“If there is a cult,” he reminded her.
“God, Trent, I wish you would stop saying that. Can you honestly look at those files and tell me there isn’t something sick and dysfunctional going on here?”
“You’re definitely on to something, Jules, but I’m not buying into a conspiracy theory that came from one of those dysfunctional students. I know Shay is your sister, but she’s no angel.” One thick eyebrow lifted, questioning her. “In the end, if Shay’s notion is a big lie, I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”
“I think I can handle it,” she said, remembering another place and time, where once they had been a strong, vibrant couple, believing in the strength of their love. They had ended up fractured, apart, not trusting each other. They both knew all about disappointment.
She caught his gaze, wondered if his thoughts were traveling that old path that went to nowhere.
Long-buried feelings resurfaced, and she imagined for just a second what it would feel like to kiss him again. To touch him. To feel the strength of his corded muscles beneath her fingertips.
God, she was a fool. One minute furious with him, the next minute fantasizing about him.
Get a grip, Jules.
Being close to him was just plain nerve-racking. Old memories had taunted her. Often, tonight, while working with him, for just a heartbeat, she had lost sight of the reason she was with him, why she was here.
And it was happening again.
Suddenly warm, she pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s regroup here,” she said, feeling time racing by, worried sick that the killer would strike again. “We’re still not sure how the kids’ murders are linked to Lauren’s disappearance.”
“Or if they are.”
“What about the business between Ethan Slade and his teacher, Maris Howell, the one I’m replacing?”
“If you believe him, nothing happened. The situation was misinterpreted and overblown. By his parents and the school. Maris was run out of town on a rail.”
“But not prosecuted?”
“Right.” He returned to the table, resting a hip against one scarred corner. “Maybe all the events aren’t tied together.”
“Smoke screens?” she asked, looking up at him, his eyes dark.
“Or coincidence.”
“What? No? If so, Blue Rock Academy has the worst luck of any school in the nation.”
He laughed then. “Well, that’s not melodramatic,” he said sarcastically. Firelight played upon his features, casting his cheekbones and deep-set eyes in shadowy gold. His jaw was still as strong as it ever had been, his blade-thin lips as sexy as she remembered. He was worried. And sexy as all get-out.
“Here’s the upside.” Trent looped his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. “The news is that the storm should break tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Meeker talked to the sheriff and told me before I came looking for you. If that’s true, a helicopter might be able to fly in.”
She listened to the howl of the wind. “A pretty big if. I wouldn’t count on it.” But in her heart, she felt a ray of hope. If they could connect to the outside world, get the kids to safety, have the resources of law enforcement, there was a chance they would catch this maniac.
She stretched again, lifting her hands high over her head and twisting her neck to release some of the tension.
Trent said, “When the detectives get here, I think they’ll want to talk to Shaylee again.”
“Along with everyone else.”
Trent nodded slowly, but she read his hesitation and caught on.
“Wait a minute,” she said, instantly hot. “Don’t tell me you really think my sister is guilty?”
“She hasn’t been ruled out yet.”
“Oh, for the love of God. Then what about Lauren Conway? Is Shaylee a suspect in her disappearance, too, even though it happened months before Shay came here?”
“You’re assuming the events are related, remember?”
“Aren’t they?” she tossed back, desperate to make him see that Shay was innocent. “Other than a scandal concerning a teacher and a student, this school hasn’t lost any of their students. Ever. Until November. Then, four months later, two other kids are killed!”
“I’m just saying that Shaylee is going to be looked at. Hard.”
“Because of her damned hat. That’s ridiculous! Nona
had worn it before. As for the cell phone, big deal. She took Nona’s phone. When she was alive! Her biggest crime is petty theft!”
“Nona’s body was dragged. The abrasions on her back and rump are consistent with being dragged across the hay bales to the spot where she was hoisted over the beams.”
“She and Drew were making love.”
“On a sleeping bag, not straw,” he said quietly, “and Shay was the last person to see Nona alive.”
