Temptation, The Complete Serial Series 1-4 (The Temptation Serial Series)

by Casey L. Bond

  When I reached the landing, I again regretted the decision to take the last apartment in the row. The second and last apartments had been available when I first rented it, but I liked the idea of only having a neighbor on one side of me. Tonight, my feet and legs were hating that decision.

  Lumbering toward the red door, the hair on my arms stood on end. Overhead was a security light that was always on at night; automatically flicking to life when it got dark enough to trigger it. But tonight, the one next to my door was out. It just burned out. Light bulbs do that. All. The. Time. Nothing is wrong. He wasn’t around tonight.

  Holding my key tightly in my fist, I started to push it into the lock, but the door gave way and creaked open. I’d locked it. I knew I did. I double checked.

  I quickly walked backward, leaving my key in the door, and then ran like hell to my car, which sucked. My keys were still in the door to my apartment. I grabbed my cell, fumbled to find my favorite contacts, and hit Morgan’s name.

  “Hello?” she answered in a chipper lilt.

  “Morg?”

  “Are you okay? Is your car okay? Is that asshole messing with you again? Do you need a ride home?”

  I sniffed and looked back toward the stairs that led to my home. “Not exactly. Have you left the city?”

  “No. We’re at Luxor.” My brain registered the sound of the slot machines in the background. Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Morgan loved her slots. “But we can come right over.”

  “I think he was in my apartment.” My voice broke and so did I. I couldn’t take this shit anymore.

  “We’re on the way, but hang up and call nine-one-one, Brooklyn. Right now, okay?”

  I sniffed. “Okay.”

  The dispatcher at nine-one-one took my name and address, and then told me to hold on the line until the police arrived. I paced in the scant light of the single street lamp we had in the lot. My feet felt like they were going to fall off, but the nervous energy forced me to move. Sitting still would’ve driven me insane. I wouldn’t have been a passenger on the cray-cray train…I’d have been its engineer.

  All aboard, bitches!

  It wasn’t cold outside, but the shivers took hold and my teeth chattered despite my attempts to clench them together. It was one thing for this psycho to bother me at work, but holy shit, it was another for him to invade my personal space. If he even did. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe I’m just too tired. One thing was for sure—if he didn’t enter my house, he’d burrowed into my mind. He was like a damn dog tick that was embedded and refused to let go. I’d dealt with ticks my whole life growing up in rural Illinois, and I knew you had to burn their asses to get them off of you. Illinois: Land of Farms and Ticks. Oh, and turtles! Snapping turtles were like that. I watched Discovery. Those bastards wouldn’t let go until lightning came, or something like that. Holy shit. I’m losing my mind.

  Morgan was on her way, I reminded myself. She was my best friend in the world. Having run from her own shit storm of family expectations, Morgan Sinclare came to Vegas to disappear. But I found her and she found Shane “The Judge” Justice, MMA-badass and her soul mate. Now she was Mrs. Justice and I was glad to have them both in my corner, especially tonight.

  Shane tore into the parking lot one moment before the police did and I was tackled by Morgan before I could even squeak the words “Hello,” “Thank you for coming,” or “I can’t breathe.”

  Shane looked beyond pissed, which was saying something since he was always sort of broody in a totally hot way. I was happy for Morgan. She and Shane were trying to start a family, though she wasn’t knocked up yet. She assured me they were screwing like rabbits to make it happen. Because of this, I didn’t want to put her in danger. I just didn’t know who else to call.

  Shane was starting up the steps when Las Vegas Metropolitan’s finest pulled in to the lot. A burly man with receding red hair and a pot belly climbed out of his car and ordered Shane to return to the pavement. Shane didn’t like cops. They’d never helped his sister Autumn out of the situation that asshole Johnny had her in, and Mr. Justice hated taking orders from anyone other than Morgan or Manny.

  Even so, all it took was one tick of Morgan’s head to have him back at her side. She sure had him trained, even though he sulked. It was actually pretty funny, and if this whole shit pile hadn’t fallen on me tonight, I’d be laughing my ass off and teasing him about it for the rest of the night.

