In It to Win It (30 page)

He narrowed his eyes and she could see the challenge in them. She could also see that he knew that she’d stacked the deck against him.

“
Let’s see what you’ve got, Pierce.”

He stepped over to the next lane and took aim. Back so far, at the furthest end of the range, the targets were under the heat vent and flapped in the gentle breeze. She let Grayson shoot first. Not bad. At least not as bad as she’d thought—or hoped.

Her turn. The gun she held now was heavy. Inwardly she groaned.

The larger the caliber, the larger the recoil. Personally she hated the reverberation that ricocheted up her arm. Once when she’d gone out shooting with her grandfather she felt a tingling sensation in her upper arm and shoulder a week later. She anticipated having that with this gun.

It was way too big for her hand as she wrapped her fingers around the grip. Like Grayson not having right finger placement on the trigger, Jane didn’t either. She had to use the very tip of her finger which didn’t offer the kind of control she liked to have.

Deep breath in, long breath out.

She closed her eye and squeezed off a shot. The trigger was light and the gun discharged before she’d anticipated it would. She hit the target—barely. Grayson laughed, a little too mockingly for Jane’s taste. She glared at him.

“
You shouldn’t tease me while I’m holding a gun.”

He laughed harder. “I’m not sure you’re any kind of threat with that one.”

She narrowed her eyes and glared right through him. She would make him pay by making the final five shots count. She would win this bet and have him painting her toenails.

The next shots were indeed better. As the targets zipped closer she wasn’t sure who the winner would be. Grayson left his target on the clips and counted. “Forty, eighty, one-twenty, one-sixty, one-ninety, and the bulls-eye makes one-forty. What’d you get, baby doll?”

She’d been counting hers as he did his. “One-thirty,” she groaned.

“
Yes!” He pumped his arms in the air. “I know exactly what I want you to do.”

“
What’s that?” Yeah, she sounded like sour grapes. She hated to lose! Especially when she lost when doing something that she was really damned good at.

“
Oh, come on.” He scooped her up against him. “I promise you’ll enjoy it too.”

The taste of defeat was bitter on her tongue when she swallowed. She inhaled and the masculine scent of him mixed with burned gunpowder filled her nose. The smell and being so close to him melted away the irritation. This time when she asked, “What do you have planned?” there was no edge to the question.

He smiled, looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before he pressed his lips to her neck. She shuddered as his tongue traced over the soft tissue beneath her ear. Once again he removed the muff and whispered exactly what he had planned.

And he was right … she was going to like it.

SHOOTING WITH JANE—AND THE ADVENTURES afterward—had been the best day ever. It’d been two days ago, but the image of Jane squaring herself to the target and firing off those first six shots, nearly made Grayson lose himself.

She’d pretended not to know how to shoot. She’d been smart if she’d made him the bet
before
he knew what kind of marksman she was. He definitely would have lost then. As it was, he only won by the skin of his teeth—and a stray shot by Jane.

Normally Grayson didn’t like to be bested. In this case, however, he enjoyed it.

Grayson loved that she was a crack shot. His girl could outshoot him or any of his friends. He looked forward to the day when he could take her out and show her off.

The little worrying niggle that had been slithering through his stomach had eased some. But not completely.

He was pretty sure that Derek hadn’t just gone away. The guy had had a cushy gig playing Grayson. The “job” had given him money and status and publicity—and women.

Freshman year the two had been paired as roommates. Derek had an academic scholarship, Grayson baseball. And Grayson had to admit that they looked a lot alike, eerily so. Especially when Derek went the extra mile to make the impersonation almost flawless. As much as they were similar physically, they were polar opposites when it came to everything else—and Grayson was happy to keep it that way. He wanted to be nothing like Derek.

The first week of school, Grayson walked in on something that made his blood curdle. He’d made Derek promise to leave his side of the room alone, muttered an “at least put a sock on the handle”, and left.

He always knocked from then on out.

Derek was a sexual deviant. And that scared Grayson. Because not only was he a perverted sonofabitch, he looked at Jane with lust in his eyes.

In Derek’s mind, Grayson was sure, this wasn’t over. Derek had had everything that was Grayson’s for so long that stopping cold turkey wasn’t going to be a pliable option—for Derek.

Seeing that Jane could protect herself, if needs be, relaxed Grayson a bit.

Jane would be home from work soon and Grayson had big plans for the night. He jogged up the stairs and lit the candles. He turned his attention back the new red satin sheets he’d bought. The things were like ice. He considered changing them for flannel ones but decided that if things went according to plan the sheets would be warm soon enough.

He went out into the hall to crank the heat—just in case.

A sound from downstairs caught his attention. He dipped his head to look under the railing. “Jane?” he hollered.

No response came.

The increase in his heart rate should have been a red flag. Looking back, playing Monday-morning-quarterback, he would realize that taking a weapon with him was the best course of action—and would have put a stop to the events about to unfold.

He cautiously took the stairs, pausing on the bottom one. “Jane?”

Still no answer.

His foot had just hit the tile floor when something hard hit him in the back of the head. There was a burst of light just before…

Everything went dark.

DEREK KICKED GRAYSON IN THE SIDE AND didn’t get even a gratifying grunt. As if the bastard wasn’t irritating enough, he was now bleeding all over the frickin’ floor. Derek went into the kitchen and took a dishcloth from the counter. He wrapped it around Grayson’s head to help minimize the mess.

He really didn’t have time for this crap. Since the romantic sap had been upstairs lighting candles and turning down the bed Derek bet that Jane would be home soon.

