Special Agent's Surrender. Carla Cassidy
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the sounds of rattling pots and pans from the kitchen. Benjamin always made sure he had plenty of groceries so she’d have any number of things to choose to eat.
His stomach rumbled as the scent of frying bacon filled the air. He hadn’t eaten supper and he’d skipped lunch, as well, opting for a liquid diet of booze.
Most of the time if he was going to eat he either made himself a sandwich or zapped something in the microwave. Food had lost its appeal, as had most things in life.
Layla stepped into the doorway. “I’m making a bacon and cheese omelet. Want half?”
He didn’t want anything from her, but his stomach decided otherwise and he nodded affirmatively. “Okay,” he agreed. Within minutes she called to him that it was ready.
“I’ll just eat in here,” he replied.
Once again she appeared in the doorway. “No way,” she said with a hint of steel in her voice. “I’ve got the food on the table and it’s only civilized that we eat there.”
“What makes you think I’m civilized?” he countered. God help him, not only did he have a chatty woman on his hands but apparently a bossy one, as well.
“If you want to eat, then you’ll come into the kitchen.” She disappeared from the doorway.
He stared after her. Who did she think she was to come in here and try to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do? If she thought she was going to run this place while she was here then she had another thing coming. Reluctantly he got to his feet.
He was starving and at the moment the issue didn’t seem important enough to fight about. He carried his beer bottle into the tiny kitchen where she’d set the small dinette table for two. He dumped the rest of his beer down the sink drain, tossed the bottle into the trash and then took the seat at the table across from her.
Above the scent of the bacon he could smell the ridiculously sexy fragrance of her perfume. Sitting this close to her he could see the gold flecks that sparked in her blue eyes as she gazed at him and to his stunned surprise a tiny flame ignited in the pit of his stomach.
“So, what happened to you?”
The question surprised him, along with his unexpected physical reaction to her nearness. “Nothing happened.” He picked up his fork and focused on the food in front of him even though he felt her gaze remaining on him.
“You look like hell,” she said.
Jacob set down his fork and gazed at her balefully. “We’re here together through no choice of mine. I don’t want to share personal feelings and experiences with you. I don’t want to make pleasant little chitchat. I just want to be left alone.” He picked up his fork and began to eat once again.
“Looks to me like you’ve been left alone too long,” she said as if unable to not be the one who had the last word.
He ignored her and ate as quickly as possible, ignoring the fact that she continued to look at him as she ate her dinner. When he was finished he carried his dish to the sink, washed it and set it in the drainer to dry.
He left the kitchen without saying a word and returned to the recliner that had become his second best friend, after his beer.
Within minutes she’d returned to the room and to his dismay once again positioned herself on the sofa. “So, Layla, what’s been going on in your life for the last couple of years?” she said. “Oh, not much. I own the only realty in town but unfortunately business has been pretty slow lately. I like Chinese food, I’m a Libra and I love to dance.”
For the first time in months Jacob felt the urge to smile. It stunned him. It felt like an affront to all the blood that stained his hands.
“Are you always so irritating?” he asked.
She frowned as if seriously considering his question. “I suppose it depends on who you talk to. My friends don’t find me irritating, but it’s possible some of my old boyfriends might. And just for the record you’re more than a little bit irritating, too.”
He felt her gaze on him as he stared at the television. “You didn’t used to be this way,” she continued. “In fact you used to be every teenage girl’s fantasy.”
“Yeah, well things change, and now I’m going to sleep.” He clicked off the television, lowered his chair to a sleep position and then closed his eyes.
He was acutely aware of her in the silence of the room—her scent, the bubbling energy she brought and the faint whisper of the sound of her breathing. He felt her gaze on him but refused to open his eyes.
He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her finally get up, and a moment later the door to the bedroom closed. He opened his eyes and frowned thoughtfully.
She was going to be a pain in his ass. Beautiful and sexy, she was apparently a woman who was accustomed to getting her own way. Once again he told himself that she certainly didn’t seem to be traumatized by the events of the night that had brought her here.
A day or two, that’s what Benjamin had said to him. She just needed to be here for a short time. Surely Jacob could handle her presence for forty-eight hours or so.
He turned off the lamp on the end table and closed his eyes but visions of Layla instantly danced in his head. Even when she’d been nineteen and he’d been twenty-four and home for a visit, he’d been aware of her around town, but she’d been too young and he’d had his job in Kansas City and so he hadn’t pursued anything with her.
And now she was all grown up and under his roof. Not that he cared, not that he intended to do anything about it. He had enough dead women in his mind. There wasn’t room for a breathing one, no matter how sexy he found her. He just wanted her out of his space.
His head once again filled with thoughts of Sarah. He’d met her when he’d been twenty-six years old and she’d been twenty-four, and he’d fallen hard. She’d been beautiful and fun, bubbling with the same kind of energy that Layla possessed. She loved to talk, loved to dance and had stolen his heart almost immediately.
It had taken Jacob months to get up his courage to ask her to marry him and when he finally had she’d laughed at him. She’d told him that she was far too young to get married, that she was just having fun and now that he’d gotten so serious about her it wasn’t going to be fun anymore.
That had been the last time he’d seen Sarah and his last attempt at a relationship with anyone. She’d devastated him and he never wanted to feel that way again about anyone.
He must have fallen asleep for the scream awakened him. He jerked up, disoriented for a moment as he realized the scream hadn’t been one of his own that occasionally woke him from a nightmare.
The fire had burned down to hot coals and the room had grown chilly. He reached out and turned on the lamp next to him. The sound came again, a sharp, piercing scream that sliced through him.
Layla! Full consciousness slammed into him as he recognized her scream. Had the person who had tried to harm her earlier in the evening found her again?
He fumbled in the drawer in the end table and pulled out his gun, then jumped out of the chair and raced toward the bedroom door, hoping—praying—that he wouldn’t find yet another woman murdered on his watch.
“Layla, come out, come out, wherever you are.”
The familiar voice shot terror through Layla, who was crouched beneath the old front porch.
“Come on, little girl. Take your punishment like a trouper.”
Layla’s breaths came in rapid, shallow gasps. Don’t let him find me. Please don’t let him find me. Her heart pounded in her chest so loud she was afraid he’d hear it. Maybe if she stayed hidden long enough he’d pass out and forget that he’d decided she needed a beating.
She screamed as a hand reached under the