End of Day (Jack & Jill #1) Read online

Jackson shrugged. “What could be more beautiful than giving the gift of life?”

  She flicked the piece of paper at him. “Ending yours, you barnyard masturbating jerk!”

  He sighed, eyes red and glassy. “This is fucked. We shouldn’t be doing this. This is our life, we should take it seriously. I want my old job—the one where I’m actually using my computer engineering degree.”

  “Join the club. Do you have any idea how many tests I took and how hard I worked … all for nothing. I say we just do it. You start your own business and I’ll start retaking my exams.”

  Jackson sighed. “God you’re pathetic. You have a weak moment and I’m there, pulling you back to reality. I have a weak moment and you’re like, ‘Yeah, fuck it, bro, let’s jump off that cliff.’ McGraw said no to anything close to our old professions. It would give us an unnecessary hint of visibility, put us on the radar.”

  Jillian slumped in her chair, finishing the last of her beer. “I know, I know. Karma hates us. We shouldn’t even be here, but we are so screw it. Money’s not an issue, so for now I say we live with reckless abandon, shunning all reason and responsibility. Accountability is overrated. Let’s just be.”

  Jessica and Jude Day had been overachievers in every sense of the word. Could Jillian and Jackson let go of their inner drive for success and just be? Not likely, but it was worth a try.

  Jackson slid her a pen and piece of paper. “Ok then. You’re right. It’s too hard to choose. So you pick the job for me and I’ll pick the one for you.”

  “Just like that? Out of the five choices I gave you, I get to pick the one?”

  “Yes. Just like that. And I get to pick yours.”

  The Knights stared at each other in a drunken gaze showdown. Luckily choosing random and meaningless professions didn’t require sobriety.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  Chapter Five

  A J looked for every possible excuse to skip the association picnic. He even entertained the idea of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Unfortunately, Cage was still home so he considered any form of self-mutilation to be extreme and a bad example.

  “Everyone is going to hound you about the upcoming season and guilt you into getting them tickets for a game.” AJ made his last appeal as he packed their plates and utensils in a brown bag while Cage loaded the cooler.

  “What’s your deal? I’m usually being guilted into attending these things.” He laughed at his father’s peculiar mood.

  AJ shrugged. “No deal. What’s your deal today? Why are you so enthusiastic about attending a picnic with a bunch of people from your grandparents’ generation?”

  “Our new neighbors are close to my age.”

  Once. AJ had met her once. Jillian was a goddamn train wreck. He couldn’t get her out of his mind and Cage’s comment only aggravated AJ’s already edgy mood. “No, she’s not.”

  “She?”

  “They,” AJ corrected. “They are older than you.”

  “But younger than you. It’s not like they’re old enough to be my parents. I haven’t met them, but they or she seemed pretty cool.”

  AJ sighed. “You saw her in her underwear.”

  “Let me repeat … she seemed pretty cool.” Cage smirked.

  “Behave.”

  *

  AJ cursed God and the local meteorologists for the blanket of blue sky that kidnapped the seventy percent chance of rain. Cage pulled his red Husker cap over his unkempt blond hair he inherited from his mother—along with his blue eyes—then grabbed the cooler from the back of the truck—sporting a shit-eating grin as the residents of Peaceful Woods greeted him like a celebrity.

  Smoke billowed from the large grill as the men huddled around it while the women arranged side dishes on the picnic tables in the pavilion. The glaring contradiction to the scene was Jackson Knight surrounded by the flock of women shoving food at his pretty-boy face as they vied for his attention.

  “Sarge, where’s your meat? We’ll throw it on the grill,” Dodge called.

  AJ raised his chin. “Cage is getting it.” He grabbed a beer and navigated to the smoke. Cage handed him their brats, and AJ dropped them on the grill next to what he thought looked like the most pathetic excuse for a hot dog ever.

  “Watch it, Senior Master Sergeant. I don’t want my Tofurkey dog touching your big sausage or I’ll be tasting it all night.”

