I Gave You My Heart, but You Sold It Online Read online

  He flipped the phone shut and returned it to his belt. His guess was that Debbie Sue had made the call because Allison was too embarrassed to do it herself. He had detected in her that concern over what people thought of her.

  Public indecency and lewdness? He laughed. He couldn’t wait to hear the whole story. For years he had heard about Debbie Sue ending up in oddball situations, but Allison? Understandably there were sides to her he didn’t know—as well as the sides he would love to know—but this one was, by far, the most thought provoking.

  He grabbed his hat and called out to his cook, Rafael, “Amigo, I gotta leave. If I can I’ll come back later, but don’t count on it. Everything okay here?”

  “No problem, boss.” The amiable young man grinned. “You got problems with your woman?”

  Tag laughed and held up three fingers on his right hand. “Three of them.”

  “Oh, señor. Usted es absolutamente un hombre!”

  Tag laughed and left the restaurant with you’re quite a man echoing in his ears. While driving to Salt Lick he thought about what he would say to Allison. Different scenarios played out in his head. As he reached the Salt Lick city-limits sign he decided to let fate handle the situation. Right now he had to find the jail.

  The chore was easy enough. Right on the main street, he saw a sign with SHERIFF’S OFFICE hand-painted in black. It was a strange sign for an official facility—a wrought-iron tripod supporting a WWII bomb casing suspended on chains. But then, much about Salt Lick struck him as strange. The sign was stuck in the ground beside the front door of a flat-roofed stucco building. In the minuscule parking lot, it looked like five minutes till closing at the only beer store in town. Cars were parked in every spot and at every angle.

  Tag parked across the street and walked over to the small office. Inside, men, women, children, and dogs were all talking or barking—some doing both—demanding to be heard. The only men wearing badges had been pushed against the back wall and both looked to be on the verge of tears. Chaos was too mild a word for the scene.

  Tag thought he understood what was going on. The mob merely wanted to get their loved ones out of jail. He looked around and spotted a straight-back chair in the corner. Dragging it to the center of the room, he stepped up on the seat. Putting his fingers into his mouth, he gave a loud shrill whistle.

  Dogs howled, but the din died immediately and all eyes turned in his direction. “Everybody listen up. You can’t all talk at the same time or we’ll be here all night. Line up behind me single file. Give the sheriff and his deputy the name of the person you came to pick up. You ladies,” he said, pointing to the cell occupants, “when your name is called, step forward and leave with your ride. No talking, no fussing. Am I understood?”

  A few mumbled and grumbled as all formed a line behind Tag.

  “Sheriff,” Tag said, “you want to unlock those cell doors now?”

  As names were called women stepped from the cells and joined their benefactors. The three Tag had come for bid good-bye to their cell mates and followed him outside. He led them over to his white Lincoln Navigator.

  “How appropriate,” Edwina said. “My hero’s riding a great white horse.”

  “Three hundred horses to be exact,” Tag said as he opened the door to the rear seat.

  Debbie Sue and Edwina pushed ahead of Allison and took seats in the back. Allison had no choice but to climb into the passenger seat beside him, and that suited him just fine.

  “Take me and Ed back to the salon,” Debbie Sue said. “We’re parked there.”

  “You’re okay to drive?”

  “Are you kidding? All that tequila and vodka I drank is long gone.”

  “And you?” Tag said, leveling a look at Edwina. He had no intention of turning two drunk women loose behind the steering wheel.

  “Oh, hell, hon, I only had three margaritas four hours ago. I’m sober as a nun. Or none too sober, I forget which.”

  He followed the directions to the salon. As Debbie Sue and Edwina disembarked he looked at Allison for the first time. “Is your car here, too, Allison?”

  “No, my mom dropped me off hours ago. Guess you’ll have to take me home. Again.”

  Tag smiled. “At least I know the way.”

  The drive was too short to start a conversation. He parked in front of her house. “Want to tell me how you got into that pickle back there?”

