The Killing Game (26 page)

She juggled the grocery bags and nearly dropped one on the way to her car. She did drop her keys but managed to pick them up. Who was she kidding? she thought, as she switched on the ignition. Bobby wasn’t the type for trips to another corner of the world. He was too careful. His idea of a vacation would probably be to the Oregon beaches, or maybe the mountains. Somewhere closer, more intimate. Maybe not sooo extravagant. And that was just fine with her. He was so imperfect, he was perfect.

She pulled into her assigned spot at the apartment complex, then hauled out the bags and carried them up the flight of stairs to her door. She had to crush the bags against the wall to free up one hand and thread the key in the lock. She thought of Bobby making love to her. It had been nearly a week and it was too long. Last time had been a wild ride on her bed that had her screaming so much he’d slapped a hand over her mouth. Jesus. Just thinking about him made her wet. Lord, she had it bad!

She’d decided to make dinner for him, so last night she’d gone to the little market down the way and checked on their poultry products. Nothing had grabbed her, so she’d put off buying what she needed till today, stopping at a supermarket instead. She’d decided on a vegan meal and hoped Bobby would like it as well. She wasn’t completely that way, but she definitely leaned away from meat. Last night, as she was about to leave the little market empty-handed, one of the owners had tried to talk her into the prawns, singing their praises. He’d swept a hand toward the seafood case and there they were, displayed in a pretty row, all plump and pink and lying innocently on a bed of ice, the little killers.

“No, thanks,” Trini had told him. She’d debated on going into her allergies, and Bobby’s, but she hadn’t really had the time, and anyway, would he really care? The man was just trying to make some conversation, hoping for a sale, doing his job. He didn’t really want her whole story, and really, did anyone?

So today she’d purchased flour tortillas, planning to make cheddar and cotija cheese enchiladas with verde salsa and pico de gallo. She didn’t think Bobby would squawk too hard about the vegan angle. She’d throw a salad together and make her own dressing with a south of the border flair. He really preferred eating in to going out to restaurants anyway, and though Trini didn’t think of herself as much of a cook, she was certainly learning.

It took her a while to set up and get the meal rolling, and then the oven didn’t seem to want to come up to temperature. When it finally did, she shoved the pan of enchiladas inside and slammed the door, then cleaned up the mess of bowls and pans, although she kind of did a half-assed job. She was hot and sweating when she was finished. Glancing at the oven clock, she saw it was closing in on six. Where the hell was Bobby?

An hour and a half later, when he still hadn’t shown, she was full-blown pissed. How dare he stand her up? And how dare she care? He wasn’t even her type, she reminded herself as she slammed her way out of the apartment and walked in a huff to the nearest neighborhood restaurant, a tiny place with a U-shaped bar adorned with twinkling white lights. As she entered, a bell tinkled overhead, announcing her arrival. There was a smattering of customers. Though the ambience was nice, the food pedestrian, and most people came for a drink and then moved on.

She took a place at the bar, a black cloud of anger hanging over her. To hell with it. She was over abstaining from alcohol. “A mojito,” she said. “Not one of the fancy ones with added mango or pomegranate or any of that shit. Just the usual lime and mint.”

“You got it,” the bartender said. He slid her a look while she tried to remember his name. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.

“Been busy.” Actually, after that debacle at Lacey’s, she’d stayed away from alcohol entirely. It wasn’t good for your body anyway. After a night drinking, she could smell the alcohol-laced sweat when she worked out, and it only added to her embarrassment. What had she been thinking that night? She’d just been so low, and she’d had a momentary blip of really, really bad judgment.

The front bell tinkled, announcing a newcomer. Trini looked over as a matter of course and then froze as she recognized Jarrett Sellers.

He looked around, spotted her, and eased over to the bar, leaning his elbows on the polished surface. “Hey there,” he said.

“I’m not going to believe you just happened to walk in here.”

He hung his head like a bad boy. “Okay, I followed you.”

“Why?”

He lifted his head and said to the bartender, “Jack and Coke.” Then he turned back to Trini and said, “I was driving by your place and saw you walking down the street. When I saw you turn into the bar, I decided to join you.”

