Empath

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 Empath Copyright © 2008 by Bonnie Dee ISBN: 978-1-60504-224-4 Edited by Anne Scott Cover by Anne Cain All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: November 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com

Gifted: Empath Bonnie Dee

Dedication

Thanks to authors Kate Rothwell and Morgan St. John, both of whom gave me critique help and plot possibilities when I was stuck, and to my editor, Anne Scott, who chose empathy for the Gifted anthology.

Empath

Chapter One

The pizza delivery guy was heartbroken, waves of misery rolling off him like mist from an early-morning lake and shrouding Jordan, who tensed, clenched his mind shut and stepped back. He withdrew his hand, which had accidentally touched the boy’s when he’d paid him. The wave of pain could have been from a broken heart, unrequited love, loss of a friend or family member, or from the sheer loneliness of being an adolescent. It could’ve been a precursor to suicide for all Jordan knew. On the other hand, maybe the boy with the complexion to match the food he delivered was simply depressed because he couldn’t afford some new Xbox game. That was the trouble with the damn “gift” or curse, whatever the hell it was. Jordan could only feel what other people felt, with no clue as to the cause of their emotions. It was a useless quality with none of the benefits of something like precognition or telepathy. He couldn’t handle a child’s blanket and find the lost kid, or walk into a room and know what had taken place there years before. All he could do was experience someone else’s joy, sorrow, guilt, anger, despair or boredom from a mere touch. There was nothing helpful about that. It was just a mind-fuck, seizing and shaking him when least expected—like now. He didn’t want to know about the boy’s unhappiness. He didn’t want to feel his pain. There was nothing he could do to change it. “Here!” After fishing an extra five from his wallet, Jordan held out the money. “Thanks for coming out. It’s a shitty night.” The kid gaped at the tip then snatched it, mumbling, “Thanks.” Jordan was careful to release the bill before their fingers touched so he didn’t know if the extra money brightened the boy’s mood. As the kid disappeared into the rainy night, Jordan closed the door and carried the warm pizza box to the kitchen. He’d forgotten to eat lunch so the aroma of greasy cheese and meat made his stomach rumble. The elemental desire to eat supplanted the last

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remnants of swirling emotion in his head and, by the time he’d opened the box and extracted a slice, he felt almost normal. Or what passed for normal these days. Hell, had there ever been a “normal” for him? He tossed a couple of pieces of pizza on a plate, grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed into the living room. After flopping on the couch, he turned on the TV with every intention of tuning into ESPN, but a breaking news story on the local channel caught his attention. The reporter’s shellacked coiffure filled the frame as she reviewed the sketchy details of the case. Local businessman Robert McKenzie had died from a gunshot wound, his body discovered in the living room by his wife when she’d returned home from an evening exercise class. The interesting hook was that the couple’s autistic ten-year-old son had apparently been in the house when the murder occurred. Whether he’d witnessed the killing or maybe been the cause of it was a matter for the kind of conjecture the press thrived on. Jordan changed the channel to basketball and settled back with his beer, but something about the case gnawed at his mind. The name McKenzie struck a chord with him. What was it? By his second piece of pizza, he’d managed to erase the niggling concern and immerse himself in the game, when the doorbell rang. He set down the crust and wiped his fingers on the side of his jeans as he went to answer the door. Back in his citydwelling days he would’ve checked through an eyehole before opening it, but here in Welling he’d gotten into the habit of not even locking the door. The man standing on his front step was nearly as tall as Jordan. His receding hairline and full, round face generally gave him a cherubic look, but tonight Danny Stipe was frowning. Instantly, Jordan knew why the name McKenzie was familiar. Danny’s sister, Celia, was married to Robert McKenzie, the murdered man. “Danny. Don’t you own a phone?” He hadn’t seen his old friend in months. “I knew if I called you’d say no, so I wanted to talk to you in person. I need your help.”

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Before the words were even out of Danny’s mouth, Jordan was shaking his head. “There’s nothing I can do. I can’t find any answers for you. I can’t read the crime scene.” “I’m not asking you to.” Danny’s broad face was paler than normal, upset. Jordan knew if he touched him he’d feel waves of distress and worry. He folded his arms, tucking his hands inside the crooks of his elbows, swearing he wouldn’t let Danny suck him into his problem. “Goddamn it, this isn’t just another case! It’s my family, my sister who can’t stop crying, my nephew, Mike, who won’t stop rocking and muttering. If we could just reach the boy, know what he’s feeling, it might help.” “Danny…” “Come on. I haven’t bothered you for over a year, even though there were a few cases where you could’ve helped.” His gaze fixed on Jordan’s. “But this is personal. I’ll do anything I can to help Celia and try to reach Mike.” Jordan sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. He’d never been able to deny Danny when he asked for help. “When do you want me to go?” “Right now would be great. They’re still at the house. Mike’s freaked out. Celia tried all her usual methods, but she can’t reach him and she can barely keep her own shit together.” Jordan wondered how his experiencing their pain could possibly help. It sure as hell wasn’t going to do him any good. “All right. Just give me a minute to get my shoes and keys.”

*** Danny and Jordan had been friends since they were kids, sharing or fighting over everything like brothers. It seemed Danny had always known about Jordan’s ability. You couldn’t be so close and hide something that elemental about who you were. As boys, it had been understood, but never discussed. Not until they were teenagers and Danny asked Jordan to find out if Theresa Sullivan liked him did he actually acknowledge his friend’s talent. www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Dude, don’t just ask her. Touch her. I want to know what she’s really feeling, not just what she says.” Theresa had exuded a strong negative vibe when asked how she felt about Danny. “Sorry, man, she’s not into you.” Jordan didn’t tell about the rush of warmth directed at him or the look in Theresa’s dark eyes that confirmed what his body felt. She was hot for him. It didn’t take a special ability to figure that out. He’d stayed out of her way until she got the message he wasn’t interested. Danny had dealt with an adolescent broken heart and hadn’t asked for Jordan’s help again until they were both adults. It was the year he was promoted to detective and needed advice on a case. He’d wanted to know if his gut feeling that a witness was lying was true. Behind his partner’s back, Danny had taken Jordan with him to question the woman and touch her. After a moment of casual contact, he found no essence of guilt or doubt. Over the next few years, Danny had occasionally called for help again. Jordan responded with increasing reluctance. His ability was growing stronger, and although he’d learned to shield himself somewhat from the flow of emotion when it became too intense, he found it easier not to touch anyone. People radiated too much pain, too many strong, dark emotions he didn’t want to know about—didn’t have a right to witness. Now, as he followed the taillights of Danny’s sedan through a suburban Chicago neighborhood, Jordan thought about the final time he’d given his help. The case had involved a suspected serial killer, who the detective could only hold in custody for twenty-four hours. There was no solid evidence against him. Danny wanted to know if he had the right man before he spent too much time investigating him. He brought Jordan to the interview room, billing him as a psychological profiler for his partner’s benefit. The suspect was a bland-featured man, the kind one could talk to and never quite remember afterward, utterly forgettable. But when Jordan touched the suspect’s hand, a jolt of incredible rage and fear tore through his body like a hurricane wind. The man was so saturated with hatred it towered like a sinister thunderhead over every other passing emotion he might have.

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Jordan had let go instantly and fought back the nausea that overwhelmed him. Fists clenched in his lap, he’d listened silently while Danny asked the man a few perfunctory questions then quickly ended the interview. He quizzed Jordan out in the hallway. “Well? You’re pale as a fucking ghost. He’s my man isn’t he?” “I don’t know if he did the crime, but he’s a damn scary individual.” Danny had taken that as a “yes” and thanked him for coming to his aid. Driving home afterward, Jordan had felt sick from his contact with the man, his mind vulnerable and his defenses weak. When the car directly in front of him hit the brakes and swerved to the left, he’d barely reacted in time to do the same. The sounds of squealing brakes and crashing metal signaled a highway pileup. Jordan steered his car safely to the shoulder then jumped out. He and the guy from the car in front of him waded into the carnage of twisted vehicles and began helping people. The following hour was the most excruciating of his life as he pulled bloody, injured bodies from cars and felt the fear, shock and pain of each person he touched. He made every effort to clamp down the inner wall he used to separate himself from others’ emotions, but could muster no more than a transparent veil that barely sheltered him from the assault. The last straw was the little girl Jordan found near a destroyed Toyota. She was crying for her mother and, when he took her in his arms, the bewilderment, terror and longing for her mother were almost more than he could stand. He fought the desire to thrust her from him while soothing and assuring her as best he could—even though he could see her mom lying halfway through the windshield and clearly dead. He grimly waited for paramedics to come and cradled the wailing child until she was silent. The moment of her death was as abrupt and final as a light switch being turned off. He felt her. And then he didn’t. That night, Jordan got blind drunk and passed out. When he woke in the morning, he cancelled the lease on his apartment and moved out of the city to a quiet house in the country. He began working from home. Designing computer software didn’t require

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much time at an office. After that, he rarely drove into Chicago, hardly venturing off his own wooded property except to get groceries. Until tonight. Christ, he didn’t want to do this. Danny drove past stately homes and pulled up in front of a driveway with crime tape sealing it off from the street. Jordan parked behind him and got out. They ducked under the crime tape and walked up the drive. There were still cops on the scene. Danny flashed his badge, and he and Jordan were allowed through. “Thanks for coming,” Danny said. “Celia’s frantic. She refused a sedative for Mike since it might interact with his meds, and she won’t let them take him to the hospital. He doesn’t do well in new places.” He shook his head. “Damn, this is all so surreal. I can’t believe Robert is dead.” “When did it happen?” “Celia went to her Pilates class and when she came home at eight, she found Robert in the living room, Mike in his bedroom. No sign of struggle or forced entry. The gun was Robert’s and was placed in his hand, but from the angle of the wound it didn’t appear self-inflicted. It was an attempt to make it look like a suicide.” Jordan’s stomach lurched as they entered the foyer. To the left in the living room, a forensic team was marking things and taking photos and samples. He looked away, not wanting to see the aftermath of Robert McKenzie’s death. Danny led him upstairs then stopped in the hallway, grabbing Jordan’s arm. Shock, sadness and anxiety flowed from the point of contact. “Hey, I’m serious. Thanks for coming. Whatever you can do, I appreciate.” Jordan swallowed and resisted the urge to shake Danny’s hand from his arm. “You know, I can only tell you what he’s feeling. Nothing more than that.” Danny released him. “Maybe that’s all you think you can do, but over the years I’ve seen how people react when you touch them. I’ve felt it myself. You have a greater power than you know.” “What the hell does that mean?”

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Danny looked toward a half-open bedroom door then back again. “Maybe you take some of people’s emotional baggage onto yourself. That’s why it wrecks you so much.” He smiled and shrugged. “Or maybe I’m full of shit. It sounds weird when I put it into words.” Jordan hated to talk about his strangeness, too. “All right. Let’s get this over with.” They headed toward the open bedroom door, but stopped when a voice from behind intercepted them. “Detective Stipe?” They both turned. The woman walking down the hall toward them was beautiful. Her brown hair was pulled into a casual ponytail, but clear hazel eyes in a perfectly oval face gave her the aspect of a Renaissance painting of a saint. Her angelic features contrasted with the grim set of her mouth and tight jaw. Avenging angel, Jordan thought. She tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear and held out her hand, one raised eyebrow expressing her curiosity about Jordan. “I’m Detective Lauren Sadler.” “Jordan Langley. I’m an old friend of the family.” Jordan couldn’t refuse to take her hand. During the few seconds of contact, he felt a potent mix of feelings pour from her: tension, frustration, suspicion, uncertainty and an unexpected spike of sexual arousal. By the time he withdrew his hand, he knew Lauren Sadler was awash in self-doubt and conflicting emotions waged war within her. Frowning, she rubbed her fingers against her palm and turned to Danny. “I’ve finished questioning Celia if you want to take her and Mike to your house. I can’t get anything out of him in his present condition.” “My nephew wouldn’t be easy to question on his best day, but he can communicate in his own way.” Danny’s tone was brusque. “Jordan’s here to help.” “Are you a psychologist, Mr. Langley?” Her keen eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him. “Not exactly. I’m just…” Jordan trailed off, unable to come up with a single good reason to explain his presence.