  AJ turned. Jillian peered at him over the frames of her sunglasses that sat low on her nose. Stray hairs from her ponytail whipped in the wind as reckless as the rest of her.

  “It’s a bratwurst and what the hell is a Tofurkey dog?” Hidden by his dark aviators, AJ’s eyes roved her pint-sized body barely covered by a strapless sundress that was a good six inches too short. Why did that bother him? Simple. His dick had lost all self-respect.

  “I don’t eat meat. It’s tofu.” She winked and pushed her glasses high on her nose.

  “My ex-girlfriend is a vegetarian.” Cage managed to physically and verbally squeeze his way into the conversation as he nudged AJ to the side. “Don’t mind my old man, he wouldn’t understand. I think he brushes his teeth with bacon-flavored toothpaste.”

  “No. I don’t,” AJ grumbled.

  Cage winked. “It’s a joke…” he cupped his hand at his mouth “…but he doesn’t understand what that is either.”

  Jillian’s smile grew exponentially as she held out her hand. “Jillian Knight. And you must be the young son.”

  Cage took her hand with an eagerness that tipped AJ even closer to the edge. “Cage, and yes I’m young, twenty to be exact.” He looked around. “But that’s not saying much with this crowd. I’ll be twenty-one next month.”

  “Well, I might have to take you out for a celebratory drink.” Jillian teased the neck of her beer bottle along her blood red painted lower lip.

  AJ cleared his throat. “You’re married.” To your brother, you incestuous whore.

  “I am?” Jillian raised up on her toes and looked around. “Hmm, I don’t see my husband. I think we’re good.” She stepped closer to Cage. “It’s just a drink. I’m not going to take your virginity.”

  Cage adjusted his hat and AJ suspected that wasn’t all he needed to adjust.

  “I’m not a virgin.” Cage wet his lips and chuckled a bit.

  Jillian moved her head in a conspiratorial side-to-side glance, then whispered, “Neither am I.”

  “Speaking of drinks…” AJ gave Cage a firm squeeze on the shoulder “…why don’t you grab me another beer and go entertain the ladies that I’m sure are dying to chat with you.”

  Cage walked off with a quick look back at Jillian.

  “Entertain the ladies? Am I not a lady?” Jillian sipped her beer.

  “No. You’re not.” AJ tried to look anywhere but directly at her.

  “Have I done something wrong?”

  How was he supposed to answer that question? Especially since she failed to deliver her words with an ounce of give-a-shit. “Do you have any morals?”

  She twisted her lips. “I think so, unless they were lost in the move. Why? Do you need to borrow some?”

  AJ shook his head. “Just stay away from my son.”

  “Is everything okay?” Jackson slid his arm around Jillian.

  The roiling in AJ’s stomach intensified, festering like a flesh eating bacteria. “Keep your wife away from my son.” He brushed past them, enraged that he was the only one who didn’t think they were God’s gift to Peaceful Woods.

  “Here’s your beer.” Cage handed him another can and a plate for food. “Jillian’s—”

  “Trouble. Just … keep your distance.” AJ mentally reprimanded himself. Cage was a good kid, but he also had a wild side that was drawn to trouble.

  “Hey, Sarge.”

  “Dodge, good to see you.” AJ smiled. “How’s Lilith?”

  “She’s okay. Katie’s been visiting the past week so I’ve been able to sneak out on a few occasions.”

  “Any lu
ck finding some part-time help?”

  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.

  “What?” she answered, throwing open the door.

  For the second day in a row, AJ stood on her front door stoop wearing a pissed-off expression that somehow excluded his eyes, which took liberty with her body in ways that both exhilarated and frightened her. “How stupid do you really think I am?”

  Jillian narrowed her eyes, lips twisted to the side. “Well, given your high military ranking I would have said average to normal intelligence, but since you decided to incessantly ring my doorbell like a five-year-old doped up on sugar, I’m now inclined to say somewhere between borderline deficiency in intelligence and feeble-mindedness.”

  “I have an IQ of one-twenty-two. Where’s your husband?” He stepped into the house, forcing Jillian to retreat.

