Reflection Point

chapter TWENTY-FIVE





Savannah’s blood ran cold. “Kyle?”

He was tall, gym-rat built, and he wore his blond hair longer than he had years before. His blue eyes glowed with a malevolent light. His mouth spread in an evil smile. How had she ever thought him handsome?

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t recognize me. It’s only been what … seven years? Eight? You always were a stupid bitch, though. Hillbilly trailer trash and too dumb to know it.”

“What are you doing here, Kyle?”

“Well, now. That’s an interesting question. I came here to take care of one—no, two troublesome details, but I caught part of your little performance earlier. Gave me another idea altogether. Don’t stop with the T-shirt, sugar. Take off that pretty little bra.”

“You need to leave, Kyle.”

“Oh, I’ll leave. After I’ve gotten what I came for.” He reached behind him, pulled out a gun. “You really should have left well enough alone, Savannah. You shouldn’t have sicced the law on us. Since we had to run, we figured we might as well detour a shade off our escape route and make sure you understood what a big mistake you’d made. Now, let’s see those tits.”



Rather than waste half an hour walking back to his office and changing into a dry shirt, Zach bought a T-shirt from a vendor and changed between two booths. He then made his rounds in half the time he ordinarily would have taken. No stopping and shopping for him this year. He had places to go and, with any luck, a person to do.

He wanted to talk to Savannah. He needed to talk to Savannah. However, he needed to be with Savannah, too. In his experience, make-up sex was one of life’s greatest gifts—and he’d never had make-up sex with a woman he loved.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Turner,” he murmured as he turned to start down the last row of booths set up in Angel Creek Park. Despite his hurry, a display at the front of one tent caught his eye. “This is interesting. Is it a sculpture? A wall hanging?”

“It’s wearable art if a person so chooses, but it can be mounted for display on a wall, or we do sell a table display unit to hold it.”

The item was made from skeleton keys that had been soldered together, but the shape … wearable art? “I hope this doesn’t come across as insulting, because I really find this piece fascinating, but … what exactly is it?”

The grandmotherly artist smiled. “Why, a chastity belt, of course.”

“Of course,” Zach replied. Just like he’d said. Interesting people.

He’d reached the second-to-last booth when Logan McClure called his name. “Hey, Zach. Aren’t you the talk of the town today.”

“Heard about booth seventeen, did you?”

“I did. It was funny. I was just leaving the first-aid tent when you walked up with your tennis balls. Celeste came to stand beside me and we exchanged hellos. I didn’t pay much attention to her because I was watching you and Savannah.”

“I’m so glad we were able to provide the morning’s entertainment.”

“I certainly laughed. Anyway, that’s not the strange part. Celeste started asking me questions about you and Savannah, and I thought it was weird since she knows you two better than I do. I looked at her again … and she wasn’t Celeste Blessing. But I swear, she looked so much like her that she could have been Celeste’s twin.”

“Really. Was she wearing angel earrings?”

“Nope. Nor white and gold clothes. That should have been my first tip-off.” They reached an intersection of booths, and Logan indicated he was going left. “I’m headed this way,” Zach said, pointing right.

“I’ll see you around, then. Have a nice lunch, Sheriff Romeo.”

“Bite me, Mr. McClure.”

Zach strolled on, waving to the mayor, nodding to the lemonade vendor, then stopping to buy a cup since he was thirsty. That caused him to consider what he had at home for lunch. He had offered Savannah lunch. He should have food. He didn’t have any food in either his fridge or his pantry. I’ll pick up something from a vendor and …

Abruptly the words Logan McClure had said filtered back through his mind. She could have been Celeste Blessing’s twin.

He stopped abruptly. Celeste Blessing’s twin.

Weeks ago Savannah had told him about Francine Vaughn. She’s Celeste Blessing’s doppelgänger.

The Vaughns had been arrested last week. Had they made bail? He hadn’t heard.

Logan had talked to Celeste Blessing’s twin.

“Oh, hell.” Zach dropped his lemonade and began to run.

Savannah’s heart pounded and her mind raced. Okay. Don’t panic. Think. This is your home, your territory.

Kyle Vaughn will not defeat you again.

She needed to stall for time. Zach would arrive here soon. He’d be early. He wouldn’t wait until one. He’d kissed her. He’d said he’d take her to Reflection Point for lunch. He’d be wanting make-up sex.

He’ll be early. Buy some time, Savannah. Do what you have to do to survive.

She slipped her bra straps off her shoulders and bared her breasts. It’s no big deal. It’s not like he hasn’t seen them before.

“Well now, sugar,” Kyle said, leering. “I’d forgotten what a nice rack you had. So tell me, did you get yourself a girlfriend while you were in the slammer? Bet you had plenty of ladies wantin’ to suck on those pretty tits.”

She eyed his gun. Had he come here to kill her? She knew he was a liar, a thief, and a drug dealer, but had he ever killed anyone before? Would he hesitate or would it be easy for him? What should she say? What should she do?

