Lisa Jackson's Bentz And Montoya Bundle Part 205

Jennifer!

His eyes flew open.

His breath fogged in the coldness. He blinked his eyes several times, wondering at the phenomenon. He couldn't move his head, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the doorway to the room and beside it a chair. In the chair, Kristi slept, her head lolling forward.

In the doorway, backlit by the outside hall, was a woman in a black dress.

Tall.

Slim.

Mahogany-colored hair falling down her back.

Oh, G.o.d! It couldn't be....

She looked over her shoulder and smiled.

That s.e.xy, come-hither smile he knew so well crossed her red lips.

He felt as if he'd been thrown back in time. His heart nearly stopped.

"Jennifer," he whispered, saying his dead ex-wife's name for the first time in years. "Jennifer."

He blinked.

She was gone.

"Dad?"

He slid his eyes toward the only chair in the room. Kristi was staring at him, her own eyes anxious, a line of worry creasing her smooth brow. Jesus, she looked like her mother!

"You're awake!" Kristi was out of the chair in an instant, tears catching on her lashes. "Oh, G.o.d, you're okay!" she said, standing over the edge of his bed, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You old fart, you nearly scared me to death!"

"Your mother," he said anxiously, wondering if he was losing his mind. "She was here."

"Mom?" She shook her head. "Wow, what kind of drugs are you on?"

"But she was here."

"I'm telling you that's the morphine talking." Kristi was laughing through her tears.

"You didn't see her?"

Kristi shook her head. "No one was in here, I was here all the time. Yeah, I dropped off, but...Jesus, it's cold in here." She shivered. "But I'm just glad you're back," she said. "I was so afraid...I mean, I thought you might not make it...But then you're tougher than most."

Bentz wasn't deterred. "But she was here...your mother...I saw her...just walking out the door...."

"No way, Dad, it's me. You're confused." She eyed him a little more critically, then glanced to the doorway. The empty doorway. "You know," she said, turning back to him, "you've been in a coma for nearly two weeks and I know what it's like. Weird as h.e.l.l. Sometimes when you finally wake up, you're all messed up in your head."

"You didn't see her?" He tried and failed to pull himself into a sitting position. His arms were weak and his legs...h.e.l.l, they still weren't working. He couldn't even feel them, not like he could his arms and shoulders.

"She wasn't here," Kristi said anxiously, and quickly. As if she, too, knew something odd had happened. "Look, I need to call the nurse and the doctor. And Olivia. She's on her way back here already, but she'd kill me if I didn't call her. And the staff. I need to let everyone know you're awake." She was already walking to the door, the very doorway in which Jennifer had stood only seconds before.

"She was here, Kristi," Bentz said, certain he was right. This was no hallucination. No bad trip. No confusion from medication. Whether anyone believed him or not, he knew the truth.

Jennifer Bentz was back.

Dear Reader,

I loved writing Kristi Bentz's story and it was a lot of fun to walk through the halls of All Saints College again. From the epilogue you know that there's another book coming in the Bentz/Montoya/New Orleans series. That book is MALICE and I think it's one of my best yet. I've never written anything like this before, but I think it's an interesting concept.

You all know Detective Rick Bentz of the New Orleans Police Department. He's Kristi's dad and Detective Reuben Montoya's partner. He's also one of my most popular characters and right now he's in a heap of trouble. If you've followed the series, you know that Bentz was first introduced in HOT BLOODED. In the next book, COLD BLOODED, he was the hero of the story. He met his future wife Olivia in the pages of COLD BLOODED, but we, as the readers, never really saw how he dealt with the death of his first wife, Jennifer.

That's changed. In MALICE, Rick faces his most deadly enemy yet in a psychological game of cat and mouse. Jennifer Bentz seems to be back, even though Rick was the man who identified her body when she was killed in a single car accident.

So who is the woman he swears is her? Is Jennifer dead? A ghost? A figment of Rick's imagination? Just who is the alluring female who takes him back to a time he'd rather forget? And how does his new-found obsession with this woman who's haunting him affect his marriage to Olivia just when she wants to have a baby of her own?

Rick Bentz is torn and tortured. He's determined to get to the truth behind "Jennifer" but he has no idea that he's in for an emotional roller coaster that leads from the bayous surrounding New Orleans to secrets hidden beneath the glitter of Los Angeles. What he doesn't expect is an enemy so seductive and deadly, everyone he loves is suddenly in mortal danger.

You can read on for an excerpt as well as visit www.lisajackson.com www.lisajackson.com for more information on MALICE, which will be available in hardcover from Kensington Publishing in April 2009. While you're visiting my website, you can learn more about MALICE as well as my other books. I think you'll like this new book. It's a bit of a twist for me, but I can tell you straight up, MALICE is truly one of my favorite books. I hope you agree. for more information on MALICE, which will be available in hardcover from Kensington Publishing in April 2009. While you're visiting my website, you can learn more about MALICE as well as my other books. I think you'll like this new book. It's a bit of a twist for me, but I can tell you straight up, MALICE is truly one of my favorite books. I hope you agree.

Lisa Jackson

PROLOGUE.

