Sneak Peek

Shaw (Immortal Highlander Clan MacMar Book 4)

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE

Julianne Scott didn't want to drive into the city, especially on a beautiful July morning in northern California. She usually spent the time before her shift jogging on the beach, or walking through the park. Since summer break had started, the playgrounds would be filled with two of her favorite things, happy kids and smiling moms. Her attorney, however, insisted that she and her husband attempt one last sit-down before they went in front of a judge.

The conference room for the meeting looked cramped and dusty, and smelled like disinfectant spray, dry-rotted carpet and, oddly, candy apples. Julianne tried to ignore the stink, but she'd always hated being stuck indoors. Places like this made her skin shrivel, too, as if invisible spiders were about to drop down and crawl on her. Everyone who had come here to bicker over their stuff had probably left lots of bad vibes.

My stuff,she reminded herself. Not ours. Not his. Mine.

"One of my investigators told me that lifeguards make six figure salaries down in LA County." A thin, nervous man with silvered brown hair, Paul Whitley wore a nice navy-blue suit that didn't quite fit his scarecrow frame. "Why are you working for so little, Ms. Scott?"

Although he knew she was different, the attorney never talked down to her. Once people realized she had limits, most didn't even try to be that nice.

"After this is over I'll get a better job." If she didn't end up living under a bridge, Julianne hoped. "How long do you think it will take to settle everything?"

"Counsel has already advised me he will be filing three motions on Monday." The lawyer pushed his thick horn-rimmed glasses higher on his nose. "It seems we're in for a fight. In your situation, it's probably better to give Mr. Fumagalli what he wants sooner rather than later."

What he meant was the only thing she had left to her name, which she had promised her parents that she would not give up for any reason. "How is that better?"

"I'm the cheapest attorney in Napa County, which is why you hired me," Paul said. "We've worked out installments for my services, but settling the disputes in a contested divorce can be very expensive. Even if we win, you'll likely be forced to sell your land to avoid bankruptcy."

"Why don't I buy the farm?" Mitchell Fumagalli said as he came into the conference room, smiling as if he were filming a toothpaste commercial. He sauntered over and sat down across from Julianne. "Not that I mean I'll die for you. Sorry, honeybuns, but I plan to live forever."

These days her soon-to-be ex-husband dressed like a wannabe mobster. He evidently bathed in his cologne lately, too; the expensive stench of it rolled across the table in such a thick cloud it made her eyes water. This morning he'd slicked back his curly hair with an oily pomade, stuck a big diamond stud in his left ear, and added a red silk cravat with his gray sharkskin suit. If Julianne had passed him on the street she wouldn't have recognized him.

Had he been this tacky before they'd gotten married? she wondered.

The Mitchell she'd dated had been a big, robust outdoors type who had smelled of soap and lived in jeans, knit pullovers and hiking boots. He'd claimed to be a nature lover, too, and seemed happy just to hang with her. Had he done that just to fool her? Had their romance been some sort of con job right from the start? Why hadn't she seen that?

You really are the dumbest blonde of all time, Julianne.

"How about I give you ten thousand cash?" Mitch said, still grinning. "You can rent yourself a nice trailer. Maybe even a double-wide."

Since Julianne had left her husband, he spoke to her as if she were nothing but a trashy idiot. She should never have told him about how much she'd struggled with handling everything after her parents had died. He'd used that and everything else he knew to make her out to be a gold-digger.

"I'm not selling my land." She started gathering her paperwork so she wouldn't jump across the table and punch him in the nose.

Her ex looked over at the door as an expensively-dressed, older man came in. "Hear that, George? Julie doesn't want to sell me the land she said I could have for free."

She clenched her teeth to keep from responding to his lies, and instead added to her list of new nicknames for Mitch. Cheater. Liar. Poser.

"That is regrettable," George Armstrong said as he sat down across from Paul Whitley. "My client is willing to settle this entire matter amicably, as long as Ms. Scott does not renege on her agreement with him on compensation for his many expenditures on her behalf."

Con man. Money-hungry sex-crazy jerk-face.

For the first time in her life Julianne imagined herself killing someone and herself at the same time. The fastest way would be to run down Mitch in the street before crashing her van into a telephone pile. That way she could end all her troubles and stop him from cheating another woman in the future. The only thing that kept her from trying was a strong suspicion that she'd swerve at the last minute before crashing, and end up brain-dead but on life-support.

Ifhe pulled the plug. Making money mattered more than anything to her ex.

"Focus, Julie." Mitch slapped his hands on the table, making a loud sound that startled everyone but Julianne. "I don't want to drag this out any more than you do. Quit being greedy and give me what I'm owed."

What he was owed… Wait. He was calling her greedy?

"You took the house, my car, my phone, all my clothes and shoes, and every cent we had in the bank," Julianne reminded him. "I got the sixty-one dollars in my wallet and what I was wearing. How does that make me greedy?"

"Come on, honeybuns, you know I footed the bill for most of that stuff. What was left I had to sell to pay for my father's funeral, and treatment for the syphilis you gave me." He used the nail of his pinky finger to pry something out from between his front teeth, and then flick it onto the floor. "I regret every dime I wasted on you while you were using and abusing me."

