Beg to Die Read online

  Beg To Die

  Beverly Barton

  In memory of a very special lady, an avid reader and a

  fellow Tuscumbian who never missed one of my

  autographings,

  JAN WHITTLE

  and

  In memory of my dear cousin

  LOUISE GIBBS THORNE,

  a fellow writer whose weekly column appeared in

  The Colbert County Reporter

  for many years.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  By the same Author:

  Preview

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  He pounded on her door and shouted her name. Go away, she wanted to scream. Leave me the hell alone. But she knew he wouldn’t go. Not unless someone came and dragged him away.

  Maybe she should call Jacob and tell him that Jamie was harassing her again. As the county sheriff, he could hold Jamie in jail overnight. Or she could phone Caleb and ask for his help in getting rid of an unwanted midnight visitor. Caleb had gotten plenty of practice lately as the bouncer at Jazzy’s Joint. He’d thrown Jamie out of the place several times recently.

  But for some reason, she just couldn’t bring herself to pick up the telephone. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Jamie. Not tonight of all nights. But she’d been expecting him, had known somewhere deep down inside her that he would pay her a visit after his engagement party ended.

  “Jazzy…lover, please, let me in.”

  His voice was slightly slurred, no doubt the result of numerous glasses of champagne, and not the twenty-dollars-a-bottle stuff either. Probably Moet’s Dom Perig non or Taittinger Comtes des Champagnes. Or possibly Roederer Cristal or Pommery Cuvee Louise. Something that cost no less than eighty bucks a bottle. In hosting the big bash celebrating their only grandchild’s upcoming nuptials, Big Jim and Reba Upton had spared no expense. Everybody in Cherokee Pointe had been talking of nothing else. The Uptons had hired a catering service out of Knoxville for the engagement party and the rehearsal dinner, the same service the bride’s parents had chosen to cater the wedding reception next month.

  While Jamie continued banging on the door and pleading with her to talk to him, Jazzy curled up tightly on the sofa and placed her hands over her ears. Jamie had been engaged twice before and hadn’t followed through with wedding plans either time. But it looked as if his engagement to Laura Willis might actually end in marriage. If for one minute she believed Jamie’s marrying another woman would put an end to his obsession with her, she’d be the first in line to offer them congratulations.

  Sure, there had been a time when she’d dreamed of becoming Jamie’s wife, but that had been years ago, when she’d been young and foolish. That stupid dream had died a slow, painful death as maturity had given her a firm grip on reality. No way would Jamie’s rich and socially prominent family ever accept her; they still saw her as nothing but a white trash tramp who’d gotten pregnant at sixteen.

  Did she still care about Jamie? Yeah, somewhere in her heart remnants of that passionate first love still existed. Only a few years ago, she had still been as obsessed with Jamie as he was with her. For the past ten years he had floated in and out of her life, just as he had floated in and out of town. But this time, when he’d returned a few months ago with a new fiancée in tow, Jazzy had turned him away when he’d come to her. And one night, when he hadn’t taken no for an answer, she had threatened his life. Or, to be more precise, she’d threatened his manhood. And what truly frightened her was the realization that she would have shot him—shot his balls off—if he’d come after her again.

  “Jazzy…don’t be mean. Please, doll baby, let me come in. Just one last time. Don’t you know how much I love you?”

  No, damn you, no! You don’t love me! You never did. You’re not capable of loving anyone except yourself.

  While she sat on the sofa, hugging herself, wishing she could block out the sound of Jamie’s pleading, memories washed over her, flooding her senses. The first time Jamie had kissed her. The junior/senior prom, when she’d given him her virginity and had known she would love Jamie forever. The day he’d cried when he told her he couldn’t marry her even though she was carrying his child. The night he had returned to Cherokee Pointe after his first year of college. They’d made love repeatedly for forty-eight hours, leaving bed only when necessary. The first return visit, years ago, when he’d brought home his first fiancée—and Jazzy had welcomed him into her arms, into her bed, not caring about his bride to be.

  How many times had she forgiven Jamie? How many times had she given him just one more chance? Time had run out for them. She knew it, even if he didn’t. She’d turn thirty soon; she had wasted enough of her life waiting for Jamie Upton to give her what she wanted, what she’d always wanted from him. Marriage.

  “Jazzy…Jazzy…baby, please, talk to me. Even if I marry Laura, it doesn’t mean we can’t still be together.”

  A cold, deadly calm settled over her heart. She stood, squared her shoulders and walked to the door. Her hand hovered over the knob. You’re the only one who can end this thing once and for all, she told herself. Do what you have to do to free yourself from Jamie.

  Simultaneously Jazzy unlocked the deadbolt and turned the knob. When she eased open the door, Jamie took full advantage and shoved his way into her apartment. Before she could say a word, he grabbed her and kissed her. Impatiently. Brutally. His tongue thrust inside her mouth. For a split second, she savored his savage possession. Then common sense took charge. She broke away from him, her breathing ragged. He reached out for her, but she sidestepped his grasp.

