how powerful the subconscious was, how some things remained buried beneath the skin forever and ever.

When he touched her, she would know.

For now he enjoyed just the sight of her. The way she filled out the summer dresses that she was so fond of, the way that her black curls fell down her back.

Her skin got darker in the summer sun, and he loved that most of all.

The darker she got the more she resembled her mother.

Her legs were long, despite the smallness of her frame. She was graceful when she walked, her long strides elegant.

And she was his.

Always his.

Her voice was pure seduction – the heavy accent, the deep timber, the slight hesitancy as she considered her words.

Where her mother had been impetuous, she was patient; where her mother had been callous, she was kind.

He wondered if she possessed the same core of steel as her mother, if she could love in the face of harsh disapproval, if she could tell the entire world to go to hell.

He hoped that she did, he hoped that the apple did not fall too far from the tree.

He would enjoy breaking her.

He knew that she was almost ready for him, knew that she was almost ripe.

It was the kind of summer in North Carolina where everything grew lush, became fragrant and rotten too soon.

She smelled like the flowers, like the dirt and the earth, irresistible in her readiness. And he was thankful that he was a patient man, thankful that he had not rushed in years ago, before she was ready.

He wondered if anyone had touched her yet, if anyone had tried to claim what belonged to him.

He would have to make her suffer even more if that were the case.

He would make her pay for it, but, hell, she'd pay regardless.

The plan was forming. It was beautiful in its simplicity. He would go in and take her. Just take her, lift her from her bed, and carry her out the house.

She thought she was safe. Everyone who hovered around her as a child, keeping all the bad things away, keeping him away, thought she was safe.

It would be so easy, and once he had her, they'd never find her.

They'd look, and he'd enjoy that too. He'd enjoy watching their anger and worry, enjoy their desperation, and finally their hopelessness.

But the time was not yet ripe.

The air was not yet full with the smell of rot.

But soon.

Real soon.

Before the summer was over, before the cool winds of fall, he'd take her.

Chapter Eighteen

The Connor's house was bright with lights, and the gardens My Butter tended so lovingly were lush with summer, the fragrance heady in the humid night air. It was a catered event, and waiters in full uniforms moved noiselessly between the guests, carrying drinks and appetizers. Almost everyone in Kingstree was invited, and Prin smiled at them all as Gabe escorted her around, his hand at her waist. Kingstree was used to her with Gabe, so it took a moment for the new nature of their relationship to sink in.

When it did, Prin watched as folks eyes widened with curiosity and speculation. She didn't care. It was the nature of small towns to feed on gossip.

John Wayne chased Annie Rose across the room and Ellie sat quiet and bruised in the corner. Prin excused herself and went to gather her troops. She went to Annie Rose first because she seemed dazed in the face of John Wayne's sheer bulk and on the verge of flat out panic. Annie Rose spotted her and shot her a smile of desperation.

Prin drew Annie Rose close and faced John Wayne. "Hey, John Wayne. What are you up to?"

John Wayne didn't miss the protective gesture or her suspicious frown. He didn't miss anything. "Hey, yourself, Prin. I'm just trying to get a pretty girl to come dance with me." He smiled sweetly at Annie Rose and Annie Rose paled.

For all Annie Rose's drama, she was still a woman whose last boyfriend habitually treated her like a punching bag. Prin knew there was no way John Wayne in hot pursuit didn't terrify her. "Annie Rose and I were just about to get some drinks, John Wayne. As a general rule, we don't dance without a buzz."

Prin got Annie Rose away from John Wayne like the dogs of hell were nipping at their heels. She held tight to Annie Rose's hand until they were on the other side of the room with Ellie. Ellie stood up when she saw Annie Rose's shell shocked face. "Annie Rose, you okay, honey?"

Annie Rose was still pale and near tears. "What is wrong with me? I stayed with a man who got off on beating my ass for over a year and John Wayne asking me to dance made me want to curl into a ball in the middle of the floor. I hate that bastard for what he did to me. I should have let you bring Poppop's gun to New York, Prin."

Ellie was at her best when she had something to do and someone to take care of. "It's enough to make you want to shoot them all dead and be done with it. I'm going to get us some drinks, and find you some tissue. You stay right here with Prin."

Prin waited until Ellie returned with drinks and left Annie Rose in her capable hands. Gabe was engrossed in a conversation with Darnell Johnson, the high school football coach, and she slipped away to find Poppop. He was standing with Mr. Aiden at the very edges of the garden, outside of the realm of lights just where the woods began.

Both men were smoking cigars, and she sighed as she snuck up on them, her high heeled sandals muffled in the grass. "Smoking will kill you in a couple of years."

They answered in unison, their responses long since memorized. "You got to die from something."

She frowned at them, holding back the smile. "What are you all doing back here?"

Mr. Aiden frowned at the house. "Enjoying the quiet."

Poppop took a long drag from his cigar, turning the end a violent red. "You know the drill, sweetheart. Same old people, same old shit."

Mr. Aiden took a last drag from his cigar, let it fall to the grass, and crushed it carefully beneath his feet. "Amen to that, Jim. Amen to that."

Poppop pulled her close, until she was leaning into his side. She breathed him in, the smell of cigars, aftershave, and rum. "You're having a good time, though?"

She smiled at his concern. He was always worried about her although less so now that she was with Gabe. "You know I am."

"You and Gabe just get here?"

"Not too long. I wanted to see about you."

Poppop tugged at her hair. "Nothing to see. I'm a man grown, Prin. Long since grown. You got to go on out and live your own life now. I understand that. I might not always agree with it, I might not always like it, but I understand. And Gabe's a good man – I know that, too."

Mr. Aiden smiled sloppily and Prin realized he was drunk. In fact, he was wallowing in it. "Gabe is great, ain't he?"

Poppop snorted. "Don't got nothing to do with you Aiden. It's because he got all of Blanche's good sense."

Mr. Aiden stared thoughtfully out into the black woods. "I hate to admit it, but I know you right." And then he looked at Prin carefully. "He treating you right?"

"Yes, Mr. Aiden. He's good to me."

Mr. Aiden nodded. "That's all I need to know, then."

She stood out there with them, away from the party, listening to their jokes and stories, leaning into Poppop. She was used to this, as a little girl she used to fall asleep on the living room couch comforted by the sound of their voices coming from the front porch and the kitchen.

Gabe eventually came looking for her, close to drunk, his skin flushed. She smiled, knowing that she would have to drive him home. There was no way he could navigate the long stretch of dark road.

"Hey, Daddy, Mr. Jim. Mr. Jim, can I take your best girl?"

Poppop let her go. "You can take her, but understand the value of what you're getting, hear me?"

Gabe took her hand in his, and she went to him, leaving Poppop. "I understand, sir."

Mr. Aiden looked at his watch. "Damn party. When all these people getting the hell out?"

Gabe winked at her and laughed. "Soon, Daddy."

Mr. Aiden ran his hands through his graying hair. "You all be good children and go and get us a bottle."

Prin laughed. "Of what, Mr. Aiden?"

"Honey, you know I drink scotch. Gabe, my ass of a brother still in there running his mouth?"

"Daddy, Uncle Simon don't mean no harm."

Mr. Jim and Poppop laughed loud and long. When Poppop caught his breath, he said "Gabe, that son of a bitch – excuse me Aiden – don't mean nothing but harm. We can't pick our people though."

Mr. Aiden stood up straight, gathered himself, and looked at Gabe and Prin in disappointment. "I remember a time when children used to obey. I'll go and get my own damn bottle."

He stumbled away, and they followed him back into the fray. Poppop was immediately cornered by Dolores Wright. She had been trying to get him to the alter for as long as Prin could remember, but Poppop managed to stand firm.

Ms. Dolores bent to kiss her cheek, and then kissed Gabe's. She looked like an aging Vegas showgirl. Her legs were outrageously long and she showed them off in a frilly skirt and high heeled sandals. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a soft bun to ward off the humidity. "Now how you been, Prin? I haven't seen you since you come home. I'll expect a visit sometime next week. And you, Gabe, you still corrupting women left and right?"

"No, ma'am, Prin's reforming me."

"Well ain't that something... I always knew you had it in you, Prin. You need to show me your tricks so I can do some reforming of my own."

Poppop tried to sneak off and Ms. Dolores halted him in his tracks. "Jim William Washington, don't you dare move a step."

Ms. Dolores was the only person that talked to Poppop in that tone of voice. Prin watched as Poppop stared at Ms. Dolores cautiously.

Ms. Dolores smiled wide. "You children run along now. This is grown folks business."

Prin let Gabe lead her away. "I almost feel sorry for Poppop. Ms. Dolores is a force of nature."

Gabe traced the fading bruise along side his cheek. "Yeah, well, Mr. Jim can take care of himself."

"I don't know, Gabe..."

They went into the house, where it was cooler, central air shooting out from the vents, despite the open doors leading onto the patio and into the backyard. Goosebumps jumped up on skin of her arms and back.

Gabe kissed the side of her neck, felt the raised flesh. "You're cold." He took of his jacket and placed it over her arms.

The house was just as crowded inside, and she knew My Butter was somewhere in the kitchen making sure things went well with the caterer.

Gabe eyed the bar. "I came in to get us drinks. What would you like?"

"Just white wine, Gabe."

He found a corner for her, and then fought his way through the crowd, stopping every other step to speak to somebody.

Prin glanced about the room. The elegance that most of the women walked through the door with was quickly fading to the humidity. Most of the men had taken off their suit jackets and loosened their ties. The string quartet was at the bar belting back shots and blues was belting from the stereo. Most of the clients had made an appearance and gone on home, and now the fun could start. She knew that by the end of the night folks would be dancing, and there'd be a card game going on somewhere in the house.

Gabe's Uncle Simon was making his way toward her. Prin smiled at him politely as he came to a stop in front of her. "How are you, Mr. Simon?"

She didn't know him really. The times he did come to visit when she was growing up he never took an interest in her, rarely spoke to her.

"Fine. How have you been, Prin?"

"Good."

They stood in silence, the party going on all about them. She felt his gaze on her, hot and bright, and she pulled Gabe's jacket tighter about her.

"So, I hear you seeing Gabe?"