  The red and blue lights whirred around and around, making me dizzy. It was an epileptic’s worst nightmare. Maybe I was epileptic. I was getting sick. My stomach roiled. The neighbors were probably getting an eyeful through their windows, but screw them. I held Morgan’s hand tightly.

  A skinny cop, the exact opposite of the burly one, stepped out of the cruiser and joined his partner at the bottom of the staircase. The pair of officers hoisted their belts and mustered their courage. I couldn’t help being reminded of the old television show that Daddy liked, Andy Griffith. The burly officer (Andy) and his lanky, very young sidekick (Barney) drew their weapons and headed up the staircase. Andy was huffing and puffing when he finally reached the top, but he made it. For a minute there I thought Barney was going to have to push his ass up the final few steps.

  They shuffled, one foot forward, all the way down the hall that led to my apartment door, alternating their backs to the railings and to the wall. Andy knocked and announced, “Police. Open up!”

  Of course there was no answer, so he signaled to Barney and then pushed the door open. With a loud creak, it gave way and Andy stuck his gun inside, using his left hand to flip the light switch. With jerky movements, they secured the living room and kitchen. I couldn’t see or hear them after that because Morgan was freaking out.

  “Oh my gosh. What if he left a severed head in there or something?” She covered her mouth with her fingers and her eyes were as big as saucers. She was serious, and I was mad because the same possibility had flown through my own mind not a minute before. “I saw that movie with Brad Pitt, Seven. Did you see it?”

  I growled at her. “Not helping, Sin.” I only called her that when I was pissed, and she knew it. That was Shane’s pet name for her.

  “Sorry,” she said with a wince.

  “Ma’am, you need to calm down.” Andy awkwardly patted my shoulder, but I was about to flip my shit. He had been in my apartment. He went through my drawers, took my favorite panties, left flowers and chocolate, and then stole my garbage!

  “Who the hell steals someone else’s trash? Some psycho, that’s who! And all you’ll say is that I need to calm down? Do something! Find whoever is doing this and put him in jail.”

  “We’re doing all we can, ma’am,” Griffith grumbled, giving me the same bullshit line they gave everyone when they had no damn clue how to help them. It was an empty attempt at reassurance.

  I scoffed. “I reported everything that’s been happening at work weeks ago and you’ve done nothing.”

  “We’re very busy, ma’am, but I assure you that we’re looking into it.”

  I planted a hand on my hip. “You’ll be handling a murder investigation before long, because he’s either going to kill me, or I’m going to kill him.”

  Shane piped up then, looking between me and Morgan. “Go pack whatever shit you need for the next few weeks.”

  “I’m not leaving! They need to do something!” I argued, pointing at the officers. Andy had moved to the driver’s seat and was busy pulling something up on his computer while Barney twiddled his thumbs. Okay, he wasn’t really twiddling, but just standing there staring was basically the same thing. We needed action, not inaction. It was why he was still out there!

  Shane huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s nothing to be done right now except to make sure you’re safe. Now go get packed.”

  Sin smiled and threaded her arm through mine, giving a gentle tug. When I didn’t move, she jerked me toward the steps. “Hey, that’s my move!”

  She chuckled and told me to
shut up. I was pissed, but it got worse when she said I couldn’t bring all of my clothes and I almost cried. I didn’t have much in my closet, but I loved all of my dresses.

  With pouting lips I begged, “What if the freak touches them? They’re my favorites.”

  “All of them?”

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  Morgan squinted her eyes, but said fine and unceremoniously shoved them all into one large suitcase. “There isn’t much room for shoes.”

  I smiled. “Good thing I’ve corrupted you…and that we’re the same size.” She gasped, eyes wide, palm over her heart. The evil part of me loved making her sweat just a little. “Yep, we can share, Sin.”

  She stuffed the second suitcase while I grabbed a duffle and crammed in my hair dryer, curling irons, and toiletries. I turned to leave the bathroom, but something was off. In the hallway, something wasn’t quite right. Squinting, I tried to figure it out.

