allow, the one thing he will not tolerate. Fear equals weakness, and be has sworn that he will never be weak or helpless or humiliated again. He has power now. And the power is the only thing that will save him.
He watches the taillights of her car fade into the night, and the hunger is alive inside him. Removing the pocketknife from its sheath, he opens the blade and sets it against the underside of his forearm where no one will notice a cut. Just one, he promises himself. He slices the flesh and watches the black spread of blood. The pain arouses him. His mouth waters as the metallic smell fills his nostrils. He sets his mouth against the wound and begins to lap.
Nat Jennings has no idea with whom she's dealing. He will stop her. Only this time, he will stop her for good.
Chapter 9
Nick knew better than to pass the time thinking about Nat Jennings. The woman was trouble any way you cut it. She had it written all over that curvy little body of hers in big, bold letters. A more cautious man might have heeded the warning. But Nick had never claimed to be cautious, especially when it came to women.
He wanted to believe his interest in her was purely physical in nature. After all, he was a red-blooded American male and hadn't been with a woman for six long years. That was more than enough time to wear down a man's resolve to stay the hell away from trouble. But that resolve hadn't kept him from looking. It hadn't kept him from liking what he saw. It sure as hell hadn't kept him from wanting to do a lot more than just look . . .
But while he couldn't deny the hard tug of lust every time he laid eyes on her, he knew he wasn't going to do anything about it. Nick had enough personal baggage of his own without taking on someone else's. Nat Jennings was lugging around a ton of it. The last thing he needed in his life was a troubled, sexy-as-sin female with a boatload of demons to slay. He could barely handle his own these days.
"Hell of a night, eh?"
Nick looked up to see Mike Pequinot limp to the cash register and remove a thick wad of bills. "Not bad for a dive a stone's throw from the bayou."
It was almost midnight, and The Blue Gator had been winding down for the last hour. Two men were still at the back, shooting pool. Another man in faded coveralls was slumped at a table smoking a hand-rolled cigarette and nursing a beer. A haunting Peter Gabriel tune keened from the speakers.
“Must have been your night for crazy women," Pequinot said with a grin. "First that polecat ex-wife of yours, then the Jennings girl."
Nick ignored the reference to Tanya. "What's Nat Jennings's story?"
Pequinot shot him a knowing look. "She might be good to look at, but you don't want to get tangled up with her."
"I'm not going to get tangled up with anyone."
"If it's a woman you're wantin’, I can hook you up--"
"I don't want a hooker, Mike."
"Just askin'."
"So are you going to tell me about Nat Jennings, or am I going to have to ask someone else?"
" Ti parele! Si! Laisee mon te dire! " Talk about. "She's been a favorite topic down at the diner ever since it happened."
"She kill them, or what?" Nick asked.
Pequinot rolled a giant shoulder. "Folks say she did. But I don't know. You know, people like to talk. But she don't look like no killer to me." He laughed. "Man killer, maybe."
"So what happened?"
''Murders happened about three years ago. Cops get a 911 call in the wee hours. Deputy arrives to find her husband the minister shot dead and her seven-year-old son's throat slashed. From what I hear it was a hell of a goddamn scene. Cops puking and what not. That girl was hysterical and covered with blood. She'd been cut, too, but not like them. She claimed she heard something, went downstairs and found them in the kitchen. That the intruder jumped her.
"But the cops strung together a different version. They suspected she orchestrated the whole thing. Turns out her minister husband was having an affair with his
He watches the taillights of her car fade into the night, and the hunger is alive inside him. Removing the pocketknife from its sheath, he opens the blade and sets it against the underside of his forearm where no one will notice a cut. Just one, he promises himself. He slices the flesh and watches the black spread of blood. The pain arouses him. His mouth waters as the metallic smell fills his nostrils. He sets his mouth against the wound and begins to lap.
Nat Jennings has no idea with whom she's dealing. He will stop her. Only this time, he will stop her for good.
Chapter 9
Nick knew better than to pass the time thinking about Nat Jennings. The woman was trouble any way you cut it. She had it written all over that curvy little body of hers in big, bold letters. A more cautious man might have heeded the warning. But Nick had never claimed to be cautious, especially when it came to women.
He wanted to believe his interest in her was purely physical in nature. After all, he was a red-blooded American male and hadn't been with a woman for six long years. That was more than enough time to wear down a man's resolve to stay the hell away from trouble. But that resolve hadn't kept him from looking. It hadn't kept him from liking what he saw. It sure as hell hadn't kept him from wanting to do a lot more than just look . . .
But while he couldn't deny the hard tug of lust every time he laid eyes on her, he knew he wasn't going to do anything about it. Nick had enough personal baggage of his own without taking on someone else's. Nat Jennings was lugging around a ton of it. The last thing he needed in his life was a troubled, sexy-as-sin female with a boatload of demons to slay. He could barely handle his own these days.
"Hell of a night, eh?"
Nick looked up to see Mike Pequinot limp to the cash register and remove a thick wad of bills. "Not bad for a dive a stone's throw from the bayou."
It was almost midnight, and The Blue Gator had been winding down for the last hour. Two men were still at the back, shooting pool. Another man in faded coveralls was slumped at a table smoking a hand-rolled cigarette and nursing a beer. A haunting Peter Gabriel tune keened from the speakers.
“Must have been your night for crazy women," Pequinot said with a grin. "First that polecat ex-wife of yours, then the Jennings girl."
Nick ignored the reference to Tanya. "What's Nat Jennings's story?"
Pequinot shot him a knowing look. "She might be good to look at, but you don't want to get tangled up with her."
"I'm not going to get tangled up with anyone."
"If it's a woman you're wantin’, I can hook you up--"
"I don't want a hooker, Mike."
"Just askin'."
"So are you going to tell me about Nat Jennings, or am I going to have to ask someone else?"
" Ti parele! Si! Laisee mon te dire! " Talk about. "She's been a favorite topic down at the diner ever since it happened."
"She kill them, or what?" Nick asked.
Pequinot rolled a giant shoulder. "Folks say she did. But I don't know. You know, people like to talk. But she don't look like no killer to me." He laughed. "Man killer, maybe."
"So what happened?"
''Murders happened about three years ago. Cops get a 911 call in the wee hours. Deputy arrives to find her husband the minister shot dead and her seven-year-old son's throat slashed. From what I hear it was a hell of a goddamn scene. Cops puking and what not. That girl was hysterical and covered with blood. She'd been cut, too, but not like them. She claimed she heard something, went downstairs and found them in the kitchen. That the intruder jumped her.
"But the cops strung together a different version. They suspected she orchestrated the whole thing. Turns out her minister husband was having an affair with his
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