His voice was pitched low, and she had to lean in to hear him. "Yes."

"Blanche is walking around like that's something to celebrate."

Prin tensed. She was expecting this at some point, but not here, not from him. "Don't dance around it like that, Mr. Simon. If you have something to say to me, go ahead and say it."

His eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, crowding her into the corner. "You know what your mother was? You know the fruit doesn't fall too far from the tree?"

Prin felt the anger gathering in her belly. All her life she listened to people judge her mama, listened to what they called her. "You don't talk about my mama. You don't say one word about her. You have no right."

"I tell you what. I'll talk about your mama anyway I want to. Sometimes you have to stare it in the face. You have to stare it down so it won't be repeated."

For a moment she was lightheaded. She was raised right, and she knew better than to show an enemy any sign of weakness. "My mama loved me and she loved my father. Anything else is none of your business."

Mr. Simon turned around and ran straight into Gabe. She hadn't even noticed him standing there. He looked like a stranger, dark and hard and menacing. "Uncle Simon if you ever talk to her again, if you ever so much as look like you're thinking about talking to her, I'll tear you apart."

"Now you wait just a minute, Gabe..."

"Uncle Simon, listen to me now. I don't want to embarrass my parents. You need to get your coat and leave."

"This isn't your house, Gabe."

"I thought you were just a lonely man, with no real spite in you. I can see I was wrong. Now get your coat and go on home."

Mr. Simon tried to turn back to Prin, and Gabe grabbed his arm, halting him. "Don't even look at her, Uncle Simon. Just go on ahead and go."

Mr. Simon fought his way through the crowd and out the front door. Prin let her body relax by degrees.

Gabe bent and kissed her forehead, his lips light and cool against her flesh. "You okay?"

Prin's smile fell short. "Been better."

"You want to get out of here?"

"Yeah, I think so. You too drunk to drive?"

"That sobered me up right quick. I'm sorry, Prin."

"You didn't do anything, Gabe."

"You know I love you, want you, would marry you in a heartbeat."

She cocked her head at him, suddenly tired. "Is that a proposal?"

"If you'll have me."

She let herself be pulled into his arms and held close. "I love you, Gabe. But you know Kingstree is a small town with a long memory and there are plenty of people out there that feel that same way your uncle does. Plenty of people."

Gabe held her tighter. "Fuck them, Prin. Fuck them."

When Gabe got her back to his place, he took her upstairs and undressed her slowly. She was so quiet he was worried, hating being shut out. He placed her in the bed, undressed, and climbed in behind her, cradling her small body against his larger one. They were quiet, the darkness wrapping around them, his hand resting over her heart. He measured his breathing to hers, buried his face in her hair.

Prin's breathing was slow and deep, but she was awake, wide awake. He knew from the way her small hand gripped his forearm.

He found the skin of her neck through her hair, kissed the flesh there, his arm tightening around her. She turned to him until she was flush against him, and he could feel her breath, scented with white wine, beating against his chest.

"It's okay, Gabe. It's okay. He didn't really hurt me. I stopped letting people like that hurt me a long time ago."

She was comforting him, her hands running up and down his back, her lips feathering kisses against his chest, and his love for her rose up, and his love for her moved slow and thick through his body.

"Don't think about it, Gabe. Just think about us, just us."

Her mouth was against his, her tongue playing sweetly at his lips. Her delicate hands moved carefully over his body, the lightest of touches. And then her mouth was moving lower, teasing at his belly, until she was taking him into her mouth, slowly easing his flesh past the barrier of her lips and teeth.

She took her time, her mouth tender, not greedy. He gritted his teeth, fought the urge to dominate, forced himself to surrender. He laid still for her, as the hotness of her mouth burned, as her hands moved over him in languid, easy caresses.

The surrender was excruciating, against his very nature, but it made the pleasure, so seductive, unbearable. He moved his hips against her, thrusting slowly in time to the movement of her mouth. He clenched his hands on the sheet, so he would not reach for her and force her to pick up the pace.

He wanted to give her this, what he had never given any woman.

He felt the climax coming from a long way off, felt it coming and tried to hold it back, to stay in the moment, unwillingly to loose the pleasure so soon in a flood of release. When it hit, his entire body tightened, and he moaned long and deep. As her mouth clamped around him, milking him, he realized that he was giving her everything that he was because he loved her enough to trust her with all of it.

And then she was moving up his body, her mouth on his. "Just us, Gabe. Just us. I want you to touch me now. Please, touch me."

He could do nothing else. It was either touch her or die. Her body was utter perfection to him – the silky skin, the abundant curves, the softness, the slenderness that made her look fragile, not the woman he knew she was. He kissed her eyes closed, kissed the elegant line of her cheek, her full mouth.

He lingered on her throat, sucking gently, nipping hard enough to make her writhe against him in pleasure. His hands moved over her breasts, fingers plucking at the tightness of her nipples. He pressed her breasts together and took her nipples into his mouth, lightly tonguing them, listening as she sighed beneath him.

He moved his hand down her stomach, fingers dipping into her navel, and then he was touching the smooth bare skin between her legs, the incomparable loveliness of her. He wanted to turn on the lights, to see her, but didn't want to ruin the intimacy.

Instead he pictured her behind his closed eyes as his fingers teased. The smooth flesh hid skin pink as the inside of seashells. He moved between her legs, inhaled the smell of her, let his tongue move softly over her outer lips, sucked gently on her inner lips, all the while listening to her soft sighs. He spread her legs wide, and draped her thighs over his shoulder. He opened her, exposing her fully, and tongued her in long, slow strokes.

She tried to move her hips, but his arms around her waist held her still. He continued teasing, keeping her on the edge of climax, building it, and building it until her soft sighs turned to moans and her head thrashed back and forth. Her body arched and he continued to lick her, ravenous, drunk on her.

He felt her pulling at his hair. "Come up. I want you inside me."

He thrust into her slowly, riding her with patience, each thrust a separate caress. He pulled away, turned her over, pulled her to her knees, and sank back inside her, keeping the same easy pace.

He woke her up later that night with his hands. Prin didn't get much out of church. She was always falling asleep during the important parts. But even she knew that sodomy was a sin, the entire reason Sodom and Gomorrah were popped like pimples from the face of the earth. But she raised her ass up in the air and burying her face in the pillow. Nothing that felt so good could be sin.

His legs widened her thighs to a point just short of discomfort. His chest and stomach were sticky with sweat against her back, his mouth steaming against her neck. Candles were burning around the room, incense churned in the dim light, and Ben Harper wailed and begged in the background.

In the middle of the night he had transformed her bedroom into a sanctuary, her bed was the pulpit, her body was the alter and the sacrifice like he was a magician or a saint.

His voice carried the confidence and the calm of the priest, his hands bestowed benediction and grace. "It will be so good. I'll make it so good for you."

His hands spread her wide, and he inserted a finger gently inside. She tightened around him. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes wet with pleasure, and her body slammed with lust.

"Yes."

He paused only long enough to get the lube in the drawer of his nightstand to anoint her flesh like she was kneeling before the altar with the glare of the stained glass windows shining down. He prepared her, using two fingers. Then he was sliding into her.

"Just us. Just us."

He pushed past the tightness, and she moaned low. There was pleasure, pain, fullness like he was scraping out her insides, like this was the hidden path to her soul. He halted, giving her body time to adjust. She listened to her own heavy breathing escaping from the pillow where her head was buried, her face hidden. He stroked his hands up the long line of her back, over the roundness of her bottom, opening her wide as he did so.

He eased a little deeper, his skin dripping with sweat. Her breath stuck in her throat, her hips lifted slightly. He did not wait. He held her hips steady until he was seated to the hilt, and then he stilled.

"Okay?"

She pushed back against him, rotating her hips, taking him deeper, and he began to move with long, slow, strokes as her name escaped from his lips like a prayer.

Chapter Nineteen

She had made a fool out of him, letting herself be paraded around like the whore that she was, letting someone else touch her.

She was his. Nobody touched what was his. Nobody touched what he had dreamed about and held close for twelve long years.

He wanted to kill her quick, was almost in danger of robbing himself of the full pleasure that he'd imagined for so long.

He had to calm down, he had to remember that she was his, that there was no way that she could ever escape him.

That, at her end, the only face that she'd see was his.

He hated her now, more than he'd ever hated the mother.

The mother had never really belonged to him. He'd wanted her, but she'd never really been his.

The mother had rejected him, but she had not betrayed him.

Betrayal was the far worse sin.

Betrayal was inexcusable.

He knew that now, knew it from the lump of rage that sat heavy and full in his gut. He was sick with it, and knew that nothing would make it better outside of getting his hands on her.

He hoped, when that time came, that he'd be able to control himself. He hoped that he would not rush the pleasure, and damage her too soon.

He wondered what she allowed him to do to her, how she let him touch her.

She was just like her mother, just like her mother.

Spreading her legs, but not for him, never for him.

That was just fine. He would force those long legs a part, break them in two if he must.

She even smelled like sex, the smell eclipsing the scent of flowers that usually clung to her flesh. She smelled like damp sheets and sweat, she smelled like a man.

But she had never been more beautiful, never.

Her figure was more lush, her breasts fuller, her hips rounder. Even her mouth looked swollen, like it too was in bloom.

Her skin, darkened by the sun, was all bronze and gold.

He wondered if she had let him mark her.

Knew that when the time came, and it was almost upon him now, he'd not be able to stop himself from marking her.

Oh no, he'd mark her deep down, he'd foul her and then leave her for the woods like the animal she was.

He was going to take and take and take until there was nothing of her left, until he could finally get her out of his system.

Until he could finally get her mother out of his system. But he knew, even in death, she'd be a part of him, just like her mother.

His greatest secret and his greatest pleasure. He was going to take her. He could no longer wait; she'd forced his hand.

He was going to watch her face as he held her down, watch her face as she remembered.

And when she remembered, when her gaze was glazed over with terror, he'd whisper, softly, nor more than a hiss, "Prin, Prin, Prin..."

But first he would hurt what she loved most.

After a full day in the kitchen, Annie Rose was pleasantly exhausted. The exhaustion came from hard work and sheer genius. Modesty didn't show strength of character; it showed lack of talent. And she was brilliant with food. When she first went to New York, she wanted to end up at a major restaurant, maybe even her own restaurant and hosting a show on the Food Network with a devoted following.

