Master of the Abyss

Chapter Three

Jake hadn’t called.

Kallie slid out of her Jeep and slammed the heavy door shut, letting the loud bang express her feelings on the subject. That asshole bastard rat fink. She’d been so sure that he would call her-that there had been something between them.

So little she knew. Obviously. No word from him in the last five days. She shoved her sweat-dampened hair off her forehead. Wonderful damned day, wasn’t it? It’s dry air, people would say, like dry helped when the temperature soared over ninety degrees. The heat wasn’t helping her simmering mood. Or her desire to wallop someone named Jake. He was such a… Okay, be fair. He’d told her “one night only.” Repeated it, even.

But still…

Morgan had visited Serenity Lodge yesterday, and Jake hadn’t asked about her. Now Morgan wondered why Kallie had asked if he had. Gah! I might as well be back in high school. As Kallie stalked into the small grocery store, she barely kept from slamming that door too.

At least Logan hadn’t discussed any details about Friday night with Morgan or Wyatt. He’d simply said she seemed comfortable enough with his guests’ activities. Since she’d reported the same, her cousins had accepted the matter. After all, they sure wouldn’t ask her for descriptions of anything related to sex.

She stopped inside the door and picked up a basket. Behind the counter, the owner, David Whipple, was going over paperwork with a redheaded delivery guy, who smiled at her.

David asked, “How are you, Kallie?”

“Just dandy.” Wyatt had stocked the kitchen as per the bargain, and for, oh, at least the first two days, she’d thought she had the better of that deal. No shopping or cleaning for a week, and she’d enjoyed the best, most exciting sexual adventure of her very limited life. With Jake, of all people. As her breasts tingled, she mentally shoved that memory into the toilet…and flushed.

Turning her attention to her errand, she studied the shelves of crackers and cookies and chips. A sack of potato chips went into her basket. Sour cream dip from the refrigerated section.

She said hi to Mrs. Jenkins and smiled at the small dog perched in the child seat. Looking like a furball that had encountered a light socket, the Pomeranian gave a series of shrill yaps, then panted with exhaustion. Yeah, she remembered panting just like that at the lodge.

After consideration, Kallie added two bottles of Sierra Nevada Stout from the beer fridge. Only two, just for her. All three of her best friends had dated Jake, and although they tended to share almost everything, she’d never confessed to having the hots for the man since she’d first seen him in town. All long legs and broad shoulders, that hard, rough-cut face, the cleft in his chin, and eyes the color of a mountain lake. And don’t forget his large, competent hands. Oh, she remembered how those hands had slapped her bottom, stroked her pussy, pushed her down onto her hands and knees and… Well. She let out a slow breath. She sure wouldn’t be sharing details with Serena or Gina. Nope.

So with no friends to line up on her side and call him the appropriate names, she had to hold a pity party all by herself. She studied the contents of her basket. Almost all the essential food groups: salt, alcohol, grease. Missing sugar and chocolate.

Obviously she needed Ben and Jerry’s contribution to the ice cream world: chocolate fudge brownie. She dropped in the small container, hesitated, and added another. The chances that she’d feel better by tomorrow were slim. Real slim. Holy crapola, but she’d been stupid.

Setting the basket on the counter, she managed a smile for David.

He beamed at her. A bit short of six feet and stocky, he’d filled out a lot since high school, probably from hefting groceries around. She hadn’t really known him then; he’d been in the geeky crowd, and she’d hung out with the jocks, playing soccer and baseball.

Not basketball, unfortunately. When all the other kids passed her in height, she’d discovered that, no matter how fast she was, genetics ruled on the basketball court. Life really sucked sometimes.

“That’ll do it, Andrew.” David signed the electronic device for the delivery guy. “You joining us next week for poker?”

“I’ll be there.”

As the man walked away, David glanced into Kallie’s basket and gave her an odd look. What, people didn’t normally fill a basket with junk food? He took the beer out and rang it up. “I enjoyed our date last month.”

“Yeah, I did too,” she said. They’d gone out for dinner and a movie. He was a nice man. Certainly a lot nicer than Jake. But not-

“Are you available this week?”

She hesitated, thinking over her schedule. The weekend was out, since she’d invited Rebecca to join her friends at the ClaimJumper on Saturday. On Sunday, she had a women’s group booked for an overnight on Little Bear Mountain.

