One Southern Cowboy - Jennifer Youngblood Page 0,51

that he could no longer hurt her or anyone else. An image of Jacklyn flashed through her mind. She wondered if the girl had died. She was practically a kid. Wesley was a scumbag of epic proportions. He’d used the poor girl. Lemon still couldn’t believe that Wesley had killed Braden. No wonder her mind had blocked everything out. It was too horrible to contemplate.

Ramsey’s instructions broke into Lemon’s thoughts. “Remember, the goal is to get Wesley to agree to meet with you at Millstead’s Restaurant. Don’t let Wesley rattle you,” he cautioned. “Give only as much information as necessary.”

“We’re right here with you,” Jaxson said, placing a protective arm around her shoulders. She appreciated Jaxson’s strength, praying that she could borrow a sliver of it to carry her through.

“You’ve got this.” Jaxson gave Lemon a reassuring nod.

Lemon gulped in a quick breath. Her heart was pounding so furiously that it was making her dizzy. She offered a silent prayer, asking for help and strength.

Chief Blankenship looked at her. “You ready?”

She nodded. It was now or never. Her phone was resting in the center of the desk. Chief Blankenship slid it over to her. She pressed the button to call Wesley on his regular number. She balled her hands, waiting as the phone rang ominously.

He answered on the third ring with a breathless, “Lemon.”

“H—hey,” she stammered.

“Where are you? Are you okay?” His voice sounded so solicitous that it kindled her anger, crowding out her fear.

She ground her teeth. “How could you do it?” Tears rose to her eyes. “How could you kill my mother? And Braden. You’re a monster,” she hissed.

Silence.

Her voice rose. “Answer me!” Hatred burned acid through her veins.

“Lemon, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

A disbelieving laugh riddled her throat. She glanced at Chief Blankenship, caught the blip of concern that moved across his ruddy complexion. “Don’t play games with me. You slapped that poor girl, causing her to fall down the stairs.” Her voice trembled with outrage. “She was practically a kid, and she was carrying your child.”

“Calm down,” Wesley interjected.

She talked over him. “No, I won’t calm down. You told me that you had people who could take care of my mother at the snap of your finger like you did Braden. You’re a murderer,” she hissed.

“Lemon, darling, I don’t know what’s going on, but I can help. You’re not well.” He spoke with an air of condescension, like he was talking to someone who wasn’t mentally stable.

Icy fingers of fear pricked at the base of Lemon’s skull. Would Jaxson and everyone else think she was crazy? That she’d imagined this whole thing? She had to do something radical, or else they would all lose faith in her.

“Where are you Lemon? We need to meet face-to-face so we can talk this through. You know how much I value your friendship. I always have. Let me help you.” His tone was plaintive, pleading.

Lemon couldn’t believe her ears. Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Help me? You’re a psychopath.”

“Calm down,” Knox whispered. “Agree to a meeting.”

“On second thought, I changed my mind,” Lemon snipped. “You go your way, I’ll go mine. If I never see you again, it won’t be too soon.”

“Lemon,” she heard Wesley protest as she ended the call.

“What in the tarnation was that?” Knox asked, his voice ringing with frustration.

Chief Blankenship was completely dumbfounded.

Lemon turned to Jaxson. His face was masked in confusion.

“Ramsey, you still with us?” Knox asked.

“I’m here,” Ramsey answered.

Lemon’s blood was boiling. “We’ll never beat Wesley at his own game. He was playing the politician, trying to make me look unstable.” She lifted her chin. “I’m done with him manipulating me.”

Jaxson turned to her, his eyes larger than two full moons. “Why did you do that?”

She blew out a breath. “When I fled Wesley’s house the night Jacklyn fell down the stairs, Wesley kept calling me. I ignored his calls. Finally, he called me from an anonymous number. Wesley was playing nice just now because he knows that his number can be traced. I’m trying to force his hand so that he’ll call me from a burner phone and show his true colors.” She looked at her phone, hoping that her hunch was correct.

“I sure hope you’re right,” Knox said, his head swinging back and forth.

Lemon’s phone rang. It was a number she didn’t recognize. She pressed the button to answer, putting the call on speaker. “Hello,” she said tentatively.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me,” Wesley snarled.

She felt