I Want Candy

  * * *

  Gerrall pulled his girl’s picture up on his cell phone for the thousandth time. But now, seeing it filled him with anger. Anger for the way she’d flirted with him every time they were together. Led him on. Made him believe she wanted him the same way he wanted her. Then she’d gone off with Turner Halliday, making a mockery of their relationship and leaving Gerrall feeling empty, alone, and filled with unbearable rage.

  Earlier that day, he’d hidden in the trees outside Turner Halliday’s house, and he’d seen all he’d needed to. Candy was a whore and a liar. And it was made worse by the fact that Turner Halliday was the one who’d stolen Candy away from him. This wasn’t the first time the man has stolen his woman.

  First it was Miss Junie Halliday, his favorite teacher. Gerrall knew that he was special to her, too. They’d spent long hours together after school while she helped him with his homework, and she always invited him to her house for dinner. Even back then, Gerrall had hated Turner for being so close to her. Resented the fact that he had to share Miss Junie’s attention and affection with that cocky son-of-a-bitch cop, walking around all smug and conceited like he could have any woman he wanted.

  The truth was, Turner could never love Miss Junie the way Gerrall did. Just thinking about her filled him with a deep sense of loss that Turner could never understand.

  That was another reason Gerrall hated his dad. The night Miss Halliday was killed, Bobby Ray got blind drunk and admitted that he was the one who ran her off the road. He’d meant to send her a message—stay away from my house, my son, and mind your own damn business. But instead of leaving her running scared, he’d left her dead. And Gerrall would never, ever forgive him for it. Even worse was his father’s complete lack of remorse as he drunkenly bragged about what he’d done. Laughing and mocking Gerrall the whole time.

  Gerrall put the phone away and grabbed the wig from the floor of his dingy rented room. Gerrall had gotten the wig—along with a dress and some makeup—from the second-hand store down the street. It was his disguise for when he needed to go out for food, or just to clear his head.

  The gang his father worked with had surely gotten wind of his disappearance, and he knew there must be a lot of people looking for him right now. He hadn’t gone far. He was just in the next town over. But they’d never think to look for him in his current disguise, he thought with a grin. And they’d never imagine what he had planned next.

  He knew exactly what to do to outsmart everyone who had hurt him. He just needed to wait a little longer. He’d have his opportunity soon enough.

  * * *

  While Candy talked a blue streak, she folded another piece of pancake in half and dipped it into a puddle of syrup on her plate. Turner sipped his coffee, trying not to laugh, but honestly, he’d never seen anyone eat a pancake like that. He supposed it was one of a million little things he would be learning about Candy along the way.

  It was six A.M. and he’d not slept much, but Turner was a happy man. His body was humming with the kind of deep satisfaction that comes only with incredible sex and good company, and he’d had a whole lot of both in the last eight hours. Candy was a sensual miracle, a woman open and giving of herself, sweet and lighthearted, a girl who loved to laugh.

  But she was also a woman of substance. They’d talked long into the night about their mothers’ plot to keep them apart when they’d been young, and when Turner expressed his anger, Candy reminded him that their mothers had acted in the best interest of their children.

  “What would you have done if it were your son?” Candy had asked him.

  Turner thought about it and said, “I’d have done exactly what my mother did.”

  He smiled at Candy now as she sat across from him at the table, holding up her little pancake roll, a line of syrup dribbling down her forearm. “So what do you think I should do about the building?”

  Instead of answering her, Turner snatched Candy’s wrist, licked her from her elbow up, then chomped down on the pancake.

  “Hey!” she said, laughing.

  Turner swallowed, then grinned. “I think you should take your time making a decision. Look at it. Talk to your mother’s attorney. And then just sit on it a while. Something might come to you.”

  “I’d rather sit on you,” she said, arching one of her blond eyebrows.

  Before Turner knew it, Candy was in his lap, leaving sweet kisses on his forehead. All he could do was close his eyes and melt from the soft brush of her lips, the firm abundance of her body against his, her scent, her warmth. He would never grow tired of the delight of this woman in his arms. He’d gone too long without this kind of contentment to ever take such a gift for granted.

  “I know you have to leave for work soon,” Candy whispered in his ear. “I promise I’ll be good. I just wanted to hug you one last time.”

  Turner wrapped his arms around Candy’s waist and buried his face in her breasts. He heard himself moan. He couldn’t help it—her words forced him to remember that this woman in his arms still planned to leave.

  “You know, I think I’ve realized something…”

  “Oh, yeah?” Turner raised his head. This sounded promising.

  “Yeah. After my talk with Jacinta I realized that I might have been using material things as a substitute for people. Does that make any sense?”

  “Of course it does,” Turner said, his heart lightening at the direction the conversation was taking. “Tell me more.”

  “Well…” Candy absently dragged her fingers over his hair. “I think I got my sense of belonging through stuff, you know, like it defined me, like it gave me a place where I fit. Except for Cheri, of course, people had always seemed to be unpredictable—I expected them to disappoint me. But stuff was always there. And the more stuff and money I collected around me the safer I felt.”

  Turner raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed it tenderly. “And then the stuff was gone.”