Earlier in the week was possible, but going out didn’t sound particularly appealing. I want Jake.

As if she’d called him, she glimpsed him crossing the street, shoulder to shoulder with Logan. Big guys. She’d heard they were ex-military, and despite their casual stride, the two men gave as deadly an impression as the Earps heading for the OK Corral.

And oh, could this day get any better? They came into the grocery.

Jake saw her. His gait hitched, and the laughter faded from his face. He said, “Morning, Kallie,” his voice as polite as if she were…a tourist. As if he’d never kissed her or been inside her or sucked on her breasts. Obviously he’d meant that “one night only.” The bastard.

After a quick frown at Jake, Logan smiled at her. “Good morning, sugar.”

The annoying lump inside Kallie’s chest made it hard to speak, but damned if she’d show how much Jake’s attitude hurt. “Hey, guys.”

When the men had entered the store, David’s face had gone expressionless, almost a match for Jake’s. The grocer greeted Logan and continued ringing up her snacks. “So what about Thursday night?” he asked her. “Mike’s having a barbecue that night.”

Kallie’s attention, despite her efforts, drifted back to the Hunts. While Logan checked over a list on notepaper, Jake was studying her pile of groceries on the counter. A frown creased his brow and lined his scar. His intense blue gaze moved to her.

Surely he didn’t know what chocolate ice cream meant. As her face heated, she turned her back. You are nothing to me. “I’d love to go out, David. What time?”

In a filthy mood, Jake carried two grocery sacks through the lodge’s back door into the kitchen and thumped them down on the counter.

“Just in time for supper.” Rebecca opened the refrigerator and started unloading a bag. “I’m going to make chocolate cake tomorrow. Did you remember to get ice cream?”

“I think so.” Hopefully. He didn’t remember picking up a carton.

“I’d love to go out, David.” He scowled at the memory of Kallie’s low voice, of the victorious smirk that Whipple had given him. Bastard. Jake headed back out, passing Logan on the way in.

Get over it. She not only had a right to date, but he wanted her to. He had welcomed the fact that she hadn’t gotten hung up on him and hadn’t expected anything after their night together. As he stepped off the porch, the heat sent a trickle of sweat down his back. Kallie had been sweating by the second time he’d taken her. He’d licked between her tiny breasts, tasting the salt on her skin, and then pushed her knees up. She’d been so wet by then that he’d entered her snug little pussy with one thrust.

A hard shove made Jake stumble. “We’ve got more groceries,” Logan said. “You planning to stand there all day?”

“Right.” Jake moved forward, shaking his head, as if that would dislodge the memories. Hadn’t yet. And now he had a serving of guilt to join them, because he couldn’t lie to himself. Maybe she would date that asshole Whipple, but Jake had seen what was in her grocery basket: chocolate ice cream. Chips and dip. Hell.

When Mimi had been sad, she’d cried. A simple solution. But he’d lived with enough women to learn the other remedies females used to feel better. Whereas an unhappy man might get roaring drunk, a woman would curl up with a bowl of ice cream. Or chips.

Kallie’s basket had contained both. It didn’t take a leap of logic to figure he was the cause. The look she’d given him as he entered the store had held pain, then anger. The stiffness of her shoulders when she’d turned her back said he’d hurt her pride as well. But although she’d been hurting, she hadn’t yelled, been rude, or cried. He admired that-she was a strong woman. No surprise there.

He sighed and hefted the forty pound sack of dog food onto his shoulder.

What he hadn’t known was how Little Miss Macho could turn so fucking female. He shouldn’t ever have played with her…because it had become more than play. The way she’d submitted, warily at first, and then, as her defenses lowered and her trust grew, with a stunned wonder that had left him humbled. And the way she’d welcomed him into her body-with such joy-had played hell with his control.

“Jake. Bro. Take the dog food in the house.”

Jake focused, saw Logan’s exasperated face. “Right. Doing just that.”

It was good that she’d moved on.

Jake entered the kitchen, opened the plastic bin where Thor’s kibble was stored. Good that she was going out with Whipple. He was relieved-happy-to know she wasn’t pining over him.

Logan punched his shoulder. Hard. “Jake. Pour the damned food into the bin.”

Kallie pulled the scrub pad out of the mouth of the oversize wooden frog and patted its green nose. After returning from Alaska two years ago, she’d whittled the figure out of basswood and carved its bushy eyebrows and beard to match Uncle Harvey’s. When he’d seen it, his roaring laugh had shaken the windows. I miss you, Uncle.

