AJ was close to Dodge and Lilith. His father and Dodge had been in the service together then lived next to each other in Portland for years until Dodge was transferred to Omaha. His wife, Lilith, suffered from severe rheumatoid arthritis and Ménière’s disease which required constant supervision.
“Until today, no.”
AJ followed Dodge through the food line. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Jillian.”
AJ paused. “Jillian?”
“Yes, she’s offered to look after Lilith on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.”
“Jillian Knight?”
Dodge laughed. “Yes. What an angel.”
Angel? AJ had many words to describe his new neighbor, but angel was not one of them. “Doesn’t she have a job?”
“Said she works nights.”
AJ glanced over a few tables at Jillian who sat next to Stan Renner, throwing her head back in laughter as he talked to her using his animated hand gestures. AJ tried to sound casual with his words. “Did she mention what she does at night?”
“Hmm … I couldn’t say for sure. Something to do with a private consulting business, personal equipment sales of some sort. I wasn’t following. After she offered to help out with Lilith, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else she said.” Dodge nudged AJ’s elbow and lowered his voice to a whisper. “It’s hard to concentrate around her in general. Have you ever seen anything quite like her? She looks like one of them superhero girls straight off the movie screen.”
Superhero—another completely inappropriate word to describe Jillian. AJ had at least a dozen more accurate ones: black widow, serpent, man-eater, mindfuck, wicked, twisted, deceitful, Satan …
“Ya know what’s even better?” Dodge continued as AJ’s mind went where it always did with Jillian—to that very dark place. “She’s offered to help Bill with the mowing while his son’s wife is on bedrest until the twins are born.”
Bill and his son Todd owned a lawn and snow removal business. Since Bill lived at Peaceful Woods, his company was the obvious choice, however, AJ wasn’t fond of his mowing method—scalp the yards so he didn’t have to mow as often. On the flip side, the chemical company they’d hired made more money because the only thing that survived in the lawn after Bill mowed was the weeds.
“Good talking with you, Dodge.” AJ drifted through the rest of the picnic on autopilot, doing what he did best—keeping an eye on the enemy.
The Knights left not long after the meal was over, but AJ and Cage stayed another hour enduring the endless chatter over how wonderful the new neighbors were. AJ lost count of the number of times he had to swallow down his own vomit.
“Oh, Sarge! I forgot to say something to Jillian and Jackson,” Stan called.
AJ scowled, jaw clenched, then turned around. “About?”
“I hauled away some trash for them the other day, and I noticed there was a broken fish tank in the pile. Looked like a pretty nice one. Anyway, I was going to see if they had a new one yet. My daughter has one she no longer uses and I’m sure she’d be willing to sell it to them for a decent price.”
Red. That’s all AJ could see, and he could feel his pulse in the vein on his forehead. “Something tells me they’ve already replaced it. But I assure you, I’ll have a word with them about it.”
“Great, let me know what you find out.”
AJ shot Cage a belligerent look, slit eyes daring him to so much as let his lips twitch into anything resembling a sign of amusement. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Six
The woman that attempted to settle in Jillian Knight’s body would never have been able to sell sex toys. She knew the only people who required battery-operated plastic and silicon devices were lazy and unimaginative dolts who didn’t have a clue how to use their God-given parts for pleasure. If a guy wanted her restrained during sex, he would have to physically overpower her. But in the spirit of new beginnings, Jillian decided she’d sell sex toys better than the Pope sold religion.
Jackson left to get paint and more alcohol. They both agreed when their new jobs started they would cut back on the booze and act like grownups again instead of college kids during rush week. Jillian took the opportunity to soak in the huge master bathroom tub, in need of some peace and quiet to reflect on her new life. Much to her aggravation, the doorbell rang just as she settled into the steamy abyss laced with her favorite fragrance: gardenia.
“Go away,” she mumbled to herself with her head resting back, eyes closed.
It rang again and again at more frequent intervals until she was ready to break the finger of the perpetrator. Go the fuck away!
The water sloshed everywhere as she stepped out and wrapped a satin robe around her soap-slicked body, cinching the tie with a few expletives whispered to no one in particular, then slapped her wet feet against the hard floor to the front door.