When the Devil Comes Knocking

He had to be hallucinating. The woman of his recent hellish life laid back against his door in her signature short skirt and tight, nearly see-through, button-down blouse gaping at the fasteners. She smiled with half-lidded eyes.

“Hello, Danny.” She peeled off the door and slinked toward him.

He stumbled further back. Definitely not hallucinating.

“I’ve missed you.”

This can’t be happening.

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

She threw a hip to the side and had the gall to look shocked. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Obvious?” His mind fumbled and crashed, raced and jammed up again. “W-what? How ... no, just get out.”

He meant to yell the last part, but it came out hardly above a whisper.

“Aww. Is that how we’re going to play this?”

“I’m not playing, Jess.”

She giggled and swayed, her eyes settling over where he covered himself. “Isn’t anything I haven’t seen before, baby.”

“Don’t call me that.” He clung to his front and backed up again, crashing into the dresser. “An-and I said get out.” Why did his voice have to sound so pathetic? Weak.

“Remember when we talked about coming here for the holidays?” Her arms swung out wide, straining her shirt. “It’s early, but here I am.”

No, he talked about coming. She was very clear about not coming. Swore she’d never set foot on his “Godforsaken, frozen island from hell” ever again.

Why is she here?

She pitched forward into a staggering sashay, and he noticed it then. Her pupils fully dilated, and she was thinner than he remembered. A lot thinner. Her skin more ashen. Her auburn curls muted and tangled.

When they’d first met, she’d been on one of her many, “I’m getting my life back together” inspirations. Over the year they dated, she’d had exactly four more inspirations followed by more relapses. But this? He’d never seen her this disarranged. This—

“I miss us, Danny.”

His stomach bottomed out. Ears hearing, eyes seeing what they couldn’t before. Standing with her hip out, shoulders back, bringing attention to her full chest. It was the sultry and sweet of her voice. Full lips pouting.

This was what she’d always done when she wanted something from him. And maybe because of being around unassuming Claire, he could finally see the manipulation in it.

His skin crawled. She was here to seduce him back.

But why?

Her wiry hands sprang out, and he ducked away, making her crash into the side of the dresser. She hiccuped a laugh while his fingers scraped along his clothes drawer, snagging a knob, and yanked. She plastered her body against it, slamming it shut, and wagged a finger.

“Get out, Jess.” Risking one hand, he pointed to the door.

The door.

The same door that at any moment, Claire would come through and find him—find her.

Jessica followed his gaping expression and smiled, fingers drifting to her shirt buttons. “She’s an interesting replacement for me.” She popped the first one.

His head snapped to her. “She isn’t a replacement.”

“That’s right because Madelynn Cooke-Johnson is way out of your league.”

“How ... how’d you know about her?”

She smiled again but didn’t answer. “Honestly, do you really think a woman like her will stay interested in a man like you for long? She was married to the Brandon Johnson. You know who that was right? The man was gorgeous and smart.”

Everything inside him choked and shriveled. He didn’t measure up. Again, she was telling him he wasn’t enough.

“Aww, don’t look like that. It’s why I’m here, baby.” Somehow, another button was unfastened.

“Stop it.” Why couldn’t he make his voice stop shaking?

“You know you’re just her plaything, right? A shiny new object.” Her voice snaked around his mind. Withering all that was budding and healing. “You’ll see. She’ll get bored of you soon.”

“Like you did?” He winced. He hadn’t meant to say that. Damn his shaky voice.

“You’re the one that left, Danny.” She opened another button.

God, how she twisted the truth. “Keep your damn shirt closed. I don’t know what you’re high on right now, but I’m telling you to stop. I don’t want this.”

She laughed. “Of course you do.” The next button popped, and the familiar sight of her full cleavage burst from her shirt.

He jerked his head away. “Stop it, Jess.” The corners of his eyes pricked. His heart pounded. Damn his shivering body.

He never should’ve looked away.

Nails scraped above his hands and yanked the boxers out of his grip. Snatching her wrist he hissed, “Jess.”

“Daniel?” A gentle knock came at the door. “Are you decent?”

He was going to throw up.

“She’s knocking?” Jessica giggled. “You mean you two haven’t ... ”

“Be quiet.” He spotted the wool blanket he’d dropped before Jess came in, lying between her feet. If he could just—

She kicked it out of his reach right as her voice sang out, “Come in.”

The door swung open, and Danny’s last hope of fixing this insanity crumbled with it. There, in the doorway, stood his entire world. Tea-colored eyes darted from him cupping himself to Jessica. Who’d somehow managed to open the rest of her shirt and was swinging his boxers from one finger.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

When have those words ever helped anyone? Damn those words. Damn this moment. Damn Jessica’s finger swinging his boxers.

A breadbasket slipped from Claire’s trembling hands and crashed to the floor. Delicious-smelling kanelbullar bounced and rolled out of the room.