With a mama who was indifferent and a daddy who quit the field when she was still in diapers, she thought New York would be her salvation. She couldn't have been more stunned when it turned out to be her downfall. She'd been to Hell and met the devil. His name was Jason Manley, and, of course, he had the face of an Angel.

She should have paid more attention when Mr. Jim took her to church with Prin and made them sit through Sunday school and church service. Ms. Jane, the Sunday school teacher, always said the devil didn't kick anybody's door down. Instead, he knocked sweetly and seduced before he broke your jaw and arm and left you bruised and bleeding in the hospital. Even after all that, it was hard to leave him. She wasn't sure she could have done it if Prin hadn't come for her.

Jason Manley convinced her that without him she was no one and had nothing to live for. He was the crazy cult leader and she was his brainwashed devotee. She never wanted to crawl down that road again. And it looked like she didn't have to worry about it because every time a man got close to her, even a man as good and decent as John Wayne, she got physically ill. Jason Manley was still a sickness inside her and she didn't know how to exorcise him. Ms. Jane had warned her about that as well in Sunday school: once the devil got a firm hold, he didn't like to let go.

Annie Rose locked up the restaurant and made sure her pepper spray was in hand before she headed to the parking lot at the back of the restaurant. John Wayne didn't need to tell her to carry it. Since New York, it was always close at hand. She knew, better than anyone, the physical damage a deranged man could do to a woman.

The humidity felt better than good after the air conditioned restaurant. She wallowed in heat and adored the sun. The problem was the sun didn't love her back. She didn't tan, she burned, and, if she wasn't really careful, she got all tender and painful to touch. Her red hair was her curse and vanity. She kept it long because if she couldn't gracefully brown she was damn well going to have hair down to her ass. Besides, her hair was her best feature.

Jason Manley, that sick son of a bitch, pursued her almost entirely because of her hair. He liked his women looking like they had just stepped out of a Victorian picture. He actually said that to her once. She'd been too in love or too stupid to take the hint and leave.

She glanced over her shoulder as she walked to her car. She wasn't scared as much as cautious. Nothing bad ever happened in Kingstree, or at least that used to be the case. Even with dead bodies popping up like well tended Tulips, it was hard to believe that anything else could happen. And the idea of a serial killer setting up in a quiet, little Southern town was beyond her.

What kind of piss poor serial killer did such a thing? It wasn't like Charlotte or Atlanta where folks went missing and were never found. People couldn't even go to the bathroom in Kingstree without somebody taking note.

Annie Rose usually didn't close by herself, but two of the waitresses soldiered through colds and their shift, and the third waitress was a single mom with a sick child at home with the sitter. Soon as she had a handle on the heavy cleanup, Annie Rose let everyone go. The secret to a packed restaurant was equal parts great food and service. She'd do just about anything to keep her waiters happy. Letting folks go home early when needed was a small thing.

When she reached her Taurus, she dug in her purse for her keys. She was, to her abject shame, a purse lady. Small, cute bags had no useful function in her life when she kept five lipsticks, two lip glosses, and other assorted beauty paraphernalia. She needed bags with weight and heft, the kind that could hold water bottles, sun screen, and good old petroleum jelly, her cure all for any number of accidents and ills. The only downside, besides her shame, was it took a while to find little things like hair pins and car keys.

The arm that snaked around her throat terrified her, and her terror was utterly familiar. His forearm hair tickled her skin. The play of muscle and bone let her know how strong he was, how much he could hurt her. He panted against her neck. He smelled like mint and spice and cigarettes.

She knew the words wouldn't do her any good; they never did with Jason Manley, but she tried anyway. "Please, don't hurt me. Please."

The sight of Annie Rose in a hospital bed with her milkmaid skin purple with bruises, her lips split and cracked, and her arm in a cast was enough to bring Prin to her knees. Especially because she knew, although folks were too decent to come right out and say it, that she was the reason Annie Rose was attacked.

Prin sat on the side of the bed, and Annie Rose opened her dull, tired eyes. Prin bent and kissed her cheek lightly, mindful of her bruises. "Look at you, Annie Rose. I am so sorry." She tried to hold back the tears because they couldn't do anything for Annie Rose. Right now Annie Rose needed her calm and supportive and not sniveling all over her.

"You had nothing to do with it, Prin." Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. No wonder since there were fingerprints around her neck.

"Can I get you anything?" Prin asked as she smoothed the blankets around Annie Rose's legs.

"No. Just don't leave me. I don't want to be alone." Annie Rose whispered and if seeing Annie Rose all battered and bruised wasn't enough to break Prin's heart, her plea surely enough finished the job.

"Of course, I'm not going anywhere. And John Wayne and Gabe are right outside. John Wayne said somebody will always be here with you until they release you."

"I can't go home by myself."

"You are not going home by yourself. Me and Poppop are going to take care of you until you're all better. You can stay with us as long as you want. You don't ever have to go home as far as I'm concerned." Annie Rose's eyes went glassy with tears and Prin wiped at them before they fell and stung her cuts and scrapes. "Stop that now, Annie Rose. If you cry, I'm going to cry and I've been sucking back tears since I walked in here. You just rest now. Close your eyes and rest."

Annie Rose snuggled deeper into the pillow and let out a deep sigh. She was drugged up with pain killers and it didn't take long before she was dead to the world. When Annie Rose was out, Prin shoved her fist into her mouth to muffle her sobs.

This should not have befallen Annie Rose, not with what she'd been through in New York. Annie Rose, with her sharp tongue and soft heart, was the very last person this should have happened to. It should have been her - Jenny Ward and the unidentified woman found at the side of the road like she was no better than trash all should have been her.

Prin sobbed until her stomach cramped and her head ached, a good, cleansing breakdown that led her straight into pissed the fuck off. Let him, whoever the sick bastard was, come for her. She was going to kill him. It was a simple and easy as that. Purpose gathered in her belly, a cold knot, with all the force and precision of a blade.

She went to the bathroom and splashed her face. Her eyes were red and swollen and her mouth was a little puffy, but there was no help for it. She took a few deep, calming breaths, and went back to Annie Rose, guarding her as she slept. She hummed the Jackson Five's I want you back as she stroked Annie Rose's arms and hands, any part of her that wasn't hurt. Annie Rose seemed to relax more into sleep; she did love her Motown. When she was better, they were going to have Motown Karaoke night with margaritas and chips. Prin waited a good ten minutes before stepping out the room.

Gabe and John Wayne abruptly stopped talking as she walked towards them. John Wayne was in full uniform, his massive fists were clenched at his sides, and a bright wash of color rode his face. "How is she?"

There was enough guilt to go around, so Prin tried to ease John Wayne's. "Sleeping now. But she's bruised and terrified."

Gabe's eyes narrowed at her tear ravaged face. He ran his hands lightly under her swollen eyes. He gathered her close and though she wanted to be strong and fearless, a regular Amazon, she leaned into him. His hands stroked both her arms in long, gentle sweeps before settling lightly around her waist. "She's safe now, Prin. Nobody will get to her again. I promise you."

Prin shook her head, knowing that she was the cause of some if not all of it. "She can't be safe if she's around me. She shouldn't be here. It should be me in that hospital bed."

"No, you can't think that. Annie Rose wouldn't want you to think that." John Wayne's gaze was steady and sincere. "We can't make assumptions about it yet. This could have been random. Let me do my job before you start jumping to conclusions."

Prin laughed bitterly. "I don't have to jump anywhere, John Wayne. All the conclusions are smacking me in the face."

John Wayne had the good sense to remain quiet. The way she was feeling she would have grabbed his gun and shot him where he stood if he told her that none of this was her doing.

Gabe pulled her tighter into his arms. She guessed he believed that if he held her tight enough he could erase all traces of this god awful day. "Prin, let John Wayne do his job. You blaming yourself isn't doing anyone a bit of good. It certainly isn't helping Annie Rose."

She knew it, but Lord above some deranged crazy was treating women liked neatly wrapped chocolate bars, ripping off the wrapping, and swallowing them whole. Women were nothing more than trash to him.

John Wayne grabbed fists full of hair. Prin had never seen John Wayne, who was perpetually calm under the very worst circumstances, so emotional. Fury rearranged the very air particles around him. "I am going to get the son of a bitch that did this."

Prin was comforted by John Wayne's rage. She was way pass wanting justice. Nope. She wanted hell and damnation. She wanted revenge. "What exactly happened, John Wayne?"

John Wayne grimaced. "She was attacked after closing the restaurant. She never saw him coming, and she never saw his face. He grabbed her from behind and then beat her until he got tired. She said she wasn't raped, but we went ahead and did a rape kit. There were a couple of time she blacked out, and we just want to be sure about the extent of the injuries."

Each word was a whip flaying her skin. Annie Rose was her sister in all ways but blood. "She was in an abusive relationship in New York. I went up and got her, brought her home, and promised her that if she came with me no one, no man would ever hurt her again because I would be there. I wouldn't let anybody hurt her."

Gabe kissed the top of her head and held on tight. "Sometimes things happen we can't control. Prin, you have always done your absolute best by Annie Rose and, believe me, she knows it."

Prin's childhood, her life, was tied to Annie Rose. They spent summers together running wild under a soft, blue sky. The blue of hair ribbons. When they were little, all the little girl's wore hair ribbons tied in these pretty bows. Annie Rose and Prin dug in the dirt and basked beneath clear skies and sun. The first thing she did each morning was step outside and look for Annie Rose.

Life without Annie Rose didn't warrant thinking. And Annie Rose would kick her in the ass for borrowing trouble. Annie Rose would caution her to look on the bright side because really, how could things get any worst than this?

Prin took calming breaths, trying to center herself the way Belinda, her therapist in Charlotte, told her to do when things became overwhelmingly stressful.

But that was before Xanax,, and Prin dug her pills out her purse because sometimes deep breathing just didn't do the trick. Gabe and John Wayne watched her as she swallowed the pill without judgment or pity.

Gabe let her go. "I'm going to find you some water. You stay here with John Wayne."

Prin wasn't leaving Annie Rose for any reason. "Can you get me some coffee, too? Lord knows I need the pick me up."

