Lisa Jackson's Bentz & Montoya Bundle

by Lisa Jackson

  “Is it?”

  “Yes! When did you become an egomaniac?” she demanded. Her green eyes snapping fire, she looked as if she might slap him. But she wouldn’t. “If you remember, I was the one who broke up with you, right? It wasn’t the other way around.”

  “Biggest mistake of your life,” he assured her calmly.

  “The biggest mistake of my life was getting involved with you again!” she blurted. The minute the words crossed her tongue, she regretted them, wished she could call them back. He was staring down at her as if he could actually read her mind, the big oaf. Oh, hell! What was it about Jay that drove her nuts? “I’ve changed my mind. Just go.”

  “No.”

  “GO!”

  “You want me to stay, you’re just too thickheaded to admit it.”

  “You make me crazy!”

  “Good.”

  Talking to him, trying to reason with him, only made things worse. Somehow he’d gotten the upper hand. She’d given him the upper hand. And now he was smiling that damnable boyish grin that she found so stupidly irresistible. One side of his mouth lifted and in that second she knew he was going to kiss her. Oh, God, she couldn’t let that happen.

  Never.

  She warned, “Don’t even think about—”

  Too late. In an instant he’d dropped the blanket and pillow and had yanked her hard against him. His lips slanted over hers in a kiss that sucked the breath from her lungs and left her bones feeling weak.

  Which was just damned ridiculous!

  And that warm tingle that slid through her bloodstream?

  Totally out of line!

  Totally!

  Yet she didn’t pull away when his tongue pressed against her teeth and she heard a soft, almost eager moan escape her own throat. Oh, for the love of God. Stop this, Kristi, stop it now!

  His hands splayed over her back, pulling her even closer, and she began to be lost in the moment, in the desire that swept through her. She finally found the strength to push him away.

  “Bad form, McKnight,” she said, stepping back, aware her chest was rising up and down more rapidly than normal, her voice disgustingly breathy. “You’re my professor.”

  He laughed aloud. “And you’re of age. Try again.”

  “We have a history, Jay. And it’s not good.”

  “It’s not bad.” He wasn’t giving an inch as he stood glaring down at her, his amber eyes dark with desire, his lips thin and hard.

  “Stay back…I’ll think of something.”

  “Your excuses are getting weaker.”

  “Jay—”

  “What?” His mouth was coming close to hers again.

  “You’re deluded,” she said, pulling back sharply. “That’s what you are, McKnight. Blind-ass dumb and deluded. And even if I was interested in you—which I’m not—but if I was, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to get involved with you again. Especially now. Didn’t I already tell you this? You know it as much as I do. We’ve got too much to do. And come on.” She mustered up a disgusted glare. “There might be a little something there, between us, okay. But it’s nothing.”

  “It’s something,” he argued.

  “Nothing.” She picked up the forgotten bedding and tossed it to him again, pointing to the chair. Then she turned to Bruno and pointed to the rug. “As for you, you sleep there.” He cocked his head and thumped his tail, but didn’t move.

  Jay whistled. “Here, boy,” he said, and Bruno ambled to the rug. “The boss has spoken.”

  Kristi ignored the jab. “The way I see it, we don’t have much time. I figure whoever was here earlier was looking for the vial. I bet he’s not giving up. I bet he’s going to strike again and soon.”

  “And maybe you’re his next target.” Jay’s tone had changed from playful to serious. “That could be the reason he was here earlier.”

  “No.”

  “Let’s hope not.” He patted the dog’s head absently, then walked to the bike and rolled it in front of the door. He propped the frame against the jamb and lever, ensuring that it would fall over and crash loudly should anyone try to enter. Once the bike was balanced to his satisfaction, Jay turned and looked at the ceiling, as if searching for divine intervention. Shaking his head, he said, “I should have my head examined, but you win.” His eyes returned to hers, their amber irises steady with determination. “Okay, we’ll play it your way. I won’t call the police. For now. You’ve got one week and not a second more.”