  “I need you, Jazzy. I’m aching, I want you so bad.”

  “What we once had is over,” she told him. “It’s been over for a long time. I’ve accepted that fact. It’s time you did.”

  “I don’t love her. I’m marrying her because Big Mama is giving me no other choice. She expects me to marry Laura.”

  Jazzy laughed, mirthless chuckles. “And God forbid you ever go against what Big Mama wants.”

  “I’m sorry.” His shoulders slumped. “I know I’m a spineless bastard. But if I don’t keep Big Mama happy, I could lose everything. Big Daddy’s done told me this is my last chance. If I screw things up with Laura, he’ll write me out of his will.”

  Jazzy almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “You know I’ll never be your mistress. I draw the line at fooling around with a married man.”

  Lifting his gaze from where he’d been staring at the floor, he looked directly at her. “Would you let me stay tonight? Just for a little while. A couple of hours.” He held up his arms in an “I surrender” gesture. “Just let me hold you. I swear, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. I need you, Jazzy. One last time. Please, lover
. Please.”

  Against her better judgment, she nodded. “You can stay an hour. That’s all.” When he opened his arms to her, she shook her head. “Sit down on the sofa. I’ll fix us some coffee. I think you could use some. You should sober up before you head home and try to explain to your fiancée where you’ve been.”

  “Hey, honey, if you’re planning on getting your gun while the coffee is brewing, there’s no need. Believe it or not, I want us to be friends. I’d prefer lovers, but I’ll settle for friends. I just can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

  Oh, hell. Why had he said that? Don’t go soft. Not now. You’ve heard Jamie’s line of bull before. You know the guy can sweet talk his way out of any jam—or into any woman’s bed. But not her bed. Not ever again.

  “You aren’t going to get to me,” she told him. “Remember, I’ve heard it all before. I’m the girl you honed your persuasion skills on.”

  “You may not believe me, Jazzy, but…” He came up behind her, but didn’t touch her, just stood very close, his breath warm on her neck. “In my own selfish way, I do love you. I always have. And I always will.”

  Odd how a part of her wanted to believe him, maybe even needed to believe him. When she turned to him, he reached out and caressed her cheek. She sucked in her breath.

  “Please, Jazzy.” He looked at her with those sexy hazel eyes, his expression one of intense longing. “Baby…please.”

  She didn’t protest when he pulled her close. Gently. And kissed her. Tenderly. All the old feelings resurfaced and for a moment—just a moment—she wanted him in the same old way. He allowed her to end the kiss. Then he stood there staring at her, waiting for her judgment call.

  “I can offer you coffee and conversation for an hour,” she told him. “That’s it. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it.” A sly, seductive grin curved the corners of his lips as he turned and walked over to the sofa, then sat and crossed one leg over the other knee.

  You’re a fool, Jazzy told herself as she rushed into the kitchen and prepared the coffeemaker. Being nice to Jamie wasn’t the answer. But God in heaven, old habits died hard.

  Tonight she would say good-bye to Jamie. This time would be the last time. And if he ever came to her again, she knew what she’d have to do. She’d have no choice, not if she wanted to save herself.

  The man had to die! It wasn’t that she wanted to kill him or anyone else, but he had left her no other choice. Not only would he have to die, but she feared others would have to forfeit their lives, also, if they interfered. Of course, it wasn’t entirely his fault; after all, he was only human, a mere man, with all the weaknesses inherent to his sex. But he was the worst of his kind, spineless and weak. He gave in to his baser instincts without regard to how his actions might harm others. He reveled in the depravity that plagued most men and many women.

  Her hand settled over her belly. In order to protect herself—and her baby—she needed to plan a strategy that would put suspicion on someone else. But not just anyone. She wanted that woman to pay with her life, and what better justice than to have her executed for murdering her lover? After all, the whole town knew she’d threatened to kill him.

  She stood in the shadows, waiting and watching, knowing where he was and what he was doing. He was with that woman, making love to her. How could he do this? He had sworn his love was true. Lies. All lies! They were fornicators. Sinners. Evil to the core. Both of them deserved to die. To be punished.

  She shouldn’t act hastily, in the heat of the moment. That was the way mistakes were made. She had made mistakes in the past, but not this time. She had trusted when she shouldn’t have, but never again. She needed to be calm and in control when she ended the son of a bitch’s life. There was no need for her to kill him tonight. As long as she eliminated him before his wedding day, everything would be all right.

  She would not kill him quickly. A quick death was too good for him. He needed to die slowly, painfully, tortured and tormented. The thought of listening to his agonizing screams excited her. Her mind filled with vividly gruesome impressions of his last hours on earth.

  “Everything I do, I do for you, my sweet baby. I won’t let anyone hurt you. They think we aren’t good enough for them. They think they can sweep us out the door and pretend we don’t exist. But I won’t let that happen. You don’t have anything to worry about. Not now. Not ever. Mother’s here…Mother’s here.”