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“Look, you can ask about his credentials later. For now, I just want to get Mike calmed down, and if Jordan can do it…” Sadler glanced back and forth between them. “All right.” Danny led the way into his nephew’s room. Jordan took a deep breath, bracing himself for an onslaught of traumatic emotions.

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Chapter Two

Who the hell was this guy? Lauren followed behind Stipe and his tall friend, her eyes drawn to the breadth of Langley’s shoulders and the shock of shiny black hair that straggled messily over his collar. More importantly, why was she about to let him talk to her witness? She’d made no headway with the boy over the past few hours. His own mother couldn’t get him to stop rocking and muttering numbers. This guy, Jordan Langley, had already admitted he wasn’t a psychologist, so what business did he have here, what connection to the McKenzie family, and could that connection make him a suspect? Last, but not least, why was she checking out his ass? She was in the middle of a murder investigation, her one witness incapable of speech. This was no time to be staring at long legs and narrow hips in loose blue jeans. Lauren turned her attention to Mrs. McKenzie and her son. Celia sat cross-legged on the floor, near but not touching the boy. He was staring at the floor, only the top of his sandy blond hair and a slice of his profile visible. He was small for a ten-year-old. Or at least Lauren thought so. She didn’t know that much about kids. Mike’s shoulders were hunched and he rocked slightly back and forth, exactly as he’d been when she’d left to talk to Warren, the head of the forensics team. Stipe squatted beside his sister, resting a hand on her back. “Jordan’s here.” Celia glanced up at Langley. “It’s been a long time.” From her expression, she was as perplexed as Lauren about why he was there. For that matter, Langley himself seemed uncertain. He swallowed and clenched his hands lightly at his sides. He gazed at Mike, who continued muttering equations and making calculations with his rapidly moving fingers. Celia had explained this mental www.samhainpublishing.com

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exercise was his touchstone, his method of achieving calm in the midst of chaos. How did Jordan Langley intend to reach through the protective shield of numbers and contact the boy? Langley was one of those loose-limbed, gangly men who appeared to be uncomfortable in his own body. He lowered himself to the floor near Mike, folding his long legs awkwardly. A few moments passed before he extended a tentative hand and touched the boy’s bare forearm. Lauren waited for Mike to jerk away. He hadn’t accepted anyone’s touch, not even his mother’s, batting at her hands when she tried to console him, but now he went perfectly still. The rocking stopped. The murmured numbers stopped. Time seemed to stop. The room became so silent Lauren could hear quiet breaths hitching in and out of the boy’s chest. Langley’s long, angular face was pale beneath the shock of dark hair that fell across his forehead. His eyes were partially closed and a frown drew his thick brows together. His mouth was grim and his jaw flexed. Tension radiated from his body. What the hell is going on here? Lauren’s gaze darted to Detective Stipe, whose gaze was riveted on the pair, and to Celia McKenzie. The woman’s eyes widened as she witnessed the transformation in her son. The boy’s fingers, ticking off patterns only he understood, slowed and stilled. His unfocused stare sharpened and he turned to look at Langley, as if the man were the only other person in the room. The silent communication passing between them made Lauren’s skin prickle. She neither believed in nor dismissed the idea of psychic powers, but it was clear something beyond the realm of normal was happening. Stipe’s voice broke the quiet. “Talk to me, Jordan.” The other man shook his head. “All I feel is fear and confusion. I can’t tell you anything more. He’s just terrified.” Lauren was uncomfortable at this twist in the investigation, but ready to take advantage of the boy’s sudden calm using the method psychologists practiced with child

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witnesses. “Mrs. McKenzie, could you give Mike some paper and encourage him to draw or write?” Celia got a tablet of paper and handful of markers from her son’s desk and laid them in front of Michael. The child’s eyes caught her movement. He leaned forward to pick up the pile of drawing tools. Langley let go of the boy’s arm and sat back to watch as he laid the markers in a ruler-straight row from fattest to thinnest, aligning the notebook beside them. “Sweetheart, can you draw me a picture? Show me…” Celia’s voice caught on a sob and she suppressed it. “Show me what happened.” Lauren watched her carefully. The woman’s grief seemed genuine, but just because Celia seemed grief-stricken, it didn’t mean she hadn’t shot her husband. It was standard to regard the spouse as the number-one suspect and often the suspicion proved true. Lauren was sick of doubting people, but her job entailed a healthy dose of distrust and a strong wall between logic and emotions. Mike continued to rearrange the markers, by color this time, from darkest to lightest. Finally, he picked up a purple thin-tip marker and uncapped it. He drew a series of parallel lines on the paper, rows and rows of them, all ending as perfectly as if he’d used a ruler. Then he chose a green marker and drew another series in the opposite direction in a cross-hatching effect. The point of drawing was to allow the child to release his fears on paper and jump-start talking. But usually kids depicted stick figures doing something. This precise, repetitive pattern was useless and meaningless. Still Lauren remained silent, watching and waiting to see what would happen next. She studied the rangy man sitting on the floor, his deep-set brown eyes focused intently on the boy. The tilt of his eyebrows and down-turned corners of his mouth gave his face a melancholy aspect. His prominent nose and long jaw added to the basset-hound demeanor and made her want to pet him to see if he’d perk up. She looked at his big hands, resting on his legs, and wondered what had happened when he’d touched the McKenzie boy. For just a moment, she imagined those hands on her. What would they feel like on her skin, cupping a breast or spanning her waist?

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They’d be very warm, even if they weren’t magical. But when he’d shaken her hand, she could’ve sworn something like a low-grade electrical charge had passed between them. Christ! Lauren pulled her gaze away from the raw-boned stranger and returned it to the boy, his mother and Detective Stipe, who was going to be trouble if she didn’t lay down the law about whose case this was. She couldn’t have him going maverick, trying to solve it on his own, for the same reason a doctor shouldn’t treat a family member—he was too close. For several more minutes, Lauren watched Mike fill his paper with various colors of evenly spaced lines. When the page was filled, he ripped it out, laid it aside, then started on another one. “Detective Stipe, may I speak to you?” She gestured toward the hall. He frowned but rose to his feet. Lauren stole a last glance at Langley before leaving the room. He was looking back at her. The intensity of those brown eyes was like a touch. Warmth blossomed in her belly and rippled through her body. She quickly turned away. Closing the door partially behind them, Lauren addressed Stipe. “Okay. You want to tell me who that guy is and what just happened in there? The truth, not some bullshit about child psychology.” A ghost of a smile curved his lips. “Not really. You won’t believe it. Hell, I don’t even talk to Jordan about what he can do and we’ve known each other since we were kids.” “And what exactly can he do?” Stipe’s round face flushed. “It sounds crazy, but he can feel people’s emotions. I’ve used his help on a few cases.” He checked her reaction. Lauren kept her face neutral but inclined her head, encouraging him to continue. “Jordan thinks he’s only an antenna receiving incoming signals, but he can do more than he realizes. When my dad died, he gave me a hug at the funeral home that…” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “God, this sounds so stupid, but I felt pain lifting off me like a dead weight.”

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She waited for the detective to compose himself. There was no doubt he believed in his friend’s ability, whether it was real or not. “So tonight, when Mike couldn’t calm down, the only thing I could think of was to get Jordan to help.” “Well, whatever he did, it worked,” Lauren said. “I’m glad your nephew is more relaxed, but I’m going to have to bring in a psychologist to help with the questioning. How much can Mike communicate when he’s not in shock?” “He’s usually pretty functional. You can carry on a conversation with him, even if it goes off on some odd tangents, but when he feels threatened or faces a new situation, he regresses.” “I understand.” She hesitated, trying to find the best way to broach the next subject. “I’m going to pursue every lead, but you know, at some point, I’m going to have to take your nephew and sister’s fingerprints.” Stipe’s fingerprints would be on file. Thankfully, he was a professional and knew as well as she did that family members were prime suspects. “Can you have a tech do it at my house? Taking Mike to the station would be too stressful. It’ll be hard enough getting them moved in with me.” “Sure.” The family couldn’t stay at the crime scene, and Lauren wanted to be as accommodating as possible to their needs. She didn’t really suspect Stipe, who had no obvious motive for killing his brother-in-law. An accidental shooting involving the boy was her top guess at this point, along with the possibility that his mother had covered for him by attempting to set the scene as a suicide. “Why don’t you go ahead and take them home right now,” she said. “They could both use a night’s sleep. Maybe I can get more from Mike tomorrow.” They returned to the room to find the boy now had three pages of cross-hatching lined up horizontally in front of him. Celia glanced up at them, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. “I think he’s building a fence—for protection.” Lauren noted that Mike was fencing himself in with a stranger while blocking his family members out. Maybe there was some need for her to worry about his safety with them after all, but she didn’t want to take the boy into protective custody without good

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reason. With his disability, it would drive him even further into his shell. The situation was delicate. Don’t fuck up again. It’s all on you if this kid gets hurt. Ignoring the inner voice, she considered her options. She could send a couple of cops to guard the entire family, but she’d feel more comfortable if she stayed with the boy herself. Hell, it wasn’t like there was any pressing need for her to go home. She didn’t even have a damn cat anymore since Mark had taken Ginger with him when he moved out. “Mrs. McKenzie, if you want to pack a few things you can go with your brother now. I’ll see that you get settled in and stick around just in case something develops.” Lauren glanced at Langley, who’d risen and loomed like a sad-eyed scarecrow beside the boy. Mike still crouched on the floor, bent over his notebook, feverishly drawing. Celia packed a bag for Mike and then went to her own room to pack. After she’d gone, Lauren turned to Langley. She was embarrassed at what she was about to ask him to do. “Mr. Langley, could you tell me what Mike is feeling while I ask him a few questions?” “Jordan,” he corrected. His velvet brown eyes searched hers as though looking for answers. “So, Danny told you about me. Do you believe him?” “I’m not sure. Won’t hurt to try, though.” She offered a small smile and was rewarded by one from him in return. But even with a smile curving his wide mouth, the droop of his eyelids added a note of melancholy. Once more, Jordan sat on his heels near the boy, watching the repetitive movement of his hand on the paper before reaching out to touch his shoulder. Mike didn’t stop what he was doing or look at the man, but kept drawing lines. “He feels calmer now, but there’s still a lot of fear.” Lauren, crouched on the floor on the far side of the growing fence of paper. Danny stood in the corner of the room, quietly observing. “What are you afraid of, Mike?” she asked. “Of what happened to your dad? Or are you afraid someone might hurt you?”

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“Too many questions,” Jordan murmured. “Confusing.” Lauren stopped and thought. “Did you see what happened to your dad?” That required a concrete, yes-or-no answer. There was a pause. She looked from the boy’s thin face to Jordan, whose glazed eyes had turned a darker shade of brown. “His fear is stronger when you mention his father.” The husky timbre raised the hair on her nape and sent a flash of heat through her. Damn, a man shouldn’t be allowed to have such a sexy voice. “Mike,” she spoke clearly and slowly, watching the boy’s eyes, which remained focused on the paper. “Did you see who shot your dad?” He blinked. She was sure he understood her. But he wouldn’t look up and his hand moved faster, filling a page with lines, ripping it out and starting another. There were five papers lined in a neat row insulating him from the dangerous outside world. Lauren didn’t need Jordan to tell her Mike’s answer to her question was “yes”. “Who was it?” His hand moved faster, fingers clenched so tightly around the marker that his knuckles were white. “Enough.” Jordan’s command was soft but firm. “He’s too frightened. Give him time.” Lauren released the breath she’d been holding and sat back, relaxing her tensed muscles. “All right. Tomorrow we’ll try again.” She faced Jordan. “Do you think you could be there?” He let go of the boy’s arm. At the loss of contact, Mike looked up from his drawing and laid his own small hand on top of Jordan’s. The man glanced down at their joined hands then back to Lauren. “I guess I don’t have a choice.”

