Deadly Shadows (4 page)

“Jesslyn,” Tim said softly, reaching again for her.

She jerked away, the blanket falling from her shoulders to land on the floor.

Palms out, she shook her hands. “You two catch up or whatever guys do. Bond, build a fire, get drunk. I don’t care. I’ve got to take a shower. I’ve got to get this off. I have to take a shower.”Her khaki pants were rusted from the thighs down. It looked like blood. Dried, caked blood. Aiden straightened. “What happened? Are you okay?” He took two steps toward her and halted at the raw emotion in her eyes.

“Oh yeah, I’m just peachy.” She smiled, thin and humorless. Then she shook her head and said in a softer voice, “It’s not mine.” Again she shook her head. “It’s not mine.”

He watched her fist her hands at her sides, swallow. She looked to Tim. “The Jameson’s is in the living room in the armoire.” She motioned towards Aiden. “Or whatever his poison is.

I’ll be back. I need some coffee.”

He moved aside as she walked past him and up the stairwell.

Aiden watched her go, then turned and asked Tim, “What is going on? I feel like I just woke up in the Twilight Zone.”

Tim shook his head. “Sorry about what happened earlier. I forgot to tell her about you being here and all. My mind was on alcohol limits and fights. She came back from Denver early.” Tim huffed out a breath, looking up the stairs. “Wished she hadn’t.”

“Why?”

Tim stared at nothing, shoved his hands into his pockets, then met Aiden’s gaze. A muscle bunched in his jaw. “She found her friend murdered.”

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Hot water beat down on her. Jesslyn sat on the tiled floor, her head on her knees. The thunder of water against her scalp shoved everything else out of her mind.

It had to.

Heat wrapped its steamy arms around her and still she was cold. Cold down to her very soul. Her body was tired, her heart was tired, and she didn’t have the courage right now to face what happened tonight and what it meant. She hated death. It stole happiness, ripped out souls, shattered worlds, and in the end faded memories. Being a widow and childless for the last three years, she should be used to it, but she wasn’t.

Jesslyn rubbed her hands over her face, mixing her tears with water. Crying helped nothing, only gave her headache. She knew that. She had no idea how long she’d been in here, but it had been awhile. On a sigh, she stood up, surprised at how unsteady her legs were. Maybe she’d give herself a heat stroke, pass out and hit her head on something. Then she could just be in oblivion for awhile.

Though the idea held a degree of merit, she wasn’t about to throw herself on the floor in hopes it might work.

She stepped out and wrapped herself in her silk robe. As she tied the towel around her head, a knock at the door startled her.

God her nerves. She’d love a cigarette, but she’d quit. Hell, she’d even take a Xanax if she had any.

“What?” she asked.

“You okay?”

T.J.

Sure. I love images of death and murder in my mind, goes great for research
.

“Fine.”

“We’re out here in your room.”

“We?”

“Yeah,” T.J. continued. “Tim, that renter-Kinncaid guy, and me. Hurry up.”

Kinncaid. That thought stopped her. They were all in her room. Tim, T.J., and Kinncaid.

“Why?” she asked, straightening.

Silence. She could picture T.J. tapping her foot. Finally she said, “We just wanted to make sure you were okay. Hurry up and get dressed, there’s tea and coffee downstairs.”

Now that she was out of the shower, the faint rumble of their voices filtered through her door. She picked up her comb and pulled it through her wet hair.

Kinncaid. Now there was a man, arrogant though he was. Black hair swept carelessly off his forehead, dark cobalt eyes, strong jaw shadowed with dark stubble. He was tall, a couple of inches over six feet if she were guessing. When she’d poked her finger in his chest, she’d had to

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crane her neck back just to glare at him. Her finger had also been at her eye level. The man probably went for the no-end-legs-size-‘C’-cup-willowy-frame-model-face type.

Jesslyn stared at herself in the mirror. None of the above fit her in the least. In high school she’d finally given up on long legs when she hadn’t grown in two years. Her face was long, wider across her cheeks, almost an oval. The deep widow’s peak made it more an odd-shaped heart. Her eyes were normal, as far as she could tell, and she’d always thought her mouth was too small. As she shed her robe and put on the camisole and panties, she looked back in the mirror. Size ‘C’? Maybe with toilet paper and in her wildest fantasies. There was a reason the bra termed
The Miracle
was Victoria’s greatest secret.

Okay, everyone was in her room. Her clothes were on the bed. On a sigh, she jerked the robe back on and loosely belted it.

As she walked to the door, she caught herself looking in the mirror again.

Why?

She decided not to even answer that one. But, at least the musings kept her from thinking darker thoughts.

The cold air from her bedroom swept across her as she opened the door.

T.J. leaned against her dresser and Tim and Kinncaid were both lying across her bed.

