Southern Romantic-Suspense Boxed Set (Southern Romantic-Suspense Novel Book 0) Read online

Jaynee could tell he wasn’t going to go any further this morning. So she curled up in his arms. She could wait until tonight. She sighed with complete contentment as he automatically pulled her closer.

  “Happily ever after, love,” he whispered, kissing her softly again.

  And they ... lived ...

  Life isn’t always happily-ever-after, rather, loving forever, regardless.

  — Carmen DeSousa

  Split Decisions

  Southern Romantic Suspense

  (Charlotte ~ Book Two)

  by

  Carmen DeSousa

  A Note From The Author

  Split Decisions is a follow-up story to She Belongs to Me, a ‘what if’ type of story that explores the questions we often ask ourselves about our life and the choices we’ve made. Since you’ve read She Belongs to Me, you know Jaynee had many doors she could have gone through in her life, and each one had the potential to cause her harm or bring her happiness.

  While doing my final read-through of She Belongs to Me, I saw many of the doors Jaynee could have chosen … and a few things I hadn’t even realized were there. If you’ve ever spoken with authors, you will have heard that sometimes when we write, we get lost in our writing … and we look back later, and think, “Did I write that? I don’t remember writing that.”

  Well, that’s what happened, so get ready... Split Decisions is not your normal romantic-suspense...this is romantic-suspense with a twist.

  A Week Before Her Fortieth Birthday …

  Jaynee awoke with a start, salty tears streaming down her cheeks, burning her already chapped lips.

  She attempted to swallow, but didn’t have enough saliva to moisten her mouth. It’d just been a nightmare. The nightmare she used to have nightly after her father committed suicide. Though, she hadn’t had it in years. Not since Jordan had taken her away from her previous life, providing a stable home, love, and strong arms to shield her from the demons that haunted her.

  Unfortunately, Jordan wasn’t here, and her surroundings were all too real. Pinpricks of sunlight streaked through the corners of the shaded windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

  The room was still dark in most spots, but she could almost make out her surroundings. It looked like a cabin of some sort. The walls were a dingy off-white or possibly just stained from years of exposure, but the ceiling and trim were dark wood along with the slatted floors. A musty scent permeated the area, irritating her sinuses, but she couldn’t even scratch her nose.

  Cuffs still secured her to the four bedposts. What kind of sicko would do such a thing?

  Her arms and legs ached from the position they’d been in all night, and she had to go to the bathroom something awful.

  When she opened her mouth to speak, nothing but a croak escaped, leaving a trail of lava in her parched throat. “Hel-lo?” Though her voice had cracked, she attempted to sound friendly. Screaming or sobbing wouldn’t do any good. Not that she had the strength or vocal cords anyway.

  She wasn’t in the city; only the country would be as dark as it’d been last night when her assailant had brought her here. Even if she screamed her head off, no one would hear. “Please,” she tried again. “I really have to use the bathroom.”

  The door finally opened, the hinges protesting in a lengthy screech, begging for oil. Her captor entered the room, still wearing a black ski mask, gloves, and the same dark jeans and thick overcoat he’d worn the previous evening. He wasn’t too tall or heavy. If given the chance, she could probably take him. Jordan had taught her a few things. But as long as he had the gun trained on her, she’d have to be submissive.

  His gauntleted hand unlocked just one of her wrists. Then, placing the key in her hand, he stepped back. Obviously, she was to unlock her other restraints. She didn’t waste any time. She unlatched her left hand, then both of her ankles. After rubbing them to increase circulation, she jumped out of the bed on the opposite side of her detainer. He motioned with the gun that she should move to the door on the far side of the room. She did as instructed, opening the door to a small bathroom with just a sink and toilet. No window. She quickly relieved herself. It felt incredible; she’d actually been in pain.

  When finished, she opened the medicine cabinet and cubbyhole under the sink, finding nothing usable as a weapon. Both rooms were completely barren, stripped of everything. The abduction had not been a coincidence … but premeditated.