  Candy chuckled softly. “Yeah. And what was I left with? Cheri. My mother. My hometown. You. It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it?”

  Turner felt his stomach twist in knots. He didn’t want to push her. He was afraid to hear how she’d answer his next question, but he had to ask. Turner touched her cheek until she looked down into his face. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No,” she said, a tentative smile playing at her lips. “I can’t promise you anything, Turner. Please understand that. But I’m … I’m starting to see things differently. I am open to … possibilities.” She cocked her head and let her eyes explore his face. “Please be patient with me. Give me a little time to figure this out.”

  He nodded, determined that she would not see the fist-pumping celebration going on in his head. “All the time you need, darlin’.”

  “But Turner, what about your feelings for Junie? Do you need more time?”

  “No.”

  Candy blinked at him. “Just like that? You’re sure?”

  Turner nodded. “I’m absolutely sure.”

  “How did that happen?”

  He fingered one of her blond curls and thought about how he’d answer her. He wanted to tell Candy the truth but didn’t want to sound like a nutcase. “I talked to her.”

  Candy’s blue eyes went big. “You did?”

  “Yeah. I told Junie I was letting her go and asked her to do the same. And you know what?”

  “What?”

  “She did. And the next thing I knew, you were waiting for me in the hallway.”

  Very slowly, a smile spread across Candy’s sweet lips. Then she leaned down and touched those lips to his. There was so much tenderness and affection in that kiss that Turner was left wondering how and why he’d gotten so damn lucky—what had he ever done to get another chance at love like this? With a woman as wonderful as Candy?

  “There are people who won’t like it, you know.”

  Turner sighed. “Always will be. But it’s none of our business what people think of us. Do you know what I’m saying?”


  Candy took a big breath. “I think so.”

  He put his hands on her upper arms and held her tightly. “We have to promise each other right here and now that we won’t let them get to us. We can’t let them take away any of our happiness. If we do, we let them win.”

  She nodded. “I promise.”

  Turner pulled her close to kiss her but Candy resisted. “One more thing,” she said. Her eyes clouded. “It’s about Junie again.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Well, Junie and me.”

  “All right.” Turner gave her a smile of encouragement. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Well, she was so … people remember her as a firecracker, you know? She had standing in the community. She was a really good person.”

  “She was definitely all those things,” Turner said, and he realized that he felt peaceful inside as he talked about her. For the first time since her death, Turner felt more peace and acceptance about Junie than grief.

  “I’m not her,” Candy whispered, biting her bottom lip.

  Turner smiled sadly. This had turned out to be one hell of a morning-after talk, and it was because Candy had been game to go there. He loved her for being so open, so willing.

  “No, you are not Junie and Junie was not you, but hear me when I tell you this, Candy—you are not a replacement for someone else. I love you for you. I want you, Candy Pants Carmichael. I want everything—your zest for life and your courage and your caring spirit. You make me laugh. You make me insane with lust. You make me happy to be alive. All that is uniquely you. I want you.”

  Candy nodded, her chin trembling as the tears welled in her eyes. She threw herself in his arms and hugged him so tight that she cut off his air supply. He barely heard it when she whispered, “I love you, too.”

  * * *

  Once the breakfast rush was over, Candy had the strangest feeling someone was watching her. She tried to shake it off, but it wasn’t until she was in the prep kitchen that she could relax. She almost mentioned something to Lenny, but didn’t—she’d been a drama queen lately at work. She didn’t want to push it.

  Turner called about eleven, telling Candy he couldn’t make it in for lunch. She was disappointed. “I’ll miss you,” she told him.

  “I’ll miss you, too, baby. But I’ll see you at home tonight.”

  The idea of that made Candy so happy that she convinced herself the feeling of being watched was a product of her imagination. It was unnerving, for sure, and it had come back as soon as she’d finished in the prep kitchen and returned to her post behind the counter. But there was no reason for it. She’d gone out into the parking lot and she’d checked the restrooms and even looked under the booths—there was no one lurking in the shadows. She drank a cup of coffee and told herself to snap out of it.

  Lunch was crazy. It was probably for the best that Turner couldn’t come by—she wouldn’t have had time for him. They sold out of every dessert in an hour an a half, and Lenny later told her that his daily receipts had increased twenty-seven percent since Candy started baking. He asked if she’d be willing to work the counter only at breakfast and spend the rest of her day baking. Of course, she accepted.

  So at about two o’clock, when Candy found the note propped up near the cash register, she was baffled. How had she not noticed Gerrall in the diner? Was that why she’d been feeling so creeped out? But where had he been? When had he been here?

  When she read the letter a second time, she noticed her hands trembled.

  My sweet Candy,

  I have been watching you. Don’t worry if you did not see me because I am in disgize. Some day soon you will see me, tho. We are going to be together.

  You are so beautiful that you have to be mine.

  Sinsearly,

  G. Spivey.

  Chapter 22

  Turner welcomed the federal agents into his house and told them to make themselves comfortable. He handed the letter over to O’Connor, who immediately slipped it into an evidence envelope. Candy sat on the couch and answered their questions, and Turner could tell she was trying to be calm but was terrified.