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Chapter Three

Jordan felt her although he couldn’t see her: a brush of silky hair against his chest, wet tongue flicking his nipple, a hand sliding down his belly. He moaned and shifted. His cock ached, rigid with desire and straining toward her touch. When would she stop teasing and take him in her hand? This subtle torture of whispers and kisses and mere brushes of lips and tongue had been going on for what felt like hours. Her intangible presence wasn’t enough. He needed her solid body in his arms. He jerked awake. His eyes shot open and he stared at the ceiling. No Lauren Sadler in his bed, only himself and his throbbing hard-on. Fucking pitiful. Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he rolled over to look at the clock. It felt like he hadn’t slept at all, although it was nearly noon. He reached for his cell phone to see if there’d been a call from Danny or the detective who’d invaded his dreams. No missed calls. They must have slept late too, or decided they didn’t need his help after all. Jordan rose and padded to the bathroom, his bleary eyes half-closed. His mind flipped through the events of last night and the unexpected interruption to his life. For nearly two years, he’d been living in a little bubble, isolated and untouched by anyone else’s emotions. He’d almost forgotten what it was to feel. In one evening, he’d experienced the heart-thumping terror of a little boy and his own pulse racing because of a woman. It was a wonder he didn’t have a heart attack from the sudden stress. Mike hadn’t let go of his hand until Jordan put him in Danny’s car, and even then, Celia had to peel the kid off him. They’d connected on an elemental level and the boy felt safe with him. For the first time ever, Jordan experienced an internal exchange with someone. It had startled him when Mike looked into his eyes and broadcast a question mark. Jordan had automatically responded by sending a friendly vibe and was amazed when he 20

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saw comprehension in the boy’s eyes followed by a sensation of trust. The rapid relay of emotions between them was subtle but real. If the boy felt it too, no wonder he hadn’t wanted to let go. After finishing in the bathroom, Jordan went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. He leaned against the counter and stared at a cupboard door, thinking about the other connection he’d made last night. He’d caught the detective watching him several times. Maybe she was simply interested in his weirdo ability or was considering him as a suspect. But he hadn’t imagined her surge of sexual interest when they touched, so perhaps the idea she was attracted to him wasn’t a fantasy on his part. Well, he could find out today when he went over to Danny’s. He’d see Lauren again and they could talk about more than the case this time. He might ask her out, find out if they had anything in common. She could— He pulled the reins on his daydream, stopping it short. What the hell was he thinking of spinning nonsense in which he and Lauren Sadler hooked up? That wasn’t going to happen for many good reasons, primary being a detective couldn’t get involved with someone on a case. Besides, Jordan never got close enough to anyone to have a relationship and casual sex was too depressing. He didn’t want that. The problem was he couldn’t make love to a woman without knowing exactly what she was feeling. In the midst of passion, it was impossible to maintain the barrier shielding his mind from his partner’s emotions. Everything she felt washed over him, and it was too intense to experience someone stripped to her essence. The awareness of a woman’s pleasure couldn’t help but escalate his arousal and he always came, but at the same time felt dirty and perverted—a voyeur to very private emotions. Inevitably he’d pull away from whatever woman he was seeing when he sensed her growing knowledge that there was something strange about him. He ended it before they could. That had been his pattern up until the day of the accident, when the little girl had died in his arms and he’d dropped out of the world. Since then, he hadn’t dated anyone and most of his interactions with other people were online.

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But after last night, he felt he might break his self-imposed celibacy if the chance arose. Lauren Sadler intrigued him. The vulnerability and doubt beneath her confident exterior begged exploring and, if he was going to be honest, her gorgeous eyes and hot body awoke needs he’d kept buried for too long. As soon as he had his morning coffee and a shower, he’d go to Danny’s to help his new buddy, Mike. And if he happened to check out the exact shade of Lauren’s eyes, it was nobody’s business but his own.

*** “Mr. Langley.” She held out her hand and Jordan only hesitated a second before taking it. Her palm fit neatly into his like their hands were meant to link together. Her skin was cool and smooth, but beneath it there was heat—not just the warmth of human flesh and rushing blood, but turbulent emotions boiling below the surface. He drew his mind tight, but the essence spilled over, like wine tasted merely from inhaling its bouquet. Frustration, sadness, excitement, uncertainty and attraction drawn from all facets of her life shifted like kaleidoscope colors. Lauren frowned and pulled her hand away, as though she’d felt him probing into her privacy. “Before you talk to Mike, I wondered if I might ask you a few questions.” He walked with her outside, to stand on Danny’s front porch where the midday sun warmed the worn board floor. Jordan glanced at the swing, wanting to sit with her there side by side, but Lauren remained standing. Arms folded, the fingers of one hand drumming her upper arm, she stared at the tree-shaded houses across the street. After a moment, she brought her mind back to him. “Sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I’m a little unfocused.” She smiled slightly, and his gaze was drawn to the bow in her upper lip and the fullness of her lower one. Jordan shifted his attention to her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well either. The evening was very intense.” She’d never know that erotic dreams featuring her were a large part of what had troubled his night.

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She perched on the edge of the porch railing, one foot anchoring her to the floor. “Danny said you’ve known the Stipes since you were young. So you had some history with Celia too?” “Not really. She was just Danny’s older sister. I didn’t pay much attention to her.” Jordan leaned against one of the posts facing her. “Had you ever met Robert McKenzie?” “No. I haven’t seen Celia since Danny and I were in high school. When I heard the name McKenzie mentioned on the news last night, it rang a bell, but it wasn’t until Danny showed up that I remembered why.” “Are you a close friend of Danny’s?” He paused, uncertain how to answer. “We used to be very good friends. The past couple of years I haven’t been close to anybody.” “Why not?” Her arched eyebrow lifted a fraction higher. Jordan wondered if the questions were all part of the investigation or if she was honestly curious. “I don’t… It’s hard to say. Basically, I had a really bad day and never got over it.” “What happened?” “Well, the story kind of hinges on whether you believe in what I can do or not. Do you?” The delicate eyebrows knit in a frown. “I’m not sure what I saw but, yes, I guess I believe you have some kind of ability, for lack of a better word.” He quickly told her about the case with the serial killer, the car accident and his decision to move from the city. “But it wasn’t only that one day. I was exhausted from the constant barrage of the city—sensory overload. Now I work from home where it’s quiet and I don’t have to interact with too many people.” Someplace I don’t have to feel. She nodded. “In my line of work I deal with a lot of emotional drama. People are really fucked up.” “Don’t you like your job?”

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She looked away from him, back out at the mowed lawns, the dappled leaf shadows on the sidewalks. “I didn’t say I don’t like what I do. Besides, I’m good at it.” He weighed what she said against her inner doubts. It never ceased to amaze him how the words people said rarely matched what they felt inside. “Besides, somebody has to do it,” he added. “That’s right.” Her voice was tight and she distanced herself by returning to a more formal interrogation. She asked about Jordan’s history with Danny and his family, and questioned him about his assessment of Mike’s mental state. “Tell me honestly what you think. Did the boy actually witness the killing or just walk in on the aftermath? Or do you believe he might have accidentally shot his father? Is there a sense of guilt along with his fear?” Jordan moved from his lounging position against the post and sat beside Lauren on the railing. “I only felt fear. Perhaps Mike’s unable to connect to his action enough to feel guilt, but I’m getting more of a sense of…” he paused, trying to explain an intangible feeling, “…fear of an outside source—like a monster in the closet.” She nodded accepting his evaluation. They both sat silently for several moments. Lauren’s thoughtful expression and the way the light illuminated its angles and curves gave her the ethereal air of a saint contemplating the cosmos rather than a detective examining possible motives for murder. Jordan longed to reach out and touch her cheek just to feel the texture of her translucent skin. Suddenly she broke from her reverie to look at him again. The pale hazel of her eyes pierced him through, making his mouth go dry and his heart race. “What’s it like? What does it feel like to be that close to a person, to be inside his head?” Jordan was taken aback. He’d rarely discussed his ability, even with Danny. Asked point blank, he was forced to examine what he usually tried to ignore. “There’s not one answer to that. It depends on the circumstance, but overall…uncomfortable. No one

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should know that much about another person. I feel like a voyeur, but I can’t turn it off. I can raise a buffer to dim the feelings, but they’re always there.” “Every time you touch someone.” “Yes.” A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “Must be strange when you’re intimate with someone, knowing what they’re feeling.” Jordan’s stomach flipped at the suggestive turn of conversation. Was she flirting with him or merely curious? “Yeah, it is.” He angled his body a little more toward hers. “How about you, Detective? You’ve gotten all my personal information. What makes you tick?” She shook her head. “Wouldn’t be professional to say. Besides I’m not that interesting.” “I think you are.” He leaned toward her, his blood coursing and his cock stiffening. He wanted her with a sudden, unreasonable surge of longing and had to know if she felt anything in return. Her lips trembled as the ghost smile fought to reappear and she tried to stifle it. “Are you flirting with me?” “Do you want me to be?” He grinned, the first time he’d felt like smiling in a long time. She was easy to smile with. “I don’t think it’s appropriate given the circumstances.” Her tone was carefully neutral, but it wasn’t a flat denial so he pressed his luck, extending a hand and touching her knee lightly. The yearning he felt for her was reflected back at him. Want. Need. Want. The basic human desire for sex pulsed through her, but was directed very specifically at him. “I, uh…” His head buzzing with sensation, he couldn’t squeeze out a coherent thought. Want, need, want filled him, too. His heart hammered and his cock was rockhard, pressing painfully into the fly of his jeans. His eyes zeroed in on her lush lips and the pink tongue darting across them. The air vibrated with tension and for one long moment they both froze, arrested by the power

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playing between them. He inclined his head slowly toward her until he could feel the puff of her warm breath against his mouth. Then, suddenly, Lauren became aware of him sharing her emotions. He felt her shock as she realized what was happening. Her eyes widened and she pulled her leg away from his touch. At the same moment, Danny’s voice called from the yard, “Hey. What’s up?” Jordan looked toward the sidewalk where Danny was walking toward the house with a grocery sack in each arm. Adrenaline was still coursing through him, his skin tingling, his heart pumping, but Jordan took a deep breath and stood. He pulled his T-shirt down to cover the bulge in his jeans and went to take one of the bags from Danny. “How’s Celia today?” he asked. “Wrecked.” Danny passed a bag to Jordan. “And afraid whoever did this will come after Mike.” He cast a glance at Lauren. “Although we have our own personal bodyguard so I guess we’re safe.” She met his stare. “I’m doing everything I can.” “Instead of focusing on our family you should be talking to Robert’s business connections, customers, neighbors and friends.” “My partner is interviewing the neighbors right now, and I’ll be going to Robert’s work as soon as I’m finished here. I know how to conduct an investigation, Detective.” Jordan enjoyed her irritated tone and the rigid set of her shoulders as she turned to open the door for them. How pathetic was it that he barely knew her and was already entranced by every little thing she did? The way she kept tucking that stray lock of hair behind her ear, the cadence of her speech, her looks, her walk, everything about her attracted him. And knowing she was just as hot for him only added fuel to the fire. How had this happened so quickly, and with a stranger? After putting groceries away, Jordan followed Danny to the living room where Mike sat on the floor, staring at cartoons on TV. The moment the boy noticed Jordan, he got up and ran to him, throwing his arms around his waist.