  Could she go through with it?

  Ariel looked around her small apartment and wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into. Sure, she’d needed friends and the rush of being in some exclusive, secret cult. She’d even loved all the vampire stuff that went along with it.

  She’d never felt so alive as when she’d allowed “the master” to bite into her neck, to let some of the blood flow out and to collect those drops into a vial.

  The ritual had been exciting, the feeling of belonging, of doing something dark and sensual and out of the norm, seductive. To have been chosen had been heady and she finally, for the first time in her life, felt like she was someone, that she belonged, that she was even better than a lot of her peers.

  Now, she had doubts.

  Tomorrow night there was another meeting, one scheduled after the morality play, and she was nervous. Though she didn’t really know who was a part of their secret group, a few girls had dropped hints and she realized that Trudie and Grace and probably Zena were all members of the elite few. There were others, she knew, but had no idea who they were.

  She felt more than one frisson of fear slide down her spine. Because, damn it, she sensed that some of those girls who were missing, the ones the press brought up every now and again, had been part of their inner circle. Though she couldn’t be certain…who could? The ritual was so bizarre, so…dark…But the girls were definitely missing. And during the ceremony, she’d heard their names…he’d called them each sister and used their names.

  Had they been willing members of their group?

  Of course they were! Don’t be an idiot. They’re gone because of what they got themselves into, what you, yourself so eagerly embraced. They’re either dead or—

  “No!” she said aloud to the four walls of the tiny walk-up where she lived alone. “No, no, no!” He wouldn’t betray them so. Those other girls, Tara and Monique and Dionne…they probably left because they’d been scared after the vampire ritual, that was it. The same with Rylee, the last girl reported missing. Ariel remembered her as kind of shallow, always worried, truly a lost soul.

  Could they really all be dead?

  Her heart turned stone-cold as she stared at the tiny room she’d called home for over a year, noticed the cheap faux-designer touches she’d bought to try and make the apartment appear homey, the worn, broken-down furniture that had come with the place, the few pictures of a family who really didn’t care about her scattered on the tables and plastic yellow bookcase she’d put together herself.

  Scratching at her throat, her nerves stretched as tight as ever, she looked up at the picture of Jesus she had mounted on the wall near the window. She’d once been so religious, so convinced of her own piety, and now…oh, Father…now…she was lost…

  Ariel swallowed hard.

  Then there was that Bentz girl. Daughter of a cop. Nosing around. Who claimed she’d seen danger in the color of Ariel’s skin or some such crap! What did that mean?

  Her skin crawled as she thought perhaps she might be the next one who disappeared, that something was going to happen to her….

  “No way.” She crossed to her minifridge and pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer. Uncapping it, she lifted the mouth to her lips and took a long swig. She just needed to calm down. She was getting rattled.

  Kristi Bentz had done this to her. What a freak. Wiping the back of her hand over her lips, Ariel caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was pale, her fingers tight over the neck of the cold bottle, her eyes rou
nd with fear.

  Maybe she should just run.

  Like the others.

  How long would it take to pack a bag and disappear?

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t done it before.

  Leave now, tonight. Before you change your mind. Hop a bus and get the hell out of here.

  Could she just not show up?

  She walked to the closet and reached to the upper shelf for her big backpack, the one she camped with, the one that could hold almost all of her pitiful belongings. She was dragging it down when her cell phone rang.

  Her heart sank as she plucked the phone from her purse, read the screen, and realized that he was calling.

  As if he’d known.

  Her heart knocked wildly at the thought of hearing his voice, of knowing that he cared, that he loved her….

  She didn’t answer, let the call go to voice mail, and within minutes she heard his steps on the stairs and a rap of his knuckles on the tarnished panels.

  “Ariel,” he said, his voice low, melodic, and insistent. “Open the door.”