Prin tried to ignore the hospital's white walls, bright lights, and antiseptic smell. She smiled at John Wayne who still looked ready to commit murder. Prin knew John Wayne would never hurt her, but his fury was off putting just the same. She went back to Annie Rose's bedside. She sat at the foot of the bed while Annie Rose slept until Gabe dragged her home.

Chapter Twenty

The person she loved most. He didn't want to kill her although it had been hard to keep a tight rein on his control with his hands around her throat.

So, he found his pleasure where he could. She was porcelain pale with soft, lush skin quick to redden and bruise. His fists were the painter's brush and her flesh the canvas.

He had meant to rape her. Really he had. But beating her and watching her skin bloom for him was just as erotic. Maybe more so because of the restraint it required.

A few times she lost consciousness from the pain and he waited patiently for her to come to absolutely sure in his power and ability to get away in a hurry if needed. Besides, the fear of getting caught after all these years and all his women was part of the excitement of the game for him.

She wasn't Prin, but she certainly had her own charm. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed hurting a woman so much that the sex was an afterthought and certainly not needed to make the experience complete.

She was an unexpected surprise. And once he got done with Prin, he might just look her up again.

In a way he was happy he hadn't raped her. He felt like a groom on the morning of his wedding dreaming about the night to come. He was, in fact, saving himself for Prin. Saving all his rage and obsession and lust. And she was going to take it all. She was going to beg before he was done with her.

Prin made sure the house was locked up tight and didn't even mind Poppop strutting around the house with his concealed weapons. She knew they were past the point were anything was going to be resolved without further bloodshed. She just prayed that the blood shed wasn't hers or anyone that she loved.

The house felt like a bomb shelter, and at any minute she was sure she was going to drop to her knees and protect her head. Poppop put on Billie Holiday while they ate dinner, and Billie's husky, sweet voice helped ease some of the tension and none of the worry.

She was ready for bed and some come to Jesus sex, but because Poppop was guarding her like a mother hen against a fox, she couldn't sneak off to Gabe's. Even though Poppop accepted she was seeing Gabe, he still wasn't thrilled. And Annie Rose in the hospital had done nothing to ease his mind. Prin escaped to her bed soon as she could. If she couldn't have come to Jesus sex, she'd make do with eight hours of sleep.

Dozer took his place on the rug at the foot of her bed as she put on an oversize t-shirt and crawled into bed.

Prin came awoke with a start. Dozer was on all fours and growling at the door. Then she heard it: the steps creaking, then quiet, creaking, then quiet. She knew it wasn't Poppop – he didn't bother to sneak in his own house.

She knew it wasn't Gabe. After their first night together he had given Poppop his word that he wouldn't disrespect his house and Gabe knew Poppop wouldn't hesitate to shoot him on sight. The steps paused at the top of the stairs. Dozer barked long and loud, teeth snapping. For a moment, Prin was actually scared of him. But he placed himself squarely between her and the door.

Who was it? Where was Poppop?

Prin searched the room frantically, looking for escape. Underneath the bed was too obvious – the first place anyone would look. The same went for the closets. The only way out the room was the window. She grabbed her cell phone from the nightstand table.

She carefully slid her feet into the flip flops at the side of her bed, remembered how much noise they made, slipped them off and crawled to the window barefoot. Dozer was still barking and growling. Only a damn fool would open the bedroom door if he knew Dozer was on the other side waiting to rip him apart.

It was a long drop to the ground, but if she could jump to the porch roof, she could scramble down the trellis. She had done it often enough as a teenager, knew it should still hold her weight. She had one foot out the window when she heard the door open. He was a fool. Or a serial killer.

Prin jumped to the porch roof, bracing herself against the impact, staying low and out of sight. She could not see inside the room, but Dozer's bark stopped abruptly and he whimpered. What had he done to her dog? Prin choked on her tears.

"Prin? Prin?" Her name was hissed low, fouling the air. And she was eight years old again, paralyzed with fright, hiding in the dirt beneath the porch while above her Mama screamed and screamed.

She flattened herself to the roof even more, afraid to breathe, to blink.

"You're here. I know you're here, sweet girl."

He did not bother with the open window. Prin heard him moving back into the hallway.

She knew that voice, knew that he was going to hurt her, just like he hurt Mama. But he wasn't going to win, not this time. She dialed 911 first, whispered in one long breath, "This is Prin Washington. I live at 69 Willow Street. A man is in my house. He knows my name. I think he hurt my granddaddy."

She hung up the phone and huddled against the side of the house before the operator could ask questions, remembering, finally remembering....

Mama's hands pulled the light sheet off of her. She knew from the expression on Mama's face that she wasn't to make a sound. Mama looked desperate and scared as she lifted her up and into her arms. The cotton of her nightgown tangled around her and she clung to Mama's neck as Mama raced down back steps that led to the kitchen, avoiding the front of the house. He was already in the house. Mama opened the back door, looked to the woods and Prin knew that they weren't going to make it.

Mama put her down, hugged her close, kissed her, and whispered, "I want you to stay underneath the porch. No matter what happens you stay there and don't make a sound."

She huddled underneath the porch as Mama was dragged back in the house, as he laughed at her struggles, her curses, and finally her screams. There were mosquitoes out and they feasted on her. She scratched at the bites, drawing blood

Then Mama's screams stopped. They just stopped and there were footsteps on the back porch above her head and her name was being hissed out softly. "Prin, Prin..."

Then he was gone. She didn't know why, didn't care, and she was crawling up the porch steps, crawling through the house to where Mama was sprawled out in the kitchen. Crawling next to Mama and placing her head on her bruised breasts, pulling Mama's arms around her, and wrapping herself in Mama's fading scent.

Mama always smelled like summer, like the rose bushes that grew strong and tall against the front of the house. But there was blood at the side of Mama's mouth, framing the livid bruises lining her face, and there was blood between her thighs.

She rocked herself in Mama's arms.

He was back in her room, and she tensed as he looked for her. He moved her furniture. Dozer still whined. And Prin took some relief in that. At least he was still alive. And then he laughed. "I see a charger but no phone. Smart girl, I keep underestimating you. You probably already called 911. I'll get you. Hear me, Prin? I'll get you. Been waiting on you a long time, sweetheart. A real long time."

Prin waited until she saw a man, only the back of his head visible, run from the porch and into the woods. She heard the sirens in the distance, getting closer, but far too late. Dozer watched her with his big, liquid eyes as she climbed back through the window. He'd been shot and there was a pool of blood underneath him. She petted him some to calm him down before she went looking for Poppop.

She found him in the living room. She knelt and placed her hands over the chest wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. He was unconscious, the carpet beneath him slick and dark.

"Don't leave me, Poppop. Don't leave."

Gabe got to the hospital first, his shirt barely buttoned, sneakers on, no socks, desperate to get to her, frantic to hold Prin in his arms. When he saw her huddled in the waiting room surrounded by police, flip flops on her feet, a hospital robe covering her nightgown, her eyes wild with fear he wanted to kill.

She looked up, saw him coming, and then she was in his arms, and the panic eased a bit, not much, but enough to take the edge off.

Gabe ran his hands through her hair, smoothed them up and down her back, molding her flesh, reassuring himself that she was unhurt. He pulled her slightly away and cradled her face. "Oh, baby, what happened?"

She seemed punch drunk and her words were a little slurred. "He got into the house, Gabe."

"Who baby? Tell me who."

"I didn't see his face, but I remembered... I remembered when I was up there hiding on that roof. I remembered the sound of his voice."

His heart was shattering in his chest. "What did you remember?"

"I remembered the night with Mama. He was the same man that killed Mama. And all those women. And now Poppop. Oh God, Gabe? What am I going to do if he dies? I don't know what I'll do."

She didn't cry - she simply looked up at him with wide, wounded eyes. "He's not going to die, baby. He's not."

And he prayed to God that he was right.

Gabe took her home after the doctors got Mr. Jim stabilized. Prin was dead on her feet, her eyes blood red with exhaustion and worry. Mama and Daddy hovered around her, while Sean and Collin took turns trying to get her to drink warm cups of tea and keep a little something on her stomach. She did what they asked of her, accepted food and hugs vacantly, answered police questions with the same indifference. The only time she seemed present was when John Wayne told her the veterinarian thought Dozer was going to pull through. She was somewhere else, had effectively removed herself from the situation.

He left everyone at the hospital and carried Prin to his SUV. Her bare feet in the flip flops, covered with dried blood, made his heart ache. He placed the seat belt carefully around her. She stared out the window with her face turned away from him as he drove.

There was no way he was taking her back to her house. There was no he was going to let her be alone. There was no way he could be without her.

She was quiet the entire drive. He kept his hand on her, and she let her own hand rest limply in his.

When he got to the house he led her up the stairs, up to the bedroom and into the master bath. He held her as he ran bath water and added salts. He undressed her slowly, as if she were a child, lifting her arms to get the shirt off, lifting her legs to slide her panties down.

He placed her in the tub, and got in behind her. The ends of her hair floated in the water, but he didn't know how to braid or put it up. He kept one arm around her as he washed her, beginning with her face, moving down her neck, to her belly, and breasts. He felt her begin to relax, her breathing even out, her skin warm beneath his touch. When he was done with the washcloth, he simply cuddled her to him, letting the warmth of the steam seep into them both.

Never in his life had he been as scared as he was when he received the call from the police. Never in his life.

When the water grew tepid, he got them out. He dried her skin as she stood there, her body pliant, her mind somewhere else entirely. He placed her in the bed, got in beside her, and pulled the covers over them both.

"Sleep now, baby. Just try to sleep."

He stroked her, feeling the tension gathering in her in body, willing her to let it go, let it go and rest.

It took a long while, but eventually her breathing slowed, eventually her eyes closed, her lashes resting thick and heavy against her skin, highlighting the dark circles under her eyes.

He let his hands wander over her softness, her full lips, and high cheekbones. He gathered the silk of her hair in his hands, let his fingers crumple it, buried his face in it and breathed deep.

It wasn't until he was certain that she slept – her breathing deep and even, her mouth slightly parted, her body utterly plaint – that he allowed his own body to relax.