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The rush of warmth that poured into him overwhelmed Jordan. He’d never been around little kids much, and the return of affection he felt for Mike surprised him. The boy was easy to like, uncomplicated and simple inside—not like adults with all their hidden agendas and secret passions. “Hey, buddy. How are you?” Celia sat on the couch, gazing blank-faced at the colorful images on the TV. Danny handed her a glass of orange juice, which she held but didn’t drink. “Mrs. McKenzie.” Lauren crouched in front of her. “I’m going to ask Mike a few more questions, all right?” She nodded dully, either doped up or overcome with emotion as the reality of her husband’s death sunk in. At the kitchen table, they gave Mike paper and markers, which he immediately began to arrange in rows. Jordan sat beside him, resting a hand on his back, feeling his thin frame, the warmth of his body, and the light rise and fall of his breathing. Beneath that was swirling anxiety—nothing like the paralyzing fear of last night, but constant. There were other emotions too. Like fabric patches sewn into a quilt, people carried many different shades of feelings at any given time. Mike’s emotions were generally happy. Only pervasive fear cast a gloom over his light. He rubbed the boy’s back, offering comfort, as Lauren began her questioning. “Hi, Mike. Remember me? I’m Detective Sadler. I’m here to help you.” She paused, giving him a moment to digest the words. The boy gave no outward sign that he’d heard her, but inside registered recognition. Jordan nodded at Lauren. “I want to find out what happened to your dad. I want to find the person who hurt him and make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.” Mike tensed at the mention of his father. He took the pile of cross-hatched pages from his binder and laid them neatly on the table, building his wall again. “You’re safe.” Lauren’s voice was as soothing and fluid as water. “I’ll make sure you’re safe even if you tell me what you saw. It’s all right to talk about it.”

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As she continued reassuring Mike, Jordan felt his tension ease. He opened his tablet to a fresh sheet of paper and began to draw—circles this time, as perfectly round as if he’d used a compass in different sizes and colors. Inside each circle he wrote a number. Different emotions rose to the surface along with each number. Something clicked and Jordan understood subliminally the significance of the numbers. They represented people in Mike’s life. This was how he related to them emotionally. A pink one with a large three inside might be his mother from the strong love it engendered. Green number four must be Danny because Mike glanced at him after he wrote it. Other numbers raised weaker feelings. Perhaps they were teachers or playmates, anyone who impacted on his life in some way. Soon the page was filled with colorful number bubbles. “What’s he thinking?” Lauren asked. “I think the numbers are people in his life. Each one expresses a different emotion, a connection.” Jordan patted Mike’s shoulder, encouraging him to go on. The boy bent farther over the paper, his sandy bangs falling over his forehead. His tension increased as he scribbled furiously near the bottom of the paper—a number eight in deep red with no bubble around it. Anxiety washed over Jordan and his stomach lurched. “Something bad. I think this is his father.” The boy muttered as he picked up a thick black marker and brought the tip to the paper. Inside, Jordan felt Mike’s fear break loose and race through him. The tension ratcheted tighter as the boy drew a circle and wrote a number in bold strokes inside it. This was it, the scary person who killed. “Seventeen, seventeen.” Mike’s mutter grew louder as he capped the marker and looked up at Lauren. It was the first time he’d made eye contact with her. “Seventeen.” “My God, it’s someone you know,” she murmured.

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Chapter Four

“So, what’d you get out of the kid?” Court asked. “Something I hope, because this day’s been a big waste of time for me. None of the neighbors saw anything. They didn’t even hear the shot. Not surprising the way the place is laid out and landscaped. Rich people and their country estates in the ’burbs.” He shook his head and took another bite of his burger. “Mike’s still not talking, but he’s communicating in his own way,” Lauren hedged. She wasn’t about to explain the method she’d used to try to reach him. “It appears the killer is someone he knows.” “That cuts down our search. How many people can a little kid know?” “Relatives, friends, neighbors. Hell, it could be a delivery or repair person who’s come to the house, but I think it’s someone more significant to him.” She sucked on her straw as she considered the options. “I talked to Arthur Brandt, McKenzie’s business partner, also McKenzie’s secretary and other people at his business, but I want to talk to Brandt more. Guy seemed nervous to me. I’ve got a feeling he’s hiding something.” “Okay.” Her partner balled up his fast-food sack in a meaty fist and tossed it into the backseat of the car. “Let’s talk motive. Money and jealousy always top the list. Who gains from his death? And is there a mistress? Jealous wife stands to inherit—covers both bases.” Lauren’s soda was gone so she began chewing her straw. “Not Celia. I’m not feeling that.” “Hold the wheel?” Court tugged off his jacket while Lauren steered. His paunch made the move difficult and his arms got stuck in the jacket sleeves before he finally peeled it off and threw it back with the fast-food bag. The smell of sweat and cologne radiated through the car. www.samhainpublishing.com

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Lauren rolled down her window and breathed in gas fumes instead. They were driving past row houses with peeling facades and sagging porches on their way to interview the McKenzie’s housekeeper, Camilla Santiago. Lauren had tried to call, but the woman’s phone went to voice mail every time. So they were showing up just hoping to catch her at home. “What makes you so sure it’s not the kid? An accidental shooting like we talked about?” Brad Court cast a sideways glance at Lauren as he took the steering wheel back. “Instinct,” she answered vaguely. Because a psychic guy told me so, that’s why. “Anyway, there’s not even a partial fingerprint to connect either Mike or Celia.” “Because the weapon was wiped clean before placing it by McKenzie’s hand. The boy wouldn’t do that. But the mother would.” “Could be,” she conceded although she still didn’t believe in either McKenzie’s involvement. Lauren gestured to the apartment building they were passing. “I think this is it.” Brad found a parking spot about a block away and they walked toward the generic brick building. It was pretty well maintained despite the rundown neighborhood surrounding it. They took the stairs to the third floor, since Brad had a problem with elevators and avoided them whenever possible. He was puffing and red-faced by the time they reached Camilla Santiago’s apartment and rang the bell. A petite, dark-haired, brown-eyed woman answered the door. She kept the chain in place while Court flashed his badge and introduced himself and Lauren. Santiago began babbling before she’d finished opening the door for them. “My God, what happened? I went to work today and there was crime tape at the foot of the McKenzies’ driveway! I lost my cell phone so I couldn’t reach Celia. Is everything all right?” “Robert McKenzie was shot.” Lauren watched the woman for any sign she already knew. Her shock appeared genuine, eyes widening and her hand covering her mouth. “Shot! Is he all right?”

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“He’s dead. Celia got home from her exercise class last night and found Robert’s body in his study and Michael hiding in his bedroom. May we come in for a moment, Ms. Santiago?” “Of course.” She led them into her small living room. The furnishings were new and the entertainment center contained a flat-screen TV. The McKenzies clearly paid her well enough to live in comfort even in the ghetto. “How are Celia and little Mike, pobre hijo? Do you have any idea what happened?” Lauren sat on a chair across from Camilla, but Brad wandered the room, looking at photos and trinkets. “Celia and Mike are fine, but naturally upset. We don’t have any suspects this early in the investigation. The scene was set to look like a suicide, but facts indicate it wasn’t.” The woman shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. “This is terrible. Terrible! Do you think someone broke in? A burglar?” “We’re not discounting any scenario at this time. How long have you worked for the McKenzies?” “Almost five years now.” “What do you do there?” “Cleaning, cooking and looking after Mike sometimes when Mrs. McKenzie is busy.” “Have you ever noticed any strain in the couple’s relationship?” She shook her head. “Celia McKenzie is a saint. She would never…” “I’m not suggesting anything. Just trying to learn more about the family. You never know what information might be useful.” Camilla frowned, then she gave a small nod as if coming to a decision. “There were arguments, but no more than in any family. With the difficulties of having a child like that, things get stressful sometimes. I didn’t think either of them was unhappy, but who knows what goes on in a person’s heart.”

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Lauren asked a few more questions and learned that Camilla had finished cooking the family’s dinner by six, then gone home. She’d spent the rest of the evening watching TV and was in bed by eleven. They thanked her for her time and Court gave her a card. “Call us if anything else occurs to you, Ms. Santiago.” When they got out of the stuffy apartment and into the sunshine, Lauren breathed deeply. She had to suck in as much oxygen as she could before climbing back into the car with her smelly partner. “What do we think of Camilla?” Brad asked as he took his place in the passenger seat this time. “No motive.” “No alibi either. Did she really spend the evening alone in her apartment?” Lauren shrugged. “I’m feeling stronger about the business partner, Brandt. There was a weird vibe when he answered my questions about the company. Import-export business—a great cover for drugs, guns, whatever. The kind of business connections that could get a man killed. It’s worth looking into.” “All right then,” Court said. “We’ll go there tomorrow. I’m finished for today. Got my kid’s school play.”

After she’d dropped Brad off at his car, Lauren drove toward home. It would feel good to take a shower then fall into bed and sleep for a good fourteen hours. That was the plan. But her body seemed to have an idea of its own. She found herself heading toward the highway and soon was outside the city, past the suburbs and into the country. Nervous anticipation made her pulse flutter like a girl waiting for her prom date. It was crazy how she’d allowed that almost-kiss earlier to affect her so much. While her right brain had fully concentrated on her work, an elemental part of her relived the brief

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moment over and over—the tension and unfurling of something dark and deep between them. What the hell was that? She had to see Jordan again. Couldn’t wait until morning. Her body was drawn like an iron filing to a magnet, pulling her through the night to his front door. Turning off the car engine, she stared at the number on the mailbox and at the small brick ranch house. The house was nondescript, but the landscaping was sumptuous. In the deepening twilight, flowers glowed brilliant colors and the various greens of bushes and shrubs made an attractive pattern. A path wound around the house, inviting one to take a stroll. He must spend a lot of time working on his yard. Lauren got out of the car, rehearsing what she would say as she walked up the path to the front door. She stood on the stoop for several minutes gathering courage. Just as she raised her hand to ring the bell, the porch light turned on and the door opened. Backlit in the doorway, Jordan’s imposing height and shadowed features made him appear ominous for a moment. Then he stepped into the light and the illusion was dispelled. Once more his heavy-lidded eyes and up-tilted eyebrows reminded her of a sad hound dog. But a smile curved his mouth, creasing his cheeks and his warm brown eyes lit up at the sight of her. “You’re here.” “Hi. I just came to…” She trailed off, giving up the pretense she was here because of the case before she’d even spoken it. “Come on in.” He stepped aside so she could enter the house. As she passed by him, she felt his body’s heat. He was wearing a T-shirt so old and thin she could see his muscles and the bump of each nipple pressing against the material. He had on a pair of gray sweats and below that bare feet—big like the rest of his gangly body. What would it be like to have those long arms and legs wrapped around her? He closed the door behind them, and for a moment they stood in his front hall facing each other, a weighted silence between them. “Find out anything new today?” The soft rumble of his voice made her nipples tingle and her pussy go soft as butter. The sound vibrated down her spine and through her nervous system.

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“Not much. Talked to some people.” The words they exchanged seemed superfluous to the sexual tension shimmering in the air. “Oh.” Another moment slipped by as their gazes remained locked, burning into one another in unspoken communication. Her heart raced. Her body yearned. The magnetic feeling grew stronger, drawing her inevitably to where she’d known she was going to end up this evening. Dropping her purse on the floor, she stepped toward him. Jordan met her halfway, dragging her into his arms and up against his body, hard enough that she gave a soft grunt. He leaned to cover her mouth with his. His lips were soft but the kiss firm and possessive. She sagged against him, melting into his embrace, giving herself over to him. It felt so good to relax and let down her guard. How strange that she was ready to do that with a near stranger when she’d been with Mark almost two years and had never let him in. She was letting Jordan into her mind simply by allowing him to touch her. Lauren knew he could feel her, because she could feel him too. His warmth wrapped around her, both inside and out. This was more than the coming together of two bodies hungry for sex. God, he was tall. She wasn’t a petite woman, but pressed up against the length of his body, she felt fragile. And she certainly didn’t need protection; physically she could probably kick Jordan’s ass because she was trained in martial arts and he wasn’t. Yet she felt protected and safe in the circle of his arms. The kiss was lingering, tongues softly exploring, lips opening and pressing together. He tasted like wine, fruity, a little dry, a woodsy bouquet. Lauren knew she tasted like mint because she’d popped a breath freshener on the drive over. She’d known this was going to happen and hadn’t wanted to taste like leftover fast food. Wrapping her arms around him, she pressed her hands flat against his back, feeling his shoulder blades, his muscle and bone through the T-shirt. Male. Hot. Need. Her mind clamored like a cavewoman. Lauren grasped the material and tugged.

