"Jane, please."
But I just shake my head. I don't want to hear any of this. What was it I'd told myself in LA? That I knew that Dallas and I should be together, I just didn't know how?
Well, maybe there is no how. And maybe a lie this big completely erases should.
"Jane--" His voice is soothingly gentle, but I'm not ready to be soothed.
"No--no." My breath is coming fast and shallow, and I force it to slow. "I need you to go. Will you please just go?"
I sound so calm and commanding, that I'm almost baffled when he says, "No."
"No," I repeat. "No? Okay. Right. Fine." The calm in my voice is cracking around the edges. "Fine. If you won't go, then I will." I grab my purse and head for the door, fueled by a mix of anger and the need for action. Any action. He reaches for my elbow, but I yank my arm away so that his fingers only graze over me, the touch so damn familiar. And right then, so unwelcome.
I skip the elevator and hurry toward the stairs, both relieved and disappointed when he doesn't follow. I want to go--or I want him to go--but I also want a fight. I want to release all the shit that's building up in me. I want to explode, and I really don't know how.
It's not until I reach the street that I realize I don't know where I'm going. Obviously not to the townhouse since it's no longer mine. Honestly, though, it doesn't matter. Right now I'm so fired up all I want to do is walk, and so that's what I do.
Maybe when I'm tired I'll catch a cab to Brody's. Or maybe I'll go splurge on a hotel. Hell, maybe I'll go sleep on a park bench. I don't know. All I know is that I can't think. I can't focus.
I have to move.
I'm not walking with any particular destination, so I'm meandering through a pattern of long and short blocks. Now I'm on a dark residential street, the canopy of trees making odd shadows on the asphalt.
I hear footsteps behind me and move to the side, expecting a resident or dog walker to pass me by. But the footsteps slow, and even through my haze of anger and hurt, my skin begins to tingle with awareness and my heartbeat begins to quicken.
Mentally, I curse myself, because I am never this unaware when I'm outside. I always watch my surroundings. I always pay attention. And yet here I am, wandering blind in an emotional haze.
I'd left with only my small cross body purse and my keys, and now I slide my hand into my pocket and curl my fingers around the keys, letting the metal slip between my fingers so that I can not only punch, but do some damage in the process.
I continue walking forward, listening, and when I hear the footsteps again, I turn.
Mistake.
The word screams in my head as voltage rips through me, stealing thoughts. Stealing the world. Stealing reason.
I don't remember falling, but suddenly I'm on the ground, terrified and lost as my body writhes in the wake of the Taser assault.
I feel my lips move as I form his name. Dallas.
And above me I see a woman. Tall. Lean.
She's wearing a red dress and a mask, and is carrying something long and black, like a thin telescope. I'm confused at first, and then realize it's an extendable billy club.
"You," I croak.
"He's mine," she whispers.
Then she leans over, lets the club fly, and lands it square against my temple as the world fades to black and my heart screams for Dallas.
Lady in Red
Dallas paced the living room, or tried to. The place was so full of boxes it's a wonder he could even more.
He'd fucked up and it was his own damn fault. He'd known he was taking a risk not telling her about Colin, and now that choice was biting him in the ass.
Frustrated, he glanced toward the door, wondering now if he'd made the wrong choice again by not following her. He was trying to give her space, but already the gap between them was too wide. He needed her beside him. And, dammit, he was certain she needed him.
As if in evidence to the thought, his cellphone pinged, the tone signaling a text from Jane. He snatched it up, praying she wanted him to meet her somewhere.
But when he opened the text, it was as if he'd been punched in the gut.
His knees gave out, and he fell to the ground, the phone tumbling from his hands.
It didn't matter. The picture was burned in his mind.
Jane, her face bruised and battered.
And on the sidewalk next to her was an all-too-familiar carnival mask.
The Woman.
And now she had Jane.
By J. Kenner
THE STARK TRILOGY
Release Me
Claim Me
Complete Me
STARK EVER AFTER NOVELLAS
Take Me
Have Me
Play My Game
Seduce Me
Unwrap Me
Deepest Kiss
STARK INTERNATIONAL NOVELS
THE JACKSON STEEL TRILOGY
Say My Name
On My Knees
Under My Skin
THE DIRTIEST TRILOGY
Dirtiest Secret Hottest Mess
MOST WANTED SERIES
Wanted
Heated
Ignited
PHOTO: KATHY WHITTAKER PHOTOGRAPHY
J. KENNER (aka Julie Kenner) is the New York Times, USA Today, Publishers Weekly, Wall Street Journal, and #1 international bestselling author of over seventy novels, novellas, and short stories in a variety of genres.
Though known primarily for her award-winning and international bestselling erotic romances (including the Stark, Stark International, Dirtiest and Most Wanted series) that have reached as high as #2 on the New York Times bestseller list, Kenner has been writing full-time for over a decade in a variety of genres, including paranormal and contemporary romance, "chicklit" suspense, urban fantasy, and paranormal mommy lit.
Kenner has been praised by Publishers Weekly as an author with a "flair for dialogue and eccentric characterizations" and by RT Book Reviews for having "cornered the market on sinfully attractive, dominant antiheroes and the women who swoon for them." A four-time finalist for Romance Writers of America's prestigious RITA award, Kenner took home the first RITA trophy awarded in the category of erotic romance in 2014 for her novel, Claim Me (book 2 of her Stark Trilogy).
Her books have sold well over a million copies and are published in over twenty countries.
jkenner.com
Facebook.com/jkennerbooks
@juliekenner
J. Kenner, Hottest Mess
(Series: S.I.N. # 2)
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