Divine Charity(Divine Creek Ranch 18)(61)

There were at least five cars involved in that accident. And most people being the bleeding heart types that they were wouldn’t be levelheaded about an accident involving that many people. There’d be chaos. There’d be loved ones showing up to boo-hoo about the victims. Nobody would notice him. He was too smart to get caught again, especially now that he knew who he was up against.

His first thought had been to maybe snag one of those hot-looking blonde gals in the front of the SUV while they were unconscious before a big crowd was drawn. They looked like sisters. He might be shooting blanks but he could still get it up…a little. Witnesses might think he was trying to help but the risk was too great. And he couldn’t take the chance that if the one he took was damaged from the accident, she’d be no damn use to him.

Nope, he was better off biding his time and watching. Figured that maybe something or someone would click for him at the accident scene which was drawing quite a crowd. He’d looked up everyone involved in his court case and even knew what most of them looked like. It was amazing how stupid people were when setting up their Facebook profiles, giving away too much information, showing pictures of them and their kids, even listing their phone numbers. It boggled his mind. But it also helped a lot. He’d been willing to bet if he sat there long enough, he’d find the missing puzzle piece as to why she was somewhere in this Podunk town—he gave a triumphant cry as he beheld what was before his eyes.

Val Teller and Ransome Cross.

“You were a dumbass not to think of them at the first.” His father’s guttural voice grated in his mind. Anytime he felt not quite up to par, it was always his father’s voice he heard. His father was a hard man. He’d taught his son well. He’d just make damn sure not to lose the scent now that he had them.

He’d know those two sons of bitches anywhere because he’d been up close and personal with their fists. That defeat rankled, too. Come to think of it, he could blame them for his masculine disfigurement every bit as much as he blamed the bitch. He ground his teeth together, wishing for a chance to do the same to them. Normally, violent hatred and other strong emotions caused an instant erection, but he didn’t even get a tingle that time. Yeah, that was something he could blame on them as well. It was probably just as well he hadn’t decided to snag one of the blondes.

A deep chuckle sounded from him as that Teller bastard leaned down to kiss one of the blonde chippies from the accident and then watched in surprise as Cross did the same.

“Well, now,” he muttered. “Isn’t this a sweet little family reunion  .”

He laughed out loud, glad the windows on the truck were up when the third guy he didn’t recognize kissed her, too.

“Hell, maybe I shoulda grabbed her after all if the bitch can handle three men.”

Maybe he’d set a trap for them and lure them out so he could even the score between them and bag the blonde bitch in the process.

That’d feel real good. He might not have a functioning dick at the moment but he still had his fists and somebody needed to pay for his loss.

He followed Teller and Cross in their truck, being careful to stay well back, just to see where they ended up. There’d been a sign out front of the doctor’s office saying she was closed for the day when he got back from lunch. Might as well make his day productive.

He felt pretty sneaky, creeping right up under them without either of them being the wiser.



* * * *



Standing on a tall ladder, Leah Woodworth dusted a shelf and rearranged an Easter display. Taking a moment, she surveyed the expanse of Stigall’s Department Store. Her baby. It hummed like a well-maintained machine most of the time and she loved it. At the moment the store was quiet as people got off work and went home to supper with their families.

“Leah?” Presley Ann said from the base of the ladder. “Is there any way you and I could have a little chat sometime soon? I need to talk to you.”

“Presley Ann, if this is about wanting off Friday or Saturday night, I can’t do it. I’m going to need you.”

“It’s not that,” Presley Ann answered softly.

“And no, I can’t give you an advance. You know how Dad feels about that.”

Presley Ann made a quiet, disgruntled sound. “It’s not that either. I don’t need any favors. It’s…personal. You’re never at the apartment so I thought we could eat supper in your office…and talk.”

Presley Ann seldom ever wanted to talk to her. She mostly talked at her, either lecturing Leah about her failings as a fashionista or complaining about how bad her feet hurt.