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Jordan broke off the kiss long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside. His shaggy, dark hair tufted in all directions and he pushed it impatiently back from his forehead. The gesture was unbearably sexy and boyish. Lauren slid her hands up his naked back, feeling each bump of vertebrae, and curved them around his neck, pulling him to her for another kiss. She plunged her fingers into the slippery, smooth strands of his hair, grasping and twisting them a little. A soft groan rumbled from his chest into hers. He cupped her ass, pressing her even tighter to his groin, then slid his hands up her back to comb his fingers through her hair and cradle her skull. He progressed from soft brushes of his lips over hers to little nibbling kisses to deep exploring ones that went on and on. Finally Lauren ended their urgent kissing, untangling her hands from Jordan’s hair and stripping off her shirt. His brown eyes glowed at the sight of her barely covered breasts. She wore a sheer, peach bra and black lace panties, and wished she’d had the foresight to stop home to change into matching underwear and clean clothes. At least she had condoms in her purse. The fact she’d stopped to buy them revealed more than she wanted to admit about her intentions in coming here. He rested his hand on her chest, palm flat, fingers splayed, his tan skin a contrast to the pale swells of her breasts. She hated that she was always so white. Porcelain, her mother called it. Chalky, Lauren thought. For several moments, he stood there like that, feeling her heartbeat and probably other things she’d just as soon he couldn’t feel. It was unnerving that he could sense the insecurities she kept well hidden. Scary, but also oddly liberating, knowing she couldn’t hide them from him. His expressive eyes penetrated hers. A small smile played at the corners of his lips— sympathetic, not amused. Beneath his hand and under his gaze, she felt the hard knot of tension that lived deep inside her begin to ease. Then he moved his hand to cup her breast while he lowered his head to nuzzle her throat. He pressed his lips to the hollow between her collarbones, and lower, across her chest to the plump cleavage the bra gave her. Without the push-up, she didn’t have a lot to offer in front.

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As his soft lips and wet tongue moved over her curves, Lauren sucked in a breath. Reaching behind her, he unfastened the bra and pulled it down her arms. Her breasts bobbed free, small but still pretty perky at thirty-three. They were tender, swelling at the touch of his mouth, the nipples hardening when he swept his tongue over them. She rested a hand at the back of his head and watched as Jordan’s mouth engulfed one tight, rosy bud. The tugging sensation shot a bolt of desire straight to her crotch. She shivered and thrust her chest toward him, admiring the curve of his black eyelashes against his cheekbones, the prominent nose outlined against her breast, the shock of walnut-dark hair tumbling over his forehead. Her other hand gripped his upper arms, feeling the sinew of his biceps, the sleekness of his skin. Her eyes half-closed when he transferred his attention to her other breast, sucking it in and rolling his tongue over the nipple. Sparkles of delight filled her. Her pussy tightened and released, begging to be filled. She moaned softly and Jordan gave an answering quiet groan. My God, he can feel me, knows how much I need this, how good it feels. The idea was exciting, as she imagined her arousal feeding and magnifying his. She could almost feel him too—not just his suckling mouth or fondling hands, but a warm glow of desire spreading from him into her. Was it really his emotion or just her own escalating yearning? Impossible to tell. Unnecessary to know. But she enjoyed believing he was touching her deep within. “I’m glad you came.” He released her breast and straightened to look into her eyes. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and brushed his lips over hers. “Really glad.” “Yeah, I felt that.” She smiled and snaked her hand down between them to cup the bulge in the front of his jeans. The rough denim and the heat behind it pressed into her hand. Jordan’s eyes nearly closed and a soft mm purred in his throat. Lauren stepped back and focused on unbuttoning his fly and pulling the zipper down. Boxer briefs. Nice. They outlined the shape of his erection in light gray. She gripped his

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shaft through the soft material, squeezing until she’d elicited another groan from him. Then she pushed down the waistband of the briefs, freeing his pulsing cock. She feasted on the sight of it, long, not overly broad, but thick enough. It matched the rest of his long, lean body. Gripping it in her hand, she stroked its length and rubbed her thumb over the weeping slit in the head, spreading moisture over the cap. She began to lower herself to her knees before him, eager to taste him, but Jordan’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Are you sure about this?” Lauren looked up at him with a raised brow. “Do you even have to ask?” “No. Not really. Just being a gentleman.” His slow, easy grin caused another flare-up of heat in her belly. He was impossibly sexy with his laid-back, self-effacing manner and offbeat good looks. “All right then.” She knelt, facing his erection thrusting from a dark tangle of black hair. His flat belly twitched as her hand brushed it. She traced a finger down the trail of hair from navel to groin before taking his cock in hand. Licking her lips, she glanced up at Jordan’s sharp-boned face, the hooded eyes and lips parted in anticipation. She pressed a kiss to the rounded tip of his cock then slowly drew it into her mouth. A jolt of pleasure shot through her—not her own. As much as she enjoyed giving head to an appreciative man, this effect was more powerful and immediate than her own satisfaction. It flowed through her, but initiated with Jordan; she was sure of it. She was actually feeling what he felt! His gift apparently awoke a similar ability in her. Lauren’s flash of shock was buried beneath increasing waves of sensation as she massaged his purple-veined shaft and rolled her tongue around its girth. She sucked hard enough to make him gasp and another delightful pang of pleasure burst within her. So good. It feels so good. She cupped his balls with her free hand and rubbed them lightly, toying with the little orbs in the loose sac. Like magic pebbles in a pouch. The thought amused her and she would’ve smiled if her mouth weren’t full. She should feel strange doing something so intimate with a man she’d just met yesterday. But sucking Jordan’s cock felt far too good for her to care. She experienced an

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odd sense of familiarity and ease around him, as if they’d already known each other for a long time. Closing her eyes, she dove into the sensations of tasting and touching him, and savored the results of her labor—his mounting pleasure resonating in her. Her body tingled all over, especially the erogenous zones—the nipples pebbled hard as diamonds, the sweet tenderness of her breasts and the aching in her pussy. Her underwear was soaked. She could hardly wait to peel her panties off and have him inside her. Jordan’s hands held her head and he began to thrust into her mouth. His tension mounted. So did hers. When she felt him reaching a peak and about to explode, Lauren pulled away, pinching her forefinger and thumb around the base of his cock in a ring. Before she climbed to her feet, she remembered to grab a handful of the condoms from her purse. He pulled her into his arms again, kissing her deeply. Then he scooped his hands beneath her ass and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he carried her through the house. Their mouths fused together in more passionate kisses. Jordan shuffled awkwardly with his sweats around his knees, running her shoulder into the doorframe before stumbling into the bedroom. “Mm.” He released her mouth and tumbled her back onto his bed. As he dragged his sweats the rest of the way off, Lauren shed her clothes fast then reached out for him. After sheathing his cock in a condom, he climbed onto the bed and lowered his angular body, which she hadn’t had nearly enough time to examine yet, over her. She loved that he was all sinew and bone without any extra padding and really loved the feelings that inundated her when his skin slid over hers. His sad-dog eyes gazed into hers from only a foot away. Even in the dimly lit room, they shone with mysterious lights in their dark depths. When he smiled, they crinkled at the corners and deep grooves carved his cheeks on either side of his mouth. “Sure you’re ready?” His husky murmur sent another flurry of chills up her spine.

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Lauren only smiled and raised her hips so her mound pressed against his erection. She rubbed up and down his length and the resulting pleasure swelled and grew, bouncing back and forth between them like light refracted in funhouse mirrors, magnified to a blinding intensity. And that was before he even put his cock inside her. He nudged at her opening, the head finding its way without guidance into the warmth of her body. Her inner walls clenched around the shaft, drawing him in. Her relief was immediate, the yearning to be filled, satisfied. She felt a matching wave of relief from Jordan as he buried himself inside her with a long, low groan. She stopped questioning what was happening between them and reveled in it without trying to frame the phenomenon in logic. For a moment, he paused while she acclimated herself to his girth, then he slowly withdrew his length. She felt how excruciating it was—the friction against his shaft as he pulled out and thrust in again. He gave a low groan, the vibration sending a new wave of arousal through her. Out and in again. The head of his cock bumped her G-spot and she gasped. He grunted in response and repeated the move at the same angle and depth so that he hit the spot again. Lauren tilted her hips and clasped her legs around his waist, aiding his penetration. Her hands hooked around his shoulders from the behind and she held on as he thrust into her. “Harder,” she whispered, broadcasting her desire for no-holds-barred fucking. Jordan stroked more aggressively, pounding into her, filling her exactly the way she wanted. Her channel caressed his shaft with every stroke. Her primitive feminine self embraced the sensation of yielding to his dominance. But she also felt the surge of strength and power Jordan experienced when he filled her. Both elements entwined in her consciousness—positive and negative, yin and yang, a wholeness of being like she’d never experienced. The tension of that balance seesawed one way and then the other, growing stronger, building higher until it was nearly painful in its intensity.

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“Oh God,” she moaned, or maybe it was him. With her eyes closed and the potent sensations coursing through her, it was hard to tell where he ended and she began. “Now!” The guttural grunt was his for sure. It sounded near her ear—or maybe inside her head. Impossible to know and it really didn’t matter because at that moment the swirling impulses of need and want reached fever pitch and exploded in visceral bursts of joy that shook her both inside and out. Her body shuddered as unbound pleasure exploded through it. Her ecstasy, his, joined together, surging in peak after peak. The orgasm seemed infinite, each of them feeding the other in an infinite cycle. But at last the pulses diminished, dimmed and gave way to a bone-melting languor. Jordan’s heavy, hot body covered her, pressing her into the mattress. Lauren dissolved into a puddle. She hadn’t been this relaxed in longer than she could remember. She rubbed her hands down his sweaty back to cup his nonexistent ass. It was flat and taut with no flesh for gripping. His hard angles jabbed her. It should have been uncomfortable, but she loved his bony body. Finally, he rolled to his side and lay, head propped on his hand, regarding her. Smiling, she reached to touch the lock of hair that fell over his eyes. “Well, that was…something.” She tossed off the understatement in a breathless, unfamiliar voice. Who was she now? Still Detective Lauren Sadler or some other woman capable of being relaxed and content? Jordan slid his hand up her belly to cup one of her breasts. “Did you…?” “Did I what? Come? I think you know the answer.” The sweet euphoria of orgasm receded, replaced by her usual postcoital apprehension—fear of involvement, fear of trusting—the usual suspects. He frowned and stared at his hand on her breast. “I was going to ask if you… It seemed like you could feel me too. Inside.” “Of course, I could. Deep inside,” Lauren teased, deliberately misunderstanding, not wanting to admit to the amazing connection they’d shared. It was hard enough to admit

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he could feel her emotions. She didn’t want to let him know she’d felt his passion flowing into her as well. “Never mind. I was imagining something. Forget it.” His smile was wistful. Lauren wiggled out from beneath his caressing hand. Could he feel she was lying and sense her growing nervousness? She rolled out of bed and stood. “Where’s the bathroom?” He pointed her down the hall then got out of bed too. “Thirsty? I’ll get some water from the fridge.” “Sure. That’d be great.” In the small bathroom, she relieved herself, washed up at the sink then peered at her face in the mirror. She looked the same as always, but felt completely different inside. Despite her offhand manner with Jordan, she’d been deeply affected by making love with him. Something had shifted within her and everything looked different now—bright and sharp and strange. It was as if she’d had a near-death experience and had awakened with a new consciousness. Her old life seemed narrow and dull, a tiny box it would be impossible to fit back into. Good God, why would she want to? For the past couple of years she’d lived a closed-off life, as alone in the midst of people as Jordan was in his hermit’s retreat. Before Mark had left her, he’d said he was done trying to pry open her emotions. Then came Ryan Kindle and the fallout from that case. Afterward, she’d shut down and stopped trying to connect with anyone. Lauren glanced at the bathroom door, listening to heavy footsteps walk past it down the hall. With the ease of a man turning on a light switch, Jordan had accomplished what Mark had been incapable of doing. He’d made her feel deeply, and effortlessly seduced her into opening herself up to him. But was she ready for the emotional upheaval of a new love affair? It would be easier to make an excuse, thank him for the good time and go home. That’s what she should do. It was too dangerous, getting involved with a man who awoke so much feeling and could read her so well. She opened the bathroom door and padded back down the hallway to his bedroom.

