Infamous (2010) by Brockmann Suzanne

Author:Brockmann, Suzanne [Suzanne, Brockmann,]
Format: epub
Publisher: Ballantine Books
Published: 2011-01-14T19:19:48.437000+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Alison sat at the kitchen table in her quirky little rented house in Jubilation, Arizona, as a man who claimed to be the great-grandson of the infamous outlaw, Jamie “Kid” Gallagher, sat down across from her.

A man she’d spent most of the evening having sex with.

Great sex.

Fabulous sex.

Creative, inventive, extraordinary, laughter-filled, passionate sex.

In the single overhead light, in the chair he was now in—the very chair upon which they’d first made love, not all that many hours ago—the way he was sitting put his face into shadows. And because of that, he looked older, harder, more weather-beaten and world-weary.

And just a little bit dangerous.

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes as he cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Not the words one wanted to hear from a new lover. But it could be anything. It didn’t have to be disastrous. Maybe he was allergic to peanut butter and he needed her never to eat it again. Maybe he had some kind of weird obsession with cleanliness that meant he would have to sweep her kitchen floor and clean her bathroom every morning.

Alison nodded, because he seemed to be waiting for her to say something. So she said, “I’m listening.”

But he still hesitated, looking down at the table as he fidgeted with her napkin tray.

And every second that he delayed, she knew whatever he needed to tell her was going to be a disaster.

He’d lied about not being married. He was gay—no, probably not. She had very good gaydar. And then there were all those hours of sex. He could be bi—that was possible, but so what? Maybe it wasn’t about sex. Maybe he was terminally ill. Or HIV-positive—there was a scary thought, except they’d been careful about using protection. Still, if it were true, she was going to kick his ass for not telling her first. That was just wrong not to talk about first with a new sexual partner.

But it seemed so unlike him—unlike the him, at least, that he was pretending to be.

Maybe he wasn’t married, but he was engaged. Or he had a girlfriend.

Maybe he was an undercover cop, a superhero in disguise, a vampire with a soul, a priest on vacation from the Vatican …

“There’s someone else in this room with us,” A.J. told her.

“I’m sorry …?” she said. His words didn’t make sense. His mention of someone else meant she was right about him having a girlfriend or fiancée, the rat bastard, but the rest of what he’d said didn’t line up.

“We’re not alone.”

They weren’t …? She pulled her feet up. “You said there wasn’t another snake.”

A.J. shook his head. “No snakes. Just … Jamie.”

“Jamie,” Alison repeated, and it was weird, because she knew they were alone in there—the room just wasn’t that big—and yet, she suddenly had the urge to turn and look behind her.

“You can’t see him, but he’s here. He’s … over there. Right now.”

And then she did look around—at a kitchen that was definitely empty, save for the two of them.

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