"Sell it," he growled against her mouth, and deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth over hers, using his tongue to explore deeper. Jenner shuddered under the rebellion that shook her but she thought of Syd and obediently lifted her arms to twine them around his neck.
Still, she tried to hold her body away from his, tried not to let her breasts or hips touch him. She didn't want to touch him any more than she had to. From a distance she should look willing enough to anyone watching, and that should satisfy him. He overcame her stiffness by pulling her solidly against him, fitting their bodies together like lovers and holding her there. She felt the hardness of his muscled shoulders under the silk of his shirt, felt the thick ridge of his penis begin to get even thicker, firmer.
Oh, God. Blind panic swept over her. He had an erection. He wasn't like other men, she couldn't trust that he'd rein in any unwelcome sexual interest, that he'd take her "no" seriously. She tried to back away just enough to ease the pressure of his body against hers, but he held her so tight it was impossible. She was completely at his mercy, assuming he had any ... and how could she assume anything except the worst about him, considering? What did he intend to do to her? She was afraid she knew, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
Was the same thing happening to Syd? She had been so focused on not getting Syd killed, and now she had to accept that other things could happen, that neither of them would get out of this unscathed. Her earlier thoughts of payback seemed trivial now. She wanted to survive; she didn't want to be hurt. She wanted the same for Syd. There were no more thoughts of what would come after, just the terror that came with moment-to-moment survival.
"Don't," she whimpered, unable to stop the plea. She hated herself for begging, when what she wanted to do was spit in his face, hated herself for letting him see how frightened she was.
"Then act as if you mean it," he said for the second time, kissing her again.
Enraged, helpless, she did.
Part One DUMB LUCK
Chapter One
Seven years earlier ...
JENNER REDWINE'S CELL PHONE RANG AS SHE WAS TRUDGING across the parking lot to her car. That would be Dylan, she thought with a flash of annoyance as she fished the phone from the bottom of her denim purse; she'd had the phone for just five weeks, and already he'd developed a pattern. She bet she knew what he wanted, too. She thumbed the Talk button, said "Hello," and waited to see if she'd won the bet with herself.
"Hey, babe," he said, as he always did.
"Hey." If he'd had an ounce of sensitivity he'd have noticed the distinct lack of welcome in her voice, but "sensitivity" and "Dylan" were direct opposites.
"You off work yet?"
As if he hadn't been watching the clock, she thought, but didn't say it. "Yeah."
"How about stopping at the Seven-Eleven and picking up a six-pack, okay? I'll pay you for it."
He hadn't yet, she thought grumpily, and she was getting tired of it. His dead-end job paid more than hers, but he was mooching his beer off her. Last time, Jenner promised herself as she said "Okay," and hung up. If he didn't pay her this time, this was her last beer run.
She had just clocked out at the end of second shift at Harvest Meat Packing Company, she was exhausted, and the bottoms of her feet throbbed from standing on the concrete floor for the past eight hours. Dylan's job at a machine shop was first shift, which meant he'd been off work for roughly those same eight hours, but he hadn't bothered to get his own beer. Instead he'd been watching her television and eating her food.
Having a steady guy had seemed like a good deal at first, but Jenner didn't suffer any fool gladly, even when the fool was herself. Unless Dylan pulled off a miraculous recovery, she'd shortly be placing him in the "mistake" column. She'd give him this one last chance - not because she thought he'd come through, but because somehow she needed this one additional bit of evidence to push her past the point of no return. Hanging on to people when she should let go was a character flaw, but she knew herself well enough to accept that she had to give him this one last chance, or uncertainty would eat her alive.
Reaching her battered blue Dodge, she unlocked it and pulled hard on the door handle - the driver's door tended to stick. After initially resisting her effort, the door suddenly gave way with a creak of rusty hinges, and Jenner staggered back. Controlling her irritation, she got in, slammed the door, and stuck the key in the ignition. The engine fired right up. The Blue Goose didn't look like much, but it was reliable, and that was all she asked. At least she had something she could depend on, even if it was just a beat up, rusty car.
The 7-Eleven nearest her duplex was a few blocks out of her way, but certainly close enough that Dylan could have gone there with very little effort. The shop was brightly lit, and the parking lot packed despite the late hour. Jenner wedged the Dodge into a space that was as tight as too-small panty hose, but what the heck; what did another ding matter in a car that was practically one big ding?
She shoved her shoulder against the door and, sure enough, it swung open with too much force and banged the car beside her. Wincing, she contorted herself so she could slide through the small opening, and rubbed her finger over the ding in the other car in an effort to smooth it out - not that the owner was likely to notice one more, considering this car was almost as bad as the Goose.
The combined smells of exhaust, gasoline, and hot asphalt hit her in the face. Typical summer smell, and all in all she kind of liked the smell of gasoline. Kerosene, too. Weird, but not something she wasted time worrying about.