Kinncaid propped up on his elbow, Tim lifted his head.

“’Bout damn time,” Tim muttered.

She halted, staring at Kinncaid.

A man reclining on her bed. A very handsome man. In her room. On her bed. He straightened from his leonine pose, lean and powerful.

This is where she was supposed to say something witty. Something blasé. Something.

Anything?

His blue eyes bore into her and a friction of awareness tingled along her spine.

She licked her lips and blinked, tearing her gaze away from Kinncaid and over to Tim who studied her with a smirk on his face. Time for flippant. “Oh my!” She strived for her best Scarlett O’Hara voice. “Look, T.J., two strapping men in my room. On the bed. Let’s tie them up and have our way with them. I’ve always fantasized about an orgy.”

Kinncaid arched one black brow, the blue in his eyes shifting. Though in the low light she could be wrong. Slowly, he rose from her bed. Her libido, which she thought was probably nonexistent, whispered along her nerves. Great damn time for it to awaken, she thought. It must be all that dark stubble peppering his lean jaw.

“Your humor, as usual, is beyond me,” Tim mumbled.

T.J. chuckled.

Jesslyn jerked her eyes off Kinncaid and faced Tim. “I know, like most things, it generally is.”

Tim shook his head. And motioned to Kinncaid. “Aiden Kinncaid, meet Jesslyn Black.

I don’t think we ever got around to actual introductions before.”

Aiden.

It fit him, as stupid as that sounded, the name fit.

He crossed the space between them and held his hand out. Jesslyn stared at it, momentarily wondering what in the world she was supposed to do. The entire night was surreal.

Shoving the memories away, she focused on his hand. Long fingered, dark hair dusting the back, it reminded her of an artist’s hand. No rings and a strong sinewy wrist. She reached

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out and grasped it, and shock danced up her spine from the simple contact. His hand was warm, nothing more, but the light touch of his palm on hers, his fingers closing around hers made her want to jerk her hand back.

“Hello, nice to meet you,” he said.

His voice reminded her of the promise of a storm, a rumble, softened by the patter of rain.

Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

“Hi,” she answered. “Nice to meet me? I take it you’re over your snit then?” She licked her lips, and gently tugged until he released her hand.

“Snits? I don’t get in snits.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about earlier, snapping at you and all.”

“Did that hurt?”

His brow furrowed. “Did what hurt?”

“The apology?”

He moved his jaw out then back in. “Not as much as I thought it might. Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“Contrary, edgy?”

Tim laughed. “I’d use bitchy.”

She ignored both Tim and T.J., who laughed as they walked out of the room. Aiden’s eyes were fascinating. All that blue surrounded by thick black lashes. She took a deep breath and smelled a faint trace of his spicy cologne. She licked her lips again. Did the man taste as good as he smelled? “Probably.”

“Probably what?”

You probably taste good?
Shaking off the wayward thoughts she remembered what they were talking about. “Yes, I have an attitude problem, or so some think. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Silence settled between them. She was in panties and a camisole.
Naked
flashed in her mind. It didn’t matter that she had a robe on. “As fascinating as this is, would you please leave?

I need to get dressed.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, just watched her. “Guess so since Tim and the woman with the gun walked out of your planned orgy, and I’m not really into sharing anyway.”

She bet he wasn’t, but quirked a brow, saw the amusement, the challenge in his eyes.

“Well, as to that, I don’t know that you qualify into sharing or otherwise.”

“Depends,” he said, as his gaze raked over her, from her head to her bare toes and with every inch of his look, her blood hummed, “on what I’m sharing. And why wouldn’t I qualify?”

Was she really having this conversation at--she glanced at the clock by her bed--half past four in the morning with a virtual stranger?

“I’m waiting.” He had a voice that could coax angels to sin.

“You’re not my type.” She planted a hand on her hip and pointed towards the door. “If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.”

“Dressed?” He frowned. “Aren’t you going to bed?”

And he wanted to know why? “No.”

He shook his head, and turned and walked from the room. At the doorway, he turned.

“You want the door open or shut?”

“I’m about to change and don’t care to do a strip tease in front of you. Shut.”

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A grin, lightning fast and just as lethal, flashed, showing her his straight white teeth and a dimple in his right cheek. “Aww, but I have my own fantasies.”

He shut the door. For a full minute, Jesslyn stared at it, at loss as to how she was supposed to process that remark. Probably the way he processed hers earlier.

Then a knock thumped.

“What?” she snapped.

“I was wondering where my apology was.”

She could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I already apologized.” Jesslyn walked to the door and swung it open. He had a hand against the doorframe, his dark blue button down pulled and stretched with his upraised arm.

“Yeah, but I was the one arrested. It was
not
a good experience.”

“You’re whining and you were hardly arrested. Snitting again.”