As she soaped up the pad, she wrinkled her nose at the mess in front of her. Seems like no matter how many bargains a girl made, she still ended up doing the dishes. Her “I’m so macho” cousins only washed dishes on their kitchen-duty day and could be oblivious to any putrid stench between times. Did testosterone kill the sense of smell?

After stepping around Mufasa-like any self-respecting cat, he’d commandeered the center of the tile floor-she unloaded the dishwasher and filled it again with food-encrusted bowls and plates.

Maybe she should dump the plates in her cousins’ beds. Would they take a hint?

She grinned. But when she imagined the guys’ reactions, her amusement disappeared, and the icy spot lurking in a corner of her heart pulsed painfully as if in warning. These weren’t her dishes, after all; this wasn’t her house. Not really.

She was just the poor relation Uncle Harvey had taken in after Aunt Teresa had dumped her. After everyone had dumped her. She never forgot her place. Ever.

She swiped at a dried spot of tomato sauce. Maybe she went a little overboard in being careful-okay, maybe she’d gotten a bit hung up on the idea-but she knew how quickly someone could turn off the love faucet. Her mom had loved her, but she’d died when Kallie was eight. Not fair, so totally not fair to lose your mommy, Kallie thought, scrubbing the counter until the pad started to fray.

Two years later, her stepfather had shoved her off on Aunt Penny. At least he’d told her why: “I’m getting married, and Annabelle already has two children.”

She was twelve when Aunt Penny shipped her off to Teresa. That time, she received no explanation other than, “I’m sorry, Kallie, but we can’t keep you here any longer.”

She’d cried herself to sleep for a month after leaving Penny, but eventually the fun and bustling activity in Aunt Teresa’s home had drawn her in. And then a couple of years later, Uncle Pete and Teresa gave her a little vacation to visit Uncle Harvey, and put her on a plane to the West Coast. They hadn’t taken her back.

It still hurt, dammit. Kallie drizzled soap into a frying pan. And she’d suffered through the transition. From a city home filled with younger cousins and an affectionate, bubbling aunt to a wilderness cabin with three older cousins and her giant-sized uncle. They’d terrified her.

This place had been her last hope. If the Mastersons didn’t like her, she’d have had nowhere else to go. Maybe if she’d known what she had done to get kicked out of the other homes…

Poor Uncle Harvey and poor Morgan and Wyatt and Virgil, having a teenage girl dropped into their lives. She’d spared them her tears; she’d already learned that crying didn’t help. But she was the quietest, sweetest mouse they’d ever seen, at least until she’d figured out what they wanted. Her cousins didn’t know what to do with a girl cousin, so she’d turned herself into one of the boys. Kallie smiled at the memories. They’d treated her like a little brother, coaching her on how to backpack, fight, shoot.

Being tough suited her.

If only she could break them of the overprotective crap. Sometimes they acted as if she were a fragile little girl or something. It was a wonder she hadn’t developed a split personality.

Losing Uncle Harvey last year had been…bad. He’d loved her; she was sure that he’d loved her. When she had returned to Bear Flat after working in Alaska, he’d cheered so loudly the town must have heard him.

She’d missed him too, missed them all, but she’d forced herself to get a college degree and some experience before joining the Masterson guide business. Moving away had been incredibly difficult. At least she’d gone to a college close enough to drive back frequently. But Alaska… She’d deliberately accepted the distant job so she couldn’t run home, but damn, she’d felt so empty without her cousins and uncle. She’d missed the noisy meals, the arguing and teasing, the bossing her around and laughing when she tried to reciprocate.

So although sometimes she thought about moving out again-she wrinkled her nose at the dirty dishes-the independence she’d gain wouldn’t be worth what she’d lose. The others must feel the same, since they’d also returned. Or maybe they were just lazy. With the livestock and erratic schedules, it was easier for everyone to live here.

Good thing her uncle had built a huge house. Whenever one of them had turned eighteen, Harvey added on to the cabin, and eventually each bedroom had transformed into a mini-apartment. It had been the sneaky old man’s way of keeping his children around.

She stared at the brick-colored wall. What would she do when the guys started getting married?