And his plan wouldn’t work if she came home to find both of them together, not to mention that she’d probably freak out to see all the blood gushing from the back of Grayson’s head.

He couldn’t have that.

The last time he’d come face-to-face with the woman, she’d recognized that he wasn’t Grayson Pierce—the weak, pathetic version of Grayson Pierce. He wasn’t sure how she’d known but he was going to test her again.

If she figured it out then he’d spend the night teaching her that submitting to his dominance could take her higher than she’d ever been before.

Slipping his hands under Grayson’s shoulders, Derek hefted him to the door that hid the space beneath the stairs. Derek had made sure there was enough room to hide Grayson’s body from view until he could dispose of it.

He was just kicking the door closed when he heard a key slip in the lock. With a grin on his face, he ran upstairs to prepare for his brand of seduction.

21

“
G
RAYSON,” JANE CALLED AS SHE OPENED the door.

There was no snow on the ground but it was really, really cold outside. She closed the door and shivered as the warmth of her home enveloped her. She dropped her bag on the floor just inside the door and shucked her coat. Lights were on upstairs and she could see well enough. She tipped her head upward and called his name again. A smile tipped her lips as she thought of him up in her bed eagerly waiting for her to come up and greet him.

She would do just that … after she grabbed something to drink and a quick bite to eat. The Jazz had had a game tonight, which meant that Jane didn’t get dinner. She was starving—for something other than Grayson.

She yanked the fridge door open and stuck her head in to see what leftovers were … left. Nothing sounded particularly palatable. She grabbed a can of Diet Coke and was turning to pull out a box of crackers when she felt the warm body come up behind her.

The exhaustion of the day consumed her and she leaned back against the support of his body. “Oh, Grayson,” she moaned.

His fingertips moved her hair away from her neck and his lips met her skin. She stiffened a bit and her adrenaline spiked. She tried to keep her distress under control. He was too close. He would sense her panic. She would have to be very careful. His hand went around her waist and pulled her back into him.

“
How was your day?” he whispered.

“
Good. Busy. Yours?” Alarm bells blared behind her ears. She was in trouble. Serious trouble. Even as she contemplated how to handle her current situation there was a question racing through her mind that worried her even more;
Where the hell was Grayson?

“
I’ve missed you.” The words were a low erotic purr in her ear.

“
I didn’t get dinner,” she said. “I’m starved. You want something?”

“
You.”

Bile rose in her throat as she pasted a smile on her lips. She hoped her lips didn’t quiver as she turned in his arms. “Let me feed my belly first,” she said.

Her only game plan was to play along and act as though she didn’t know that the man in front of her was Derek Reese. It was her only hope of getting a chance to protect herself. She crossed the kitchen, forcing herself to do so without jerky, rushed movements.

Pulling the fridge open again, she removed some leftover cooked chicken, a cube of cream cheese, butter, eggs, milk. She wasn’t sure what she was going to make, her mind wasn’t on cooking. She went to pantry and took out a box of fettuccine. She had no idea how to make Alfredo sauce but Derek didn’t know that and she was sure it would take a while before he realized she was clueless.

She put the cream cheese and butter in a pan. They sizzled and popped. The pop made her jump. She needed to get upstairs. If she could just—

“
Can you stir this? Don’t let it burn.”

“
Where are you going?” he asked incredulously.

She lifted her shoulders in what she hoped was a nonchalant shrug. “I just want to change. I’ll be right back.”

“
I could help you change.”

Once again she forced herself to smile. “If you help me I won’t get to eat.”

“
You’ll get to eat alright.”

She laughed and heard an edge of hysterics to the sound. She walked over to where he stood by the table and handed him the wooden spoon. “Stir. I’ll be right back.”

He smacked her on the butt with the spoon as she left. She yelped and he laughed.

Her bottom still stung when she got to the bedroom. Candles burned and new satin sheets adorned the bed. She was sure that both of those things were Grayson’s doing. That gave her a bit of hope.

Hope eclipsed by fear, but she had to hold on to that hope or she was going to lose it!

Breath raced in and out of her lungs in frantic gusts.
Pull it together! Now is not the time to hyperventilate.

She bent over and put her head between her legs and forced the inhale and exhale to slow. As soon as she was in control again, she would be able to protect herself.

She was just standing up, ready to retrieve her gun from the nightstand drawer when Derek cleared his throat. She jumped and whirled to see him leaned against the door jamb with his arms folded over his chest.

He was shorter than Grayson but only by millimeters. His shoulders were just as wide though. He nearly filled the doorway. Jane swallowed hard. Derek was dangerous enough when they were in the kitchen but here in her bedroom, he was deadly. As if following her train of thought, his eyes moved to the bed and he grinned.

“
What about dinner?” she asked, a tone of panic in her voice.

“
It can wait.” When she opened her mouth to protest he said, “Don’t worry, I turned everything off. The only fire in this house tonight will be right here.”

Jane’s heart was hammering so hard in her chest that she couldn’t hear. Breath puffed in and out of her lungs in pants. This time she really was going to hyperventilate. Her anxiety only got worse when Derek stepped forward, pulling a piece of black fabric from his pocket.

“
You promised you wouldn’t blindfold me again,” she muttered, her eyes widening as he stretched the fabric out between his hands.

“
And I won’t.” His laugh was so sinister she wondered if he was going to tie her to a railroad track. “I have big plans for tonight, honey.”

As if she needed another verification that this lunatic wasn’t the man she loved, the term of endearment sent her already churning stomach into convulsions.

He grinned behind his trimmed goatee. “What’s the matter, never done anything this naughty? I promise you’ll like it.”