[Siren Allure: Erotic Contemporary Romance, Suspense, Extreme Violence]
Ellen, Eartha, Marybeth, and Windy plan a vacation at a B&B to celebrate their college graduations. Instead, the week becomes a nightmare that's frighteningly real. A destructive hurricane that produces snakes and crocodiles are the least of their problems. Murder, blackmail, treachery, and reckless love runs through the lives and dreams of the B&B Black Bayou and the citizens of the tiny town of Cotton nearby.
One by one, the young women begin to disappear. Was one of the Black Bayou family behind it? Was the petite grandmother as dangerous as the history she related to them? Or are the brothers— one kind, one a black sheep— behind it all? The mysterious aunt with a hidden past— what else did she hide?
Countless places and people have secrets. The cruel father of an unloved little boy blamed for his mother's death. The itinerant family returned. A man with mental deficiencies. A strange hotel manager. A cafe owner suspected of murdering her husband. Any one of them knew the answers.
Warning: This book contains extreme violence, forced seduction, F/F, and BDSM.
A Siren Erotic Romance
She arose, asking Ellen to help her to her room, saying that she was too tired to continue. She would finish the story in the morning.
Ellen returned downstairs and found a full water glass of bourbon waiting for her in Windy’s shaking hand. “Thank you! She called Henry the minute we got upstairs, and he was cooing to her and helping her get ready for bed. There is a pallet rolled up in one corner, so I think he will sleep by her all night.”
They sat in silence listening to the storm, each in her own thoughts. Their thoughts were of their missing friends and the story they had heard, when they heard a door closing somewhere in the cellar story of the house. The wind had propelled the air through the foyer into the parlor where they were. “Eartha, is that you?” Windy jumped to her feet and ran into the vast darkness where the firelight and dim lantern did not reach. ”God, we have been so worried about you. Where have you—?”
The body she ran into was not Eartha. It was a tall, wet creature with a grip of steel as it held her arms, propelling her backward through the parlor door. As they moved into the light, she could see it was the man from the bayou…the man who had warned them of the alligator. He dropped his hands from her arms and stepped away toward the fireplace. No one spoke until he turned his dark eyes on them.
“Is Henry here? He is not at his cabin.”
Ellen answered. “Yes, we brought him here. Are you Mr. James or Mr. Mac? We left you a note at the cabin. He is upstairs with Mrs. Atwater.” As an afterthought mostly because of his haughty attitude and her desire to make him aware that she was no stranger to the secrets of Black Bayou, she added, “with his grandmother.”
“Ah, I see the old lady has been spinning her stories again. Sometimes Henry seems the brighter of the two. She lives in a world of her own with shadows, demons, and fanciful people. You can believe little of what she tells you. Sometimes she knows us, sometimes not. She is a sweet, charming thing but out of touch with reality. It is not uncommon to find her at the head of the dining room table with place setting all around, courtesy Henry, while she has discussions with her long-gone children.”
“I find that hard to believe. She seems lucid to me.” Windy sensed a mockery in his words and resented it. “And you did not answer our questions. Are you Mr. James or Mr. Mac?”
“I don’t give a damn what you believe. I do not lie, and no, I am not Mr. James. Mr. James does not seem to be around either, but that is no loss. What are you drinking? I could use a shot or two.” He did not wait for an answer, but picked up the bourbon bottle from the table and lifted it to his lips. He swallowed several times before lowering the bottle and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“It appears I will have to get some fresh bottles. I am sure neither one of us wish to partake after you drank from the bottle.” Ellen was angry. “You, sir, have no manners at all. And you are dirty, sarcastic, dripping all over Mrs. Atwater’s parlor, crass, and less of a gentleman than an alligator.”
He burst out laughing. His face broke into a smile, showing bright, even teeth. He pulled his hat off, bowed at the waist like a cavalier, and said, “You forgot slovenly, uncouth, rude, disheveled, course, derisive, and sardonic. Oh, yes, and cynical. Feel free to add to your list of the things you deem improper about me. In the meantime, let me tell you I have been out looking for your friend. Both of them, actually. I found the little red car in the bayou, but the little gal wasn’t in it. Frankly, that is not a good sign. Could mean she was swept away, but who knows?”
As he talked, Ellen could not help herself from noticing the fine blond hair that grew long on the back of his neck, the deep blue of his eyes, the laugh lines around them, the growth of his whiskers. She had always been attracted to tall, dark men, but…there was something about this man…
“And more bad news. I found a shoe and one of the quilts from the parlor here down in the mud of Black Bayou, where you all were yesterday, playing with the alligators. If she wandered between the mama and her nest…well…” He let the sentence drop. He did not have to tell them again.
“She would not have done that. For sure! She would have heard the alligator’s hiss and moved away. Besides, what would she have been doing down there anyway?” Windy wanted to know with a voice filled with anger.
“Why she was there? Hell, how the hell am I supposed to know? As for hearing the gator, not a chance in this storm. In daylight, I will go back and search some more, but I don’t want to be food for her family any more than you do. Besides, it’s too dark to see anything, and a flashlight only reaches a few feet in this mess outside. Now, if you don’t mind, I am going upstairs for dry clothes, then outside for a shower in the rain. If either of you want to join me, feel free.” Without a word, he turned and left the room.
They stood looking at one another, both crying. His words had been slow to comprehend, now they had to face the reality of it. The located car, shoe, and quilt all pointed to an end they did not want to accept. Instead, it was easier to vent their anger and fear toward the man who had told them. It was purely a case of ‘kill the messenger.’
Ellen ran after him, shouting, “I don’t believe you. Why are you lying to us? Come back here and tell the truth.” Sobbing, she collapsed on the lower stairs. Windy came to her, and together they huddled and cried horrible sobbing wails. When the man came back down, he was carrying clothes. He stepped around them on his way to the kitchen, then outside.