The Killing Game (27 page)

“He looked like he wanted to jump you.”

She smiled. It warmed her heart that he sounded a teensy bit jealous. Her gaze roamed over all of him and she saw he had an erection.

“Yeah, look what you did to me,” he said, his voice softening.

She suddenly wanted to stroke his cock and throw him down on the walkway by the stairs that led to her unit. She wanted the whole world to know he was hers. And if that meant getting arrested for making love in public, well, she’d happily go to jail. She knew it was crazy, but it was wonderful! She couldn’t get enough of him.

He seemed to sense she was about to hug him and swarm her body over his because he sidestepped. She was immediately hurt, but then he plucked the wallet from her, grabbed her hand, and said in a rough voice, “Let’s get inside before I freeze my nuts off.”

“It’s not that cold.” She turned back to the door, which had closed behind her. Suddenly he was behind her, pushing against her butt, one hand slipping to the front of her jeans and jamming down inside. “Bobby,” she whispered, half scandalized, half thrilled.

“Missed you,” he growled, rubbing between her legs. It was a little hard, a little painful, but she didn’t want to complain.

“God, I want to do it right here,” she said, reaching to unbutton her pants and give him better access. “Right on the landing.”

He laughed silently in her ear. “It is that cold. But you’re hot. I’m gonna fuck you crazy.”

“I already am crazy. This is crazy.”

“Get in there.”

They practically fell through the door, and as soon as they crossed the threshold he tossed the wallet onto the console table, kicked the door shut, and pushed her toward the couch. His forcefulness stole her breath. Then he literally threw her on the couch and jumped on her, ripping at her clothes so hard that she protested faintly. She’d paid a lot for this blouse and he was ruining it.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he said. “This one’s mine.”

“Bobby . . .”

He slammed a hand down on her mouth. “Don’t say anything. Don’t fucking say anything.”

She nodded mutely. She knew when she talked too much it ruined it for him. “I’m sorry,” she said around his fingers.

“And don’t fucking apologize!”

He slid a condom on his rock-hard cock and she ran a hand over the rubbery outside, wishing she could feel his flesh. She’d told him over and over that she was on the Pill, that he didn’t need one, but he’d been burned once by some gal who’d sworn she was taking birth control pills, then oops, she had a pregnancy scare that luckily had turned out to be false.

Now, he swept her hand away and rubbed the tip of the condom between her legs, seeking entry. She was shifting to accommodate him when he slammed into her, hard. Luckily, she was ready for him or he could have ripped something. Then he started pounding away like a battering ram, his breathing rapid and hot in her ear. She tried not to tense up. The first time was always like this, just for him. But the crown of her head began hitting painfully against the wooden arm of the couch, again and again. She tried to slow him down a little, wanted him to recognize that he was hurting her, but he was on a mission for his own pleasure and wasn’t interested in any of her signals. In the end she just went with it. The second time was always better than the first because that was when he gave her a chance to reach an orgasm. Not that she wasn’t crazy wet for him all the time, but when he was so brutal . . . no, that wasn’t the right word . . . when he was so
focused
, it was kind of difficult for her to actually enjoy herself to the limit.

Then it was over. She felt him exhale, replete, and she wrapped her arms around him tighter and wished he was pumping his sperm inside her instead of into the condom. Immediately her eyes flew open. Had she just thought that? God, no. That wasn’t her! She didn’t want a baby.

But if it was his baby?

She immediately thought of Andi, and how unfair it had been for her, losing Greg’s baby.

It was just as well Bobby was so careful because she didn’t trust herself with him. If for some reason she ended up pregnant, it would crush Andi. Trini had always avowed that she would never have children, whereas it seemed kids were all Andi had ever wished for.

Bobby pulled out of her and sat up on the couch. Trini was disappointed because it seemed like he didn’t intend to go for a second round. She put a hand to her head and gingerly touched the sore spot at the crown. She didn’t mean to. She didn’t want to emphasize that he’d hurt her because he might get angry and leave her, but man, her head throbbed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Guess I’ve just got to get a new couch without wooden arms,” she said lightly.

“You’re complaining?”

