One Big Mistake - Jennifer Youngblood Page 0,57

senses were on high alert as he pulled his car into his garage. Turning off the engine, he opened the glovebox and reached for his pistol, tucking it into his belt. Chances were, everything was fine, and he’d find Hartley waiting for him inside. Still, it couldn’t hurt to have the pistol. Until Edison was found, Ramsey needed to be extra vigilant.

He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes surveying the space. All seemed to be in order. He moved to the den, keeping his ears cocked for any unusual sounds. His footsteps were light, his hand poised over his pistol. He saw the flicker of flames in the fireplace, then the top of Hartley’s hair. She was sitting on the sofa, probably staring into the fire. He relaxed his shoulders, grateful that Hartley was safe.

“Hey,” he began as he stepped toward her, loosening the bowtie of his tux. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and reached to draw his gun.

“Hold it!” a man ordered. “One more move, and I’ll shoot.”

Ramsey froze.

“Hands up! Slowly!”

Ramsey did as the voice instructed. He glanced at Hartley. She hadn’t moved. Fear cut a cold trail through him. Was she alive? “If you hurt her, I’ll rip you apart with my bare hands,” he promised.

“Shut your trap and turn around,” the man ordered.

Ramsey recognized the voice. His blood ran cold as he turned around.

A sneer pushed over Edison’s lips. “Well, well. It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Ramsey countered. Edison looked older than he remembered—more hardened, more bitter. It cut to know that he and Edison were once roommates and close friends. They’d shared so much together before it all went up in a thick ball of black smoke.

An image of the man with the mustache flitted through Ramsey’s mind. He’d studied the surveillance footage at length. Seeing Edison in the flesh, looking at his stance, Ramsey was sure it was the same person. Edison had been planning this for a while. The knowledge twisted his gut. Was Hartley okay? A cold sweat broke over Ramsey’s body, especially when he saw the look of pure hatred in Edison’s eyes.

“Put the gun on the floor,” Edison barked. “Slowly. One false move and your lady gets it,” he snapped.

Relief swept through Ramsey with the force of white-water rapids. Edison was talking as if Hartley were still alive. With a controlled movement, Ramsey retrieved his gun.

“Easy,” Edison ordered.

Slowly, Ramsey put the gun down. He needed to figure out a way out of this, but right now, his first objective was to keep Hartley safe.

“Now, kick it.”

Ramsey did as instructed. The gun skidded across the room, opposite from where they were standing. He rose to his full height, holding up his hands. “Hartley, are you okay?” he asked loudly.

A gravelly laugh sounded in response. Hartley stood. No, not Hartley, but someone else. The woman walked over and stood next to Edison. “Surprised to see me?” she taunted in a raspy voice.

Ramsey didn’t recognize her until she removed the wig. “Bitsie Post?” he uttered, not quite believing his eyes. He’d always feared that Edison would come gunning for him, but Bitsie? The notion seemed absurd. Ramsey had kept tabs on Jefferson and Bitsie Post over the years. He’d watched Bitsie’s transformation from white trash to high society … at least on the surface. Looking at Bitsie, the adage Daddy often quoted flashed through his mind. No matter how much lipstick you slather on a pig, it’s still a pig. Alarm pelted through him. “Where’s Hartley?”

Bitsie chortled out a grating laugh. “All in good time.” Her voice dripped with venom.

Ramsey’s mind raced. “Why’re you doing this?” He had to figure out where Hartley was.

“You’re a smart guy,” Bitsie fired back with a spiteful smirk. “You tell me.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Edison in amusement.

He thought back, sifting through the details of the past. “You were in cahoots with Edison and Allison.” Before she could respond, he rushed on. “Of course. It makes sense. That day at your house, when Edison and I were talking to you and your husband, you didn’t want to get the police involved. You told Jefferson that the kidnapping was fate’s way of getting back at him for disowning Allison.”

Malice darted over Bitsie’s features. “Jefferson is a miser and a tyrant,” she spat. Her face twisted into an ugly mask. “He was gonna cut Allison off without a penny.” She gritted her teeth. “I wasn’t gonna allow