  And it was her fault. If she hadn’t been searching...

  Chapter One

  Three Weeks Earlier

  (Jaynee)

  Jaynee’s alarm squawked its annoying morning greeting as she awoke with the thought, I am thirty-nine and I love my life, I love my life, I love my life.

  Crawling out of bed, she repeated the mantra. What’s not to love? I am married to a wonderful husband, I have four beautiful children, and I have published six bestsellers. What’s not to love?

  And yet, as she padded her way to the master bath at five a.m., her heart felt heavy. She refused to accept the word that best described her disposition. She couldn’t be the D word … she couldn’t be depressed. Maybe depressed wasn’t the right word, melancholy, that sounded better.

  There was a time when she didn’t wake before noon, years ago when she had to work until two in the morning. Not that her previous life was better, it wasn’t. She’d made numerous terrible decisions in her youth. Only one choice had been an excellent decision: marrying her husband. Her life had been a whirlwind of afflictions, tragedies, and disappointments up to the point of him walking into her life.

  Four days had been all it had taken her to fall head over heels in love. Jordan had said it was the Thunderbolt, and she’d felt it, too. When he’d asked her to marry him in less than a week, she struggled with the correct decision, certain he would hurt her as everyone else had done in her life. But in the end, she’d made the right decision. Trusting in Jordan had been the smartest thing she’d ever done; he’d never hurt her. That had been almost eighteen years ago, but now she was turning forty in less than a month.

  Forty. Yikes! That was part of her problem. It wasn’t old for a man, but she felt ancient. She was now the age her mother had been at her wedding. She remembered the faded cream-colored dress trimmed with lace that her mother had worn that day. It had been outdated and old-fashioned. Deep worry lines had etched her mother’s perfect, always stage-ready face, making her appear older than she’d ever had.

  Is that what I look like now? she fretted. Do I look as old as my mother did?

  Gazing intently at her reflection in the mirror, she searched for new wrinkles. She had very few, thankfully. Her skin was light, but olive undertones made her appear younger than she was. Also, only a couple of gray hairs, something she’d inherited from her grandmother, who’d passed away four years ago at age ninety-two. She plucked them out as soon as they reared their ugly heads, hoping she wouldn’t go bald in the process. Turning sideways, she inspected her body. She was still in good shape anyway. Her figure was petite and shapely, typical of her Portuguese heritage.

  Warm arms surrounded her as she stood motionless, transfixed on her image. She glanced up at her husband’s face in the mirror, attempting a smile, hoping he wouldn’t perceive her despair.

  “Mornin’, babe,” Jordan murmured, pressing his lips against her neck. “Why are you up? It’s Sunday. Freshen up and I’ll meet you back in bed.”

  It was Sunday. How had she forgotten? Another symptom of old age, Alzheimer’s disease. Great! At least she wouldn’t remember turning forty if that happened.

  When they’d first married, they didn’t have to freshen up before making love in the morning, but that time had departed. And even though she was turning forty, Jordan was forty-five.

  Not that it mattered. Time had only intensified his good looks. His laugh lines, a result of always smiling, served only to make him appear more distinguished. His physique, solid and trim, didn’t appear forty-five either. His hair had grayed
around the edges, but again, that only made him look more mature, sexier.

  Jordan crawled under the covers, proceeding to nuzzle her neck. He worked his way over her collarbone with tiny kisses. “Mmm … you smell good enough to eat.” His warm breath caressed her shoulders, sending shivers down her body.

  A deep sigh escaped her throat. He was wonderful. She never felt anxious when Jordan was here, when he was holding her.

  But summer was over, the kids were back in school, and she had too much time to contemplate and wonder … why do I feel so unfulfilled? She knew it wasn’t Jordan. She didn’t want anyone else. She just felt empty, dismal, and she hated to admit … depressed, but couldn’t pinpoint why. Her insides felt torn in two as if she were missing an integral part of herself. What more did she want?

