The Dying Game by Beverly Barton

table shook. Judd’s heavy strikes grew harder and harder. His breathing became deeper and louder. His eyes glazed over as if he were in a trance.
    Lindsay placed her cup on the counter behind her, then turned back to Judd, and grabbed his wrist. He flung her off him so forcefully that she toppled backward and landed against the refrigerator. Her back hit the fridge with a resounding thud. Judd shot up out of the chair and glared at her.
    She stood there, straightening herself to her full five-four height, her gaze riveted to his as he came toward her. When he reached her, he spread his palms out flat against the refrigerator, on either side of her head, and brought his face down to hers so that their noses almost touched.
    “I know why Griff sent you here,” he said. “What I don’t know is why you came.”

Chapter 4
     
    Lindsay hunched down just enough to slip under Judd’s outstretched left arm, managing to escape his searing glare and his big, hovering body. Sucking in several deep breaths and mentally warning herself not to participate in Judd’s manipulative game-playing, Lindsay psyched herself up for the inevitable battle of wills. Chuckling as if he found her actions amusing, Judd turned around to face her. She hated that cold, insincere grin he had perfected over the past few years. There was something disturbing about a smile that projected misery instead of mirth.
    “What’s wrong, Lindsay—afraid you can’t resist me?”
    She clenched her teeth, a scathing comment on the tip of her tongue. He’s baiting you. He wants an outraged reaction. Don’t give it to him.
    “If you plan to go with me to Kentucky, you’ll have to take a shower and—”
    “I’m not going.”
    He’s still playing his little game , she reminded herself.
    “Fine by me,” she said. “I’m just Griffin Powell’s messenger.” She reached for the cell phone clipped to her belt. “I’ll call him and tell him—”
    “Why did you come here? Really?”
    “My boss sent me to share some information with a client we couldn’t reach any other way.” That’s it, Lindsay, you tell him.
    Judd studied her, his gaze raking over her insultingly. “Are you sure you didn’t come back for a repeat performance?”
    She felt the heat as it rose up her neck and flushed her cheeks. An involuntary reaction that she could not control. Pink-cheeked embarrassment. The curse of blondes with fair skin.
    Don’t tell him what you think of him. Do not give him the satisfaction of knowing what happened between the two of you the last time you saw each other devastated you. You’ve worked through it, have come to terms with the humiliation, convinced yourself that you never actually loved Judd.
    “I’m heading back to Knoxville. I’ll call Griff and tell him you no longer have any interest in the Beauty Queen Killer.” Lindsay turned and headed out of the kitchen.
    “Wait!”
    Keeping her back to him, she paused.
    “If she doesn’t die…if she can give Griff a description…let me know. Okay?”
    “I’ll pass along the message.”
    “You hate me now, don’t you?”
    He’s still playing you. Never forget that you cannot trust Judd. “That’s what you want, isn’t it, for me to hate you?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, but no, I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you.”
    She walked straight down the hall and to the side door leading to the porch.
    “Lindsay!”
    She opened the door and went outside, increasing her pace, wanting nothing more than to get away, to escape from this place and the man who still had the power to rip out her heart. A part of her did hate Judd, hated him as much as she loved him. And yes, damn it, she did love him. She probably always would. The heart wants what the heart wants, even if it wants something cruel and destructive.
    After sitting down on the soft, gray leather seat inside her Trailblazer, she closed her eyes and willed herself under control. No tears. Not one. She had cried her