“Why were you driving by my place?”

“I kind of thought we left on bad terms at Lacey’s.” He waited a moment, and when she didn’t respond, he said, “Okay, you’re going to make me say it? I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to see you.”

Trini relaxed a little. “No, you don’t. We’re no good for each other, Jarrett. We can’t even be friends.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“This is what I like about you, Trini. You always keep everything hidden. Always play coy. Never speak your mind.”

She smiled in spite of herself. At least he was pulling her out of her bad mood. “Okay, maybe we can be very distant friends, but that’s as far as it goes.”

Jarrett’s drink came and Trini sucked down her mojito and ordered another. He had a second as well, but when the bartender offered her a third, she declined.

“I’ve got dinner made at home,” she said, getting to her feet. She tried to pay, but Jarrett wouldn’t let her.

“Is that an invitation?”

“No. God, you’re pushy.” She squinted at him. Jarrett had a nice smile. She’d forgotten that. Why, she wondered, had it not worked with him? Apart from the fact that they really couldn’t get along.

She thought back to their last meeting at Lacey’s. She’d been in a kind of altered state at the time, sick at heart over how things were going with Bobby, and Jarrett had asked all those questions and she’d just wanted him to go away. He’d damn near ruined her game, and all she could think about was Bobby . . .
Bobby
. . . though that wasn’t his real name. And the bad hair and glasses? A fake. She’d fallen for it at first, before she’d really cared. He’d been a novelty and she’d been amused. But then he’d become a crush and now . . . now he was a drug she couldn’t live without.

But she wanted the deception to be over now. No more games. Since they’d been back together she’d tried to get him to come clean about the disguise, but he’d pretended not to know what she was talking about. And then he’d also been so distracted, and really, all she wanted was for him to screw her brains out, and he’d done that beautifully.

But he’d left her tonight . . . and here was Jarrett.

“. . . one more for the road?” he asked.

“Okay, sure.”

Why not? she figured.

When he brought her the drink, its green contents glowing beneath the lights above her head. She sank back down on the stool. She wished she wanted to be with Jarrett. She almost begged herself to give him a second chance. She needed to get over Bobby and stop being such a rat woman, but all she wanted was to have him in her bed. The true definition of a rat woman.

You’ve got it bad, girl. Really, really bad.

She drank down half her drink, then asked, “Do you ever wish you didn’t have a conscience? That you could do whatever you want and damn the torpedoes? No consequences. Just live your life any way you want.”

“Yes,” Jarrett said.

Trini gave him a long look. She remembered making love with him. It had been good for a while, but then they’d started fighting, and they just couldn’t stand each other as time wore on.

“I want to go home with you,” he said in a husky voice.

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. All she could think about was Bobby . . . inside her . . . breathing hard . . . pounding into her. The thought shot a jolt of desire up her vagina to her core. Damn, it felt good. “You can come over and have dinner,” she said, “but that’s all.” She reached in her purse, but he said, “I’ve got this.”

Actually, she’d been about to pull out her phone, intending to text Bobby to tell him she was
busy
. But then she recalled the last time she’d texted. She’d been a little pissed ’cause he’d been late then, too. It had made her climb the walls, like an addict needing a fix. He’d done it on purpose, she was sure. Later, he’d told her that something had come up and reminded her not to text him. She’d accused him of having a secret wife or something. A big hardy har har that had her chuckling but made him go coldly silent. For a moment she’d worried that truly was his secret, but he’d responded with a warning he’d given her once before: “I’ll text. You respond.”

Caveman stuff. Nothing she could normally stand.

“Why?” she muttered to herself.
Why do you put up with this shit?

“We’re good,” Jarrett told the bartender as he threw some bills down on the counter. The bartender thanked him for the tip, then Jarrett put his hand at her elbow and steered her toward the door.

“This isn’t going to work,” she told him as they walked up the street. A blast of surprisingly cold wind, more suitable for December than October, hit them, and Trini huddled close to Jarrett to keep warm. He put his arm around her until she was snuggled against his chest.

“Don’t be such a pessimist.”