“Wrong!” Jules was incensed now. “Drew was the last person, and we don’t know that Nona didn’t come into contact with someone between leaving her dorm room and meeting Drew!” Breathing fire, she shoved back her chair, the legs scraping noisily against the hardwood. “I can’t believe you’re buying into this … this easy and ridiculous answer. Especially after what I showed you here,” she said, jabbing a finger at the seared records. “For crying out loud, she’s only seventeen, barely a hundred and twenty pounds.”
“So you’re saying she would have trouble hauling Nona’s body?”
“No! She knows the fireman carry. Good Lord, she’s taken all kinds of martial arts and strength-training and …” She let her voice fade away, knowing she was only digging a deeper hole for her sister. “Listen to what you’re saying,” she hissed as he rose to face her. “You’re accusing her of murder. Double homicide at the very least.”
“No one’s accusing anyone of anything.” He came to her, closing the space between them. “I just think you should be aware of what’s happening.”
“Forewarned is forearmed?” she said, incensed.
“Just that you need to be prepared.”
She nearly slapped him then. Her hand jerked backward, recoiling as if to strike.
He stared down at her. “I wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t what?” she taunted, blood pumping through her. God, he was close. Too close. She thought of stepping backward but was already as close to the fire as she dared.
He glanced down at her hand, still poised as if to strike. “Hit me.” His breath was warm against her face. “I might hit back.” His eyes were dark as night. “Or worse.”
“Worse?”
His gaze dropped to her lips. “Uh-huh.”
Her pulse was pounding, her gaze focused on his, every sense aware of the tiniest shifting in the atmosphere. “I think you’re bluffing,” she said.
One side of his mouth twisted upward in that crooked, self-deprecating smile that had always scraped her soul. “I think you are.”
She had trouble taking a breath; it was impossible to process anything beyond the warmth coming off his skin or the smell of coffee and a hint of aftershave reaching her nostrils. His sheer presence caused turmoil deep inside her. The back of her legs were warm with heat from the fire, and she felt a flush crawl up her spine.
“Seems as if we’re at an impasse,” he said.
“Aren’t we always?”
“We should be talking about the case.”
“That’s right. We should,” she said, but right now, all thoughts of their discussion were scattered. She found herself wanting and, for just a tiny bit of time, needing to forget the nightmare that had become their lives, needing to escape to somewhere safe and warm.
Which was ludicrous.
“I just think you should consider other suspects,” she forced out.
“I am.”
“And the police?”
“They’ll pursue every suspect, every possibility.” His
gaze slid over her face; she felt its warmth. Oh, Lord, she couldn’t go there … wouldn’t!
“Then give Shaylee a damned break,” she said, her voice lower than she’d intended, the heat between them nearly palpable. “Trust me on this one, Trent. I know I’m right.” Resolve coursed through her; she couldn’t let her sister be railroaded for murders she didn’t commit.
“For once, Jules, let’s turn this around,” he said, and placed his hands against the mantel on either side of her head, trapping her there. “You trust me.”
For a heart-stopping moment, she thought he might kiss her. Instead he pinned her with his eyes.
“I don’t know if I can,” she admitted, her heart pounding wildly.
“That’s a problem.”
“Only one?” she asked, the night seeming to thrum around them. Dear God, she’d missed him.
“You’re right. We’ve got a bigger one.”
“Which is?”
“This, damn it.” As quick as a lightning strike, his arms wrapped around her and his lips found hers. He kissed her hard, holding her close, nearly crushing her body to his.
She didn’t resist. Instead, she slid her arms around his neck, her fingers catching in his hair. Her mouth opened to him, and as the kiss deepened, the years that they’d been apart disintegrated into thin air. Her skin heated, her blood ran wild, and deep inside, in the very center of her, she began to feel a want that had been dormant for five years.
Sadly, no man had ever touched her the way Cooper Trent had; she’d never let any other man close enough to reach her or to wound her.
She didn’t protest when he lifted her from her feet and carried her along the short hallway and into his bedroom. He fell with her on the mattress, which squeaked beneath them.