  Shivering, water surrounding her, Kristi tried to swim. She was in the middle of a pool, in a building that was dark as night. A few candles had been placed on the tile rim and their little flames flickered and threatened to die in this cavern.

  Where the hell was she?

  Gasping, feeling as if she’d been treading water for hours, she glanced around. Was she alone? She looked downward, toward the bottom of the pool, but it was deep and dark, and though she saw no one in the Stygian depths, she felt his presence. As surely as if he were breathing against her skin.

  Swim, Kristi, for God’s sake get the hell out of here!

  She kicked hard, took a big gulp of the stagnant air, and began stroking. Hard. Toward the nearest edge. She didn’t understand why, but deep in her heart she knew that something, someone evil, was hiding in the water, skulking in the shadows, where a fine mist rose toward a ceiling she couldn’t see.

  Don’t think about it, just get the hell out of here. You’re a strong swimmer, you are.

  Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!

  She forced herself to cut through the water, her legs to kick, but her limbs felt leaden and no matter how hard she tried, she got no closer to the edge. Either it was shrinking away from her or she was just treading water.

  Come on, try harder. Gritting her teeth, she threw herself into her struggles and as she reached over her head to pull herself through the water, the tips of her fingers touched something, got wound in something fibrous, like thread. She tried to pull her hand away, but whatever it was came with it.

  There in the dark, nose to nose with her, was a severed head. Tara Atwater’s eyes were open and blank in her bluish face, and from her neck a thick stream of blood invaded the water.

  Kristi screamed and tried to disentangle her fingers. Panic constricted her heart. Fear propelled her to swim, dragging the damned head only to bump into something that rose from the bottom of the murky depth.

  Another head! Even in the weak light she saw the blond hair as the head bobbed and turned, facing her, Rylee’s wide eyes open and staring. Damning.

  Kristi shrieked, stroking away, with Tara’s head still caught in her fingers. But as she shot ahead her crown crashed into something hard. She turned to see Dionne’s face staring at her, blood flowing from her neck, her eyes wide and dead.

  No!

  Dionne’s eyes blinked and she looked down as if in warning. Then Kristi knew, though she couldn’t see the bottom, that evil lurked in the murky depths.

  Swim! Get away! Her mind screamed.

  She turned again and saw another disembodied head. Not Monique’s as she’d expected. The ashen face that floated on the surface was Ariel’s.

  God, oh, God, get me out of here!

  Panicked, she started flailing, trying to scream, trying to get away. But the harder she struggled to reach the gleaming tile, the further away it appeared.

  Her lungs burned, her body was heavy. She knew she was about to drown. In this pool of bloody severed heads, she would die.

  Before she had a chance to tell Jay that she loved him, before she saw her father one last time.

  She tried to scream, but her throat was thick and she was being pulled down, deeper and deeper, the water becoming dark.

  Oh, God, help me.

  Panic gripped her.

  She flailed, trying to surface.

  She gasped.

  And then she noticed the water was turning red, a deep scarlet color….

  “Kristi!” a deep male voice said, and she felt his hand upon her ankle, pulling her further down. Into the bloody depths!

  “Kris! Hey!”

  Her eyes flew open and she found Jay, dressed only in boxer shorts, leaning over her. She was on her daybed, in her nearly dark apartment, and he was shaking her out of sleep.

  “Jay,” she whispered tremulously, the effects of the dream so real she was certain her skin was damp. She threw her arms around him.

  “It’s okay. Nightmare’s over,” he whispered, pulling her close and holding her tight, but she knew in her heart, it wasn’t. Whatever evil had invaded her mind was very real and existed deep in the soul of the campus.

  Shivering, trying to talk herself out of the fear that still enveloped her, she clung to him and, for a second, took solace in the pure strength of him.

  He kissed her temple and she blinked back tears of relief. She knew that if he hadn’t been here, if she’d been alone, she would have woken up and dealt with the stupid nightmare on her own, but still, it felt so good to sink against him, to accept his strength.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah.” That was probably a lie; she was far from okay, but now that the nightmare had receded a bit and she was conscious, she wasn’t going to fall apart on him either.

