Absolute Fear. Lisa Jackson

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      Behind his dark glasses, the Reviver stared through his windshield to the road ahead. She was within striking distance. She was having trouble concentrating, breathing hard, trying to keep her fear at bay.

      And failing.

      Hidden behind a pickup and an SUV, he forced himself to lag nearly half a mile behind her Toyota. From this distance, he was able to catch glimpses of her car and noted how her Camry hugged the shoulder, never going over the speed limit, even slowing, until suddenly she took off, the Toyota picking up speed as she tore past two semis going sixty.

      Perfect.

      Finally she understood.

      He licked his lips and imagined her as he, too, passed a few cars. But he always kept his distance, tucking into the right lane between the semis, ever following her, knowing where she was heading.

      He imagined her face. The terror in her eyes. The rounding of her mouth as she realized she was being targeted. He knew her fingers were tight and sweaty upon the steering wheel, her heart trip-hammering wildly, her fright nearly a living, breathing beast.

      Oh yes.

      His own pulse was beating a quick, blood-heating tattoo.

      I see you. Do you see me? Do you feel me, Eve? Are you scared? I’m here. I’ll always be here. You can’t run away. Not ever. You and I…we’re destined to be together…to die together.

      Smiling, he pressed his boot more heavily on the accelerator, his dark truck picking up speed. The bright sun was settling into the western horizon.

      Darkness soon to follow.

      He felt that sweet torture of adrenaline spurt through his bloodstream.

      Because he knew what was to come.

      Dusk suited Cole just fine.

      He’d waited for it, his nerves strung tight, Sam Deeds’s warning playing and replaying like a broken record through his brain: Stay away from her…. She’s bad news.

      Yeah, well, he’d known that from the get-go.

      But he figured that at this point he didn’t have much to lose.

      After four hours of cleaning and organizing the rental house, he needed a break. And he had business to take care of. He’d already loaded a small tool kit and flashlight into the Jeep. Now he walked outside to the front porch. Though it was dark, the streetlight gave off more than enough illumination for him to see some kids still outside on skateboards and bikes, weaving through the parked cars and trucks. One old guy sat on his stoop, puffing on a cigar, and a gray cat slunk along the chain-link fence guarding an alley. The twenty-somethings were still at work on their old car, the music still cranked loud. He leaned on the porch rail, and the dank scent of New Orleans reached his nostrils, an odor that permeated the smell of burning tobacco, exhaust, and dirt, a reminder that the slow-rolling Mississippi River wasn’t too far away.

      As far as he could tell, his house wasn’t being watched by the police, but he wasn’t certain, and he knew for a fact that Detectives Bentz and Montoya wouldn’t give up; they’d be gunning for him. So he had to be doubly careful.

      He climbed into the old Jeep and backed slowly out of the cracked concrete drive. No other car on the street pulled out, no engine caught, no headlights followed.

      Yet he couldn’t be certain.

      With one eye on the rearview mirror, he spent the next hour driving through the city streets, filling the Jeep with gas, stopping at a market for a few groceries, then easing through the warehouse district and the French Quarter. No one seemed to tail him. No car followed, only to disappear and have another one tag-team. Obeying the speed limit, he drove on and off the Pontchartrain Expressway and across the river twice, all the while checking the cars surrounding him, watching his mirrors, ever vigilant for a tail. The police would be good, probably using two or three different vehicles, but after a final stop at a convenience store a few blocks away from Bayou St. John, and seeing no one pull out after him, he felt he was safe from being followed.

      At least for now.

      So he let himself think about Eve.

      Damn her beautiful, lying face. She’d pulled a fast one on him, betraying him, using him, and setting him up. How had he been so blind?

      He’d asked himself the same question for three months and had come up with no answers. Not one lousy explanation. But then, he hadn’t been able to see her, to talk to her, to shake some sense into her.

      All that was about to change.

      As soon as he settled a few things down here, he planned on driving to Atlanta and having it out with her.

      Damn but he’d loved her, thought they’d spend the rest of their lives together, and she’d turned on him. Big time.

      He’d believed she was sleeping with Roy and still wasn’t certain about that. The truth was murky. But he knew there was someone else in her life, a man she’d never named, a man she’d protected.

      He ground his back teeth together. Remembering was a form of torture—masochistic maybe, but necessary all the same.

      His fingers clenched over the wheel as he recalled their last fight, how she, all rosy in sexual afterglow, teasing, nipping at his neck and chest, playing with his nipples as she lay beside him in the sweat-soaked sheets, had fooled him completely. His heart had barely stopped pounding wildly, his breath was still short, and there she was touching him again, hot fingertips toying, a small purr of delight slipping past pink lips when she’d felt him grow hard against her leg.

      “Look at you,” she’d whispered, those blue-green eyes glinting wickedly. “All ready again.”

      “Aren’t you?” he’d asked against her ear.

      “I suppose I might be persuaded.”

      He laughed at her sudden coyness.

      “If you tried hard enough.” Her breath had been warm seduction, rolling over his skin.

      “This is a test?” He’d kissed that sensitive spot at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

      “Mmmm.”

      “Am I passing?”

      “Barely,” she’d murmured, though her hands were already running their magic along the muscles of his back, and her nipples had tightened. He had run his tongue over one, and she’d arched up.

      “Barely, my ass.” His breath had blown over the wet tip of her breast.

      “And what a great ass it is.” One of her hands had cupped his buttock, the tip of her fingers brushing his cleft.

      Lust had gushed through his blood, and he was suddenly white-hot with wanting her, feeling her touching him intimately as he swept her legs apart with his knees and…

      “Shit!” he said aloud to the empty Jeep. He was driving ten miles over the speed limit, taking the risk of being pulled over when he didn’t СКАЧАТЬ