A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy Wheeler (most read books of all time .TXT) 📕

A throb started at the back of Jo’s head. “Please, stop. Just stop.”

“Honestly, Jo,” Lydia said. “How long are you going to ignore our mother?”

Jo sipped at her brandy, then laid her head back and closed her eyes. “Don’t start, Lydia, I have a headache.”

“I’m sorry, Jo, but she’s hurting. It would be as good for you as for her.”

“You don’t know what’s good for me.” God, this argument was old. “Let it go. Someone shot at me. I can’t deal with Eleanor right now. My nerves are shattered.”

“When will you be ready to deal with her?”

Jo bolted to sitting, threw her legs to the floor, then winced as the pain speared up from her ankle. “Enough, Lydia. The answer is nev—”

Esther tapped on the door. “Mr. Smith.”

“There’s no need to announce me, Esther.”

Jo downed the rest of her brandy with shaking fingers.

Wyn studied her with that uncanny fix he’d perfected to a tee. “Jo? You all right?”

She dropped her eyes; chill bumps raised over her flesh. She snuck a glance to Jackson. He stood tall, his expression devoid of its typical sullen pout, his eyes hard and narrowed on Wyn. “Did you find any suspects?” Jackson said.

“Found a bullet. From a .22.”

Lydia’s gasp reached Jo, but Jo kept her gaze averted. Wyn couldn’t have shot at me. “Wallace Hayes,” Lydia whispered.

“Could be. But no one’s seen him.”

14

W

yn had never felt so…so helpless and so furious. Even when he’d worked the beat he’d covered in New York City, he hadn’t experienced such frustration. There were the typical raids, it had been Prohibition after all. Danger bounded around every corner, but never to his heart. Not like this.

Anger surged through him, eliciting panic that made him antsy and wanted to punch a hole in a wall. Jo could barely look at him. Now someone was shooting at her. After he’d left the ferry, he’d done some checking on Jackson’s whereabouts. They were iffy at best. The problem was the direction the bullet had come from. He couldn’t believe the where his thoughts were taking him.

Jackson needed a job. A real job.

“Jackson, a word, if you please.”

His long-time adversary scowled at him. “What for?”

“I need some verification from you.” Wyn was hurting and he wanted company down that rocky road. With their murky and clandestine pasts, Jackson made the perfect partner in crime—or, in this case, justice.

Esther leaned through the doorway. “A Mr. Julius Styles is here to see you, Miss Josephine.”

“It’s a regular revolving door, isn’t it?” Jo muttered under her breath. “Show him in, Esther. Lydia, can you and Tevi—”

Tevi settled herself in one of the wing-backed chairs. “I’m not leaving. I’m ready to meet this paragon.”

“Tevi—” Jo started.

Julius strode in like a man accustomed to the opulence surrounding him.

“Are you serious?” Tevi breathed. “The man is a dream. How? Just tell me how.”

“Hello, Josephine.”

Jo studied the man covertly, as if seeing him through Tevi’s eyes. He stood well over a foot taller than her sister. His chestnut hair was draped dramatically over a broad forehead and heavy brows. His clothes were well cut for his frame. “I thought you left the island. In case you don’t remember, we don’t really have anything to talk about.”

Lydia strolled over and dropped into the chair across from Tevi.

Julius stopped at the end of the settee, glancing at her sisters then back at her. “Could we speak… privately?”

Could Julius have been the one who shot at her? A warning perhaps? He didn’t look the type who used violence to get his way. “I’m afraid not. I turned my ankle on the path coming back from town…” She watched his expression carefully for any sign of guilt or satisfaction, but he came across as more of a charmer than a fighter. Haughty and self-righteousness rather than shifty. Lydia cleared her throat, jarring Jo from her inner musings. “…and I, um, can’t walk,” she finished lamely.

Lydia’s arms crossed her chest and she shot him a smug smile.

Jo swallowed a sudden urge to laugh. “Er, I don’t believe there is anything left to say,” she managed.

His full lips compressed into a tight line. He pushed a hand through his hair. “How did you happen to fall?”

“I lost my footing. It was a steep hill.”

His brows furrowed, he looked…concerned. “I see. Look, just be careful. I don’t wish you any ill will.”

She must be as crazy as Eleanor, seeing murderers in every person who crossed her path. But she couldn’t afford to overlook any possible threat to her well-being. “What an interesting statement. Does someone wish me ill will then?”

He stood and put his hands in his pockets and meandered to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sea. “No, but well, there’s talk in town.”

“And here I thought you’d left town,” Jo managed through clenched teeth.

Tevi overrode Jo’s remark and straightened. “What kind of talk?”

“Just talk. That the sheriff is after Jo’s inheritance.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jo said. She knew better than anyone that Wyn had no desire for money, or a bigger house, or for children, for her—

His expression softened. “Are you sure we can’t talk alone somewhere?”

“She’s sure,” Tevi said, turning on her youngest sister charm. Jo had never been able to quite manage that feat. “Did you shoot at my sister?” Her voice etched steel beneath the brilliance of her gleaming smile.

“What? No!” His face paled and he plunged a hand through his hair. “Are you saying someone shot at you?”

And she’d thought she sounded hysterical. “I’m not saying that—” Jo said.

“—I am,” Tevi interrupted.

Time to rein in the situation before Wyn and Jackson returned, and things turned ugly. “Look, Julius, unless you have something to add regarding the apparent danger my love life is in, I suggest you take your leave. There’s nothing more for you here,” Jo said gently. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings unnecessarily, but neither was she prepared to marry someone for the sake of having an unwanted husband.

The mask of all concern dissipated