The early morning sun shone on her face, illuminating the fineness of her skin. He dragged himself away from her, pulled down the shades, blanketing the room in darkness. She whimpered when he left her, and he rushed back to the bed. "Okay, baby, okay. I'm right here."

He fell into an uneasy sleep, holding her tight against him.

When he woke it was late afternoon, the sun had moved across the floor, the room was deeper in shadows. Prin was still sleeping. He slipped out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweats, and left the room. The first thing he did when he got downstairs was call the hospital. Mr. Jim was unconscious, still in intensive care, but the doctors thought he'd make a full recovery.

He called Mama and Daddy next. Their answering machine picked up, and he knew that they were just as exhausted as Prin, and hoped they managed to rest before heading back to the hospital.

He went to the kitchen to make them dinner, realizing that he was starving and that she had to eat. She was already a little thing. She couldn't afford to loose more weight. He made great big ham sandwiches, knew she'd like a salad, and threw it together as best he could despite the bag of potato chips that rounded off any good meal. He ate in a hurry, washed it all down with a beer, and then called the Sheriff's office.

A woman's deep voice answered the phone. "Sheriff's Office, can I help you?"

"Hey, Brenda. This is Gabe. John Wayne there?"

He didn't go to school with Brenda, she was closer to Prin's age, but he knew her. He knew her people and her family, remembered her jumping rope down long stretches of dirt road during her childhood.

"He's here, Gabe. How're Prin and Mr. Jim?"

"Mr. Jim's stabilized. Prin's upstairs knocked out."

"You tell her I'm praying for her. Just a second, Gabe. I'll transfer you over."

There was a brief silence on the phone as the call was transferred. "Gabe, how're you holding up?"

"Well as can be expected."

"Prin?"

"Out of it, I guess."

"Most likely shock. It should die down."

"I didn't call to chit chat, John."

He listened to John's deep sigh. "I know you didn't."

"What the hell happened last night?"

"Not much to tell at this point. There were no prints. He tore up the house looking for her, but he was careful. All we know so far is what Prin told us, and she didn't see a face. There are some footprints, but nothing odd, nothing out the ordinary. Just work boots. You know every man in the county wears work boots."

"So you telling me you don't have shit?"

"Not yet."

"She said she remembered, that she recognized the voice. She thinks this is the same men that killed her mother."

"Gabe, she's in shock. She was eight years old then, and last night she was forced into a situation that took her back to that night. I don't doubt that she remembers what happened. But she told us last night that she didn't see faces then either, that her mother hid her under the porch. Mr. Jim saw something, but he's unconscious. I don't have anything to go on."

"Fuck that, John Wayne. He went into that house looking for her. He went there for her. He was willing to kill Mr. Jim for her."

"I know, Gabe. I know. Look, we still have people over at the house, trying to find tire tracks, anything. But this is a process. I need you to stay calm and let me do my job."

"If he comes after her again, I'm going to kill him. You know that, don't you?"

"I know it. I'd advise against it, but I know it. Look, Gabe, this might have been a one time incident."

"That's what your gut's telling you?"

There was a slight hesitation. "No."

"Mine either."

"Listen, you keep her with you at all times. Don't let her out your sight for a minute. Hear me?"

"I hadn't planned to."

Chapter Twenty One

He carried the food, along with a cup of herbal tea, upstairs to her, intending on waking her up so she could eat. When he opened the bedroom door, she was sitting in the center of the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, the wild mass of her hair hanging down her back.

The light from the hall blinded her, and she called out. "Gabe?"

He placed the tray of food down on a nearby table, and went to her. "I'm right here."

She allowed him to hold her, closed her eyes and leaned back against his bare chest.

"I brought some food up, Prin. You need to eat. Then we can go on back to the hospital to check on Mr. Jim."

"I'm not hungry, Gabe."

"I know you. Just try to eat a little something."

She pulled away from him, burrowed beneath the covers. "I couldn't keep it down."

H felt helpless, didn't know how to bring her back to herself or to him as she drifted further and further away without moving a muscle. "Prin, tell me what you need me to do for you right now."

She didn't even bother to look at him. "Nothing you can do, Gabe."

He had seen her like this before, when she was eight years old and Mr. Jim brought her to the house. When he had held her in his lap outside, listening to Mr. Jim cry, and she had stared up at him, too devastated for tears.

He stripped off his sweat pants and got under the covers next to her, pushed the tangle of her hair away so that he could stroke the long, smooth line of her back.

She kept her face turned away from him. "I love you, Prin."

She did not respond, if possible she huddled herself deeper into the covers.

"I love you, Prin. I know this hurts. I know it. But I swear to you I won't leave you. I swear to you that you don't have to go through this alone. You will never be alone again."

He bent, buried his face in the curve of her neck, smelling his soap on her skin, nibbling at the tender flesh there. His hands kept moving down her back in long, slow strokes. The skin of her back was hot. He traced he curve of her spine, massaged the flare of her well rounded hips.

His hands moved lower, to the lush curves of her ass, molding and shaping it. His lips stayed at her throat, suckling the skin there, soothing it with his tongue, nipping gently at it with his teeth.

She sighed softly, breathing into the pillows beneath her face, and he felt the coldness that had been riding her flesh since he got to her at the hospital, begin to thaw.

He gently turned her to her back, kissed her closed eyes, her soft lips. She opened for him, reluctant, hesitant, fighting him, fighting herself.

"I love you. You're my heart, my soul, flesh of my flesh."

There was no urge to dominate riding him, no urge to subdue. He stroked her tongue softly with his, pulled back slightly and traced the full curves of her lips. He moved lower, down her throat, to the sharpness of her collarbone. He traced the line of it from shoulder to shoulder, and eased himself between her thighs. He moved down her body, mouth searching for the beat of her heart beneath her skin. He stayed there, sipping at the flesh, listening to her heart beat pick up speed. "I love you, Prin. Always. Only you."

He moved lower, tongue searching out the hardness of her nipples. He pulled them into his mouth on a long deep, suckle, his tongue working in easy circles, feasting on her. His hands forced her breasts together, and he opened his mouth wide, nipping at her breasts with his teeth.

She sighed softly. He raised his thigh, forced her to ride him, feeling her wetness seep out onto his leg, feeling the coldness inside her thaw even more.

He moved lower, to the smoothness of her concave stomach, lingered at her belly button, his tongue dipping deep. He suckled at the bones jutting out from her hips, feeling her begin to move helplessly against him.

He spread her legs wide and moved between her thighs. He ate at the tender flesh of her inner thighs, listening as her breath caught. He bit hard enough to leave marks feeling her body loosen even further on a long shudder. He traced her outer lips, loving the softness, the fullness, drunk on the smell of her. He let his tongue wander over her before resting it against her for long moments, feeling her pulse throb. She was soaking wet.

He licked her in short, slow strokes. She rocked her hips against him, and he picked up the pace, his tongue sinking inside her in shallow thrusts, loving the softness, the different textures. Her hips moved faster against him, her sighs and whimpers increased, her hands anchored themselves in his hair.

He moved away before she climaxed, blanketing her body, sliding his inside her in one thrust, pushing past the tightness until he was seated to the hilt.

He paused and lifted his hands to her face. "Look at me, Prin."

She opened her eyes, no longer hiding from him.

He moved with patience and care over and in her, making sure to keep as much contact between their bodies as possible. Her lashes fell against her cheek, her hands tightened on his back, her legs lifted high to encircle his waist. "Keep looking at me, baby. I love you, Prin. I love you."

He rode her, staring down into her eyes, caught in the most meaningful moment of his life. With each thrust he felt the coldness inside her melt, flooding him with wetness and heat. With each thrust he pulled her back to him, across distance and heartbreak. With each thrust he guided her back to herself.

And finally, finally, his name came from her lips as both a plea and a benediction. "Gabe, Oh, God. Gabe."

He felt her body shudder convulsively, watched as her eyes flooded and tears ran down her face. "I've got you. I will never let you go."

She was sobbing, pleasure tightening her around him, even as she let out an inconsolable cry, a scream that tore through the darkness of the room. "My Poppop, Gabe. My Poppop."

He felt tears gather at the back of his throat, fought to hold them back. "I know, baby. I know. I love you. I've got you. Always."

Prin stood over Poppop's bed, her hand on his forehead, watching the screens that monitored his every breath. He was in ICU and Annie Rose was stable, but two of the people she loved best in the world were in the hospital. Because of her. He was still unconscious, and as she stared down at him for the first time in her life he looked vulnerable.

She was terrified of losing him, but she wasn't a child anymore, couldn't afford to be a child, not when she was the reason he was laying in the hospital bed.

Mr. Aiden sat in the chair next to the bed, his face pale, and his elbows balanced on his knees. He smiled weakly at her as she moved away from the bed. "All the bullets we dodged in Vietnam, and he gets shot right in front of his own door. Leave it to Jim."

He looked so much like Gabe, his black hair fading to grey, his bright blue eyes dull with worry.

"He's stabilized, Mr. Aiden. Doctors said that he should be conscious soon. He'll be all right." Prin smiled and tried to make herself sound as reassuring as possible.

Mr. Aiden looked down at white tiled floor between his knees. "You believe that, Prin?"

She went to him, kissed on the top of his bent head. "Mr. Aiden, I can't believe anything else."

He pulled her to him, and buried his face in her belly. "It's okay, Mr. Aiden. It's okay. Lets go on down to the cafeteria and get you some coffee now, come on, let's go."

She helped him to his feet, and braced herself against his weight as he leaned heavily into her.

My Butter and Gabe were just outside the hospital room, talking to a doctor. My Butter took one look at Mr. Aiden's face and hurried over to him. "Hey now, baby, you okay?"

She eased Mr. Aiden carefully away from Prin. "I was going to take him down to the cafeteria to get some coffee, My Butter."

My Butter hugged Mr. Aiden hard. "Now don't that sound like a lovely idea, baby? Come on with me, now."

Gabe finished talking to the doctor and came over to her. "Nothing new. His condition hasn't changed." He informed her before she could ask.

"I just want him to open his eyes, Gabe. I just want to take him home."

Prin wanted to stay the night with Poppop, but Gabe convinced her to come home with him and get some rest. By the time they walked through the front door it was well after 10pm and the phone was ringing insistently.