“It didn’t work before; it’s not going to now.”

“All I’m trying to do is get a free meal.”

“Bullshit. And I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“What did you make for dinner?”

They were at the steps to her apartment and she stumbled on the first one. Jarrett caught her arm and she pulled it away, smiling at him from several steps up. “It’s vegan. You’ll love it.”

“Blech.”

“I lead a healthy lifestyle. I really do. I wouldn’t drink, but I can’t help it. My man drives me to it.”

That caught him up. “Your man?”

“My man,” she repeated with a nod.

They entered her apartment and she flipped on the lights. She saw the two plates set at the table and a wave of misery welled up from her gut.
Oh Bobby.
And then there was anger. Fury. Maybe she
would
sleep with Jarrett.

“Is this the guy Andi told me about?” Jarrett asked. He perched on the wooden arm of her couch as Trini put the enchiladas onto plates and zapped the first one in the microwave.

“Yep.”

“So, he drives you to drink. That’s why you’re not with him tonight?”

“Right again.”

“Is it wrong of me to hope it doesn’t work out?”

She wagged her finger at him. Another mojito or two and she wouldn’t care so much, but she did care. Why? God knew.

“Here.” She pulled out the heated plate and slid it across the black granite counter that showed every freaking mark. She grabbed up a fork, a knife, and a napkin, and Jarrett seated himself at the kitchen bar.

“This is good,” he said after a moment, a touch of surprise in his voice.

“I know. I have skills now.” Jarrett smiled at her in that way that used to melt her heart. “Don’t say it,” she said.

“What? I’m just eating.”

“You were going to tell me how wonderful I am. I saw it on your face.”

“You’re an egotist.”

“Uh-uh. I just know you.” She’d heated up a second plate and the microwave dinged, but she didn’t jump to answer the call.

“Your food’s ready,” Jarrett observed, pointing his fork at the microwave.

“I’m going to be honest with you, Jarrett. I was stood up tonight and I’m pissed. So that’s why we’re here, because I feel low and you’re making me feel better. But you have to leave after you finish eating, and then I’m probably going straight to bed . . . alone.”

He bent his head to his meal and didn’t say anything until he was finished. Trini had lost her appetite completely. She just felt sad.

Jarrett had taken off his coat and put it on the back of one of her kitchen barstools, but now he swept it up and put it on. “Thank you,” he said seriously.

“You’re welcome.”

“If I came by again, would you see me, just as a friend?”

“I don’t think it works that way for us, but yes. I’ll give it a try.”

She walked him to the door and he hesitated, his hand on the knob. “I just miss hanging out with you,” he said.

Music to her ears . . . someone who actually liked her. But it wasn’t enough. Not the way she was feeling.

He stepped onto the landing outside her door. “Good night,” she told him.

“A kiss good-bye,” he said.

“No.” She half laughed. “Just go!”

He reluctantly moved to the stairs. “I’ll be back.”

She shook her head and closed the door. She returned to the microwave, wondering if she should try heating her enchiladas again, but she still didn’t have an appetite.
God, Bobby. What you’ve done to me!

That was when she saw Jarrett’s wallet sitting on the couch. Swooping it up, she headed for her door. He wouldn’t have left it there on purpose, would he?
Geez, Trini, you are an egotist!

She opened her door and stepped onto the landing and was inhaling to take a breath and yell after him when something slammed her against the wall and she damn near saw stars.

“Who the fuck was that?” Bobby snarled.

She opened her eyes. “Bobby,” she said, filled with relief. “Ow. You hurt me.”

“Sorry.” His voice was terse. He pulled back from her and stood tensely, his hands tucked in the pockets of a black leather jacket that looked great on him. His body was so taut. You didn’t notice at first. He didn’t emphasize his physique, but the man was all rock-hard muscles under this nerd exterior. She loved it.

“I forgive you, but man, my head hurts. That was Jarrett Sellers. He’s the brother of my friend Andi, who you’re meeting tomorrow.”

“What was he doing here? He asked you to kiss him.”

“Actually, I was showing him to the door. We used to date, but it was a long time ago. I wanted to give him this.” She held out the wallet.