  “Not really.” She gave him a giggle and he wondered if she was still a little tipsy. “But I will. A customer of Debbie Sue’s gave a sex-toy party and we got raided.”

  His brows shot up of their own accord. He was starting to see more unexpected sides of Allison with every hour. “Sex toys?”

  “It’s a big thing now. They have parties. Like Tupperware.”

  “Tupperware.”

  “Yes, you know. People come and buy items and the hostess, in this case Maudeen Wiley, gets free gifts. Maudeen’s got to be in her eighties. I can’t imagine what she buys at those parties, but—”

  Tag couldn’t keep from laughing. He had missed out on sex-toy parties.

  “It isn’t funny,” she said indignantly. “A lot of women are sexually frustrated.”

  “Are you one of them?”

  “No…Well, maybe.”

  Before he could say another word, she leaned across and smothered his words with her lips and he had no objection whatsoever to that.

  “So what do you think?” she asked in a sultry voice. “Am I?”

  “Feels like it to me.” This time he kissed her. In no time, their kisses became more intense, their caresses more urgent.

  “Tag,” she whispered, “let’s go inside.”

  He pulled away, his heart pounding. “But what about your mom and Jill? We could go to my—”

  “My mom and Jill are gone until Sunday night. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”

  He had often found fate to be smarter than he was. It had smiled on him to night. He chuckled against her silky neck. “In that case, I’d be a fool to say no.”

  “Then don’t,” she said.

  “You didn’t bring any of those toys home with you, did you?”

  “I didn’t buy any.”

  “Good. ’Cause I don’t think we’re gonna need ’em.”

  QUINT SAT ON the edge of a steel bunk waiting for a lawyer. The only one he knew was a corporate attorney who helped him in his business. Quint had called him, and like the good friend he was, he had arranged for a criminal lawyer.

  A criminal lawyer.

  Jesus Christ. Not in his wildest imagination had he expected to ever need a criminal lawyer.

  All of the low points in his life seemed insignificant compared with the one he was experiencing now. He felt naked and vulnerable. Scared.

  He had been told he was under arrest for the murder of Monica Hunter, but he wasn’t buying it. They had to have the wrong Monica. There had to be more than one Monica Hunter in the world. The one he knew had been very much alive the last time he’d seen her, which was only a few hours ago.

  He had also been told he was being held for pickup by the sheriff of Haskell County. After that, he had refused to speak without his attorney present. He wished he had waited a little longer before declaring this because when he clammed up, so did the cop who arrested him. None of it mattered. They had made a mistake. The Monica he knew had to be alive, and when his attorney arrived everything would be cleared up.

  He had never been in jail. As depression settled within him, he looked around at his surroundings and thought about his circumstances. He had been on a one-man campaign to restore his good name. At the same time he had wanted to bring back the woman who had disappeared from his life. How was it possible that he found her and lost her in the same day?

  And the loss was permanent?…

  No, no way. Somebody had made a mistake, and when he got out of this damn jail, heads were damn well gonna roll.

  THE BEDROOM WAS dark, but morning light had begun to cast shado
ws against the walls. Allison stretched and smiled at the shape lying next to her. It had been years since she had awakened with a man and it had never been in her own bed. She hadn’t approved of men sleeping over when she and Jill lived in Haskell. Now she was sharing a home with her mother and Jill was older, and allowing it just wouldn’t be right.

  But no one was home. She didn’t have to worry about setting the wrong example or about how having a man in her bed looked. In fact, there couldn’t possibly be anything bad about last night. It had been very, very right. She had never known she was capable of such passion, but she knew one thing for sure. Tag Freeman could easily become her drug of choice. And he was right. They didn’t need sex toys.

  Tag opened his eyes. “Hey, whatcha smiling about?”

  She snuggled close to him and his thick arm came around her. “I might ask you the same thing,” she said.

  “Was I smiling? I must have been thinking about a dream I had last night.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Allison pressed closer to his big, solid body. She slid her hand down and felt his erection.