  Jordan pulled back to look at her. “You okay, love?”

  Nodding, she buried her face between his head and shoulder. She was currently, but wasn’t certain where she’d be tomorrow. She had to figure out what was wrong, and she needed to do it fast.

  Jaynee bounded down the stairs at the same time she heard Jordan tromping up them. “Jaynee, we’re gonna —”

  “Right here … ” They’d almost collided on the bend. “You know the problem with turning forty?” she asked while he dragged her in his wake.

  He smiled down at her. “Um, yeah, or at least I did five years ago. I think I forgot.” Jordan always joked about memory loss. But she suspected he forgot things when it served him, like school functions and teacher conferences.

  She laughed as he opened the door to their F-150, lending her a hand as she hopped up onto the running boards and sank into the leather seat of his lifted four-wheel-drive truck. “It takes twice as long to look half as good.”

  “Jaynee,” he said, pausing and resting his hand on her knee, “you look twice as good. You’re One Hot Momma,” he sang the words of an old country song he loved.

  He closed her inside the cab next to her twelve-year-old daughter Johanna. Johanna’s twin brother Justin was in the back with his seven-year-old twin siblings Jacob and Jeremy.

  They were the six J’s. Corny as it was … it was still cute. It’d become rather difficult when Jordan yelled at the boys, though. Usually his words came out as, “Jus … Jac — I mean, Jeremy.” Jeremy was her problem child. He was always catching his father’s wrath for something he did or didn’t do.

  Justin, her only introverted child, was lost in his music. He had about five minutes before Jordan insisted he remove his earphones. Jacob sat in the middle, interested in everything, eager to please his father. And Johanna, well, she had her father wrapped around her little finger, along with all the teenaged boys in the neighborhood already chomping at the bit for her to be old enough to date.

  The problem, Johanna didn’t look twelve. She looked sixteen, even though Jordan insisted she not wear makeup and never allowed her to leave the house in anything too revealing. There was simply no way to mask her curves and beauty. She was also a tomboy. She enjoyed horseback riding and motorbikes, and yet, could be as prissy as a princess. In summary, she was identical to Jaynee as a teenager, sans all the horrible circumstances. There would be no reason she shouldn’t accomplish anything she wanted.

  What will my daughter want in life? she wondered. Will she want to marry and settle down, or will she choose a different path?

  As if hearing her unspoken question, Johanna nudged her. “Did you ask him?”

  Jaynee shook her head, and her daughter released a heavy sigh.

  “What are you girls whispering?” Jordan asked from the driver’s seat.

  “Nothing important,” Jaynee offered, attempting to postpone the discussion. “Johanna just wants to do something with her friend. I told her we’d discuss it tonight.”

  She couldn’t lie. Years ago, she’d tested their marriage simply by trying to keep something secret; she’d never made that mistake again. But they needed to be alone, not in front of their children for this conversation. Johanna didn’t understand that. Her daughter couldn’t appreciate that if she wanted Jaynee to campaign for her, she needed to discuss matters in private.

  “Well, I think it is very important,” Johanna retorted.

  Jaynee glared at her, imploring her to stop. “Honey, I didn’t mean it’s not important; it’s just something we need to discuss later.” The fact was she wanted her daughter to have alternatives in life. When Jaynee was a teenager, she’d had several modeling and singing opportunities. But terrified of failing, she’d walked away from them. Instead, she’d dated idiots and ended up in horrible situations.

  If she’d made just one of those other choices, she wondered how her life would have turned out. Her mother had a decent singing voice, even made it on the country charts a couple of times. But her voice was better, and the couple of summers she’d spent traveling with her, she’d always been asked, “So, when are we going to see your name in bright lights?” She would smile and stare down at her feet. The thought of groupies and stalkers harassing her scared her to death. But then, she’d always wondered, what if.

  Jordan patted Johanna’s knee. “Stop fighting with your mother and tell me already.”