  “Wanna tell me about it?”

  “I don’t want to think about it. Not now.” She let out a long breath and stared at him in the thin, bluish illumination coming from the stove. The room was secure, smelling of lingering garlic and tomato sauce from the pizza and jasmine from the scented candles no longer lit. The vial lay on the counter. “I’ll tell you about it later. Maybe in the morning.”

  “Good.” He was sitting on the bed, still holding her, but when he moved to get more comfortable, somehow his mouth was only a breath away from hers.

  Anticipation slid through her blood.

  His scent filled her head, and her body responded to his nearness in traitorous ways. Her limbs turned to wax and she just needed, wanted, him to lie down with her. She struggled with the thought of pushing him aside, but she no longer had the strength or the heart. He’d accused her of wanting him and she’d told him he was crazy, but, of course, he’d been spot on. And now, she wanted him more than ever.

  His eyes found hers in the darkness. Whatever he saw gave her away completely. “Kris—” he whispered.

  She turned her face to him and he kissed her. Tenderly at first, as if anticipating her rejection.

  But she couldn’t turn away.

  Here in the sanctity of her apartment with the evils of the night locked outside, she kissed him back, opening her mouth, feeling his tongue glide between her teeth, sensing him shift so that one of his big hands splayed against the dip in her spine, just above her buttocks.

  Memories of making love to him years before poured over her as she tasted him. Salty. Familiar. Sexy. So male. How had she ever thought he wasn’t good enough? That he wasn’t intellectual enough? That he wasn’t man enough?

  Stupid, stupid, girl.

  Her heart was pounding, not from fear now, but desire. Her limbs, which had been so heavy in the nightmare, were strong. Anxiously she embraced him, drawing him closer to her. Her skin, which had seemed so wet from the dream’s red-stained water, was damp again. And hot. With the warm perspiration and excitement of physical need.

  He shifted, his body poised above hers, one hand stroking a strand of hair from her face.
She watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple working as he tried to contain himself, and she felt the stiffness of his erection against the juncture of her legs. Hard, thick and straining. Separated only by a thin barrier of cotton.

  “Kris,” he whispered again, and in the half light she saw the desire in his eyes, the darkness of his pupils. “I don’t want to—”

  “Sure you do.”

  “I mean—”

  “You want me,” she said, throwing back the words that he’d taunted her with earlier in the evening.

  With a groan he started to roll off her, but she grabbed his arms, held him fast.

  “It’s four in the morning, Kristi. I’m not in the mood for word games.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Don’t do this,” he said.

  “Do what?”

  “You know.”

  “Yes.”

  He warned, “This is dangerous.”

  “No, Jay, it’s not,” she said, and lifted her head to kiss him hard on the lips. He didn’t respond, but she felt the heat in him, sensed the tenuous hold he had on his emotions.

  “You told me earlier that it wouldn’t work and now, after what I would assume was a very disturbing nightmare, you want to make love?”

  “I won’t think less of you in the morning. I promise.”

  He half laughed. “Goddamn it, woman, I missed you.” Before she could respond, he kissed her again and this time there was no turning back. She skimmed his boxers off his buttocks and he nearly tore her pajamas from her body.

  Her arms wrapped around his neck as they wrestled on the small bed, their limbs straining and entwining.

  As they had years before.

  It seemed so natural as the old bed creaked and the dog, resting on the rug, snored softly.

  Kristi kissed Jay feverishly, warm sensations rushing through her veins, her skin heating as he caressed her. Her breath came short and fast. He kissed her lips, her throat, the hollow between her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples and deep inside the wanting heated in a liquid spiral and she thought only of making love with him until dawn, maybe later….

  Her fingers traced the sinewy muscles of his shoulders and she felt the scrape of springy hair against her smooth flesh as he breathed across her breasts only to take a nipple in his teeth.