The ringing of the phone saved her from the dismal thought, and she hurried into the dining room to answer it. The noise stopped, so Wyatt must have picked it up. As she stacked the dishes left on the table, she heard him say, “I don’t know, Logan. Morgan and I are booked on Tuesday. Kallie is too.” She stepped into the office.

Wyatt looked up, his hair shoved into angry spikes. He hated doing the accounting.

Serenity Lodge must have some clients for them. She ignored the little voice going, don’t, don’t, don’t. Her desire to avoid Jake didn’t matter. This was business.

She ignored Wyatt’s motion for her not to talk and said loudly, “The women’s group I’m guiding will return Monday, so I’m free on Tuesday.”

“I’ll get back to you, Hunt.” He punched the Off button hard. “You just had to keep talking, didn’t you? I don’t want to book you with anyone from the lodge.”

“That’s what I thought. We’ve been over this, remember?” She glared at him. “Honestly, Wyatt, they can’t be worse than some of the yuppies I’ve taken out-the ones who think a female guide provides sleeping bag services.”

His face went dark, and he shoved to his feet. “Who? Who the hell… Did they touch you?”

Not a good argument to use, stupid girl. “Not for more than a second. Understanding was achieved quickly.” She rolled her eyes. “Cuz, I sleep lightly, I carry a knife, and you guys are the ones who taught me to fight. It’s not a problem. Sit.”

With a grunt, he sank back into his chair. “Okay. But those people from the lodge-that’s something else. Virgil reamed me and Morgan a new one about letting you anywhere near them.” He gingerly fingered a dark purple bruise on his jaw. “He said the Hunts are actually involved in that stuff.”

“Oh?” Involved? If he only knew… God, they’d haul her to a convent. “Who cares? If the guests start swinging from trapezes while they”- screw-“mess around, I’ll just step off the trail and wait until they finish.”

Wyatt scowled.

“They’re probably safer to be around than the clients who think camping means you don’t need deodorant.”

He barked a laugh. “You might have a point.”

“I have several. I’m part of the business. ‘Everyone is equal in this house,’ remember?”

“Pa might have gone overboard with that rule,” Wyatt muttered. When she crossed her arms, he held up his hands. “Fine. You win. We’ll outfit a party of four-two couples-for an overnight next Tuesday.”

For her own comfort, she asked, “Just the four people? Not either of the Hunts?”

“Doubt it. Why would they go?”

Good. That’s good. “Have Logan fax the details.” She shook her head. The Hunts and the Mastersons were doing business together, so she might as well resign herself to it and shut down the part of her that felt hurt. Yeah, when she ran into bastard Hunt, she would act just as “ice cube up the butt” as he had.

“Will do.” Wyatt picked up the phone. “By the way, I invited the Hunts to our party on the Fourth. Logan said they’d come.”

“Oh.” She swallowed her frustrated scream. “How nice.” She made it back into the kitchen before losing it, and then she slammed the counter with a fist, growling like Mufasa if someone tried to steal a newly killed mouse.

Growling. Hitting. Very antisocial. She’d better visit her sanctuary and de-stress or she’d rip Wyatt’s head right off his shoulders. Not that it would affect anything-his brain must be located elsewhere.

Jake and Logan walked into the ClaimJumper. The country-western music hit Jake first-“Good Hearted Woman” with Waylon and Willie. Not bad. At least the owner, Gustaf, hadn’t put on his beloved Johnny Cash. Yet.

The scent of beer, burgers, and french fries overwhelmed the traces of maybe-I’ll-get-laid aftershave and perfumes. At first glimpse, he thought the entire thousand-plus population of Bear Flat had jammed into the tiny tavern, but no-just another Saturday night. Tourists from the handful of bed-and-breakfasts and the local motel mingled with loggers and locals and a few fishermen from the river lodge. And delivery men. Sitting at a table near the door, the redheaded, muscular guy who delivered sodas to the lodge nodded. “Fellas.”

“Evening, Secrist,” Jake said. He noticed most of the preponderantly male population watched the eye candy in the far corner where Serena and Gina sat with Logan’s fiancée.

On the way out the door, Rebecca had announced she planned to indulge herself during the girls’ night out-which was why Logan had talked Jake into driving him into town. He would take no chances of his pretty sub splattering herself all over the zigzagging highway.

Avoiding the antlers festooned with baseball and cowboy hats, Jake leaned a shoulder against the rough log wall and studied Becca. The curvy redhead looked happy-she usually did-but right now, she appeared both tipsy and giggly. He glanced at Logan. “She looks like a girl hanging out with girls.”