  One of my paintings was missing. That fucker! First my panties and now my painting?

  I was frozen, staring at the empty spot, when Morgan came up behind me. “What?” She followed my gaze and froze beside me. That was why I loved her. She understood.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “This is getting weird really fast. I’m glad you’re coming to stay with us.”

  “What if he knows where you live? What if he follows me? I can’t put you in danger, Morg.”

  She smiled and hugged me. “You won’t. He won’t find you way out in the desert.”

  I hoped not.

  Shane carried all of my bags down to the car. The officers hung around until we were seated, belted, and Shane was ready to drive away. Andy, with his palm gripping the driver door of the SUV, bent down and said, “I made sure to lock the door, but you’ll need to install a deadbolt when you come back. And I’ll do what I can to push the case forward.”

  As he sat back down in the cruiser, the car sinking under his weight before bobbing back up, Andy leaned over and looked out at us. “You know, I see here where you got into some trouble a few months ago. Any chance the ex is trying to scare you? Maybe get revenge or something, or get you to leave town?”

  Of course he’d bring up the one and only time I’d been arrested. I unbuckled my seat belt and walked over to the police car. “I served my debt to society, number one (volunteering for Habitat for Humanity groups that were working in the burbs), and number two, Peter is too big of a pussy to pull off something as detailed as this. There’s someone out there who is planning to hurt me, and my blood is going to be on your hands!”

  Shane pulled me away from the officers’ car before I got arrested for the second time in my life. He pushed me into the back of his SUV and pointed his finger at me. “Shut it.” When I opened my mouth to sass, he shushed me and closed the door.

  I heard him tell the officers that I was stressed. He apologized on my behalf and thanked them for their time. I knew it took a lot out of him to do that for me, and I appreciated having friends like Morgan and Shane. They had my back.

  You could have heard a pin drop in that vehicle as Shane drove off into the desert night, leaving the neon glow of Vegas in the rear view.

  Then Sin had to break the weird silence. “Someone has a birthday in a couple of weeks!” Shane threw her an irritated glance, but smiled back at me in the rear view mirror. He wanted to irritate me. Asshole.

  Great timing, Morgan. Remind me that I’m turning thirty. Thirty. Remind me that I’m a dancer when all I want to do is paint. Remind me that I’m tucking tail and running because some psycho thinks he’s in love with me, or I’m in love with him or some weird shit. Remind me that the cops won’t do anything to stop him because I had a misdemeanor under my belt and because I’m a “stripper”; an embarrassment that no one would miss if I showed up in a shallow desert grave. It wouldn’t even make the front page.

  “Joy,” I replied sarcastically.

  Shane glanced at me through the mirror. “You can rest, Brooklyn.”

  “Thanks.” I snuggled my pillow against the window and let the vibrations of the road lull me to sleep.

  I didn’t mean to break the door; I just wanted to shoulder it open. It always worked the other times I’d visited her. Watching her was the brightest part of my day, especially when she had a day off from the club.

  She painted beautifully and was exquisite with a brush in her hands; her brows furrowed, wearing an oversized, paint-smeared white t-shirt. Sitting on my desk, I watched them. The police invaded her space.

  And she was angry.

  I couldn’t blame her. I wish the cameras I’d installed had audio, but the images were enough for now. Her facial expressions were priceless.

  Crunching the popcorn with my teeth, I waited for her to see my gifts, to notice that I appreciated her artwork. And she did. Delicately, gently, she picked up the note that I left her and slid it into her purse. She looked at the rose that I left for her but didn’t pick it up to smell it. It had taken me twenty minutes to pick the perfect one. It was flawless, with no brown edges or spots. No thorns left behind. The leaves were proportional, shiny and dark green on the top. Three leaves on each stem. It was perfect, flawless…just like Brooklyn. But she was too angry with the police to even enjoy it.