“Now take off those cute little shorts,” he demanded.

“My bathtub is going to overflow, Kyle. This is an old house and if it overflows it will leak down the side of the house. Someone might notice. Will you let me go turn it off?”

While he thought about it, she mentally inventoried her cabinets. Surely she could find something to use as a weapon. Hair spray. Tweezers. Didn’t she have a pair of scissors in the drawer?

“Don’t concern yourself with the bathtub, Savannah. Look on the good side: you won’t need to worry about a water bill. Now, take off those shorts.” Fine. More to distract him with. She dropped her shorts.

He let out a wolf whistle. “Baby, baby. I don’t recall you wearing thongs. I think I’d remember that.”

Her stomach rolled. He’d come here to kill her, that was obvious. The voice in her head asked, Okay, then, what are you going to do to stop him, Savannah Sophia?

Grams, you’re back!

Darling, I’m always with you. Now, answer the question, love. What are you going to do to stop this villain?

I don’t know!

Sure you do. You’ll do something. Anything.

It’s a risk. A huge risk. He’s got a gun.

And if he kills you, you’ll have died taking action.

Taking action. Savannah liked that. Taking action meant not being a victim. Have a nice victimhood, Zach had said.

I don’t think so. Not again. Never again.

That’s the spirit, Savannah Sophia.

Of course, won’t it be just my luck to die right when I’ve found Zach?

Fiddlesticks. Maybe you won’t die. Maybe you’ll defeat the villain. After all, you’re not a victim anymore.

No, I’m not. I’m Zach Turner’s woman.

And she wouldn’t be afraid.

Savannah used the weapons she had at her disposal—her voice, her body, her intellect. She arched her back, stuck out her boobs, and asked, “Did you come here to screw me or shoot me, Kyle?”

His gaze dropping to her breasts, he said, “Both.”

“You know what I learned in prison? Danger is a turn-on. I’m pretty turned on. My panties are wet. Wanna see?”

His voice tight, he said, “Show me.”

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all she had and as much as she’d have liked to wait for Zach, she sensed she was running out of time. She went into full striptease mode, shooting a hip, letting her thumbs play with the elastic, slowly … ever so slowly … pulling her panties down.

She suppressed the shudder of revulsion. She was a warrior woman, using the weapons at hand, and they were working. He was distracted. He wasn’t on guard. Why would he be? He’d known the old Savannah. The innocent, foolish, starry-eyed girl. He hadn’t known Zach Turner’s woman.

She slipped off the panties, but kept hold of them. She swung them around in a slow circle, once, twice. On the third time, she intended to throw them in his face and lunge at him. She’d knock him to the floor and rip the gun out of his hand and if she had to use it, then so be it. She was Savannah Sophia Moore and she could do this.

It might have worked, too, had everything not gone to hell.

Zach called for backup. He knew he might be overreacting, but he called for backup anyway. Gabi was on the north side of town. She would be only minutes behind him. Martin was in a department vehicle descending Sinner’s Prayer Pass. His other deputy was on the highway north of town. “I’ll get them there fast, Zach,” Ginger assured him.

Good. If this was a mistake, then he could call them off before they arrived.

Only he didn’t think this was a mistake. Every instinct in his body was screaming.

Savannah was in trouble.

He arrived at the house and shifted into hunter mode, breathing deeply to calm his breath even as he moved forward on silent feet.

He tested the lock on the kitchen door, and the knob turned easily. Crap. Savannah was one of the few people in Eternity Springs who kept her house locked even when she was inside.

Quietly he slipped inside. He listened hard. He heard something … water running? The bathtub?

She was taking a bath. He relaxed a little. Maybe she’d been thinking about make-up sex, too, and had simply forgotten to lock up.

Or maybe not. Something didn’t feel right. There was a tension in the house that wasn’t normal.

Aware of the sometimes squeaky hinges, he opened the swinging door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. That’s when he heard the voices.

The panties began their third rotation when the sound came from downstairs. TJ yelled, “Savannah? The credit card machine has quit working. Savannah?”

Kyle jerked his gaze away from her and turned toward the door. Time slowed to freeze-frames. Zach in the hall, his gun up. His eyes met hers. He can’t see Kyle’s gun.

“No!” she screamed, throwing herself at Kyle, at his gun, the gun pointed at Zach, just as his finger moved on the trigger.

The bullet ripped into her. Pain stabbed her. Savannah fell even as another shot exploded and gore and blood splattered against her skin. Kyle’s body toppled and Savannah knew he was dead, knew Zach had killed him. It’s over. It’s over.

“Peach!” He was there, kneeling over her, those gorgeous blue eyes of his fierce. Worried. “It’s okay. Help is on the way. It’ll be okay.”

He reached for her, and … then it wasn’t okay.

Freeze-frames again. His body jerks. His eyes widen.

Blood. Zach’s blood. Oh, dear God. He falls on top of her.

Over his shoulder, a wild-eyed devil stands holding a gun.

Not Celeste. Francine.