“Men don’t snit.”

She just stared at him.

He crossed his arms. “Have you ever been accosted by the police, felt like you were going to be on
Cops
?”

“Have a problem with cuffs?”

His eyes narrowed fractionally. “Depends.”

“Your ego is entirely too large.”

That dimple winked in his right cheek. “That’s usually not what the women refer to.”

He stood there. She started to shut the door.

“If you do, I’ll just knock again.”

“Fine. I’m sorry your pride was bruised.”

His chuckle was rough, yet soft, reminding her of crushed velvet. “Did that hurt?”

Ass. “More than you know.”

She shut the door in his face, but still heard his laughter as he walked down the hall. At her bed, she realized she was smiling.

Not what the women usually refer to
? She’d bet not. Confusion slithered through her and she looked at the door, wondering what his point had really been. At least he’d gotten her mind off Maddy for a moment. Guilt shifted through her even as images, blurred and hazy sharpened to bloody points.

God, Maddy.

Jesslyn swallowed and closed her eyes, willing the truth, the darkness away.

She couldn’t deal with this right now. Not right now.

Coffee. She’d just get some coffee and go write. At least in the worlds she created, she could control what happened, leaving nothing to shock or soul-shredding pain.

* * * *

Aiden walked down the hall, his smile sliding away. That was one complex woman. Her smart-ass attitude seemed like a front. He had no idea why he thought that, but he did. He got the same feeling as he did when a floundering company he took an interest in tried to convince him they were fine, that there were no problems. One of his brothers called it his bullshit detector.Then again, maybe he was wrong about Black. Sleep deprivation was a terrible thing. In the kitchen, Tim poured mugs of coffee. He turned as Aiden entered. “Have fun?”

Though his friend smiled, there was an edge to it.

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“You have a problem with that?” he asked.

Tim had assured him earlier that he and Jesslyn were just friends, but who knew.

Those gray eyes Aiden knew so well, leveled at him. “Don’t screw around with Jesslyn.”

“Last time I checked, we were both adults.”

Tim grumbled something. “She’s not Brice.”

“Thank, God.”

“That’s not what I meant. Jesslyn has teeth and a bite-my-ass attitude, but she’s really….” Tim frowned and rubbed his fingers down each side of his mustache. “She’s not ...

Hell.” “You hurt her at all, even think about it and I’ll shoot you,” said a voice from the doorway.

The female cop. He looked from her serious expression to her gun. No doubt she’d do exactly as she said.

“What do you two think I am, some pervert?” Aiden asked.

“I told you, she’s a widow,” Tim repeated.

“Yeah.” Tim had told him earlier how the woman had lost her husband and kids in an auto accident some three years before. Damn, the idea was unimaginable to him.

“She’s not your average type to just jump in and have fun and then say,
c’est la vie
.”

The female cop snorted.

Aiden studied his friend. “You’re serious.”

“Yes, damn it. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“Such faith is humbling.” Aiden strode to the counter, grabbing up his mug. Why he was drinking coffee at almost five in the morning was beyond him. Guess he didn’t want any sleep.

“All I’m saying is be careful with her. She doesn’t look it, but she’s fragile.”

“She would kick your ass for saying that,” T.J. said, coming closer to them and holding her hand out for a mug. Tim handed her one. “But I have to agree with you.”

Aiden thought about what they said, inclining his head towards Tim. They were wrong though. There wasn’t anything fragile about Jesslyn Black. There was strength in her that practically shouted out. It was in her stance, ready to fight off the world.

Yet, there was softness in her. Not fragility, but something under all that rough exterior.

Though the exterior hadn’t looked rough. He smiled into his coffee.

And why did he really care anyway? He was renting the house for a few weeks, not looking for a relationship. That was the very last thing he needed, or wanted.

The other two moved to the table and sat down.

Her dark eyes flashed in his mind, hurt layered under exasperation and a gleam in her eye as she’d snapped at him upstairs.

Complex.

Feet thumped down the stairs. Ms. Black stood in the doorway, stopping for a minute before she came towards him.

Aiden leaned against the counter in her way. He should move. Call it perverse curiosity, but he didn’t.

She halted and looked up at him. He could still smell that fruity, floral scent that had teased his senses earlier. Shampoo? Soap? Lotion? Who knew? But it made his mouth water.

He’d just been too long without a woman. That had to be it. And tonight hadn’t helped one damn bit.

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“Would you move?” she asked.

Aiden reached back and grabbed a mug, handing it out to her. “I’ve always said polite manners have been overrated.”

She snatched it out of his hand and turned, leaning against the counter adjacent to him.

Didn’t want to get too close apparently.

“Is this decaf?” he asked Tim.