“I just don’t want to be knocked out before I can enjoy myself,” she said with an edge.

For a moment his lips tightened, like he was really pissed, but then his expression changed, became more indulgent. “Okay. I’ll be more careful next time,” he said, kissing her lightly.

This was the Bobby she loved. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, smelling him, wanting him. But he gently pulled away from her and reached for his clothes.

“I came to tell you I can’t stay,” he said regretfully. “I wanted to see you in person.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” Disappointed, Trini started redressing as well. What was it about him that made her serotonin go into overdrive? When he was around, her brain seemed flooded with the stuff that made you feel so damn good.

“Yep.”

“I made enchiladas,” she coaxed. “I just heated one in the microwave, but I’ve got more.”

“Ahh . . . no . . .” He smiled at her. “I can’t stay. I thought we’d just have . . . appetizers,” he said meaningfully.

“Want to go again?” she said, ready to rip off her clothes.

“Maybe. If we’re quick. First, I brought us some energy bars.”

“Energy bars? Now?” She laughed. “Come on, Bobby. I’ve got dinner ready.”

“This is a new kind. They’re really great. I tried one before I came and decided you’ve got to try one.”

“How about after dinner? I’ve got the fixings for a salad, too. I just haven’t put it together yet.”

“I told you, I don’t have time.” He got to his feet abruptly.

“You’re not leaving right now, are you?” She heard the desperate tone in her voice and could have kicked herself.

“Can’t stay.”

“Wait, wait. I’ll try one.”

“No, you don’t want to, so forget it.”

“Bobby!”

“Gotta go, sweetheart. I’ll see you in a week or two.”

“A week or two? What are you talking about? Stay for a minute. I’ll have one of the energy bars.”

“God, Trini, I’m not trying to force you. I just like them and wanted you to like them, too.”

“I get it. Okay. Hand it over.” She held out a hand and wriggled her fingers.

Somewhat reluctantly, he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out one energy bar in bright blue foil and another in magenta. He ignored her outstretched hand and held them in front of her so she could see the front of each bar. The brand was called Cricket Boost. “Which one do you want?”

She dropped her hand. “This isn’t like marijuana or something? Some kind of edible you’re joking about?”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I’m not against it. I’m just saying.”

“No, it’s just what it says, an energy bar.”

She squinted at the label on the blue bar, which read: Cricket Boost. All Day Energy That Keeps You Singing! Black silhouettes of a bird trilling away, a cricket rubbing his legs together, and a frog croaking covered the top of the wrapper. She saw the blue one was made of oats and macadamia nuts and honey; the magenta one contained walnuts, dried cherries, and blueberries.

“I guess I’ll take the magenta one.”

He completely relaxed. “I figured. The blue one’s good, too, though.” He ripped open the magenta bar and placed it into her palm, then started unwrapping the blue bar for himself. “I thought of you because of the bird.”

Trini smiled. “My friend Andi’s last name is a bird, too. Her married name anyway.”

He grunted in acknowledgment as he bit into his bar. Trini remembered she’d told him all about Andi being a Wren, so she added a bit lamely, “It was just so funny when she married into the Wren family and I was already a Finch.”

“Trinidad Finch,” he said.

Trini took a bite and Bobby sat back down beside her on the couch. While she chewed, he leaned forward and rubbed his thumb over her lips. “You’re so kissable,” he whispered.

“My mouth’s full,” she mumbled.

“Well, swallow it and kiss me.”

She did, and he gave her a quick peck on the lips, then pulled back and thrust his own energy bar toward her mouth. “Take a bite of mine.”

“You think maybe we could retire to the bedroom for a while after this? A quickie before dinner?” she asked as she bit into his bar.

“Maybe we’ll make it a longie,” he said suggestively. “One more bite.”

“I’ve hardly swallowed this one.”

“One more.”

She obediently bit off a chunk of her bar with the blueberries while Bobby bit into his. An uncomfortable heat had started to fill her up inside and she found herself swallowing hard, her throat feeling as if it were constricting. “Uh-oh,” she said on a strangled gulp.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something . . . in it.” She was suddenly struggling for air, her windpipe closing. She knew immediately she was in the beginning of an allergic reaction. A bad one. “EpiPen,” she gasped.

