Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 134

What if she hadn't gone?

What if she hadn't been so certain that Cole had been there, pistol in hand?

Roy's throat had been slit, no bullet in his body, and yet she'd been shot from a handgun as yet unlocated.

"...so I'm hoping to move out of the dive as soon as I get back on my feet again," he was saying, his blue eyes fixed on her in a way that made her shift in her chair.

"And move where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Maybe." She smiled up at him and knew she was flirting. Don't do this, Eve. Don't be suckered in.... It's too soon. Too many horrible, unexplained things are still happening. Don't do this, Eve. Don't be suckered in.... It's too soon. Too many horrible, unexplained things are still happening.

He winked at her, and she melted inside. "We'll see."

They lingered over coffee and split a dessert of espresso-flavored creme brulee and pralines.

He paid for the meal with cash. Then they walked into the balmy night. Cole linked his fingers with hers as they crossed the street. "So, what do ya think?" he asked, heading toward his Jeep.

"About what?"

"Everything that's going on."

"Do we have to think about it?" she asked, hating the lighthearted spirit of the night to end.

"We don't have much choice," he said, and the words were barely out of his mouth when her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller-ID screen and didn't bother answering it. "Television station," she said, groaning. "I don't want to talk to them."

"Then don't."

He unlocked the door, and, just before she slid into the pa.s.senger side, she felt a little tremor in the air, as if someone were staring at her, sending her bad vibes. She paused and glanced down the street.

"What?" Cole twisted his head, picking up her unease. "You see something?"

Shaking her head, she said, "No. Just a weird day. Too many awful things going on."

He slammed the door shut, and she kept her eyes on the sideview mirror, observing the sidewalk illuminated by streetlights.

She heard the clop-clop of hooves as a mule-drawn carriage creaked by.

A shadow appeared in the mirror.

Eve froze.

A tall, dark figure stepped out of the gloom for an instant.

She twisted in her seat, but as she stared at the circle of light from the streetlamp, a van rolled across the intersection, blocking her line of vision for second. In that heartbeat, the shadowy figure disappeared. She saw nothing.

"Something is wrong," Cole said tensely as he slid into the Jeep.

"I thought I saw someone staring at me, but I could be wrong."

"Let's check it out."

He pulled out of the parking lot, negotiated a U-turn, then drove through the narrow streets, where knots of people strolled amid slow-moving traffic. Eve's eyes scanned each intersection, alley, and street, but no one seemed out of place.

"I guess I was imagining it."

"I doubt it." Cole turned down a side street. "You're not p.r.o.ne to invention and paranoia."

"Except at Roy's cabin?" she asked.

He tensed as he nosed his Jeep around a corner. "You have to trust that I would never do anything to hurt you, Eve. Not that night. Not ever."

"So I just imagined you there." It was a statement of fact, not a question.

He slid her a glance and touched her leg as he shifted. "It was a strange night."

"Can't argue with that," she said, still unsettled.

Her cell phone rang again, and she checked the display. This time caller ID indicated only that the call was restricted. "Maybe the reporter's cell," she said and turned the phone off. "Whatever it is, I'm not dealing with it now."

But the damage was done.

Between the phone calls and Eve's thinking someone was watching them, they were back where they'd started. The few hours of breaking away from the nightmare were over, and the real world had intruded once again.

In silence, Cole headed to the Garden District, a place Eve had always loved. Tall, ornate houses and gardens were tended and well kept, the history of each building as lush as the surrounding grounds.

But tonight she noticed the vaults and headstones of a cemetery as they pa.s.sed. In the dark the tombs seemed ominous, a reminder of the death that was stalking the city. As they turned onto St. Charles Avenue, even the castlelike universities of Loyola and Tulane appeared sinister and dark, malevolent fortresses that could surely house evil.

Stop it, she told herself. Hadn't Cole just said she wasn't p.r.o.ne to paranoia? Although she tried to tamp down the bad feeling that had crept over her, as Cole turned a final corner and Nana's house came into view, even the familiar sight of the broad front porch, tall, shuttered windows, and curved turret couldn't temper her unease. she told herself. Hadn't Cole just said she wasn't p.r.o.ne to paranoia? Although she tried to tamp down the bad feeling that had crept over her, as Cole turned a final corner and Nana's house came into view, even the familiar sight of the broad front porch, tall, shuttered windows, and curved turret couldn't temper her unease.

Cole parked near the garage, and as Eve opened the Jeep's door she spied a shadow dart across the yard. "Samson?" she called as the cat climbed up the back steps and paced on the mat by the door. "How'd you get out?" She picked the cat up with her good hand and held him to her as Cole unlocked the door. "You're so much trouble, but I love you anyway."

"Nice to know," Cole said, opening the door and letting her step into the mudroom first.

"I was talking to the cat."

"Uh-huh."

As if he didn't like being in the middle of their discussion, Samson wriggled out of her arms, hopped to the floor, and shot through the open door to the kitchen.

"There was a time you said something like that to me," Cole reminded her.

Her heart clutched, and she had a fleeting memory of riding horses across a flat expanse of field at her father's house. It was after her father's trial, after he'd been acquitted of any wrongdoing. It was a glorious spring day, just before sunset. She and Cole had bet on whose horse was faster then raced back toward the barn. She'd been on the swifter little mare, but Cole had convinced his horse to jump a downed tree and somehow ended up at the barn a stride ahead of her. Still breathless, he'd claimed victory. She'd accused him of cheating, and he'd climbed off his horse, pulled her from the mare and, before her booted feet had hit the ground, kissed her so hard she'd scarcely been able to stand.