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Jordan lay stretched on the bed, his long body only covered by a sheet pulled over his groin. Bare legs stuck out, reaching clear to the end of the bed and a pair of oversized feet. His arms were tucked behind his head, lifting his chest with its small, brown nipples, and elongating the muscles of his torso. His skin was an olive shade that suggested Mediterranean heritage or possibly Native American. When he saw Lauren, he gave her a slow smile that transformed his naturally solemn face to sweet sunshine. She glanced at her clothes strewn across the floor, but didn’t pick them up. She would go home soon, but first, she’d lie with him for just a little while. It was the polite thing to do. She crossed the room and crawled back into Jordan’s warm bed.

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Chapter Five

Lauren’s head rested on his chest and her relaxed arm was slung over his waist, her hand resting lightly on his arm. But tension thrummed through her body. Jordan tried to shut out her anxiety, but it bled into his consciousness. He wished he knew why she was upset. Was it postcoital second-guessing or was it related to work? He rubbed her arm. “Worried about the case?” “Thinking about it. Not worried. I’ve learned to let the job go at the end of the day. If you don’t put up a wall between work and after hours, you’ll never stop working. Still, sometimes it’s hard to turn your mind off, especially when you’re on the edge of solving something.” “So you think you’re on the verge of a breakthrough?” She laughed, a soft chuckle that pleased his ears and tickled his chest. “I shouldn’t discuss it with you.” “I’m an outside observer. Maybe I can be helpful.” “How do I know you’re an outsider? You seem pretty involved to me.” He glanced down at her forehead, the curve of her cheek and her cute, little nose. “Are you kidding? Am I actually a suspect?” She smiled, and he felt her negative response. Ease and trust washed over him. Jordan slid his hand up her rib cage to cup one of her breasts. A lock of hair rested on the curved slope and he coiled it around his finger. “How did you decide you wanted to become a cop?” “My dad was. Most of my parents’ friends were cop families and when they got together I’d overhear them discussing the job. It seemed like the most important career a person could have. Dad didn’t take me seriously when I told him I planned to join the force. Actually, he was pretty pissed and told me it wasn’t a good job for a woman.” Her www.samhainpublishing.com

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tone was sharp. “It might be the twenty-first century, but women still have to work twice as hard to prove themselves in some careers. You can’t let anything get to you. Show the least bit of emotion and the guys lose respect. After a while, I guess it makes you kind of hard.” He squeezed her breast lightly. “You don’t feel hard to me.” Of course he meant more than her body. So much warmth and passion had flowed from her during sex. Now it was tamped down, but he could still sense it simmering. Lauren was anything but cold beneath her contained exterior. “Trust me, I’m tough as nails. Just ask my ex, Mark. He said I was incapable of opening up and he’d met politicians who were more honest. That was just before he moved out.” “Ouch! He might as well have said rattlesnakes.” “He was right, though. I have a little trouble being open. It doesn’t make for good relationships.” Even though she’d acted like she didn’t know what he was talking about, Jordan still believed Lauren had felt his emotions during sex as he had hers. Fear of sharing deeply would certainly explain the low-grade anxiety pulsing from her. How was it even possible that she felt him? Did she have a touch of the same ability as Mike seemed to, or was she sharing his gift? He’d never before gotten a sense from any of his sexual partners that they experienced his emotions. Perhaps his ability was strengthening, changing into something different, or maybe there was something special about Lauren. She was in tune with him in a way no other lover had ever been. He cupped her jaw and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip, until she captured it between her teeth and bit lightly. “I think you’re more than capable of opening up. Maybe this guy just wasn’t the right man to share with.” She sucked his thumb then let it go with a wet pop. “Maybe.” He’d have to be patient and undemanding to get her to trust him. Although she might have a hard shell, inside she was brittle and delicate. Was he really ready to begin a challenging relationship?

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“Tell me about your job.” She changed the subject and position, rolling onto her back to lie beside him. “I design software for business applications. I know, it sounds much more glamorous and exciting than it really is. But it makes it possible to work from home, which I like.” She turned her head to gaze at him intently. “Do you get lonely living like a hermit?” “I don’t think much about it. I’ve gotten used to being alone and having things quiet.” He laughed. “I’m probably the most boring person you’ve ever met.” She smiled and a hint of dimples creased her cheeks. “Boring? No. That isn’t a word I’d use to describe you.” She paused as though considering, then said, “Introverted. Intense. Morose. Definitely passionate. But not boring.” She looked at the ceiling again. “Your house is so peaceful. No traffic noise. I rarely get out of the city. This place is a paradise.” Jordan turned onto his stomach, head resting on his folded arm, and placed a hand on her stomach. It rose and fell with her breathing. “You’d sleep well here. You should spend the night.” “I don’t know. I haven’t been home since early yesterday. I need a shower, some new clothes, to check my mail, that kind of thing.” “Tomorrow. It’s a long drive back into the city and you’re so comfortable here.” He moved closer, holding her down with an arm and leg. “Stay.” She paused then made a small noise, almost a sigh. “For a while. And only if you feed me. I’ve had nothing but fast food today. I’m starving.” He smiled and kissed her soft shoulder which was right by his mouth. “It so happens I’m an excellent cook. And you’re in luck; the kitchen’s still open for business.” Beneath his palm on her abdomen, he felt her stomach rumble and her body give a vibration of pleasure like a contented cat’s purr. She would stay. He had her at “cook”.

“I’ve told you everything about my family—my parents, my brothers, even my cousins.” Lauren set down her fork and pushed her plate back. “As a matter of fact, with

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your interviewing technique you’d make a great detective. I don’t know how you cajoled so much information out of me.” Because you needed to talk. Jordan kept the thought to himself. “My family’s not near as interesting,” he said. “If you think my job sounds boring, my dad’s an accountant and my mom’s a librarian. They both love cataloguing and predictability. You can imagine they didn’t know what to make of me with my weirdo ability. It must have put them off having any more kids, because I’m an only child.” “They know what you can do, then?” Lauren rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Have you always been able to…feel things?” He was still uncomfortable talking about it. He’d spent too many years keeping it a secret. “I guess so. You’d think I’d be better at turning it on and off by now.” “How was it when you were a baby?” “I’m told I cried a lot. My mom thought I had colic. They figured out pretty early that I didn’t like people handling me. I was sent for about every medical test possible before I could even talk. Scans showed some areas in my brain had way more activity than normal. There was talk of epilepsy, brain trauma, autism, all kinds of hypotheses, but none of the doctors could come to any agreement.” He rose and began clearing the table. It was easier to tell her all of this if he didn’t look into Lauren’s sympathetic eyes. “By the time I could talk, my parents realized I wasn’t normal. At first I assumed everyone was just like me, but it doesn’t take a kid long to figure out he’s different and to learn to keep his mouth shut about it.” Lauren rinsed her plate and silverware, and put them in the dishwasher. “It must have been hard, not being able to talk about what you were experiencing with anyone.” “You get used to it.” He closed the dishwasher door. “Over the years, I thought I had it pretty well under control—until suddenly I didn’t anymore.” “I’m sorry.” A frown furrowed her smooth forehead. He shrugged. “It’s just life. I’m sure you’ve been through some pretty grim stuff in your line of work.”

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“Some.” She avoided the subject, moving close, crowding him against the dishwasher, slipping her hands up his chest and around his shoulders. She looked into his face with her luminous hazel eyes, leaned into his body and whispered, “What am I feeling now?” Jordan smiled as a hot stab of lust arched from her into him. “Right now? I’d say you’re feeling my cock pressing into your stomach.” She laughed and rubbed her pelvis against his growing erection. “That’s right.” He slipped a hand into her hair, fingering the soft tendrils as he cupped her delicate skull. “You’re feeling hungry—like dinner wasn’t enough. Empty and yearning to be filled.” “Yes.” The word ended in a hiss. Her lips remained parted and her eyes drifted halfway closed. “Me too.” He wanted to tell her what it was really like for him, what he’d never been able to tell any woman before. “I want to be in you and at the same time I want you in me. I can feel both. I want both.” His mouth settled on hers, the brush of their lips both light as a breeze and intense as a hurricane. He felt her rising desire and his own in a mixture as combustible as nitroglycerin and gunpowder. Lauren was wearing one of his T-shirts and the neckline had slipped down to bare her shoulder. Tracing his thumb along the ridge of her collarbone to the soft, fleshy curve of her shoulder, he kissed it, savoring the sweet saltiness of her skin. He pulled the shirt lower so his lips could skate softly over her chest and the swell of her cleavage. When he clenched the cotton harder, one of her breasts popped free. His mouth roamed across it, giving little whisper kisses until she ached for more. He drew the hardened nipple between his teeth and flicked his tongue over the tip. Lauren made a small sound in her throat and inhaled, lifting her chest higher. He sucked in the nub, rolling his tongue over it before settling into a hard suckling that sent a sharp surge of desire to his cock—as if she were doing it to him. He had to admit there were some perks to his “special gift”.