Prin forced herself to remain calm as Gabe answered, certain it was the hospital. Gabe's voice was short and curt. "Uncle Simon. He's fine. Stabilized. She's doing well, staying with me. Look, I have to go."

He hung up the phone, rubbed his hands over his face and suddenly he looked exhausted. Prin went to him and rubbed his back in slow circles. "It was nice of him to call, Gabe."

"Yeah, but I won't ever forget what he said to you."

"It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter."

"Fuck that, Prin. It's matters to me." He sat down heavily on the couch, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

She had always seen him as invincible, but now he looked worn down. She pulled off his boots. She let her head rest for a moment against his knees before she stood up and went to the kitchen. "I'm going to fix us something to eat. Anything you want?"

"Whatever you make."

His refrigerator was almost empty, and his cabinets stuffed with junk food. She looked in the freezer, spied a pack of chicken wings and got to work. She defrosted them in the microwave, heated oiled, draped them in flour and placed them in the frying pan. She made biscuits from scratch, the way Annie Rose taught her. She placed them in the oven to bake.

Finding something resembling a vegetable took a little more work. She dug in the fridge until she stumbled on a head of broccoli, on its last legs to be sure, but edible enough. She steamed the broccoli and drizzled it with a little lemon butter.

Within half hour she had a meal laid out, the kitchen table set, and a bottle of wine open on the counter to breathe. She went in the living room for Gabe. He was still sitting on the couch, eyes closed, darkness surrounding him. "Come on, love. Come eat."

He got up slowly from the couch, and she realized that the past two days had been just as hard on him as they were on her.

He halted in surprise when he spied the kitchen table. "I had all this food in here?"

"It was buried beneath the bags of chips. You have a horrible diet."

"Potato chips never killed any body."

She snorted and rolled her eyes, making him smile the first smile she'd seen in hours. They sat down to dinner in his house, a dinner she had made, and she was steeped in the pleasure of it all. "You going to bless the table, Gabe?"

He blessed the table quickly and then took a bite of the chicken, groaned in appreciated as the fried crust crunched and the white meat dripped. "Now I'm ashamed of my ham sandwiches. You can cook."

"Of course, I can. Your mama, Poppop, and Annie Rose taught me. I'm no Annie Rose, for sure, but I can hold my own. Ms. Dolores tried some to help me, but she didn't have the patience and a caustic tongue besides."

"Ms. Dolores been up to the hospital yet?"

"Every chance she gets. When Poppop comes through, I think he's going to have to marry her."

"You know she used to bake me a cake once a week when I was in high school? Stopped after I got out of college, said I was getting fat."

She laughed at him. "I'll bake you some cakes, Gabe. With all the chips you eat, it won't make any difference."

He eyed her with mock suspicion. "You're not one of those women like to barrel in and rearrange a man's entire life, are you?"

"Gabe, there's nothing about you I'd change. I love you just like this, chips and all."

"Thank God, because I'd turn myself inside out trying to please you."

"You'd give up chips for me, Gabe?"

He blanched but quickly manned up. "If need be."

They finished dinner, and he helped her clear the table and load the dishwasher. He locked up the house as she went upstairs and ran a bath. When he got upstairs, she was waiting for him in the bathroom. She didn't speak, just started in undressing him, her hands soft against his skin. The steam from the shower dampened her face, made her hair curl tighter about her head.

He fingered those curls, asked, "What's this?"

She bent down, slid his pants and boxers down his legs. "You never give me the chance to take care of you, Gabe. I want that. I want you to know that you can depend on me, just like I depend on you. I want you to know that I'm your help mate."

She kissed the skin of his thigh, then she was back on her feet, raising his shirt over his head. She led him into the bath, and washed his hair first. Her hands were gentle as they moved over his scalp. She was careful of the lather, kept it away from his eyes as she rinsed the shampoo out.

He had never had a woman wash his hair, and leaned back into her hands, surprised it felt so good. When she was done with his hair, she moved onto his face and chest. He felt her body humming with pleasure as she touched him. The washcloth moved over the planes of his face, soaped his broad chest, moved lower to where his cock jutted up from his groin. She dropped the washcloth, let her hands move over him, sliding up and down.

She played with him a long time, their heavy breathing the only sound. She moved away, and led him out the tub. She dried him with a towel, and then oiled his body. As her hands moved over his flesh, his own hand fell to his cock.

Her hands stilled. She dropped to her knees, her gaze riveted on his hand. He watched her, watched the flush climb her chest to her face. "You like that?"

"Yes."

She sounded drugged. She kissed him sweetly and his head fell back as his eyes closed. She pushed his hand away. She no longer seemed fragile, no longer hurt. She was sexy and powerful and he flat out adored her. He watched as her swollen lips flattened, watched as he disappeared between her lips over and over again.

He pulled her up to him, and she came willingly, her body pliant and soft against him. He turned her around, braced her against the wall and trailed kisses down her wet back, enjoying the smell of his soap on her skin. His hands moved over her body in long, slow strokes, the water beaded on her skin heightening the sensation of flesh against flesh.

She whimpered against the wall. It wasn't enough for him. He massaged the small of her back and spread her legs with his feet. His fingers traced the line of her spine until his hand was between her thighs, just skimming her softness and heat. He lingered a long time, enjoying the way she moved her hips against him and the break of her breath.

He slid down on his knees behind her. He spread her wide with both hands, and ran his tongue over her. He buried his face in her, loving her taste and smell. He was almost mindless, he wanted her so much. He stood, positioned himself and stopped. "Tell me you want me, Prin."

"Oh, God, I want you, Gabe."

He gripped her hips as she tried to lift them, tried to force him to pick up the pace. "Tell me again."

"You are such a tease, Gabe Connor. Shame on you, torturing me this way."

She could always make him smile. He entered her in a slow stroke, feeling her tense, hearing her breath catch. He fought past the tightness, until he was seated to the hilt, her inner heat burning him alive. "So good, Prin. This is so good."

Her body loosened with each stroke. She moaned beneath him, her body slick with sweat, and still he kept moving, forcing her small body to take all the pleasure he could give her, to take everything. He sunk his teeth in her neck and she buckled. Her body stiffened for a long moment, and then she trembled uncontrollably. She almost killed him, almost sent him sprawling to the floor with the force of her orgasm, but he managed to stay on his feet. He held it off as long as possible, blinded and deafened by the unbearable sensation, until he finally let it all go, until he finally gave her everything, all of himself.

Chapter Twenty Two

Gabe woke up the next morning to the phone ringing. He reached for it over a sleeping Prin. "Yes?"

"Gabe, it's me."

"Hey, Mama" He got out of bed, dragged on a pair of sweats, and took the cordless phone out of the room and down the stairs into the living room. The day was just starting, the sun dull in sky.

"How's Prin?"

"Good. Sleeping still."

"How're you?"

"Scared to death, but at the same time the happiest I've ever been in my life. I didn't know it was possible to love somebody this much. I didn't even know if I had it in me until Prin. I won't lose her, Mama."

"You know you're going to make me bawl talking like that, Gabe."

He remembered her crying at every championship he'd ever been in, at ever award ceremony. "It don't take much for you to start bawling."

She laughed, like he knew she would. "Sure you're right, Gabe, sure you're right."

"Everything okay at the hospital?"

"We called this morning, soon as we got up. Doctors say they think Jim's going to come on out of it soon."

"That's good news, Mama. Maybe he can tell us what the hell happened. I've been keeping in contact with John Wayne. They don't have much."

"God, Gabe, who would do something like this? Who'd want to hurt them?"

Gabe went into the kitchen, put coffee on, and foraged for breakfast. "Prin thinks it was the same man who killed her mama."

"I know - that terrifies me all the more. But she didn't see any faces. She can't be sure, Gabe."

"She remembered everything about that night. It damn near broke her. I don't know if she's confusing everything in her head, like John Wayne thinks, or if she really can remember and identify his voice."

There was a long pause, and Gabe heard her pouring her morning cup of coffee into her favorite mug. The mug was hideous, bright red decorated with yellow roosters but she loved it. Sean had given it to her one year for mother's day when he was barely out of pampers.

"Summer's winding down."

It was already August. He tried not to think about it, tried not to think about her getting on with her life and maybe leaving him. "I know it."

"You keep in mind that she needs to start teaching school soon. Get settled in her own place."

"If I have to, Mama."

"Gabe, what does that mean?"

"She can live with me."

"True, that doesn't mean that she wants to. She has a life outside of you. You're going to have to let her leave that house at some point."

He ran his hands through his hair. Trust Mama to make him stop and think. "I don't want to keep her from anything she wants to do or be."

"I know you don't. You just want to keep her with you, and that's fine. All I'm saying is that right now you need to be real clear about your intentions, real clear about what you need and want from her. Real clear about what she needs and wants from you. I love you both too much to hold my tongue in this, Gabe."

She never interfered, hadn't since he left her house for college. "I know it."

"Okay, then. We'll see you all at the hospital later on?"

"Yes."

"I love you, baby."

She hadn't called him that for a long time. "I love you, too, Mama."

He sat at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, thinking hard about what Mama said. He wanted her with him, he wanted to marry her, have kids with her as soon as possible. He wasn't sure if she wanted the same things. He hadn't asked because he was wary of the answers, knew that he was long past the point where he'd be able to let her go.

She had always been a part of his life, but now she was his life. The difference was huge. He knew that his life was shit without her, that he wouldn't be able to sleep through the night without having her in his bed.

He looked up from his coffee when she came in the kitchen. She was in one of his shirts, despite the clothes they got from her house now neatly folded in his drawers and hung in his closets upstairs.

Her face was flushed with sleep, her hair was tangled and she looked absolutely beautiful to him. He knew she wasn't a morning person. She stumbled to the kitchen table and rested her head against the cool wood. "Good morning, Prin."

She yawned loudly. "Morning."

He knew she didn't like coffee, so he got up and made her a cup of the herbal tea he brought and kept only for her. He placed the tea next to her, bent to kiss her cheek through her hair, and then went back to his seat.

She sipped slowly at the tea. "Thanks." She smiled at him around the mug of her tea.