Logan set a foot on a chair, his hands braced on his leg as he studied his submissive. “She’s been missing this, hasn’t she?”

“Seems so. Sociable as she is, she probably had a bunch of girlfriends in San Francisco.”

“And none here. Fuck me for being so blind. I’ll make sure she takes more time off and gets into town, even if I have to drag her.”

Jake winced. “No dragging, please. My stomach isn’t up to another of your wars.” The last time business called them to San Francisco, Rebecca had insisted she’d stay at the lodge. Unwilling to risk his city girl alone in the woods, Logan had swatted her on the ass and stuffed her into the car. Bad mistake. The redhead was a magnificent cook, but the following week, nothing he or Logan ate had been edible. Damned if he knew how she’d ruined their food and still fed the guests well. And he was still pissed off that she’d included him in the battle.

Logan grinned. “Wimp. But I’ll let her decide. Bless Kallie for inviting her tonight.”

“Kallie invited her? Kallie will be here?” Jake’s gut twisted like a worm impaled on a hook. Hell, he wouldn’t have come if he’d known.

“Yeah.” Logan watched Rebecca for a minute, smiling each time she laughed. “God, she’s beautiful.”

“She is that.” And she’d turned his brother’s world around. Thank you, Becca.

“Looks like we might as well get a beer.” Logan jerked his chin toward a burly man across the room. “Bart’s here, so I’m going to check on our hardware order. Grab me a beer.”

“You bet.” As Logan headed for the lumberyard owner, Jake scoped out the rest of the room, nodding to the people he knew. Was the sprite here?

She was-at the bar beside David Whipple, and as Jake watched, the grocer wrapped his arm around her. Possessively.

A growl escaped, startling Jake as much as a flabby tourist nearby, who edged farther away. Hell, put a lock on it, Hunt. She’s not yours.

Is too.

In her own unique scruffy pixie way, Kallie was even more beautiful than Rebecca. Her short hair was tousled, like she’d just got out of bed. It had looked like that after I spanked her. She’d taken her flannel shirt off and tied it around her waist, and her tank top showed off her tanned arms. Her skin had been so smooth…

I should leave her be.

Her head tilted back, and he could tell she was laughing. Damn, he liked her laugh. Her dark eyes would be dancing and…

Don’t do this, Hunt. Even as he reached the end of the bar, she slipped away from Whipple and headed to her table, carrying two of the four drinks lined up on the bar. Well then, he’d just wait right here until she returned. His displeasure at seeing Whipple touch her had wrecked his judgment-and he didn’t give a damn.

Whipple glanced over, then scowled and averted his eyes. The animosity was mutual. Mimi had broken up with the grocer just before meeting Jake, and after seeing her black eye and swollen lip, Jake had paid the bastard a visit. So no hugs and kisses from Whipple, and wasn’t that just a crying shame?

“Hunt.” The old Swede serving drinks looked as battered as his tavern. “Gutt evening, youngling. What can I get you?”

Jake grinned. The old man was the only person who’d called him young in two decades. “A couple of drafts.”

Gustaf filled two glasses and set them on the bar top after swiping up a few miscreant drops with a grimy towel.

After paying, Jake picked up his beer. Unfortunately the icy cold liquid didn’t divert his mind-or body-from Kallie. He was already half-erect from one look. Had he actually worried about his dick’s lack of interest?

He leaned an elbow on the bar and watched as Kallie handed off the beers to the table of women. She said something to Rebecca, laughed at the retort, and headed back to get the two drinks she’d left on the bar.

Jake moved a few steps out to intercept her.

Why’d they decide to sit so far from the bar? Kallie wondered as she headed back to fetch the rest of the drinks. She dodged a staggering tourist, veered too close to Ben’s table, and had to slap the damned lecher’s hand away from her butt. A few steps later, she pulled old Verne to his feet and two-stepped down the middle of the room with him. She’d never seen him sober, but he was a happy drunk. Ten years ago, he’d given her country dance lessons in the parking lot after some jerk whose name she couldn’t remember had made fun of her. By the time Verne had been satisfied with her progress, she could outdance most of the town.

He cackled and patted her shoulder. “Still got the moves, girl.”

“So do you, Verne.” Her kiss on his leathery cheek made him grin so wide that his silver fillings gleamed at her. Laughing, she turned away and ran into a wall. A wall of very hard man.