“This is a big mistake,” he whispered, still holding her close.
“You’re right.”
“Oh, hell.” His mouth found hers again, and there was no stopping. His hands slid beneath her sweater, pulling it over her head, while hers worked at the fly of his jeans. He buried his face in the cleft of her breasts, his breath warm, his lips eager as he nibbled at the edge of her bra, then slid the strap from her shoulder. One breast spilled from its cup, and he kissed her nipple, causing the ache deep inside to grow. She moaned, arching to him as he teased and nipped, circling the areola with his tongue, causing her nipple to harden.
With a moan, she cradled his head to hers as he suckled, and she arched her neck and back.
“I forgot how beautiful you were,” he said against her skin, the warm air from his mouth ruffling across her flesh.
“And I forgot how adept you were at bull,” she replied, giggling a little.
He kissed her belly then, his nose pressing deep into her skin. “You are trouble, Jules.”
“As are you.” She forced his jeans over his hips, scraping the hard muscles of his butt and thighs, reminding her that he’d once ridden rodeo, that his body was honed by years of hard work. There were scars along his back, old injuries that her fingers skated over after he flung his shirt onto the floor.
He made short work of her ski pants and snapped her panties off in one deft stroke.
“You sure about this?” he asked once they were naked and he was levered above her, balanced on one bent arm while his free hand stroked her, fingers exploring her ribs and waist, lingering at her hips.
“I’m not sure about anything,” she admitted.
His smile was a slash of white. “Me neither.” He kissed
her again and rolled atop her, his weight welcome, his skin warm against hers. She told herself a thousand times that this was a mistake, that she would regret making love to him, but the scent of him was too powerful an aphrodisiac, the feel of his body welcome relief.
She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment, feeling his hands twine in her hair as he pressed a wet trail of kisses from her nape, across her neck, to the circle of bones at her throat.
Her body responded, and she kissed him in kind, feeling the stubble of his beard against her lips, tracing her fingers along his spine, cupping his muscular buttocks.
She moaned as he slid his knees between hers and arched upward when he caressed her with his mouth and tongue, sliding downward, exploring and breathing hot air against flesh already on fire.
He parted her gently, then touched her in the most intimate of places, creating a swirling pool of need deep within until she cried out. He kissed. He touched. He licked. And she wanted more.
“Trent,” she whispered, her voice cracking as he slid upward, coming to her, his hardness rubbing gently against her belly. He kissed her and tried to slide between her legs, but she moved lower, intent on pleasuring him as he had her. The bedsheets crumpled beneath her back as she positioned herself, kissing him, feeling his back muscles tense as she offered featherlight touches that made him groan and gasp above her.
The smell of sex was heavy in the air, beads of perspiration rising on her skin.
“Jules … Jules …,” he rasped.
“Mmmm.”
“I don’t think I can … hold back.”
“Don’t,” she whispered, but pushed herself upward to find his mouth with hers.
“Jesus, God, woman!” He pushed himself inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him as he thrust. Once, twice, three times. Faster and faster. Jules clung to him, arching up, her mind spinning crazily.
She was here.
With Trent.
In his bed.
She felt the first wave wash over her. Hot. Violent. A spasm that caught her in its heated grip.
He cried out.
The second wave was stronger still. She bucked upward, holding fast to this man she’d once loved, once trusted. Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to give in and crumple to fear and doubt. Let the winds howl and whistle, the frozen sting of snow battering the ramshackle cottage, the breath of evil whispering over the school grounds. For this moment, she was riding the storm with Trent, proud and strong, loving and loved. With Trent.
CHAPTER 38
God was testing him.
That was it.
Finally the Leader understood that God was throwing down his immaculate gauntlet and observing, watching to see if the leader he’d chosen would take up the battle. And he would. Oh, yes, he would.
“I will not fail you,” he whispered as he moved across the campus through the blizzard, a storm that God had provided, the perfect cover. The Leader realized that now; God was testing him, yes, but aiding him in his ultimate purpose. Everything was becoming clear.
As always, God’s wisdom was complete.