Jesslyn chuckled, low and throaty. “There isn’t a grain of decaf in the house. What’s the point?”“I would have fixed it, but as she said, there wasn’t any,” Tim said. Then his friend leveled a cold steely gaze on her. “You should be in bed or something.”

T.J. snorted.

“You know me better than that.” She took a sip of the coffee and winced.

He watched as she set the mug down and poured sugar in the black brew.

“Need some syrup?” he asked.

“I like it sweet, thank you very much.”

Apparently.

This time when she sipped it, she closed her eyes on a sigh. “There is nothing like a good cup of coffee.”

Aiden could argue that point with her, but for some reason, he had the sneaking suspicion in the end he’d lose.

“So how long have you two known each other?” she asked them, pointing to him and Tim. “Since college,” Tim answered.

“Huh.”

Aiden watched her over the rim of his cup. She had on some sort of tight black pants--

leggings, weren’t they?--with a large black fleece shirt. And little, sexy, black oval wired glasses.Black liked black. It seemed too pat, too cliché.

“You should get some rest, Jess,” Tim said.

She shrugged. “So should you. And you,” she added to her friend. “But I won’t, so there’s no point in trying to talk me into it.” She moved away from the counter. “I’m going to write. Y’all make yourselves at home.”

“You and that damn computer,” Tim muttered.

“Denial,” T.J. added.

“Yeah, well, at least I can control it,” she added quietly and left the room.

What the hell was that all about?

Aiden thought maybe he’d go get some sleep. But instead, sat at the table with Tim and T.J.. “Is she always like this, or is it just tonight with everything?”

Tim had told him about how the woman had found her friend murdered and had a run in with the guy. The thought floored Aiden.

“Jesslyn?” Tim asked. “Yeah, she was when she first moved here. Then, I don’t know, it got better.”

The other woman shook her head. “No, we all just got used to her prickly nature.”

Tim shrugged. “She works and writes, that’s about all I know. Jesslyn is just Jesslyn.”

“Oh,” a voice said from the doorway. They all turned. “I forgot, I’ll stock the ‘fridge

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later today if you’ll leave a list of what you like. And I’ll get all my stuff moved to the cottage so you can move into the bedroom,” Jesslyn said, her eyes on him.

Move into the bedroom? His gut tightened and he had no idea why. Okay he did, but he’d just as well ignore it. She had
stay back
plastered all over her. Aiden watched her, leaning in the doorway, her wet hair slicked back from her long, heart-shaped face, her complexion smooth and unadorned. Except for those little glasses. Who would have known he’d find glasses sexy?

“What?” he asked, clearing his throat.

She cocked a brow and frowned. He wondered how she did that. “Move out to the cottage. That’s how I do things. All rooms except the back office are free to roam. Damage is charged to the renter and—“

“I know, I read the damn contract,” he said.

“Then what are you asking?”

“Do you think it wise to move out there now?”

“Why?” Her fingers thrummed on the doorframe.

“Well, considering what’s happened and all, I didn’t think the police wanted you alone?”

“I’m not alone. You’re here in the house, and Barney will be out in the driveway.”

“Barney?”

She waved her hand as if swatting a fly. “Barney Fife.”

T.J. clarified, “Merrick. The cop outside.”

Jesslyn sighed, telling him it was pointless to explain. “Never mind.”

The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t like the idea of her out over the garage all alone. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“And you have a say because….”

“He’s right,” T.J. added.

Who the hell knew why he wanted a say.

“Thank you.” He saluted the policewoman with his mug. “As the person renting this place, it would be a tad awkward if something were to happen to you because you were up there and I was in here with the alarm system. Which reminds me.” Aiden stared at her hard. “Did you bother to turn it on?”

She waved her hand. “It’s broken, or glitchy or something.”

“Damn it, Jess,” T.J. said, turning to glare at her friend. “You said you’d get it fixed.”

“I’ll have someone come out and look at it,” Aiden said.

“It’s
my
house,” she told him, narrowing her eyes.

“So?”

She shook her head. “Are you always like this?”

He smiled. “Like what?”

“Nosy? Pushy? Arrogant?”

“Yes. Always.”

“How annoying.” She turned and walked away.

Tim chuckled. “You two. What happened to your fabled charm? Used to be all you had to do was smile at them and they fell at your feet.”

“I think it was more the name they were after.” Like Brice had been.

“She burned you really good, didn’t she? You ever gonna tell me why you really called off the wedding two months before the big event?” Tim asked, sipping his coffee.

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“I realized she wasn’t the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” Among other things.

“Well, my friend, few are. They’re like spiders, draw us in, wrap us up, and suck us dry.”

Aiden chuckled. “Another wonderful experience for you too, huh?”

“Don’t ask.”

“I won’t.”

“So back to you and Jesslyn,” Tim persisted.

“Men,” T.J. mumbled, shoving her chair back and leaving the room.

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