Read If Tomorrow Never Comes Online
Authors: Elizabeth Lowe
If Tomorrow Never Comes (9 page)
The
instant their flesh touched, Jordan felt swallowed by her heartbeats.
She was aghast when she felt the knife sink
easily into soft layers of flesh and muscle, the shiny steal tip becoming lost
within brawny depths.
Horrified by his
reaction her heart careened like an elevator fifty floors as she watched
crimson fluid trickle through kinky curls downward to the gun tucked into his
belt.
Enlightened eyes
flicked back to his.
There was no longer
a shadow of doubt; Morgan was as stone cold dead inside as his features were
outside.
In the churning, every changing
depths of green, there was no trace of fear, or pain only an outrage lurking,
the kind she recognized and understood.
She shuddered.
Bone
crushing bone, Jake diverted the blade upward ever so gently positioning the
bloody tip against the tender skin beneath Jordan’s chin.
Though vexation slowed his breathing and
fanned the blazing furnace of his soul bringing beads of perspiration to his
forehead, his breath remained cold as ice penetrating the frozen space
separating them convincing Jordan that even carefully screened quaking would
crumble it. Unbearable moments lingered before his voice rumbled like an
earthquake.
“This is the third time
you have threatened my life, and the last. If you're stupid enough to consider
a fourth, I strongly suggest you make it good.”
Directing
the blade with slow purpose, he traced her chin, the translucent flesh of her
slender neck, down to the base of her throat where her heart was racing.
She felt, the deadly edge, its sharp apex,
and her predator's moist blood dripping sickeningly onto her skin.
Sensations that bludgeoned her lung’s, and
escalated palpitations that screeched to a halt the instant the weapon came to
rest between her breasts.
The
breath from his words was like frostbite, “Fearing no one, I welcome
death.
It would end my miserable life.
But, allow me to make myself crystal clear.”
Deliberately pausing to heighten her fear, he pressed the knife
sufficiently to make a slight dimple in her skin before continuing, “I will not
die alone.
Should you decide to gamble
the odds you had better be precise and swift.
Take no time to think or bat an eyelash or you’ll never draw another
breath.
Keep in mind, vixen, for a long
time I've fantasized about killing a woman.
There's a first time for everything.
For you to be my guinea pig would bring me immense pleasure.”
When
his breath touched her skin, she felt suffocated and wondered if his breath
alone had paralyzed her because she stood stiff as though charmed like a snake
her eyes transfixed.
She wondered why
his threats had shot spine tingling thrills the length of her then as quickly
as the questions roamed her mind the answers came.
Morgan was a mortal, who had conquered fear
and pain, pulverized to the core, just like her.
Full force insight struck without a doubt, he
could and would do what he said, just as she would.
As
green globes dove into caves of molten gold they saw no fright no remorse, only
hatred and guts.
Jake's discovery
confirmed what he suspected, Jordan didn't possess the killer instinct, or she
would have thrust the knife into him.
The
thought that he had placed himself in such a position to do so, churned his
stomach.
His oppressive need to find out
could have been the death of him.
Amazing
he thought that moments ago as Jordan slept, she seemed nothing more than an
innocent child her frailty so convincing it brought forth the need to
protect.
Truthfully, Jordan needed no
protection, needed no one, therein lay his greatest misery and confusion.
What caused that child to vanish right before
his eyes?
What were the elements to her
that she guarded so carefully?
Like
a swipe of an eraser across a blackboard, Jordan’s defiance obliterated those
reflections, the expression on her face hard and unyielding, her voice as stiff
as her back was, “Go ahead, do it.
Get
it over with,” and, instead of relinquishing her grip, she shoved the
knife.
Jake's
quick reflexes barely prevented the knife from slashing her throat.
Filled with repulsion he flung the knife
across the room freeing hands that instantly found her arms lifting her to her
toes, pressing her body hard against the cabinets.
Holding her awkwardly with an iron grip he
maintained a distance between them that would prevent her knee from connecting
with his vulnerability knowing if given the opportunity, she would.
Fear shaking him
spilled from his mouth, “Jesus Christ, are you crazy?
Why do you dig until you bring out the worst
in me?
Why do you try me so?
Dammit, this has to stop, now tell me why you
left the bedroom.
Tell me.”
So
furious and out of control was Jake, he would have continued, but his tongue
had become thick and numb by the closeness of their bodies.
It was impossible not to look at her a huge
jolting mistake that juggled feelings already mashed.
Wandering eyes examined the multi- shaded
strands of dried hair haphazardly falling about a sweet face, thick arched
eyebrows, and long lashes, her pug nose.
Considerably thrown off guard by whatever he was feeling, he’d always
wonder how he managed to avoid kissing her.
He wanted to, desperately wanted to, but somehow sensed it would be his
undoing.
Eyes
skipping over her chin found instead the shirt that pulled open exposing
sizable delectable breasts that were pitching and grazing his chest.