  She saw the empty spot on the wall after she’d finished packing. The police must have insisted that she leave. That upset me. I wanted her closer, not further away. But for Brooklyn, I would go anywhere. I could even visit her at Shane and Morgan’s. Maybe we could all be friends and go out together.

  At least I knew where they lived. I’d let her get settled in at their house tonight. Brooklyn needed to sleep. She’d been so restless lately, tossing and turning all night long. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I would see her. When she stepped out of the door, I placed a kiss to three fingers and pressed them to my screen. Tomorrow, Love.

  Morgan nudged me awake when we arrived at her and Shane’s desert love palace. I joked about it, but it made me comfortable to be there. They were banging for a baby and I was cramping their style. I knew it. They knew it. It was awkward—at least for me. But it was safe and very temporary. Shane had a gate and a high-tech security system in place. It was like the Fort Knox of the southwest.

  Shane had a spare bedroom that he used to keep locked, even from Morgan. It had been decorated for his sister, but when Autumn escaped Johnny and then rehab, she went home to live with their mom. I guessed I was staying in there, although my luggage was staying in the trunk tonight. Shane protested, but I told him I wouldn’t need it until tomorrow anyway. I grabbed my duffle and dragged my butt into the house behind Morgan. Making myself at home wasn’t hard. I knew where everything was, so I brushed my teeth and settled in for bed.

  The lids of my eyes closed and I nestled my head into the soft pillow, reveling in the sateen sheets. And then… Bang, bang, bang…giggle…bang, bang, bang. The photo hanging on the wall above me even thumped, disturbed by the very loud lovemaking going on in the next room.

  There were perks to living next to an elderly woman. It looked like I would have to sacrifice sleep in place of security for a few days, by the sounds of the wall-banging going on in the next room.

  ***

  Shane trained the next day, giving me and Morg some girl time in the pool. It was nice. The sun was meltingly hot and the water was deliciously cool. She told me about the studio she was planning to open downtown someday. We swam and laid in the sun, and then swam some more.

  Morgan grabbed a bottle of water and crashed onto the chaise next to mine. “I have a favor to ask,” she said, sipping from the bottle with a lecherous grin.

  I rolled my eyes. “Spill it.”

  “I’ve been offered an amazing opportunity, but I need some help.”

  “What kind of opportunity?”

  She grinned. “The kind that gets you noticed. A well-known gallery in New York has offered to display some of my photographs at the end of summer. Their commission is thirty percent, so I stand to gain a lot if I can s
ell any of the prints. Plus, it would get me one step closer to opening that gallery I’ve been droning on about.”

  I jumped up and threw myself into her lap, knocking her water bottle to the ground. With my arms around her neck, I squealed and bounced. “I’m so proud of you! See?! Didn’t I tell you how amazing you are?”

  She smiled and shoved me off her lap onto the chaise beside her. “My theme is, ‘Mood Swings.’ I want to showcase a woman’s moods and how she can be strong, but feminine and sexy at the same time. And I need a model…”

  When she nudged my arm, I got it. “Me?”

  She giggled. “Of course! And I would spring for the wardrobe, which you can keep, and for any expenses, like travel and that sort of thing. If the prints sell, you’ll get a percentage of those sales, too.”

  “That would be amazing! But you know that for you, I’d do it for free.”

  “I know, but I want to do this right. It’s only fair, and it’s what I would do for any other model.”

  I hugged her again. She said we could get started soon, but that she might have to gather a few props. My mind whirred with the prop possibilities. A woman’s mood could be a dangerous thing, indeed.

  Shane grilled steaks for dinner that evening and we sat in the warm evening air until I was too tired to hang out anymore. I just hoped I fell asleep before the evening festivities began.

  ***

  A loud, shrill siren woke me. Bleary eyed, I blinked and tried to focus. The alarm clock on the end table stared back at me, its red numbers reading 4:03AM.

  The door opened and Morgan burst into the room. “Get up!”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  I threw the covers back and crossed the room, grabbing her hand.

  “Someone tried to break into the house. They somehow managed to disable the alarm on the gate, but they triggered the system when they tried the back door.”