Just when she thought he couldn't get more disgusting, he did.

"You've been blowing your paycheck for the last year, Mitchell," Julianne said, trying not to shout the words. "Also, I've been checked by the Health Department, and I'm clean. You got the clap after I left you."

"My therapist says that's because you turned me into a complete sex addict, you heartless slut," he said, smirking.

"Mr. Fumagalli, please." Paul cleared his throat and glared at George. "Advise your client not to shout or use verbal abuse toward my client, Counselor."

"It doesn't matter. He's not interested in talking, and I have to go to work now." She got to her feet, glad again that she stood two inches taller than her ex, and regarded her attorney. "Mr. Whitley, I'll call you tomorrow about the court date. Have a nice day, Mr. Armstrong."

She almost made it to the parking lot before her ex caught up with her.

"Give it up, Julie," Mitch said, stepping in front of her. "I've got the best lawyer in the state, Dad's life insurance, and all the time in the world. I can make this go on for years."

"I have nothing else to say to you." When she tried to go around him he grabbed her arm to stop her. "They'll take pictures of my bruises at the police station when I go to report you, and we can use that in court."

He held up both hands in an exaggerated gesture of surrender. "Don't beat me again, baby cakes. I thought you were going to trip."

"Just quit with the lying, will you?" Julianne wished she'd parked closer. "I'll never give you what you want."

"I figured that out on our honeymoon." He uttered a snorting laugh that grated on her nerves as much as his cologne. "How does an airhead bombshell turn out to be a dried-up fridge?"

"I'm a fridge because I wouldn't get my nipples pierced for you, or dance on amateur night at that raunchy strip joint you love, or let you make a sex tape of me touching myself." She nodded, happy to own her prudery. "So why do you think anyone will believe I addicted you to sex and had affairs with your college friends?"

"You mean the revenge sex? You planned to drive away all my buddies so I'd have no one to support me through this terrible ordeal of leaving my abusive wife." Mitch beamed. "Anyway, that's what my guys will tell the judge if you accuse me of infidelity, honeybuns. It's a shame you don't have any friends to lie for you. Even that dyke from Sacramento bailed after we got married, didn't she?"

She'd already guessed he'd screwed around on her, but being reminded of the loss of Eva, her bestie from high school, was like being kicked in the heart. "Enough already, Mitchell."

"You never should have left me," he said, leaning close to whisper. "You have no idea what I can do to you, you stupid bitch, but you're going to find out."

Julianne realized in that moment that he was doing all of this not only for the money he'd make selling the farm, but because she'd hurt his pride. He'd thought she'd be too dumb to see who he really was. It had taken a while, but once she'd realized just how much of a selfish ass Mitch was, she knew it was over for her.

For a control freak like him, that must have been the absolute worst.

Despite all the rotten things he'd done, Julianne still wished he'd accept it was over. She had managed to get through her entire life without hating anyone, and it made her happier than most people. That wasn't the case for Mitch, obviously. He'd always liked being smarter than her, and he'd probably counted on her being stupid enough to do what he wanted. Going after her parents' farm was his way of punishing her for that.

"We loved each other once," she said softly, knowing that at least that was true on her part. "Please, let's just end this and move on."

"Then I'll see you in court," her ex said. "Unless you want to have break-up sex with me. There's a motel right across the street, and I just got my third shot, so I should be clean." He openly rubbed his crotch. "You never know. A reverse cowgirl might make me change my mind."

He really did hate her, Julianne thought. "Good-bye."

"We're still married, remember," Mitch called after her. "If that junker you're living in suddenly catches fire one night, I inherit everything."

That unsubtle threat almost made her trip over her own feet, yet somehow Julianne managed to keep going until she reached the decrepit cargo van she'd borrowed from a co-worker. After checking her watch she pulled out the cheap burner phone she was using and called the office to explain why she'd be late.

"It's okay," David Gonzalez told her. "Melanie called in sick, though, and I've got my daughter's ninth birthday pizza party tonight. If I don't show, I'll need to borrow your lawyer for my own divorce."

Since the three of them were the only lifeguards working at Marson Beach, that meant there would be no one to relieve Julianne. Melanie had also been the one to lend her the van.

"No problem," she told David. "I'll work Mel's shift and mine." She thought of the last thing Mitch had said. "I just need to make a stop before I come in."

After she hung up, Julianne rested her arms on the top of the steering wheel and sniffed hard until she was sure she wouldn't cry. In the rearview mirror she could see the bright pink blow-up pool mattress on which she would be sleeping tonight, and the duffel bag with the clothes she'd bought at a thrift store. She could still shower at her gym, but that membership would end in four months. All she had left to eat, a couple of granola bars sitting in the pocket of the bag, might have to last her another three days until she got paid.

"Could be worse," she told her reflection in the rearview as she touched the locket she wore, the little gold heart giving her some reassurance. "You could still be sleeping with that greedy, lying sack of STDs."

The pale, wan image gave her a wistful smile, as if she knew worse would come.