  “Hmm, don’t stop,” he said, and gave a soft chuckle. “I dreamed there was this beautiful—” Tag’s cell phone chirped. He ignored it. “As I was saying, there was this beautiful roan mare—”

  “Tag Freeman, are you comparing me to a horse?” She placed a kiss on his chest.

  “I said it was a beautiful horse that—” The cell phone chirped again. “Shit. I should get that. Apparently somebody needs to reach me pretty bad.” He sat up, swung his feet to the floor, and yanked the bleating phone from his belt on the floor.

  The sexy moment lost, Allison threw off her side of the covers and sat up. “Coffee,” she said, and grabbed a robe from the back of the door. As she made her way to the kitchen and started coffee, she listened to Tag’s end of the phone conversation.

  “Where is he now?…This is all crazy. What did they do with his truck?…Look, I’ll get there quick as I can…Listen, tell him not to worry. It’s gonna be all right. His friends are with him.”

  Allison went back to the bedroom and saw Tag’s expression, grim and terrible. “What’s wrong?”

  “That was a lawyer. He’s been retained to represent a friend of mine.”

  “Oh?”

  He leveled a look at her. “It’s Quint. He’s been arrested for murder.”

  Allison couldn’t hold back a gasp. Her palm flattened against her chest. “Is this a joke? Murder? My Lord. Who’s he supposed to have killed?”

  “A woman named Monica Hunter.”

  A roar began inside Allison’s skull. Had her ears deceived her? Monica Hunter was dead? And Quint Matthews had been arrested for her murder? It couldn’t be true. It made no sense. There had to be a misunderstanding. Quint was rich. He wouldn’t kill someone over a few dollars’ worth of credit-card charges…

  Would he?

  Allison dropped to the edge of the bed. The daze that had enveloped her lifted as she realized Tag was calling her name. She looked at him.

  “Are you all right? You’re white as a ghost. You’re acting like you know something about this.”

  “I know Monica Hunter. Knew her, that is. We were sort of friends when we were kids. I know her whole family. Well, actually it was just her grandmother. Monica was wild as a weed. Her poor grandmother was never able to get a firm grip on her. The last time I spoke to the doctor I used to work for in Haskell, he told me he had rented his old house to Monica. He said she hadn’t changed her ways at all. This is just so horrible.”

  Tag came to her side. “I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have blurted it out like that if I’d known.”

  “Did the lawyer say how—did he mention—”

  “No, he didn’t say. Is she the woman who stole Quint’s identity? The one he hired the Equalizers to find? Oh, uh, you do know about that, don’t you?”

  “He told me about the identity theft, but I don’t believe it. Monica was spoiled and demanding, but I just can’t imagine that she would have done such a thing.”

  Tag cleared his throat. “Uh, the lawyer says Quint thinks there’s been a huge mistake. He wants me to call Debbie Sue and tell her to keep looking for Monica. Do you have her number?”

  “Sure.” Allison reached into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out an address book. She called out the Styling Station’s number as Tag keyed it into his phone.

  While he spoke to Debbie Sue, Allison turned the pages in the address book to the Haskell phone number of Dr. Sinclair, only half listening to Tag. She intended to go to Monica’s funeral. It was the least she could do for someone she had been friends with in high school. Besides, there would be few friends present. There would be no family present either. She would call Dr. Sinclair and ask to stay with him and his wife, Dot.

  “You’ll have to ask her,” she heard Tag say. “No need. She’s, uh…right here.” Tag extended the phone in her direction. “Debbie Sue wants to talk to you.”

  Oh, no! Had Tag told Debbie Sue they were together? Staring into his eyes, she pressed the receiver against her ear. “This is Allison—”

  Before she could say another word, Debbie Sue started. “This is the biggest bunch of BS I’ve ever heard. There is no way Quint Matthews would kill someone. Not for any reason. He can’t even step on a bug. He’s a bigger threat to himself than to anyone else. Tell me what you know about this Monica.”