That was the big secret? All those long hours she’d learned to make his favorite food?

“Hello,” Jessica purred. “Danny and I were just getting reacquainted.”

“No, we weren’t. Claire, I—”

“You’re Jessica.”

She wasn’t looking at him. Why wouldn’t she look at him?

“I am.”

“How did you get into our home?”

Our home. Danny let out a small breath.

“I have keys.”

“Locks will be changed.”

Jessica scoffed. “You can’t keep me from my husband.”

“I’m not your husband.”

Claire’s eyes stayed on Jessica as she slowly moved into the room, hands curling into fists. “You need to leave.”

“How ’bout, no.” Jessica tipped her head back and laughed.

Claire was suddenly there, body shoved between him and his cackling tormentor, towering a few inches above her. Dear God, was she trying to protect him? Danny barely held on to the hope that this meant she believed him.

“Move.” Jessica shoved a palm into Claire’s chest, but she was a pillar of unmovable stone. “Bitch, I don’t care who you are, you better get out of my face.”

“Claire,” Danny whispered, placing the tips of his fingers against her back. She was vibrating.

He’d seen Ian angry many times. Knew exactly what to do and when to step in to defuse a situation. But this? Claire was so still, so quiet. Like the moment before a storm breaks, when the air becomes thick and charged and eerily calm.

Problem was, he didn’t know which direction she’d release her storm.

She took one step forward, and Jessica was smart enough to step back.

With the dresser now cleared, Danny scrambled to snatch some clothes and covered himself with the blanket. “Claire, come.” He tugged on the back of her shirt.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jessica moved to push past Claire.

Claire slammed into Jessica, hands on her shoulders, driving her back until she crashed into the wall.

Jessica yelled, “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I’m Madelynn Claire Cooke.” Her voice went low, each word razor sharp. “And I will rip your damn hand off if you touch him.”

Well, shit.

Jessica literally growled, then lunged. Danny wrapped an arm around Claire’s waist and twisted her away, feeling nails claw down his back as he dragged Claire toward the door.

“You see this right?” Jessica yelled after them, gesturing to herself. “You won’t keep him, Madelynn Claire Cooke.”

“Shut up.” Danny finally found the volume he wanted, and while gripping his clothes and blanket in one hand, he half-carried, half-walked a still-flailing-to-get-Jessica Claire out of the room, slamming the door.

Blood pounded his ears, and his eyes flooded. She didn’t question him. Not once did she question him in that damning situation, but fought. Claire actually fought for him.

He let her go and took one heavy step, tangling his fingers in her hair. “Do you have any idea?” His forehead pressed against hers, body so close her heaving shoulders brushed against his chest. “What you did. How you—” He swept down on her mouth on a deep inhale. Lips and teeth and skin.

She held on to him, fingers squeezing his shoulders. This kiss. All heavy breaths, heat, and fire. He wanted to lose himself. Give her everything right here, right now.

“Daniel,” she whispered between kisses. “I need to know.”

Oh, God. He’d been wrong. She’d demand answers, and what could he say? That he’d cowered? That Jessica’s voice had paralyzed him?

He broke the kiss, panting, head still pressed against hers. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Didn’t want to see the accusation in hers. “Please. I’m so sorry about her.”

“Sorry?” Her sharp tone snapped his eyes open, and what he saw wasn’t an accusation. It was rage so wild he didn’t dare move. “You don’t apologize for her. Don’t ever apologize for her. She is not your responsibility anymore. Do you hear me?”

Air eased out of his lungs as he slowly nodded. Shoulders still heaving, she took his face firmly in both hands. “What I need to know is, did she hurt you?”

He shook his head.

“No?”

“No.” He let his head drop to her neck on a heavy exhale. His free arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her in. He needed her closer. Wanted to stay here and never move, calming himself in the realness of her skin, her delicious citrus flowers. “I was so scared you wouldn’t believe me.”

She lifted his head until their eyes met. “I saw the look on your face, Daniel, and I knew.”

Jessica’s fist vibrated the door, and they jumped apart. “You can’t lock me in here.”

“She does realize she’s on the inside.”

Danny rolled his eyes as he crouched. “She’s too high to know the difference.” He began carefully picking up every roll off the floor. “I can’t believe you made these for me.”

“Seems silly now.”

Rising slowly, he said, “Are you kidding? This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” He stepped into her space again, lowering his mouth to her ear, and whispered, “And when this is over, I plan to thank you properly.”

The bedroom knob jiggled. “Hurry to the guest room,” Claire said. “I’ll take care of her.”

“No.” He tucked the breadbasket under his arm and snatched her hand, tugging her down the hall to the room, locking the door behind them.

She spun toward him, hugging herself. “You don’t think I can help you with her?”