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "I know everything about you, Prin. I know that you look soft, but deep inside, where it matters, you have a core of steel. I know that where you love you love hard, giving everything you are. I know your generosity, your kindness, your laughter. I even know your faults. I know that you're spoiled, like your own way. I know that when you hurt, your first response is to shut down, go to a place deep inside where no one can touch you. I know your hard headedness. And let me tell you, I love it all. Everything that you are right now, everything that you will ever be I love."

She was stunned, put the tea down gingerly, and wet her lips nervously. "Gabe, that's quite something over tea."

His jaw clenched, and he felt his face flush. "I know it. But we have to talk about this. We haven't taken the time to talk. I want to marry you. I want to have babies with you, build a life. I want with you what my Mama and Daddy have. I know you're young, that's one of the reasons I tried to stay away from you, but I don't want to wait for any of those things. I want them right now, Prin. I want to start our life together right now. You have some decisions to make. I can't make those kinds of choices for you. All I can do is let you know what I want and need, and pray to God that you want and need the same things." He got up and left the kitchen, leaving her staring after him.

Gabe waited for her on the back porch, watching the sun rise higher in the sky, watching the birds gorge themselves on the feeder that Mama placed in the backyard before he moved in. It was heavy and humid, smelled like rain. North Carolina rain in the summer came down fast and hard, and then moved on, with no real staying power. He'd left his coffee when he ran, and he regretted it now, but he was damned if he was going to go back in there to her, damned if he was going to look into her utterly bewildered face.

Damn her.

She had sat there while he tore out his heart silent, watching him like he was a bug under a microscope, alien and foreign.

He knew she loved him, but maybe it wasn't the kind of love that he needed, maybe she could walk away from him.

He heard the screen door open, but didn't turn to her.

She had to come to him. He had to know that she wanted the same things that he wanted – a life together, children.

She handed him his cup of coffee. He took it and sipped at it, staring out into the yard. "Gabe, please look at me."

His shirt fell softly against her skin, the red vivid against her flesh. Her brown eyes were huge, watching him. Her teeth chewed at her lower lip. He knew she only did that when she was nervous. Still he waited.

She sat down on the steps, pulling the shirt underneath her ass, stretching her long legs out, her eyes steady on his. "When, Gabe?"

"When what?"

He practically snarled the words out, but she smiled at him. "When you want to get married?"

He almost dropped the coffee, and sat up straighter in his chair. Her smile widened across her face.

"Gabe, just now at that kitchen table, you gave me everything I've ever wanted. Do you know when I was a little girl I used to dream of you? Dream of the house we'd have, the babies, dream of you loving me? I want to work. I'm not sure if I want kids right away, but as long as I have you everything else will work itself out."

He set his coffee carefully down beside his chair. She rose from the steps and climbed into his lap. Together they watched the morning unfold.

Poppop gained consciousness, but he was still groggy, unaware of his surroundings or the fact that he'd gotten shot. The doctors warned them that he would be out of it for awhile. Prin stood by his bed, stroking the backs of his hands. His skin felt fragile and paper dry. He had lost weight and his flesh hung from his bones.

He was conscious, his eyes fluttering open and close, as if staying open required too much of his energy. He was still attached to a feeding tube, but they had removed the oxygen. Screens still monitored every breath he took and all of his vital signs.

"It's okay, Poppop. It's going to be okay now." Prin sat down in the chair next to the bed as he drifted into a deep sleep. She tried not to think about the man that broke into the house, calling for her, looking for her. She hoped Poppop could identify him, but wasn't sure. In any case, the thought of going back there terrified her. Poppop was going to stay with her and Gabe once he got out the hospital, just until he got on his feet, no matter if he wanted to go home.

When she closed her eyes at night all she heard was her name whispered, only Gabe's arms around her halted the nightmares. She knew her first priority was getting Poppop back on his feet, so she pushed everything else to the back of her mind and concentrated solely on him.

She got up and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Gabe was in the hallway with My Butter and Mr. Jim. Gabe's Uncle Simon was also there, his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his jeans, his face full of worry and remorse.

It wasn't her nature to hold a grudge although she saw Gabe was far from happy. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Simon."

He moved like he was going to hug her, and she took a step back even as Gabe placed himself between them.

Mr. Simon cleared his throat. "Of course I'd come. Me and your grandfather never got along, but I don't want to see him come to no harm, Prin."

She smiled at him. "He'd appreciate it. Gabe, I'm going to go on down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat. Can I bring anyone something back?"

My Butter and Mr. Aiden were already heading back into the hospital room. Gabe shook his head. "I'm fine, Prin."

"Okay then, I'll be right back."

Mr. Simon cleared his throat. "Can I walk you down, Prin? I'm a little hungry."

Gabe pulled her close, sheltering her body with his own. "Uncle Simon, don't push your luck. I haven't forgotten what you said to her."

Uncle Gabe stared down at his work boots. "I apologize, Gabe."

"Don't make me any difference, Uncle Simon."

Prin pulled away from Gabe and smiled reassuringly. "It's okay, Gabe. It's okay. Mr. Simon, I'd appreciate the company."

Gabe frowned at her. "Prin, you don't have to.... Fine. Go ahead. Uncle Simon, you're lucky. She's a lot kinder than I'll ever be. Remember that."

Prin entered the empty elevator with Mr. Simon close on her heels. He smelled like cigarettes and peppermint. She pressed the button for the ground floor, smiling at Mr. Simon. His face was flushed, he was breathing hard, his mouth open, and his eyes narrowed.

He looked like he was having a heart attack or stroke. She reached out for him, her hands moving over his face. "Mr. Simon? Mr. Simon, you okay?"

Her name hissed out of his mouth, and his voice was straight out of her nightmares, "Prin, Prin, Prin..."

Gabe watched as Mr. Jim struggle to gain consciousness against the pain and the drugs. His eyes fought to stay open, and he moved his lips as if trying to speak. His monitors were going crazy, and nurses rushed the room. Mr. Jim was fine when they entered he room. It wasn't until they started talking that he went into distress.

The nurses tried to calm him, and begin the process of giving him more pain killers. "What the hell set him off?"

Daddy shook his head. "I don't know. He was fine when we came in. Wasn't until we started talking..."

Gabe thought back over the conversation, and paled as he remembered exactly when Mr. Jim started fighting. "Daddy, it wasn't until I mentioned Uncle Simon. It wasn't until I told you all that Prin went to the cafeteria with Uncle Simon."

Mama swayed on her feet. Daddy just stared at him. "Gabe, you can't be saying... You can't be implying... I know he's an ass, but this is... He's my brother, Gabe."

Gabe pushed his way passed the nurses, until he was standing over Mr. Jim's bed, staring down into his wild eyes. "Was it Uncle Simon, Mr. Jim? Was it Uncle Simon?"

He watched as the wildness left the other man's eyes, watched as he relaxed, and slowly nodded.

He heard Daddy cry out behind him. "God no, Gabe. Oh God, not Simon."

"Daddy, you call John Wayne right now. Call him, tell him what happened, and tell him that son of a bitch has her." Gabe raced from the room, frantic, pushing people out of his way. The elevator was waiting at the end of the hall. He thanked God as he pressed the ground floor button and waited for the door to close. He ran to the cafeteria, knowing even before he pushed open the double doors and that she wasn't there.

The car sped down the open highway, taking her further and further away from the hospital. Mr. Simon drove with one hand at the wheel, the other holding the gun resting in his lap pointed at her. He had the radio on, and country music blared through the speakers, a woman wailing about a no good man breaking her heart.

He was talking to himself, his voice low and vicious. "She thought she could deny me when everyone in three counties knew she spread her legs for everyone but me. I told her I was going to have her, and she laughed at me."

Prin was terrified, but beneath the fear rage was building. "They know I'm with you. They know you took me."

"Soon as your son of a bitch grandfather wakes up, they are going to know anyway. He saw my face. I don't care. I got you. That's all I wanted. Just you."

She huddled against her the door, and waited for her chance to kill him.

The hospital was overflowing with police, but Gabe knew it was useless. They were long gone. He closed his eyes, saw Prin's face framed by the long thick ropes of her hair, her slenderness, the fineness of her bones. He saw her opening her arms to him, pulling him down to her, her lips hot against his neck as she told him she loved him, that she had always loved him. He saw her as a little girl, all hair and big eyes. Those eyes were constantly watching him, following him. He didn't know then that he had been waiting for her to catch up with him; he had enough sense to know you didn't ripen a growing thing too soon.

Daddy was in shock. The news that Uncle Simon kidnapped Prin damn near killed him. Mama was with him in a hospital room as he recovered.

John Wayne walked over to Gabe who stood by the receptionist desk. "We put out a description of the car, got both his and Prin's pictures circulating. The FBI is already on the case. They're brought in whenever there's been a kidnapping. They won't get far, Gabe. We'll get him."

"Tell me you'll get her before he kills her, John Wayne. You know he's going to."

"Gabe, we'll get him."

"I let her go with that bastard. I just let her walk away with him."

"No way you could have known."

"He's my Uncle, John Wayne. He's my blood. You think he killed her mama?"

John hesitated. "Not sure, yet, but my gut's telling me yes."

"How does she forgive me and mine for that, John?"

"Gabe, let's just find her first."

"You right. Don't let her die, John."

"I'll do my best. I promise you that, Gabe."

"You just don't let her die."

"Okay. Anything I can do for you? You need anything?"

"Just her, John. You just get her back for me."

They got stuck in traffic just outside of Charlotte. Cars slowed to a crawl and then stopped altogether. People leaned loud on their horns. Mr. Simon fiddled with the radio station, distracted, the gun lowering. Prin knew it was the only chance she was going to get. If they reached wherever he was taking her, she was as good as dead. She opened the car door, rolled out into the traffic, stayed low to the ground and ran.

Mr. Simon cursed behind her and got out the car. She forced her body even lower to the ground, so he couldn't see her. She put more cars between them before she stopped to bang on a window.

A man rolled down the window, eyeing her in disbelief. "Please, call the police. I've been kidnapped. You see that man walking through traffic? He has a gun and he's going to kill me. My name is Prin Washington. Please, help me."

He nodded, picked up his phone and dialed 911. She kept moving, afraid to put him in any more danger. Mr. Simon was a crazy bastard.