  Though she had heard the gossip about this aggressive side of Debbie Sue and had seen a hint of it in the Salt Lick jail cell, Allison had never seen her on a mission. “I haven’t been around her in years,” she answered defensively. “Monica was smart and beautiful, but bored and spoiled her entire life.”

  “If anyone knows small-town cops, I do,” Debbie Sue said. “This is their chance to hit the big time. They’ll be pissing all over themselves.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Why, it’s Quint Matthews we’re talking about. What small-town prosecutor wouldn’t want to convict the Quint Matthews. Poor ol’ Quint’s gonna need all the help he can get.”

  Poor ol’ Quint, my foot. “Oh. Well, yes, I suppose he will.”

  “The Abilene cops won’t transfer Quint to Haskell before Monday,” Debbie Sue said. “We usually keep the beauty shop open on Mondays, but this is an exception. I’m gonna talk to Ed. We were sort of planning to go up to Haskell as soon as Buddy and Vic get home anyway.”

  “I should go to Haskell, too,” Allison said as the reality of the woman’s death continued to grow in her mind and heart.

  “Do you want to ride with us?” Debbie Sue said.

  “I don’t think so. I may want to go sooner than Monday.”

  “Okay, let us know.” Debbie Sue disconnected.

  “You’re going over there?” Tag asked.

  Allison handed the phone back to Tag as she pulled her thoughts together. “I’d like to go tomorrow morning, but I need to get some work done to my car before I can make a road trip.”

  “Like what?”

  “I need four new tires. And shocks and brake shoes. I think I need an oil change and a tune-up…Oh, yeah, and there’s a leak in the radiator that needs to be fixed.”

  Tag’s face held an expression of incredulity. “Did you overlook gasoline?”

  “Oh, yeah, I need gas. I wonder if I can get all that done in a day.”

  “Gas, I guess. It’ll be hard to get those kinds of repairs done on a Saturday. Can’t you take your mom’s car?”

  Allison shook her head. “No, that would leave Mom and Jill without a car. She and I have been sharing her car since I haven’t had the money to get mine fixed.”

  Tag stood up and paced around, pulling at his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll just take you. I need to see Quint, too. Poor sucker’s got to be feeling pretty low right now. I think he loved that little gal.” Tag shook his head. “You know, he’s not as tough inside as he is outside.”

  “Poor sucker? I appreciate your offer, Tag, but
I don’t want to see Quint. And I’m surprised you’re supportive of him. He’s been arrested for murder, not driving forty in a school zone.”

  “He’s been arrested, Allison, not convicted. None of us have the facts. We’re supposed to be his friends. Don’t you think he deserves the chance to tell us his side of things?”

  “What about her side? Who’s going to represent that? All I know is that I told him who she was, even where she was. He left here and went directly to her. It’s twenty-four hours later and she’s dead.”

  “Quint Matthews couldn’t murder anybody. He can’t even put down a sick animal.”

  The words were almost an echo of what Debbie Sue had said a few minutes earlier, but Tag and Debbie Sue were prejudiced by their long friendships with Quint. Running her fingers through her hair, Allison walked to the window and stood, looking out but seeing nothing, trying to make sense of all that was going on around her. “They wouldn’t arrest him without good reason. He had the motive. He even went so far as to hire detectives to locate Monica.”

  “You’re not being fair,” Tag said.

  “A young woman has been killed and you’re talking to me about what’s fair? Quint Matthews told me himself that he was tired of people making a fool of him. I can see where words would have been exchanged, tempers could have flared. Anything’s possible under those circumstances.”

  Tag walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, “I can understand why you’re upset. But don’t you understand why I have to go to my friend?”

  “Yes,” Allison replied icily, “and I need to go to mine. I need to make some phone calls now. You’d better go home.”

  “Allison—”

  “I have a lot to do. Please. Just go.”

  She stood in the doorway and watched as he drove away. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand how he felt. She did, but it seemed like a further betrayal of an old acquaintance to feel sympathy or offer defense on Quint’s behalf. She had to stay focused on righting a wrong.