  Part of Turner was relieved to see she was finally taking this seriously enough to be scared. He couldn’t believe she didn’t tell him that Gerrall had come into the diner the previous week and threatened her. The other part of him wanted desperately to protect her from any fear, any discomfort.

  But all that took a backseat to the fact that Gerrall Spivey was fuckin’ with her at all, and it made him want to smash walls and break heads. Where was that little bastard?

  “Miss Carmichael, we appreciate you contacting the sheriff right away,” O’Connor said.

  “And you’re sure you didn’t see him?” Marshner asked for probably the fourth time. “You have no idea if he might have been disguised?”

  Candy shook her head. “Like I said, I didn’t see anybody that stood out in any way. But it was insanely busy today, so I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  O’Connor and Marshner shook Candy’s hand and thanked her for her cooperation. Turner showed them to the door.

  When he joined Candy on the sofa once again, she looked exhausted. “C’mere,” he said, sighing with relief when she fell against him. Turner kissed the top of her head and couldn’t help but smile when he caught a whiff of chocolate cake and grilled cheese.

  Though Candy snuggled against him for a moment, she was soon restless. She popped up and frowned. “Okay. What’s going on? That DEA agent was at Cherokee Pines the night I got stuck in the window. Why?”

  Turner nodded, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “First, please understand that I’m putting my ass on the line telling you this, and I’m only doing so because you are in danger. Candy, you cannot share what I am about to tell you with anyone—not even Cheri and J.J. Especially not them.”

  “Why?”

  Turner rubbed his chin. “If the newspaper ran a story about this too soon it would jeopardize a large-scale investigation and might even get an undercover agent killed. I hate to put you in a position where you have to keep a secret from your best friend, but it’s very important that you give me your word you will not share this information with anyone.”

  Candy pursed her lips. “I understand. You have my word. But what does this have to do with Gerrall Spivey?”

  “It’s about his daddy, Bobby Ray.”

  “Oh!” Candy said, perking up. “Lenny told me all about him the other day.”

  “What?”

  “Lenny said Bobby Ray Spivey was crazy and had physically abused Gerrall over the years.”

  Turner sighed, relieved that was the extent of Lenny’s knowledge. “True. Gerrall was one of Junie’s students the year she died. She tried to help Gerrall, but Bobby Ray was a real bastard. But nowadays he’s manufacturing and distributing methamphetamine. It’s a pretty large operation.”

  “What?” Candy’s lips parted with shock.

  “Gerrall has been working for him as a kind of errand boy. But the really bad part is they’re now mixed up with a couple dangerous international drug cartels. We think the boy who was killed out at the Tip Top got caught between the feuding organizations.”

  Candy’s eyes went huge. “Oh, my God! I thought that kind of stuff only happened in big cities!”

  “Maybe fifteen years ago, but not anymore.” Turner took her hand. “We are real close to making arrests, and here’s how you can help me—are you listening?”

  She nodded.

  “I do not want you to be alone at any time, except for here in this house, and only for short periods of time. I’ll be dropping you off and picking you up from work. This will be just for a few days. Promise me you’ll cooperate with me on this, not put up a fuss.”

  Candy nodded slowly, her eyes not yet back to their normal size.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, baby.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  She opened her arms and was about to hug him when T
urner stopped her. “There’s something else you need to know.” He figured he might as well tell her the whole story. Her own safety depended on Candy knowing what the Spiveys were capable of. And besides, she’d trusted Turner with her ugliest secrets. Now it was his turn.

  “The night Junie crashed her car and was killed, she’d just left Bobby Ray’s place. Another teacher told me she’d planned to stop by on her way out of town. She didn’t tell me because she knew I didn’t want her going out there.”

  “Why didn’t she tell you?”

  Turner shook his head. He grabbed Candy’s hand in his and concentrated on the lovely sight. He needed it to ground him while he got the rest of it out. “I told her never to go out there. Spivey was an ignorant and violent man and a racist on top of it all. But she went anyway.”

  Candy squeezed his hand. “What are you saying?”

  Turner looked up into her intelligent, serious blue eyes. “I have never been able to prove anything, but my gut instinct has always told me that Bobby Ray had something to do with her accident.”

  “Oh, my God, Turner.”

  He nodded. “Junie was three months pregnant. I’ve never told anyone that. Not even my mother and brother know. And I had her autopsy sealed so no one ever would.”

  There. He’d said it. He waited for the gut-wrenching pain to slam into him, the way it always did. But something different happened this time. He felt Candy’s soft lips on his cheek, and she pulled his head down to her breast. She held him there, breathing softly, saying nothing for a very long time. Eventually, she released him and looked deeply into his eyes.

  “I am so sorry you suffered like that, Turner. I wish there was something I could do to take the pain away.”

  He nodded. He even felt himself smile just a little. “You just did,” he said. “And the single best thing you can do to help me now is to take these people seriously. Take your own safety seriously until we get them in custody. Will you do that for me?”

  “I will.”

  He kissed her then, and felt her surrender to him in trust and affection. It was an honor to have the love of such a wonderful woman. It was his solemn responsibility to keep her safe.