A suburb of Los Angeles Twelve years earlier

"So you're not coming home tonight, is that what you're getting at?" Jennifer Bentz sat on the edge of the bed, phone to her ear and tried to ignore that all-too familiar guilty noose of monogamy that was strangling her even as it frayed.

"Probably not."

Ever the great communicator, her ex wasn't about to commit.

Not that she really blamed him. Theirs was a tenuous, if sometimes pa.s.sionate relationship. And she was forever "the bad one" as she thought of herself, "the adulteress." Even now, the scent of recent s.e.x teased her nostrils in the too-warm bedroom, reminding her of her sins. Two half-full martini gla.s.ses stood next to a sweating shaker on the bedside table, evidence that she hadn't been alone. "When, then?" she asked. "When will you show up?"

"Tomorrow. Maybe." Rick was on his cell in a squad car. She heard the sounds of traffic in the background, knew he was being evasive and tightlipped because his partner was driving and could overhear at least one side of the stilted conversation.

Great.

She tried again. Lowered her voice. "Would it help if I said 'I miss you'?"

No response. Of course. G.o.d, she hated this. Being the pathetic, whining woman, begging for him to see her. It just wasn't her style. Not her style at all. Men, they were the ones who usually begged. And she got off on it.

Somewhere in the back of her consciousness she heard a soft click.

"Rick?"

"I heard you."

Her cheeks burned and she glanced at the bed sheets twisted and turned, falling into a pool of pastel, wrinkled cotton at the foot of the bed.

Oh, G.o.d. He knows. The metallic taste of betrayal was on her lips, but she had to play the game, feign innocence. Surely he wouldn't suspect that she'd been with another man, not so close on the heels of the last time. Geez, she'd even surprised herself. The metallic taste of betrayal was on her lips, but she had to play the game, feign innocence. Surely he wouldn't suspect that she'd been with another man, not so close on the heels of the last time. Geez, she'd even surprised herself.

There was a chance he was bluffing.

And yet...

She shuddered as she imagined his rage. She played her trump card. "Kristi will wonder why you're not home. She's already asking questions."

"And what do you tell her? The truth?" That her mother can't keep her legs closed? That her mother can't keep her legs closed? He didn't say it, but the condemnation was there, hanging between them. h.e.l.l, she hated this. If it weren't for her daughter, their daughter... He didn't say it, but the condemnation was there, hanging between them. h.e.l.l, she hated this. If it weren't for her daughter, their daughter...

"I'm not sure how long the stake-out will be."

A convenient lie. Her blood began a slow, steady boil. "You and I both know that the department doesn't work its detectives around the clock."

"You and I both know a lot of things."

In her mind's eye she saw him as he had been in the bedroom doorway, his face twisted in silent accusation as she lay in their bed, sweaty, naked, in the arms of another man, the same man with whom she'd had an affair earlier. Kristi's biological father. Rick had reached for his gun, the pistol strapped in his shoulder-holster and for a second Jennifer had known real fear. Icy, cold terror.

"Get out," he'd ordered, staring with deadly calm at the two of them. "Jesus H. Christ, get the h.e.l.l out of my house and don't come back. Both of you."

He'd turned then, walked down the stairs and left without so much as slamming the door. But his rage had been real. Palpable. Jennifer had known she'd escaped with her life. But she hadn't left. She couldn't.

Rick hadn't returned. They hadn't even fought about it again. He'd just left.

Refused to answer her calls.

Until today.

By then it had been too late.

She'd already met her lover again. As much out of retribution as desire. f.u.c.k it. No one was going to run her life, not even Rick-effin'-Bentz, super-hero cop. So she'd met the man who was forever in her blood.

s.l.u.t!

Wh.o.r.e!

The words were her own. She closed her eyes and hung her head, feeling lost. Confused. Never had she planned to cheat on Rick. Never. But she'd been weak; temptation strong. She shook her head and felt black to the bottom of her soul. Who was she so intent on punishing? Him? Or herself? Hadn't one of her shrinks told her she didn't think she deserved him? That she was self-destructive.

What a load of c.r.a.p. "I just don't know what you want," she whispered weakly.

"Neither do I. Not anymore."

She saw a swallow left in one martini gla.s.s, and drank it down. Did the same with the second. The noose tightened a notch, even as it unraveled. G.o.d, why couldn't it be easy with him? Why couldn't she remain faithful? "I'm trying, Rick," she whispered, gritting her teeth. It wasn't a lie. The problem was that she was trying and failing.

She thought she heard a m.u.f.fled footstep, from downstairs, and she went on alert, then decided the noise might have been the echo in the phone. Or from outside. Wasn't there a window open?

"You're trying?" Rick snorted. "At what?"

So there it was. He did know. Probably had seen that she was tailed, the house watched. Or worse yet, he himself had been parked up the street in a car she didn't recognize and had been watching the house himself. She glanced up at the ceiling to the light fixture, smoke alarm, and slow-moving paddle fan as it pushed the hot air around. Were there tiny cameras hidden inside? Had he filmed her recent tryst? Witnessed her as she'd writhed and moaned on the bed she shared with him? Observed her as she'd taken command and run her tongue down her lover's abdomen and lower? Seen her laughing? Teasing? Seducing?

Jesus, how twisted was he?

She closed her eyes. Mortified. "You sick son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"That's me."