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After a moment, Jordan straightened and pulled the T-shirt over her head, leaving her naked. Turning them so she was backed against the counter, he lavished attention on her other breast, licking and sucking the nipple erect before dropping onto his knees in front of her. He felt her anticipation mounting as his hands and mouth slipped over her torso, feeling the bumps of her rib cage, the silky skin covering them, the soft swell of her belly and the sharp blades of her hipbones. When his exploration led him closer to her sex, need, need, need pulsed from her. Jordan looked up as he ran his fingers lightly through the brown tangle of curls. Lauren’s eyes were wide and focused on him with fierce intensity. Her tongue swept over her parted lips, leaving them glistening. She yearned for his touch. The silent begging brought a smile to his face and made him want to prolong their mutual agony. He lowered his gaze to her pussy, teasing his thumbs between the fleshy folds, spreading them and inhaling her aroma. She was musky earth, mineral tang, all woman. His heart beat in his cock, throbbing so hard it felt as if it would explode. Jordan pressed his face between her thighs and licked the red seam. He probed his tongue deep into her wetness, lapping her pungent juice while she moaned and pushed toward him. Her hand curved around his skull, pulling him up. Oh yeah, she wanted his tongue on her clit badly—so badly it sent aching waves through them both. He teased her only a little longer, licking and nibbling the insides of her thighs, slipping his tongue up the length of her, skirting the erect nub at the last minute. Lauren gripped his hair and tugged. “Come on!” she begged. With a soft laugh, he relented and gave her what they both wanted. His lips encircled her clit and pulled lightly, then his tongue swirled around and over it. Relief flooded him. This was what she’d needed. He knew exactly how to give it to her, when to increase the pressure, when to back off, how long he could play her before the exquisite torture was too much. Finally, he settled into a rhythm that drew her higher

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and higher to the edge of climax. He experienced it with her, the ratcheting tension like a guitar tuner pulling a string ever tighter. When there was no more flexibility left in the string, there was nothing it could do but break. Lauren gave way with a resounding twang. He felt her mounting desire explode and rocket through her nervous system and his like a pinball. His eyes rolled back behind his closed eyelids. He felt the climax nearly as strongly as if it were his own and willed his vibrating cock to calm. Jordan kept his mouth pressed to her pussy until he was sure he’d given her every last drop of pleasure possible, then he pulled away and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. The damn condoms were in the bedroom. He hadn’t counted on having an interlude in the kitchen. So he rose and scooped Lauren into his arms. She was still gasping through the last pangs of her release as he hurried through the house and deposited her on the bed. He quickly sheathed his cock in latex then climbed onto the bed with her, straddling her sprawled body. She reached out to hold him, but after a few kisses, flipped over, offering her backside. Jordan pushed her hair aside so he could admire the sweet curve of her neck and back, her pale shoulders and round butt cheeks. Even though his cock was dripping at the tip and aching to enter her, he took the time to kiss her all over, every bit of the lovely canvas of her flesh. Then at long last, he braced himself over her and let his erection nudge at her entrance. She rose onto her knees, lifting her ass higher for him. He gripped her hips and pushed inside her heat and wetness, driving in deep with a groan. A shudder shook him at the sensation of coming home. With every stroke, she pushed back toward him and he pressed deeper. He felt her opening, yearning to be filled, and his own overwhelming desire to take, possess, invade her—a powerful primitive urge that was nearly frightening in its force. Her moans and whimpers made him harder, drove him more urgently. The room was quiet but for the slap of skin, the wet sounds their bodies made coming together, and his

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harsh grunts. As he thrust into her again and again, Jordan felt the undeniable energy passing back and forth between them. They were joined on a primitive, indefinable level beyond rational thought, into the realm of innate knowledge. As the bliss of orgasm exploded through their bodies, they were truly united into one. When the last of the fireworks fizzled into darkness, their emotions began to untangle and retract into their respective bodies. Jordan’s eyes opened and he returned to consciousness after traveling a universe away from his body. He was sprawled on top of Lauren’s back. Easing out of her, he lay beside her, still drawing a long, deep breath. He looked at the beautiful woman lying next to him. Her skin was rosy with exertion, a sheen of sweat making her body glisten. Her hair tumbled in wild tangles over her shoulders and her angelic face was slack and peaceful, half-buried in the pillow. She was full of passion and mysterious dark places he wanted to explore. Knowing her emotions didn’t mean he really knew everything about her, but he’d gladly spend a long time discovering Lauren Sadler. He’d risk whatever pain the effort brought him. He was ready to take a chance, if she was.

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Chapter Six

Lauren woke with a start. Where am I? A strange bed, in a strange room with a strange man. The events of the previous night spilled over her consciousness like the sunshine flooding through the bedroom window. She’d never meant to stay so long. She’d never meant to get this close. Even in the clear light of morning, she couldn’t deny the elemental magic of the previous night. Something very powerful had happened between her and Jordan Langley during sex, a deeper connection than she’d ever felt in her entire life with anyone. It scared the hell out of her. She risked a glance at the gangly body beside her, the dark head on the pillowcase. He lay face down, one arm thrown carelessly above his head, the other hanging off the edge of the bed. His tan skin contrasted with the rumpled white sheets. She climbed out of bed carefully. She didn’t want to wake him, to face him and make small talk or plans for seeing him again which she didn’t intend to keep. Stupid Lauren to get involved with someone connected to a case. Hooking up with him was inappropriate even if he didn’t rate on her list of suspects. Besides, she should be concentrating on a murder investigation, not her sex life. There’d be time for dating later. When would that be? Later never comes. Just more cases. Ignoring the harping inner voice, Lauren went to the living room and put on her smelly clothes. She’d worn them far too long and it was way past time for a change. She slipped out the door without leaving a note and hurried to her car. Home now. Have to get home. A shower and two cups of coffee later, she felt almost like herself instead of the overly emotional woman who’d allowed herself to be drawn to a magnetic stranger. Her www.samhainpublishing.com

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exhaustion last night explained the out-of-character behavior. She’d gone to the McKenzie crime scene after a full day’s work, interrogated the family, guarded them all night and driven all over town the next day questioning more witnesses before ending up at Langley’s house. No wonder she’d had some kind of breakdown and imagined herself half in love with the man. Sheer fatigue, coupled with some long-overdue sex—that’s all it was. Lauren jabbed a number on her cell, and after a few rings, Court picked up. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning,” he snapped. “Turned off the phone and slept in. Sorry. What’s up?” “I’m going back to the shipping company. Something’s definitely off there. Most of the clients in McKenzie’s Blackberry checked out, but there are cryptic entries, initials and numbers like a code.” “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Wait for me before you go in.” As she drove toward McKenzie and Brandt Shipping, Lauren tried to put ill-fitting puzzle pieces together. She agreed with Brad that the business covered for something, probably smuggling. But most underworld types wouldn’t botch the job of killing McKenzie so badly. They’d have hauled his ass into the country, executed him and destroyed the corpse. McKenzie would have simply disappeared. The faked suicide was unprofessional. What about Arthur Brandt? Maybe he’d discovered Robert was double-dealing him. The man had acted twitchy enough when they’d talked to him. If he was the killer, Mike would have recognized his dad’s business partner. Perhaps she could get a photo of Brandt to see how the boy reacted to it. Maybe she should press Mike harder and bring in a psychologist to work with him. At least she didn’t need to worry about the kid getting hurt like the one in the Kindle case. She’d set a twenty-four-hour guard on Mike. If the murderer was even aware there’d been a witness to the shooting, they’d have to get past the cop to reach the boy.

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Lauren spotted Brad’s car as she pulled into the parking lot near McKenzie’s offices. Her partner heaved his bulk out of the car and walked toward her, finishing off the last of a breakfast burrito. Lauren’s stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since Jordan’s delicious steak and eggs the previous evening. Thoughts of the food led to memories of the man who’d cooked for her. She quickly slammed the door on the erotic images and sensations that tumbled through her mind. “Take a look at this.” Court showed her the entries on McKenzie’s Blackberry that had caught his interest, as well as numbers retrieved from his phone log. “I think these guys are into some extracurricular activities, unofficial clients and shipments.” “Wouldn’t surprise me.” Lauren led the way into the building to the front desk. “Mr. Brandt isn’t in today,” the receptionist said. “He’s pretty broken up about Mr. McKenzie. I’m sure you can reach him at home if you need to talk to him.” “All right. But meanwhile there are a few other people, like McKenzie’s secretary, we’d like to interview.” “Oh, Phyllis isn’t here, either. She’s in shock. We all are. She came in for a little while yesterday, long enough to do some paperwork and cancel appointments, but without Robert, there really isn’t anything for her to do.” The woman wiped her eyes. “It’s all so terrible!” “Yes, it is.” Without giving the woman a chance to question their right to be there, Lauren and Brad continued toward the elevator. Court pressed a button and the doors slid closed. “So far, so good. You keep up the chatter and I’ll see what I can find in his office.” The method worked for them. As abrasive as Lauren could be, she was still better with people than her gruff partner. Whenever there was something a little illegal like a search without a warrant to be done, Court took point and she distracted. So Lauren spoke with McKenzie’s colleagues while her partner searched for useful information. No one questioned his poking around. When he emerged from Arthur Brandt’s office, Brad’s face was grim. He gave her a nod and Lauren wrapped up her conversation.

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“Office looks like there’s things missing. Maybe files missing in the file cabinet. Bits of paper still caught in the shredder. Nothing definite, but…” Court trailed off. It didn’t sound like much, but Lauren had learned to trust her partner’s gut feelings since they usually proved right. Maybe that was why it had been so easy for her to believe in Jordan’s abilities. There was nothing magic about hunches. Some people simply had a heightened sense of awareness. “I think we need to see Brandt before he skips town,” Brad concluded. She didn’t wait for him to finish before calling for backup to go to Brandt’s house and watch it until they arrived. They were on the verge of something and damned if she’d let their prime suspect get away.

When Jordan woke and found Lauren gone without leaving a note, he figured she was having doubts about what they’d done. What had passed between them last night was extreme. For a woman with admitted trust issues, she probably felt exposed and vulnerable, and wanted some time alone to think about the situation. He felt pretty much the same way. It was one thing to share so passionately in the secrecy of night, another to face up to it in the light of day. To look a person in the eye after you were back in your own skin, two separate beings once more, was awkward and uncomfortable. He’d give her time. Maybe a little later in the day he’d give her a call. After showering, shaving and dressing, he sat at his computer with coffee and a bagel. The best and worst thing about working from home was his freedom to manage time. He could knock off an afternoon to go sailing or even take a whole day as he had yesterday, but deadlines loomed and he had to discipline himself to keep producing. Sometimes it was hard to focus on a project when the day was sunny and there was no office protocol to keep him at his desk. It took a good twenty minutes for him to stop daydreaming of Lauren and last night, but eventually he got caught up in his current design. There was a glitch he hadn’t been able to solve that suddenly became clear. Maybe the day off had been good for him,

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because he knew exactly what to do to correct the problem. When he finally came out of the creative zone, it was nearly two o’clock. He was starving, his back ached from sitting in one position so long and he was anxious to know what was going on with the McKenzie case. He drove to Danny’s house without calling first, honestly concerned about how Mike was doing, but hoping he’d run into Lauren there. When he pulled up in front of his friend’s house, there were no cars in the driveway and he wished he’d bothered to make a call. Jordan rang the doorbell without much hope anyone would answer. He’d given up and was walking back to his car when the door opened. Celia stood in the doorway looking wan as a ghost. “Hi.” “How are you doing?” He climbed the steps again. She opened her hands in a gesture that said words were too much effort to form. “I’m sorry.” Jordan took one of her cool hands in his, steeling himself for an assault of emotion. Pain. Disbelief. Sorrow. He accepted them all. Anger. Fear. Suspicion. The last caught his attention. What was the doubt about? Did Celia have an idea about her husband’s death? Jordan stilled his own thoughts and opened wider, allowing everything she felt to flow freely into him. His lingering touch on her hand went on much longer than a sympathetic squeeze. When he finally pulled away, Celia’s eyes were wide. “Danny was right about you. Is this what you did for Mike? Took the edge off his pain?” Jordan shrugged. His head ached and a hot flush burned his cheeks. He wished she’d quit staring at him as if he was some kind of miracle worker. “I guess.” “Thank you for what you did for him. I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I was a little…” She laughed sharply. “I was barely coping the last couple of days. Come in. Danny’s taken Mike for ice cream, but they should be back soon. I know they’ll want to see you.”

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He followed her into the living room, hoping the others would return. It was too hard to be with this mourning woman he barely knew. “I feel so useless,” she confided as she sat in the chair across from his. “Like I should be doing something, but there’s nothing to do. Robert has no family. My parents were on a European vacation. They’re flying in later today. Everyone who needs to know has been called, and we can’t have a funeral until after the autopsy.” Her voice cracked on the word. Jordan nodded, feeling silence was better than an ineffectual apology. “The worst part is not knowing what happened. I feel so lost and so…angry. Why did this happen? Why did it happen to us?” “Does Detective Sadler have any leads?” He despised himself for fishing for news of Lauren, but wanted to know what she was up to. “I haven’t talked to her or Detective Court today. I have no idea what they’re doing, and that’s frustrating too.” Her hands knotted together on her lap. “Celia.” He paused, trying to find a way to phrase his question. “It’s not my business, but I feel like you have some suspicions. Do you want to talk about them? I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to, I promise. But it might make you feel better to say what you’re thinking to someone.” Her hand went to her mouth, knuckles pressing against it as though she’d hold the words back, and then abruptly they tumbled out. “I think Robert might have been having an affair. I don’t have any proof, no middle-of-the-night phone calls, no unusual credit card bills. It’s just a feeling I’ve had the past couple of months.” Jordan didn’t ask if they’d been fighting or distant recently. He wasn’t a detective. It was enough to let her unburden herself. “Even though I have no basis for believing it, I keep coming back to the idea of a lover, one who may have been angry enough about something to shoot him. If the killer wasn’t a stranger, who could it be? I know the detectives are considering Mike. They think he may have been playing with the gun and it went off. But it’s impossible. He would’ve run away and he never would have planted it like that.”