"It's time you paid up, Eve, or I might just have to take the winnings out of your hide."

"Promises, promises," she laughed, goading him.

"Is that a dare?" Eyes as blue as a west Texas sky had sparked, and beneath a day's worth of stubble, one side of his mouth had lifted a bit.

"Take it whatever way you want!"

"Dangerous talk, lady."

"Oh yeah, like you scare me."

"I should."

She'd laughed as he'd kissed her again. Hard. And when he'd finally lifted his head, she'd held his face in her hands. "You are so so much trouble, Cole Dennis, but, d.a.m.n it, I love you anyway...." much trouble, Cole Dennis, but, d.a.m.n it, I love you anyway...."

Now he was staring at her with those same blue eyes, the same laser-sharp intensity that caused her stupid heart to pound. She tried to talk, but for a second her voice refused to work, and she had to clear her throat. "Let's just not go there, not tonight."

"When?"

"I don't know."

"I love you, Eve."

There it was. Hanging in the air between them, and all flirtatiousness, all signs of playfulness that had been with them through the night, were suddenly dispelled. Here, in this dimly lit room off the porch, Cole Dennis had bared his soul, and as she looked into his face, she saw that he was raw. Naked. His feelings exposed.

She swallowed back an impulse to blurt out her own feelings.

Cole's jaw was working, his hands at his sides. He was waiting for her to respond. To say what was lodged so deeply in her heart.

Tell him. Tell him you love him, that you've always loved him, that you've known all along that he couldn't have raised a gun at you. That you were wrong. That you are sorry for all the pain you caused him. Tell him, Eve.

The words stuck in her throat. How long had she ached to hear that he still loved her?

"We should be careful," she said, her own words rushing through her head. You love him. You do. Tell him. For G.o.d's sake, Eve, don't blow this! You love him. You do. Tell him. For G.o.d's sake, Eve, don't blow this!

She had loved him. There was no use denying what was so patently obvious. There was a chance she still loved him, had never really stopped.

He touched her on the side of the face. "Take your time, Eve," he said, and she had to fight not to fall against him. "I'm not going anywhere."

His finger slid along the side of her throat then lower, hooking on the neckline of her blouse, his skin warm against hers. Leaning forward, his lips a hair's breadth over hers, he whispered, "I'll wait."

Oh dear G.o.d.

Tears, unbidden, touched the back of her eyes, but she refused to cry in front of him. Would not break down. Her skin tingled where he touched her, and she had thoughts of wrapping her arms around his neck and then stripping off his clothes. In her mind's eye, she saw them together, kissing, touching, sweat-soaked, naked bodies entangled in the sheets of her bed. Would it be so wrong? Would it?

Grabbing his hand, she wrapped her fingers around his. "I think we should take this slow," she said carefully.

"I'm not sure there's any 'slow' with you."

"Cole..."

"Stop fighting me," he said urgently.

Eve gazed at him. She wanted him. She tried hard to remember that she shouldn't have him, but all she could see was Cole, the man she loved. "Okay," she said on a shaky laugh.

Her sudden capitulation surprised and delighted him. He kissed her hard then grinned. "I'll go get my things. Meet you upstairs."

She turned and nearly ran through the kitchen, along the hall, and up the stairs, the cat following close behind. Was she crazy? Out of her mind? All she could think about was making love to him. Should she strip and lie naked in the bed?

Or put on a s.e.xy piece of lingerie? Dear G.o.d, did she even own a teddy or flimsy nightgown? Surely she had something.... Not that he would care.

Samson shot ahead of her, bounding up the final flight to her turret room. Downstairs, she heard Cole reenter the house. She'd have to work fast if she wanted to surprise him with a s.e.xy piece of lingerie.

This was nuts! But wonderful.

She was up the remaining flight in an instant. Heart pounding, gasping for breath, she pushed open the door to her bedroom, crossed the dark room, and snapped on the bedside lamp.

Then she saw the doll.

In the wash of warm light, Charlotte was posed in the same position as she had been at the old hospital: facedown, half dressed, red slashes marring her stuffed body, lying in the middle of Eve's bed.

But this time there was blood everywhere. And there was a message in blood on the wall. For her.

A strangled scream ripped from her throat. Loud and long, it echoed her terror through the house.

CHAPTER 26.

The scream ricocheted down the stairs.

Eve!

Cole dropped his bag, bolted through the house, and took the steps two at a time, nearly tripping on the d.a.m.ned cat that was streaking down as he ran up. He reached the turret room just as Eve was backing out of it. Her hands covered her mouth. She turned to face him, her eyes round with terror. Without thinking, he grabbed her, held her tight, and peered into the room.

"Oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d, oh G.o.d," she moaned. Then he noticed it, the words scrawled in blood on the wall near the baseboard: DENNIS SINNED . . In block letters, bold and dripping. His stomach clenched, and revulsion forced him to step back as he recognized the mutilated doll and what appeared to be blood drenching the bed and dripping onto the floor. Bile burned up his throat. In block letters, bold and dripping. His stomach clenched, and revulsion forced him to step back as he recognized the mutilated doll and what appeared to be blood drenching the bed and dripping onto the floor. Bile burned up his throat.

He couldn't pull Eve down the stairs fast enough.

"How?" she whispered. "Who?" She was trembling in his arms. "Why would anyone..."

"Someone who's seriously deranged," he said.

Dennis sinned.

Someone knew.

"Come on." He hustled her into the kitchen then handed her a butcher knife. "I don't think anyone's still here, but I'm going to check. Where's the gun, the one you pointed at me?"