She heard a low chuckle, and firm hands gripped her arms to steady her. “Careful there, sprite.”

Like snow in the hot sun, every cell in her body turned to slush. Knowing he’d undoubtedly notice his effect on her, she muttered, “Hi, Jake,” to his chest without looking up.

“Kallie.” His voice rumbled across her like a mountain avalanche and had the same effect, knocking down every one of her resolutions. Her heart picked up speed, and even worse, she could feel her breasts contracting, her skin absorbing the heat of his hands. She might tell her mind to forget, but her body well remembered the feel of him against her. Thick inside her. His powerful hands-

She tried to step around him.

He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “Are you not talking to me, Kallie?”

His eyes were too blue in the tavern light, and the warm look in them made her long to burrow closer. But he didn’t want that. She didn’t want that. Okay, don’t lie. She shouldn’t want that. And she really, really didn’t know how to handle this. She forced a smile. “We’re having a girls’ night out, dude, and you don’t have the proper equipment.”

She yanked away and continued to the bar. If he touched her again, she’d plant a fist in his gut. Maybe that was excessive, but, hey, he was into BDSM, right? What was a little pain between friends?

Next round, she’d send Serena to fetch the drinks.

When she reached the bar, David had an odd expression on his face. “Is he bothering you, Kallie?” He put his arm around her again.

Is this what a chicken between two hungry dogs feels like? She stepped out of reach. “Nothing I can’t handle.” She lifted the two last drinks so quickly that beer sloshed over the sides. “Well-”

“I had fun at the barbecue,” he interrupted. “How about tomorrow night? There’s a-”

“No.” The word was out before she thought, the bluntness rude enough to make his mouth thin. But she meant it. “I like you, David, but not-Dating isn’t-” Hell, could she be any more tongue-tied?

He scowled. “It’s him, isn’t it? Jake Hunt.”

Kallie glanced over her shoulder and sucked in a breath. Jake stood beside Verne-undoubtedly listening to one of the old guy’s interminable jokes-but his eyes were focused on her. No chill there tonight; his stare was like molten silver, hot enough to burn. She turned to the bar and could still feel his intense gaze on her back.

David caught her arm. “Don’t be with him, Kallie. You’re better with me. We’re good together.”

“Ah…thank you, David.” She pulled away, unsettled at his show of emotion. He had always been reserved. Polite. No fire like Jake-who didn’t want her. The thought sat in her stomach bitterly. “I don’t think I’m right for anyone.”

She headed back to the table, giving Jake a wide berth, and thumped one of the two beers down. “Here you go, Rebecca.”

After dropping ungracefully into her chair, she lifted the last beer and drained half of it in one long pull. A covert glance showed Jake still talking with Verne. Kallie shook her head, remembering Verne’s story of how Jake had jumped into a flooding river to rescue him. Dammit-like she needed to hear glowing tales of the jerk’s bravery?

When David walked past the two men on the way to the restroom, the glare he directed at Jake’s back should have put a smoldering hole in Hunt’s black T-shirt. Well, she felt the same way.

Serena and Gina were chattering about the gorgeous star of a new TV show and-thank you, God-hadn’t noticed the interlude with Jake. Rebecca, however…

“Very interesting.” Rebecca sipped her beer, her gaze on Jake. “You know, I’ve never seen him watch anyone like he does you. He’s always so easygoing; very little upsets him. When he does a scene with a woman, it’s like his emotions are switched off. But not last week at the party, or tonight.” She raised her eyebrows at Kallie.

Kallie kept her back turned to the asshole and her voice low. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s nothing going on.” She drank the rest of her beer and scowled. “We played one night, and he gave me the ‘this is only tonight’ lecture. Repeated it, even.”

“A one-nighter lecture?” Rebecca snorted a laugh. “He’s so honest I can just see him doing that. And it’s true; I’ve never seen him with any woman more than once in a row.” Rebecca tilted her head and regarded Jake. “He isn’t acting like a one-nighter right now. I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off you.”

“I don’t give a damn how he acts.” Dipwad. If he’d wanted to see her, he knew where the phone was. He’d barely said hello in the grocery store. But tonight, yeah, he’d probably had a beer or three and now wanted a quickie as a chaser. And then he’d go back to ignoring her again.

Rebecca tapped a finger on her lips. “Maybe if you flirted a little? Wore something sexy?”