Pulverizing his vulnerability was the dark
twin nipples only he knew were visible through the thin material.
Unbelievably, he was drawn up tighter than a
string of an instrument, his penis unmistakably erect, damn her.
Becoming
embarrassingly aware of the frailty of his emotions eased the pressure of his
hands though there was no ignoring the chaos bulging his jeans, pride forced
him to honor his pledge never again to need a woman.
Besides, Jordan was too young to permit a
flicker of lust to streak his mind.
Hell, it was more than a flicker, much more and he knew it.
Jordan
watched Jake's dark look lighten, the pain seeming to drain from his eyes as
his forehead unwrinkled and his lips, that had been a grim line, soften.
At first, she wondered why his expression
turned from curiously bleak to yearning then, to her dismay, remembered her
bare skin tingling when the edges of the shirt slowly parted.
A pleasant feeling inducing a languor that
spread over her turning her cheeks so hot they stung and making her heart
race.
When Jake's eyes traveled lower
and his face flushed, watching his mood change reminded her of men's disgusting
wants.
At once, she had all she could do
to control the knee that wanted to bring him to his; the only thing stopping
her was, without flinching, he’d strangle her.
Knowledge
born from experience told her she could not physically win against his
strength.
Still, she had to do
something, anything to get rid of him, and rid herself of the flustering
feelings.
Frantically digging through
the pile of her beliefs crashing at her feet, she plucked her voice.
“Why do you care?
I'm nothing to you.
With my help, you may win, but without me,
mister, you lose.
And, believe me,
there's nothing that would bring me more pleasure, even if my death insured
it.”
Shame
slapped her full force when he flinched from her words.
For the life of her, she couldn't understand
the overwhelming compulsion to explain, in fact, she didn't recognize her own
voice.
“I'm not accustomed to a hot,
stuffy apartment.
I needed air, a drink
of water, that's all.”
Vulnerability,
running away, changed the subject altering the pitch of her voice into a
scream. “Just look at this mess.
You
can't get near thte faucet. There isn't a clean glass. There's shit growing in
the sink, and you have the nerve, the audacity to criticize me?
You're nuts, mister, plan, and simple, nuts!”
Tight
fisted, Jake desperately fought his urge to punch her silly.
Whether the compulsion was due to her words
or what she made him feel sexually, he didn’t know.
Needing to get away from her, he stepped
back.
Wandering eyes scanned the
kitchen trying to visualize what she saw.
Why suddenly what she thought mattered was preposterous, but it did and
the fact filled him with hate.
The very
idea raking his nerves, made his fist raise and get lucky as it punched a
cabinet door that sprang back in retaliation barely missing his head.
Stomping from the room he shouted, “If you
don't like it, if it doesn't suit you, Miss Prima-Donna, clean it up.”
Jordan
loathed the fact that she winced when he raised his hand.
Nevertheless, she almost gave into the urge
to laugh, or, was it the urge to cry?
Suddenly, she realized there was more to learn about Morgan than his
exterior exposed.
Was he truly unique,
or like the other men she'd known, cruel, deplorable, self-indulgent
cockatrices?
He wouldn't deliberately
hit her, would he?
He wouldn't rape her,
would he?
Then again, maybe he would,
but, so far, he hadn’t and she knew he possessed the strength and lack of
morals to take anything he wanted, when he wanted.
Even a blind person
could sense he wanted her.
No, it was
more he was hungry for her and she wondered just when she’d be on his
menu.
She had pushed her luck too far
the next time he'd either kill her or worse expect sex.
Anger with the slightest trace of fear and a
smidgen of admiration screeched forward. “Go to hell,” she screamed at his
back.
In
the kitchen below Jake's, Margaret stood, her hands in dishwater, head shaking,
tongue clucking, ears straining to overhear the commotion above.
Relief floated over her when she heard Jake's
footsteps retreat to the living room.
She
waited for the phone to ring, knowing he'd call.
Finally, he admitted he needed help.
Poor soul, he actually pleaded with her to supervise
Jordan.
His excuse got her undivided
attention, if they were together much longer, he'd strangle her on the
spot.
Thoughts of the formidable
challenge ahead made Margaret cringe.
CHAPTER 10
Jake's mood had not cooled one degree since the incident
in the kitchen with Jordan.
Barking
orders at Margaret he reiterated, Jordan was not to, leave the apartment, use a
phone, stand near a window or snoop into his private things.
Both were to take every precaution to keep
Jordan’s existence top secret.
If Jordan
disobeyed or made the least little threat, Margaret was to shoot her.
Reclaiming his gun from Margaret, he
demonstrated how to load, remove the safety, and aim before stuffing it back
into her apron pocket.
However anxious to leave the apartment he seemed, Jake
stopped abruptly at Jordan's feet.
Though gritted teeth he lectured, “If you hurt a hair on that old
woman's head, you won't live to tell about it, there will be nowhere you can
hide that I will not find you.
Got
it?”
