The SUV crunched over the gravel drive to Claire’s house and lurched to a stop. She cracked her eyelids, and through the slits she spied the cornfield surrounding her house on three sides. The field blazed golden in the late Sunday afternoon sun, welcoming her home.
Relief wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Not that chills were her problem. No. Being trapped in a car for twenty minutes with Jake had kept her plenty hot and more than a little bothered. She couldn’t wait to get out of his SUV and send him on his way back to town.
When she had climbed into his gas-guzzler, her brilliant plan had been to ignore him on the ride home. Things were crazy enough right now without adding her lustful thoughts about him to the mix. Too bad her scheme hadn’t worked
She’d given him directions to her house, leaned her head against the window of his black SUV and faked sleep to avoid talking. Rude, yes, but her options were limited and jumping his bones wasn’t an one of them. Unfortunately, her lack of sight had only enhanced her other senses.
The musky scent of his cologne had teased her as her body vibrated in time with the SUV’s motor. Hyperaware, her muscles had tensed every time he’d moved in his seat.
He had started singing along to an old Smoky Robinson Motown tune. His golden tenor had softened her resolve to ignore him as he had sung, “I don’t want you, but I need you. Don’t wanna kiss you, but I need to.”
She’d squeezed her thighs together to maintain her balance with every twist and turn in the road. The pressure had built in her clit until she’d surrendered to her naughty imaginings. He would sing as he kissed his way down her stomach, a day’s growth of beard tickling her. He’d stop at that spot right below her ribs. Kiss his way across the flat plateau, grasping her hips tight to keep her from wriggling too much. He’d linger near her bellybutton before veering lower and crossing over to her right hip. She’d arch her back, silently beseeching him to move toward her wet pussy. He’d murmur the song’s lyrics as his mouth traveled toward her shaved lips.
Just as her daydream was about to pay off, his SUV had jerked to a halt.
As he cut the motor, she squeezed her thighs together to ease the throbbing pressure. The squirming didn’t help.
“What in the world is that?” His jaw dropped as he stared at her house.
Ignoring the desire pulling her body taut, she glanced out the front windshield. And like that, the invisible weight on her shoulders evaporated.
The dog spotted her and went nuts. He wiggled from the tip of his snout to his tail. He circled. He yipped and whined.
She shrugged and opened the door. “That’s Onion.” She jumped down to the driveway and snuck a sideways glance at Jake. He sat slack-jawed behind the wheel.
Her dog galloped to her side. No one could beat Onion in an ugly dog contest. He looked like a drunken, mad scientist had fashioned him from the leftover parts of several mangy mutts. He had a Bulldog’s short, muscular body, a Chow’s fluffy, curled tail and a few black spots dotted his tan coat. A Labrador’s endearing personality topped off the package. Yep. Onion was an unsightly mess. But she loved him.
She bent and scratched him behind the ears. “What are you doing out here, you silly dog? How’d you sneak out this time?”
Onion looked ugly, but he had a beautiful brain. The dog got into or out of anywhere he wanted. She’d tried to crate him once. He’d escaped before she’d even pulled out of the drive.
“I think he just walked out the front door,” Jake said, slamming his car door shut and walked over to her side.
Claire scrutinized the wraparound porch. Sure enough, the front door hung wide open. She took a step forward, but Jake grabbed her elbow, tugging her to his side.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She yanked her arm. “Inside my house.”
He jerked her around so she was behind him as he scanned the area. “How’d that work out for you last time you took off without thinking first?”
She wanted to tell him how wrong his words were. But she couldn’t. He was right. A fact that annoyed her to no end.
“He could be in there.” Jake waved toward the house. “He could be armed.”
“I don’t think Onion would be acting all lovey-dovey if that maniac was here. He’s not a doggie model, but he’s smart. He probably scattered as soon as trouble hit and has been waiting for me to get back.”
Jake looked down at Onion, who busily sniffed his boots. He patted the dog’s head. Grudgingly, she chalked up a point in his favor for being nice to Onion.
“OK, but stay with me and don’t do anything stupid.”
The urge to get inside overrode her need to make a snappy comeback. She didn’t like it, but she wasn’t going to argue the point.
She and Jake sidled up the steps to the wide front porch. The door’s stained-glass center oval had been shattered.
“I’m beginning to think I’m cursed,” she said.
Jake clutched her hand in his, sending a jolt of awareness up her arm. “I’m beginning to agree.” Together, they tiptoed around the glass and through the open doorway.
Once inside, Claire stifled a scream.
The sicko’s tornado of evil had left a destructive wake through the 1900s-era farmhouse. She wanted to pitch a fit and throw things. Too bad the Voice of Doom had already done the job for her.
He’d thrown open the kitchen drawers and tossed the spoons and forks onto the tile floor. She found books that had been thrust off shelves and thrown across the living room. In the dining room, broken family pictures lay whatever they’d landed, glass shards decorated everything. She couldn’t take more than a few steps into the office because of the wreckage there. Dresses, shirts jeans, tank tops and socks littered her bedroom floor. A pair of hot-pink lacy panties hung from the ceiling fan. If she wasn’t so mad, she would have been embarrassed about Jake seeing that.
“Claire! Get in here.”
She hustled back into the kitchen. Jake stood in the pantry’s open doorway, his back to her. His bulk blocked her from seeing inside and she nudged him with her elbow. Without looking her way, he shuffled sideways.
A gas canister sat in the middle of the pantry floor, its fumes wafting out of the doorway. A bright blue bow was stuck to the handle. The killer had left a message in Easy Cheese next to the gas can.
See you soon.
She hated the fear growing inside her. Being frightened never helped anything. It got in the way. Stopped her from doing what needed to be done. But not this time. Too much was at stake for that. She’d have this guy’s head on a pike.
“The bastard is going to fry.” Her trembling lip betrayed the bravado in her words. “No way is he burning down my house. I’ll be waiting when he comes back. ”
“Want company?”
Claire took stock of Jake’s muscular frame. This fight required more than brawn. “You any good with a gun?”
“You bet.” His cold grin didn’t reach his eyes.
“This asshole already threatened my family.”
“Good thing I’m not family.”
She chewed her sore bottom lip. “One condition. You can’t tell Hank about the gift in the pantry.” She nodded toward the gas can.
“He’s the sheriff. He should know.”
“He will, but not now. Hank has to play by the rules. This psycho doesn’t. I don’t.”
Jake didn’t speak for a minute. “Fine.”
Relief flooded her body. She didn’t want to face off against the Voice of Doom alone.
“OK. Let’s see what else the jerk left behind before you call Hank. But when you do, leave this part out.”
“Shouldn’t you call him?”
She eyeballed him. “If I call, he’ll pester me until I tell him every little detail. I haven’t been able to keep a secret from him for longer than twenty minutes in my whole life. You need to call.”
“Yes ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute. She huffed out a breath that sent a few tendrils of hair flying from her face and left to assess the damage in the rest of the house.
Did you miss part of Dangerous Kiss? Catch up here. xoxo, Avery