“It’s not that.” He uncurled her arms, squeezing her hands. “She’s an addict, Claire. And one of her addictions includes recreational drugs. But by the looks of her, she’s turned to the hard stuff.”

“So, you’re wanting me to be more understanding.” It wasn’t a question.

“No.” The back of his fingers brushed her cheek. “I brought you in here because when she’s like this and doesn’t get her way, she can become unhinged. I don’t want to see you in the crossfire.”

Loud bangs came from the kitchen, followed by Jessica yelling, “He won’t be happy, Danny. I was your last chance.”

“What is she talking about?”

He shook his head. “She always talks shit when she’s high. Do you have your phone? Send a text for backup while I get dressed.”

Downstairs, Ian and Emelie slammed shoulders, trying to squeeze out of the kitchen at the same time. “Does Claire mean Jessica, Jessica?” Emelie shrieked.

“Do you know of any other Jessica that would make the nicest person we know say she wants to kill her?” Ian said.

They stumble-ran up the stairs and fell over each other when they reached the top. All of Danny’s kitchen chairs lay on their sides around broken mug shards.

Both of their phones buzzed. DANIEL ALSO SAID TO TELL YOU SHE’S HIGH ON SOMETHING STRONG.

“Shit,” Emelie said, while Ian said nothing. His hand gripped the back of his neck as he remembered another time Jessica was high.

He’d never told Danny that two weeks before they’d eloped, she cornered him and began removing her clothes, telling him he was the cuter one. When he’d torn away from her without so much as a glance, she threatened to tell Danny that he touched her if he dared tell him what happened. Normally that wouldn’t have worked, but she’d gotten so deep inside Danny’s head, it could’ve been the one thing that broke their friendship.

“Da-anny,” Jessica sang from the living room.

“I don’t want to see that woman,” Ian said.

“You don’t have to. Go find Danny.” Emelie pressed on her fists, popping her knuckles.

Down the hallway, Ian slowed, listening to their carrying voices.

“I can’t believe I’m looking at your damn face right now,” Emelie said.

“Feeling’s mutual. Oops.” There was a thump, followed by Jessica giggling. “Wow, when he delivers, he delivers.”

Ian cursed. Why the hell was she here?

“I won’t say it twice.” Emelie’s voice tightened. “Get out or I’ll throw you out.”

Ian gently knocked on the guest door. An adorable, glaring Claire peeked out and immediately softened.

“Is she gone?” she whispered.

“Emelie’s working on it.” His eyes met a haggard Danny over her shoulder. “You alright?”

“Not really.”

“Come, I’ll sneak you guys past the living room.”

“I swear to God.” Emelie’s voice boomed. “If you don’t crawl your ass back into whatever hole you came from—”

There was an “oof” followed by another thump and Emelie yelling, “Bitch, did you just try to kick me?”

They all froze in the hallway when Jessica stumbled into it. Danny gripped Claire, easing her back while Ian put himself between them and her.

“McClellan.” She staggered a step. “If you think you can—”

“Jess,” Danny said in a low, firm voice. “Leave. Now.”

Her dark glare moved to Claire. “You’ll be sorry you stole him from me.”

“Stole? That’s it.” Emelie snatched Jessica by her haphazardly buttoned shirt.

“He’s co-oming,” Jessica sang.

“Shut. Up.” Emelie shoved her toward the stairs, following behind her.

Not until her steps faded did Danny and Claire let out a long breath. He wrapped an arm around her, drawing her in tight.

“Get off him,” Emelie yelled in the stairwell.

Feet sprinted up the stairs before Fin appeared, red faced and wheezing. “That woman’s crazy.”

“Jessica has that effect on people.” Ian reached out and fixed his haphazard collar.

“I found it.” Fin made his way to Danny. “At least what’s left of it.” He held out a decimated phone.

Danny lifted it between two fingers. “Was it used for target practice?”

“A grenade maybe.”

“Where’d you find it?”

“On the road near Sven’s lane.”

“I don’t remember taking it outside.”

Fin shrugged. “Also, you’ve got a group of angry people downstairs. Hey, is that Ms. Cooke’s kanelbullar?”

“Who’s angry?” Danny stuffed a cinnamon roll into his mouth and moaned, kissing Claire’s cheek. “So good.”

He offered the basket to Fin.

“Everyone who didn’t know that you and she were officially a thing.”

Danny lifted a brow. “And how did they hear about it now?”

Fin sheepishly grinned and bumped Ian’s arm with the basket. “Want one?”

Ian startled, and the hand rubbing over his stomach froze. “No, thanks.” He snatched Danny’s phone, looking it over.

“But you never turn down food.”

“You feeling okay?” Danny’s eyes dropped to the hand on his stomach.

Ian forced a half-smile and took a roll anyway. “Yeah.”

His sixth sense was only off because of the insanity with Jessica and lack of sleep. His nerves would calm down. He was sure of it.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.