  She loved watching his whole body tense as his strong chest heaved with each wrathful breath. “You tell me, Sherlock. Where is my husband?” Jillian rooted herself in place. She vowed that no man was going to intimidate her, not ever again.

  AJ barged past her to the living room, then the bedrooms. Yet, somehow she knew he wasn’t looking for Jackson. A few minutes after he stomped down the stairs. She decided to follow him.

  “Find what you’re looking for?” she asked, stopped at the bottom step.

  AJ stood with his back to her, thick muscled arms crossed over his chest. He stared at the patched wall. “You broke into my place.”

  “No … more like broke through. We were exercising, sparring actually. It was Heineken’s fault.”

  He turned. “I’m not talking about the wall! I’m talking about the cheap-ass fish tank full of fucking Betta fish that have killed each other and the piss-poor paint matching.”

  Jillian waved him off. “I didn’t break in for that. I went through the front door, without breaking it. Someone wasn’t using their one-twenty-two IQ when they decided to hide their house key in the most original place ever—under a planter.”

  Her muscles clenched in rigid defense from the speed that AJ used to close the distance between them. The extra few inches of the bottom step put them closer to eye-level.

  “Jackson is your brother.” His deep voice vibrated, devoid of any question. She felt his warm breath inches from her mouth as his icy words wrapped around her nerves.

  “He is.” She eased a slow swallow, unwilling to show emotion.

  “So are you a liar or just a real sick bitch?”

  Jillian shrugged as her eyes focused on his lips. But she didn’t crave their warmth or the feel of them against hers; she craved the metallic taste that would bleed from them. “Depends on the day.”

  He grabbed her left arm and just as quickly she struck his nose, not enough to break it, just enough to give a warning and make his eyes water. She surprised herself. That survival instinct was still there and it smothered the quick flash of regret.

  “Chain of command, Sergeant! You touch me without permission and there will be consequences.”

  AJ released her arm and dabbed the slow drip of blood from his left nostril. A grin pulled at his lips—a grin that surprised Jillian and she let her guard slip. As if he tim
ed her blink just right, he had her pinned facedown on the stairs, hands restrained at her back with his whole body bearing down on hers. “That’s Senior Master Sergeant to you,” he whispered in her ear as she struggled beneath him.

  She gasped as he sucked and bit the back of her neck with bruising force, his erection pressed to her ass. Why did that turn her on so damn much?

  “Fuck you!” She wriggled an arm free and landed a solid blow to his ribs, allowing her to break free for a split second before he had her pinned down again, chest-to-chest, face-to-face. The sash to her robe loosened in the struggle and left her robe open, her naked flesh against his clothed body. His eyes searched her face for a long moment, and the instant his expression softened, lips closing in on hers, she head-butted him.

  “Goddammit!” AJ growled.

  Jillian wiggled out and shoved him back onto the floor. She re-tied her robe, wild eyes holding his gaze, both of them breathless.

  Luke … she couldn’t stop thinking about Luke. The stranger on her floor was Luke. He had to be Luke. Her body belonged to Luke. He was her heart. Luke was her entire world.

  She closed her eyes and told her brain to stop! Luke was gone … forever. Even if her mind couldn’t accept that and move on … her body needed to. Jillian was not Jessica. Period.

  “Is it weird that your coveting-the-neighbor’s-wife thing turns me on?” Straddling his body, she lowered one inch at a time. AJ’s hands slid up her bare legs beneath her robe.

  “You’re fucked-up.”

  “Pot. Kettle. Black.” She smirked.

  His jaw clenched as she pressed her lips to his neck; his hands made a painful claim to her hips. Driven by a need with a pulse and voice of its own, she curled her fingers around the neck of his T-shirt, stretching it down until hungry lips brushed over the firm ridge of his collarbone.

  His body was stone beneath hers as she moved her mouth back up his neck, slow and calculated like a wasp getting ready to sting. And that’s what she did. She flicked her tongue against his, then taking his lower lip between her teeth, she bit him—hard.