  Chapter 1

  The man writhed in agony, his naked torso helplessly bound, his legs spread-eagled. Tight rope manacled his ankles to either side of the heavy spikes in the wooden floor. She removed the thick cotton rag used to gag him effectively and mute his tortured cries. Self-satisfied and excited, she stood over him, the bloody knife clutched tightly in her steady hand. The dim glow of the lone lamp burning in the room cast shadows across her face, revealing nothing about her except a few flyaway tendrils of burnished red hair. As she lowered the knife, the man’s eyes widened in terror. He knew what she was going to do. He struggled futilely against his captivity. Sweat dotted his forehead, his upper lip, and dripped along the side of his face. When she placed the knife between his thighs, red with blood from where she’d tormented him, she laughed.

  “ ‘Whatsoever ye sow, that shall ye reap.’ ”

  He mumbled pleadingly as he shivered, his head thrashing side to side, panic seizing him completely. Fear consumed him.

  “You will never hurt anyone ever again,” she told him. “I will punish you for your many sins and rid the world of your evil.” She brought the knife back, reached under him and lifted his scrotum, then, with one swift, deadly slice, castrated her victim. “I am your angel of death, whoremonger!”

  Genny Madoc screamed. When she shot straight up in bed, her fiancé, Dallas Sloan, came up beside her a split second later. He wrapped his arms around her and held her as she trembled.

  “What happened?” he asked, then brushed his lips along her temple. “Was it a nightmare or a vision?”

  She gave herself over completely to his comforting care, having come to depend on him with total trust these past few months. “Both. A nightmare vision.”

  “You haven’t been bothered with visions since…” He let his words trail off. She suspected that he, as she, preferred not to dwell on the events of this past January, when she’d come very close to being a maniacal serial killer’s fifth victim here in Cherokee County.

  Although it was early April in the mountains, the nighttime and early morning temperatures remained in the high thirties and low forties. Genny shivered as a cold chill racked her body. Dallas lifted the heavy quilt from the foot of their bed and wrapped it around her, then pulled her back down into the bed beside him. She cuddled against him and sighed heavily.

  “Want to tell me about it?” he asked.

  “I’d rather forget it…but I can’t. I believe the vision was a forewarning. I saw a man being murdered.”

  “Did you recognize either the victim or the killer?” Dallas asked.

  “Yes and no, but…” She pulled away from him and rolled out of bed.

  Dallas leaned over, just enough to loosen the covers from his upper body. Genny looked at him, at this man she loved more than life itself, and wished more fervently than she ever had before that she wasn’t cursed with the gift of sight. Loving her, living with her, marrying her come June, Dallas had to deal with her special talents as only the mate of a true psychic would have to do.

  Genny discarded the heavy quilt, dropping it to the floor as she slipped into her robe and house shoes, her movements slow and unsteady. She turned to Dallas. “I won’t be able to sleep. I think I’ll fix myself some coffee and go outside to watch the sunrise. You stay here and go back to sleep.”

  Totally naked, Dallas emerged from the bed in all his masculine glory, a morning erection jutting out between his thighs. “You’re so weak you can barely walk. You aren’t going anywhere without me.” He grabbed his discarded jeans and shirt off a n
earby chair. “I’ll fix coffee. Then if you want to go outside, I’ll go with you.”

  “I’m just a little weak. The vision drained some of my strength, but it was a brief vision and I’m not exhausted. Really I’m not.”

  Not bothering to put on his socks, he stuffed his feet into his shoes, put his arm around her shoulders and guided her out of the bedroom. “You need to talk about it. If it was a premonition of someone’s death, then maybe there’s something we can do to prevent it from happening.”

  Genny loved the way he said “we” so naturally, without giving it any thought. Almost instantly, from the first night they met, they had become one spirit.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dallas and Genny, coffee mugs in hand, stood on the front porch of her old Tennessee farmhouse and watched the sunrise. Dallas’s strong arms encompassed her as he stood behind her, his big body warming her. Pale and pink, like the tips of a hundred torches barely beginning to brighten the horizon, the first glimmer of morning sunlight lit the Eastern sky.

  “No matter how many times I see this, it never ceases to take my breath away,” she told him.

  “I know exactly what you mean.” One of his big hands clamped down on her shoulder.

  When she glanced back and up at him, he wasn’t looking at the sunrise, but at her. And she knew that she, not nature’s beauty, was what captivated him.

  Genny glanced up at the sky, leaned her body back, closer into Dallas, and lifted the strong, dark brew to her lips. The Colombian Supreme had a rich, mellow flavor, and she, like Dallas, took her coffee black.

  “The man was Jamie Upton,” Genny said, her voice not much more than a whisper, as if she thought by not saying his name too loudly, it might somehow protect him.

  “You saw someone kill Jamie Upton?” Dallas nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose. “I’m not surprised. I figure it’s only a matter of time before he pisses off the wrong woman.”

  “Please don’t say that.”

  Dallas took a swig of coffee, then set his mug on the windowsill behind him. When Genny took several steps toward the edge of the porch, he followed and wrapped his arms around her again. “Tell me what’s frightened you so. There has to be more to your vision than simply seeing Jamie killed.”