“I don’t know how to flirt or be sexy.”

“No way. How can you grow up without learning the essentials?” The horrified expression on the redhead’s face made Kallie snicker.

“Three older cousins and a conservative uncle. I wanted to fit in, so I dressed like them… And they got so used to that, they’d harass me if I wore something provocative. Or looked at a guy.” Kallie smiled ruefully. “I didn’t even date until I got to college, and then it was too late to change.”

“Girl, it’s never too late to change.” Rebecca tilted her head and assessed Kallie. “I can guess your size. And then maybe a little-”

God help me. “So how did you meet Logan?”

The diversion worked. Rebecca flushed a light red and leaned closer so only Kallie could hear. “You know how wide-eyed you were last weekend? Well, you should have seen me the night I met Logan. See, my boyfriend had talked me into a holiday at Serenity.” She hesitated and glanced at Serena and Gina, who were now debating whether a man’s size could best be determined by the length of his thumbs or his feet.

Interesting. Kallie’s gaze slid to Jake and his-oh, yeah-big, big boots.

Rebecca’s eyes followed, and she burst out laughing, drawing the attention of every guy in the place, including Logan. The look he gave his fiancée was hot enough to spark a forest fire, and it sent a spike of envy right through Kallie’s heart. No man had ever looked at her like that. She took a slow breath and tried to remember what they’d been discussing. “Okay, you went to the lodge with your boyfriend. Go on.”

After checking again that the other two weren’t listening, Rebecca said, “With my boyfriend and his swinger’s club.”

“Swingers…that’s when everybody kinda sorta does everyone else, right?”

“Oh yeah. All out in public.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Major mistake on my part. So when my boyfriend brought someone back to our cabin to…enjoy, I couldn’t say anything since-hey, swinger’s club, right? Anyway, I stomped out. Logan found me freezing to death on the front porch…and took me upstairs to his rooms.”

Kallie snorted, remembering the commanding way he’d wrapped his hand around the back of Rebecca’s neck. “I just bet he did.”

“Shy, he’s not.” Rebecca gave Kallie a mischievous look. “He discovered I was submissive, and sucked me right into a whole new kink. I would never have thought I’d do anything out in public, but being watched adds a certain…something.”

Kallie averted her gaze, the words bringing back more than she wanted to remember. Light glinting off muscled arms, calloused hands holding her legs apart, her whimpering, even knowing others could hear the sounds she made… Warmth seared her cheeks. Then she remembered she’d never do that again with Jake. She drained her beer.

He stared at the bitch from across the room. So rude. A ballbuster who would humiliate a man in front of his friends. There she sat, satisfied with herself, probably even gloating. The darkness of her hair and eyes echoed the blackness in her soul.

Laughter spilled across the tavern, ugly, vicious noise, ripping holes in his mind, letting memories ooze into him. The first demon had challenged his manhood. “Can’t even get it up. Loser. I’ve had it with you.” Had tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and turned her back.

His fingers clenched, squashing the burger in his hand into nothingness. Catsup dripped onto the table in bloodred splatters.

A woman could get under a man’s skin, stealing his thoughts, his very essence until she owned him. And then he’d return to her over and over, letting her tear pieces of him away until clawing darkness streamed through him. Until he felt that life wasn’t worth living.

He dropped the remains of his food and stared at the redness covering his hand. Drops of red had spattered the long white scar on his wrist where he had sliced so cleanly and watched the blood of his body pour out and soak into the carpet.

He’d been wrong to do that and wrong to blame himself instead of her. The knowledge had come to him as he’d recovered. The doctor who saw him had a voice of an angel as he kept repeating that the failure of the relationship hadn’t been his fault. Not his fault at all.

And then he knew-it must have been hers. Some women were evil.

She’d been evil. He’d hit her, then hit her again and again. He saw that by his actions, he’d destroyed the evil and removed it from the world. The shrieking of the demon inside her had confirmed it, hurting his ears until his head pounded with pain. When the noise stopped, he’d known the foulness had gone, for once again, his manhood had responded to his command.

Dark hair and dark eyes. Marks of the devil. Some females fought successfully against the encroaching malevolence; some were overcome by the demon. The fallen ones taunted the men-his brothers-ruining their lives and shredding their souls.

Carefully he wiped the redness from his hand. Now he would risk his own life and soul to destroy this demon.