She didn't dare look back, just kept moving, hoping that if she stayed low he wouldn't be able to locate her.

"Gabe, we just located them. She managed to get away. They're stuck in traffic about thirty minutes from here. The FBI blocked them in, so traffic won't move. There's no where for him to go. They already sent a helicopter with a sharp shooter. You coming?"

She was still alive. Gabe almost stumbled with relief. Then he gathered himself; it was far from over. "Hell yes. Let's go."

"You can ride with me, but if you do anything stupid once we get there, Gabe, I'm going to kick your ass. Her life depends on us doing this right. Hear me?"

"I hear you, John."

A helicopter roared over head. Prin looked up and saw it hovering low. She had to stand so that they could see her. She stood slowly, waving her arms. She looked dead in Mr. Simon's face.

He was about six or seven cars away from her. She looked up at the helicopter; saw that the men on board were prepared to shoot. She willed that bastard to lift his gun, crying out in anger as he did so. Bullets slammed into his body, and he fell to the ground. People panicked, left their cars, and began to run.

She sank to the ground, her legs useless. She was scared she was going to be sick, going to get stepped on as people ran by her. It was over, finally over.

The sob caught her unawares, and doubled her over as she whispered. "For you, Mama. For Jenny Ward and Annie Rose and every other woman he's ever hurt. I hope he burns in hell."

Gabe was waiting for her at the station in Charlotte. Prin ignored the questions, ignored the news reporters, and walked straight into his arms. She had already given a statement to the FBI on the way over. She just wanted to go home. He held her like he was scared she would break when she had never felt stronger. "Gabe, it's okay."

"I'm so sorry. I don't know how to make amends for what he did to you."

"Hush now. He told me he killed Mama."

"God, Prin. How are you ever going to forgive me? He was my uncle. I've been putting you in harms way each time he came anywhere near you."

She held him hard. "I'm not going to let you take this on, Gabe. He was evil and crazy and I'm glad he's dead but he doesn't have anything to do with us. Look at me now."

She waited until he lifted his head, and framed his face with her hands. "He doesn't have anything to do with us. I don't love you less. I wouldn't know how. All I want you to do is take me home."

Chapter Twenty Three

Dozer snored at Prin's feet. His stitches were healing up although they drove him so crazy he had a dog cone around his head and looked like a giant dog alien. He had lost a little weight but with Gabe sneaking him table food all the time and Annie Rose making him chicken and rice for being such a brave dog, he was sure to put it all back on in no time.

Gabe's garden was dusky with twilight and heavy with the scent of flowers and the buzz of insects. Prin was slathered in mosquito repellant, but the bug spray was at the side of her chair just in case.

She took a sip of white wine, the sweet-tart chill sliding down her throat and cooling her insides. Gabe's callused hand circled hers. He was still tense even though as far as she was concerned the worst was over. But he thought that she was going to come to her senses and run from him after the dust cleared and everyone settled. There'd be snowballs in hell before that ever happened, but Gabe, bless his heart, remained unconvinced.

"Poppop can come home next week." Poppop had already spent three weeks in the hospital and his patience with the process was wearing thin. Last time Prin visited the nurses almost kicked him out. Prin warned him constantly that they could kill him, make it look like an accident, and get rid of the body. Poppop was having none of it. He wanted to be in his bed in his house.

"Me and Daddy made sure that he'll have nurses coming and going to help out until he's one hundred percent." Gabe was still trying to make it right even though none of it was his fault.

Prin could just imagine Poppop's reaction. She was sure it wasn't pretty or even half way decent. "He must have loved that. I'm sure he thanked you all profusely."

Gabe laughed. "Not exactly, no. But he needs the support and so do you. Especially with Annie Rose still recovering..." His voice faltered and he ran his hands slowly down his face. "Jesus. Prin. Jesus. I keep thinking that this guilt I feel, this shame will lessen. But it hasn't. He was my blood. My blood and he almost took everything you've ever cared about from you. He almost killed you. My mind keeps circling around and around it. I can't let it go."

Prin stood and pulled his head into her belly, stroking his hair in long, slow sweeps. "Sure you can. I'm going to help you. Nobody blames you, Gabe. Least of all me. After all the work I've put in to wear you down, there's no backing out of this now. Besides, I demolished the dragon, and now I've come to get my prince charming.

He laughed and hugged her hard. She bent and kissed his nape. "That's better. Besides, you proposed and I said yes, if you remember..."

"Oh, I remember, sweetheart."

"Yes, well, I still don't have an engagement ring. I can't go around bragging without a ring. I want something big and gaudy that can blind a body from at least ten paces away."

Gabe broke her hold, picked her up, and spun her around. Dozer lifted his head and then went back to sleep. They were going to be fine. Gabe was everything she'd ever wanted and she'd see to it. He kissed her, his lips playing sweetly at hers, so gentle she sucked back a shaky sob. He lifted his head and framed her face with his big hands. His bright blue eyes ate her up. "I'll buy you the biggest diamond I can find. Just don't ever leave me, Prin."

Prin shook her head and laughed. "Gabe Connor, you know I'm a sure thing."

Coming Soon Annie Rose's story

The knock at the door had Annie Rose jumping out her skin before she settled down and wondered which of her self appointed caregivers was making the rounds. Her ribs were still bruised and her skin was painted all kinds of interesting shades of green and purple.

Billy, in all his glory, stood on her doorstep with a fist full of wild flowers in one hand and a brown bag in the other. "Hey, Annie Rose." He walked right on in and looked her over with sweet brown eyes as she closed the door. "You look a little better today. Not as green at the gills."

What could she say to that? "Thank you, Billy. I'm getting there."

Billy went to the kitchen to get a vase for the flowers and unpack whatever else it was that he brought. Annie Rose was betting on soup. "Sit down, Annie Rose. Let me get you all set up."

She sat. Being beaten until she couldn't remember her own name let alone say it, made her open to all kinds of suggestions from others. Billy came back carrying flowers in her favorite hand blown glass vase and a bowl of soup. The soup must have been lukewarm because Billy carried them both with no problem. His smile was dazzling as he placed the flowers and soup in front of her on the coffee table. She tried to smile back, but it got stuck in her throat. She felt the sting of tears because his kindness was one step away from pity and she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that she was pitiful.

She spooned up some soup, chicken noodle from Charmed. It wasn't great, but because she was temporarily until she got her shit together out the kitchen, Ms. Althea and the rest had to make do. She got more than half down before she pushed the bowl away.

Billy considered her drawn shades and blankets and pillows piled high on the couch. Even watching television took too much out of her and the house was the kind of deep quiet that spread just before something really bad happened.

Billy shook his head. "Annie Rose, when is the last time you've been out and about and gotten a little fresh air?"

The last time was her follow up appointment with Dr. Sullivan. Prin had picked her up and dropped her off back home when she was done, all the while smothering her with her guilt and care. Annie Rose hadn't been anywhere else since. "It's been awhile."

Billy stood with his hands on his hips. Annie Rose knew Billy was nothing but harmless but she shrank back on the couch just the same. Dumbstruck, Billy sat back down. "Now, come on, Annie Rose. I wouldn't do a thing to harm a hair on your pretty head. You know that, don't you?"

She nodded but she couldn't make herself relax and slow the frantic in and out of her breath.

Billy talked her down with all of the finesse of a man used to talking women out of their clothes. "It's such a nice day. Hot but not humid with blues skies until the end of the horizon. How often do we get days like that in North Carolina? How about you throw something on, doesn't matter what because you're pretty as picture no matter what you where..."

She smiled at that. "Even with the bruises, Billy?"

His eyes turned cold but his voice was still soft and persuasive. "Even with the bruises, Annie Rose. Go throw something on and let's take a drive, just get out of the house for a little while and see what kind of trouble we can hunt up."

By the time he was done, she was sprawled out on the couch, every tense muscle utterly relaxed and actually considering letting him lead her back into the land of the living or, at the very least, take her riding in his cop car. "That's some kind of skill you've got there, Billy."

"What are you talking about, Annie Rose?"

Annie Rose laughed. He honestly didn't know the power he wielded and thank God. Otherwise, there would be a whole bunch of women walking around Kingstree in danger of loosing their hearts and their panties. She reminded herself that he was still young, almost just out of high school, and way too handsome for common sense. "All right, Billy. Let me put on something a little bit presentable and we can go."

As she stood, his smile spread and almost knocked her to her knees. It must have been a knee jerk reaction that she'd have to anything so absolutely beautiful because Billy wasn't the one she really wanted.

Annie Rose felt like a tourist in Kingstree, where she lived her entire life, except for the shit awful New York years. The drive was classic Billy, slow and meandering. He took her through back roads while falcons drifted overhead and she the wind played havoc with her hair. He gave her control of the music and she blasted the Chilli Peppers so she wouldn't have to talk or even think all that much. Billy was nothing but accommodating and by the time they got to Kingstree she was feeling better than she had since she'd come home from the hospital. He placed his hand lightly at the small of her back and guided her down the sidewalk. The Kingstree Improvement society hadn't done much improvement and the flower beds along Lee Street, the lifeblood of Kingstree, were drooping with the last of summer's heat and neglect. But then again, she was one of the founding members, so surely some of the fault lay squarely on her shoulders.

She wanted to duck her head, hide the fading bruises, but because her belly jumped her like a poorly trained dog, she kept her head held high. Living with Mama's constant criticism and that ass Jason taught her to keep her head up, at least in public. Private, well that was another story entirely.

Now all she had to do was walk down the damn street. Billy didn't press. "We can go or stay, Annie Rose. Lord knows, Kingstree doesn't have anything I haven't seen before."

Before New York and certainly before she was attacked by a serial killer, she was the kind of woman that stared danger in the face and kept on moving. She used to be up for any challenge and willing to face any obstacle. She wanted to be that woman again, so she took deep breaths until she was as close to calm as she was going to get.

About the Author

Sara Mercier lives in Philadelphia, Pa with her husband, two children, a sleepy cat, and an overly affectionate dog. She loves romances with sexy alpha males and spends most of her time either writing or reading them. You can contact her at by email at saramercier@rocketmail.com or through Smashwords.