  “I’ve been offered an opportunity, Daddy.” It was always Daddy when she wanted something. She seemed to forget that her father used to be a detective, a good one too. Johanna paused, waiting for the word opportunity to sink in. “There’s this agency …”

  Jaynee caught Jordan’s expression, his brow already furrowed. He wasn’t much on opportunities unless they included academic scholarships, and based on Jaynee’s mother’s history, the word agency probably hadn’t thrilled him either.

  “Well, the owner …” Johanna cast her eyes at her lap, pulling at an imaginary loose thread on her dress.

  Jaynee turned her head to conceal her smile. Her daughter had about two seconds to finish.

  “You see, he wants to train me to be an actress.”

  As Jordan stopped at an intersection, he made eye contact with Jaynee. She was correct, of course; this wasn’t the place. He was clearly trying to contain his immediate no to avoid a conflict before church.

  “He assured Mom it wouldn’t cost anything,” Johanna prattled on, oblivious.

  Jordan’s face reddened, obviously searching for an explanation why she’d do this behind his back. “Jaynee?” His voice cracked in his confusion, since they discussed everything as a couple, as she’d insisted when they first married.

  “Nothing has been discussed, Jordan. The owner called and asked if he could train Johanna. I told him we’d talk. I wouldn’t sign her up without speaking with you first. You know that.”

  He exhaled a breath. “Jo, your mother is correct. We,” he gestured to himself and Jaynee, “will discuss this. And then, the three of us will sit down together. Later.”

  Johanna crossed her arms. “That means no.”

  “No, it means we’ll discuss this later.”

  “But you’re just gonna say no,” she pouted.

  “If you insist on having this conversation now, you’re correct; my answer will be no. But if you behave like an intelligent young lady and allow your mother and me to discuss this, then … well, I don’t know what will happen, but at least you won’t get an instant no. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Dad,” she mumbled. She knew not to push him. Jordan doted on his children, but stood firm in his decisions and wouldn’t tolerate disrespect. “I can’t wait until I go away to college … out of this state. Far away … NYU,” she grumbled under her breath.

  Jordan ignored her, and Jaynee stroked her arm, wanting to tell her I told you so. Jaynee and Johanna got along okay, but the last few months had been difficult. Jordan had mentioned that Johanna was becoming a woman, and it was never good to have two women in one household.

  He would know. He’d grown up with two older sisters. Because of this, as much as he was one hundred percent male, he had a better understanding of female behavior. He would laugh and i
nform Jaynee it was what made him such a great husband. She agreed. But then couldn’t help but wonder: If I have such a great husband, why do I feel so awful inside?

  ***

  Jaynee ordered pizza, and they picked it up on the way home after a day of hiking. It was too far to leave once they returned to the house. They lived in Stanfield, North Carolina, a small town forty-five minutes southeast of Charlotte.

  After dinner, Jordan collapsed on the couch, turning on a political analyst he’d recorded. Jaynee sauntered over to the sofa, allowing him to pull her down as he stretched the full length of one side of their sectional. She tucked her head against his chest, hungry to feel the warmth and comfort of his arms. “I don’t want to watch TV.”

  He twirled her hair around his fingers. “What would you like to do?”

  “Well, I’d like to go to bed, but we have to discuss Johanna.”

  “Can’t we go to bed, then talk afterward,” he said in his seductive southern drawl.

  She couldn’t resist the giggle that escaped. “Somehow, I don’t think that’ll work.” Jordan wasn’t good about staying focused when his mind was on other things.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Let’s go.” Flicking off the TV, he sat her upright. He stood up, then extended his hand. As long as they’d been together, it still sent a flutter through her when he offered her his hand and led her upstairs. After kissing the kids good-night and listening to their prayers, they readied for bed at their individual sinks.

  Jordan caught her as she rounded the corner, folding her into his arms. He kissed her on the lips, then leaned back to look at her face. “Before we talk about Johanna, tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He huffed lightly, shaking his head. “You’re sad … I can feel it. I just wanna know why.”

  “I’m not sad.” How did he do that?