He was frozen in the act of biting into his bar. “What?”

“Epi . . .” She couldn’t get anything more out. Her lungs felt on fire. She couldn’t breathe!

“EpiPen? Why? What? From the
energy bar
? No way. Look at me, I’m fine.”

She signaled frantically toward the bathroom. “Med . . . . med . . . cabinet!”

“Are you faking?”

“No!”

She was frantically clutching her throat. She couldn’t breathe at all! “Help . . . help . . .”

He got to his feet and looked down at her. Her hands were clawing at her throat. She gazed up at him in mute horror, sliding her eyes toward the hallway. When he just stood there, she tried to scramble up from the couch. He suddenly pushed her back down, pinning her in place. She flailed about, struggling to pull air through a windpipe that was all but closed.

“Trinidad Finch,” he said, saying her name as if he were tasting it.

He let go of her to take off his pants. She clambered wildly to her feet, but as soon as she was upright, he pushed her back down, hard. Her head slammed into the wooden arm again, the one Jarrett had sat on less than an hour earlier.

“Oops.” He laughed.

Then he was stripping off her pants as she raked the skin at her throat, her fingernails gouging her own flesh. He crushed down on her with his full weight. She begged him with her eyes, but the smile on his face was filled with cruel enjoyment.

Then he was inside her again, laughing and laughing, as he rhythmically thrust into her ever harder, watching her face, smiling coldly as her lungs felt ready to burst and her world receded to a black dot.

“Good-bye, little bird,” he whispered.

She tried to scream one last time, but it was no use. She could do nothing but stare into the eyes of her killer.

At the moment of her death, she saw him throw back his head as he climaxed with the wild howl of a conqueror.

Chapter Seventeen

Andi woke up feeling sluggish. She’d fallen into a comalike sleep after leaving Luke to sort out his sleeping arrangements on the couch or the floor. He’d assured her he was fine, and she’d reluctantly headed to bed, hurrying through the bathroom so he could use it whenever he needed to. She’d thought she would toss and turn, thinking about him in the next room, but it turned out to be one of those nights when she felt like she was drugged.

She threw on a robe and peeked outside the bedroom door. She had a direct view to the living room, where Luke’s sleeping bag was rolled up and set on the couch. He was nowhere to be seen, but then she heard him in the kitchen, opening cupboards quietly.

She headed into the bathroom, checked her hair, made a face at herself without any makeup, and tried to force herself to go out to see him as she was. No dice. She quickly brushed her teeth, put on some eye shadow and mascara, and took a moment to conceal the circles beneath her eyes. Then she walked toward the kitchen.

Luke was in jeans but was shirtless. She saw the whorls of light brown hair on his chest and the sculpted muscles. The man was in great shape. She had a moment of comparing him to Greg and was mad at herself. Greg had been Greg. He’d had good points and bad, like everyone, and he was part of her history.

He was making a cup of coffee from her Keurig machine, brown liquid pouring into the cup he’d placed beneath the machine’s spigot. Hearing her approach, he looked up. “Good morning,” he said. “Thought I’d rustle up some coffee.”

“There’s cream in the refrigerator. Sugar bowl’s up there.” She pointed to a cupboard.

“Black’s fine.”

Luke had returned to her cabin the evening before with Asian food from the restaurant where they’d first had lunch together. “Figured we could use some food,” he’d said, and they’d sat at her table and shared the same dishes they’d ordered before and a few more as well.

Of course once she was away from the threat of the Carreras she’d started having second thoughts about having him stay over. She’d said as much, but he’d swept her protests aside. “I’ll feel better,” he insisted, and that had decided it for the moment.

“Want a cup?” he asked, sweeping a hand toward the rack of small cups of coffee, flavored, decaffeinated, and regular. “I can make you anything you want. How about hazelnut? Or vanilla?”

“Regular,” she said, smiling.

“Coming right up.” He pulled another mug from the cupboard above the machine, removed his steaming cup, then put hers in its place and pressed the button. Immediately coffee began to pour into it. “Cream? Sugar?” he asked.