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She turned her agonized gaze to Jordan again. “Do they think I’m covering for him? That it was me who wiped off the prints?” “I don’t know, but you should tell Lauren about your suspicions.” “It might make me look like a jealous wife, a crazy, accusing shrew. I know they always consider the spouse first.” Celia rubbed her forehead. “My God, I hate that I sound like I’m only concerned about me when Robert’s dead, but I’m scared.” Jordan understood her turmoil. “Have you at least talked about this with Danny?” She shook her head. “I was too upset to consider it at first, but the more I think about it, the less outrageous the idea seems.” “You should tell him.” The front door opened and a high, piping voice answered by a bass rumble announced Mike and Danny’s return. Jordan had nearly forgotten the boy could speak since he’d only related to his inner life up until now. The pair entered the living room. Mike ran across the room and threw his arms around Jordan. Warmth and a deep recognition that went beyond casual acknowledgment surged from the boy. I know you. “Hey, Mike. How’s it going?” I know you, too. Celia smiled. “He’s never taken to anyone like this before. You’ve done so much to help him. Thank you.” Jordan smiled, uncomfortable with her thanks. “Why don’t Mike and I go outside while you guys talk?” Danny glanced back and forth between Jordan and Celia, catching the unspoken message that his sister had something to tell him. Mike grabbed Jordan’s hand and led him out to the front porch, continuing to cling to him while he talked. “I have a cat. Her name is Portia.” Worry rose in him. “I’m sure your uncle arranged for someone to feed the cat.” Mike caught his doubt that this detail had been remembered and the child’s worry grew stronger. “I need Portia.” “You can’t go to your house right now. But Danny will take care of it.”

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His agitation escalating, Mike pulled away from Jordan. When their hands broke contact, the boy’s swirling desires and energies were immediately extinguished. “Cats are good at taking care of themselves.” Jordan tried to comfort him. But Mike wasn’t listening. He was staring at the street, his eyes riveted and his posture tense. Following his gaze, Jordan saw an idling, white Saturn accelerate past the house. He looked at the boy. “Do you know that car?” Mike’s lips were moving, and Jordan touched his back as he bent to listen to his nearly soundless whisper. A wave of terror flowed into his hand. “Seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeen.”

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Chapter Seven

“You’ve reached Detective Lauren Sadler. Leave a message.” “Lauren, please call back. It’s about the case and it’s urgent.” It was his third attempt to reach her. Jordan hoped she was screening and would call right back. But maybe she saw his name and deleted the messages unheard, afraid he wanted to talk about something personal. The phone rang in his hand, making him jump. “Hello?” “You called?” Her voice was cool and professional, as if they’d barely met. “Did you listen to my messages?” He wished he could touch her so he could really communicate with her. “No. I just saw your calls. I’ve been busy.” “It’s not about last night. Something happened today you should know about. Mike saw—” “I don’t really have time to talk right now. I’m in the middle of something. I’ll call you back.” “But this is about the case.” “So’s this. I’ve got to go.” Lauren spoke to someone in the background then the phone went silent. Inside Jordan felt the same dead air. This was what it would be like to be a normal person, walking through life unable to do more than guess what other people were feeling by their tone of voice or facial expressions. How lonely it was to be so isolated, especially after what he and Lauren had shared last night. Maybe she really was busy, but he suspected she was shutting him out. Putting his phone in his pocket, he went back into the house. In the living room, Mike sat on the floor, gazing into space, his fingers moving in private calculations. www.samhainpublishing.com

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Danny hung up his phone. “I’ve got the DMV doing a search of all Saturns in the area. If the owner is someone familiar to Mike, it should be easy to narrow it down.” “Good. By the way, Mike’s worried about his cat. You might want to let him know it’s been taken care of.” Jordan was suddenly exhausted and desperate for some time alone. Using work as an excuse, he bid the family goodbye, but not before holding Mike’s hand once more. He willed strength and courage to the boy and felt a weak stir of acknowledgement rising like steam over a simmering stew of fear. Back at home, he sacked out in front of the TV. When he woke, the room was lit only by the glow of the television and the doorbell was ringing. He felt a flash of déjà vu. This would be the third night in a row he’d received a visitor in his self-imposed exile. As he walked to the door, his pulse sped up. What if it was Lauren again? He was excited yet nervous at the prospect of seeing her, but when he opened the door to find her on his front porch, any trepidation evaporated. She stood, gazing at the street and when she turned toward him, his heart caught. Her pale face glowed in the harsh porch light. “Hi.” Her eyes met his for only a second then flicked away. Hands jammed in her pockets, she stood at the very edge of the porch, as though ready to bolt down the steps. “Come in.” He moved aside to let her through the door, but she shook her head. “I can’t stay. I need to get home and get some sleep. I just wanted to stop by and tell you the latest on the case.” She could have called, so Jordan guessed she wanted to talk about more than that. “We arrested Robert’s business partner, Arthur Brandt, in the airport. Seems McKenzie’s business is a cover for smuggling. My partner and I believe the murder is tied into organized crime.” Jordan wasn’t surprised to learn Robert McKenzie’s business wasn’t completely legal. But the idea of the man’s partner having committed the murder or arranging a hit didn’t jibe with Jordan’s sense that Mike knew the shooter well.

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“What about the car Mike saw today? Did Danny tell you about that? Mike recognized the person driving and feared them.” “He would know his father’s business partner by sight, but as for the car, Danny’s search didn’t uncover any connection. Maybe the boy’s so nervous he imagined he saw the killer driving past.” Jordan wondered if Celia had shared her belief Robert was having an affair with the detectives. Would that have any impact on Lauren’s investigation? She seemed so certain she was right she’d half-convinced him, but deep inside a nagging voice told him something was wrong with her scenario. “Can you come in for a little bit? It’s been a long day and I bet you could use some dinner.” He tried to entice her with the offer of a meal. Lauren glanced at her car as if she’d like to make a run for it, then back at him. She inhaled deeply. “Jordan, what happened last night was great, but it can’t happen again. I can’t get involved with someone while I’m in the middle of a case. I have no time and it’s not a good idea. I might be distracted and miss something.” “I only asked if you wanted something to eat.” His voice sounded tight even to his own ears. She sighed. “I know what coming in will lead to. I don’t think we can be around each other without…” Even the suggestion of sex was enough to make him hard, so maybe she had a point. “When would be a good time for a real date? After this case is over? Or the next one? Do you ever make time for yourself? Do you ever let anyone into your life?” “I warned you I’m not one for relationships. In my line of work, I can’t afford emotional commitment.” “So you’re saying your ex was right?” She paused so long he thought she wasn’t going to say anything. Her gaze was riveted on the warped floorboards of the porch and then on him.

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“Maybe he was, but it’s not just about me and Mark. The last time I got involved with someone, it went badly. I ruined a kid’s life, because I wasn’t paying attention to my job.” He waited for her to continue. “I met this guy at a bar and we went out a few times. I liked him. He was open, honest, sweet…and turned out to be a complete psycho. The man I was dating was a child molester. The very criminal I’d been searching for was right under my nose—almost in my bed before I figured it out. Court and I caught him, finally, but not before he’d hurt another child.” Her voice was steady as she related the story, but he could hear her pain beneath the surface. Jordan knew whatever he said or did next was going to either break through her defenses or push her even farther away. He took a step toward her, reaching out for her arm. It would be so much easier to communicate his thoughts without words, and he believed she could feel them. But Lauren stepped back, nearly stumbling in her hurry to get away from his touch. “Don’t! I don’t want that.” He dropped his hand to his side. His chest ached as he listened to her letting him go. “I’m sorry. I just can’t give…whatever it is you want from me. It’s too much.” She turned and walked swiftly down the stairs and to her car without once looking back. Jordan stared after her. It wasn’t the first time his ability had frightened off a woman, but it was the first time it felt like a part of him had been amputated. A deep, aching emptiness was all that was left as she gunned her engine and drove away. After almost two years of hiding from the world, he’d opened himself to the possibility of love only to be immediately smacked down. Jordan retreated back inside his house and closed the door behind him.

*** Even though she was exhausted, Lauren’s sleep that night was restless and filled with anxious dreams. When she woke, she couldn’t remember any of them except that 62

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they centered around Ryan Kindle. It still turned her stomach to remember the relationship she’d nearly had with the pedophile, and how absolutely clueless she’d been about his true nature. She hadn’t dated since, except an occasional encounter to scratch an itch. Her confidence in herself to assess character had been destroyed by the experience. By four thirty, she gave up trying to sleep and rose for the day, showered, dressed, drank coffee, watched the news then stared at yesterday’s newspaper, pretending to read the headlines but actually thinking about Jordan. He was no Ryan Kindle. She knew that intimately, because she’d felt his emotions as if they were her own. With Jordan she could be sure he was exactly who she thought he was. Of all the men in the world, he was the last one she should be running from. Maybe with Jordan she could finally let her guard down and have a real, honest relationship. But he could see all of her, know every weak part of her. It was a scary thing to be so transparent to another human being. And could she take the rejection if, after he knew her, he decided he didn’t like her? Giving up the pretense of reading the paper, she rested her chin in her hand and gazed out the window at the cloudy morning. She wasn’t the only one taking a risk. Jordan had suffered because of his gift and withdrawn from the world. Yet he’d been willing to take a chance on her. Last night she’d treated him like her own personal firing range, leaving a target riddled with bullets. The pain on his face when she’d rejected him didn’t require a touch to read. “We barely know each other. It’s ludicrous.” She said it aloud to convince herself as she put her coffee cup in the sink. “It was only one night for Christ’s sake. How hurt could he be?” Was it anywhere near as miserable as she felt? But better earlier than later. Eventually someone would have walked away with a broken heart. That’s the way most relationships inevitably turned out. “Fuck it!” She had to get out of the house and distract herself from the endless cycle of thoughts. It was early to go to Danny Stipe’s house, but she wanted to talk to Celia and

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Mike as soon as they were up and show some photos to Mike of Brandt and a few other potential suspects. She tossed on a jacket and went out to her car. The pieces of the case weren’t really fitting together as she’d like. Just because McKenzie was in business with criminals, it didn’t prove one of them was his murderer. Lauren’s gut feeling pointed to someone well known to the family. She wished Court were around so she could bounce some ideas off him, but this was his day off and he allowed no interruptions to his family life no matter how crucial the case they were working on. The big lug may be smelly and gross, but he was a devoted husband and father, who always put his family above the job. Maybe that was why his relationship seemed to be succeeding while most cops’ marriages went bust. Lauren’s cell rang and her heart leaped then settled when she saw it was the coroner’s office and not Jordan. The autopsy was complete and the body could be released to the family. At Danny’s house, Celia welcomed her inside. Neither Danny nor Mike was awake yet. Celia looked a little better today, still pale and with circles under her eyes, but less shocked and lost. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?” Lauren had just finished a Sip ’n’ Go coffee in the car, but accepted another while explaining that the coroner’s report was finished and Robert’s body could be claimed. “The cause of death was head trauma from a bullet. The shooter was probably standing several yards away.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the photos. “I’d like to see Mike’s reaction to these faces. My partner and I found a link between Robert’s company and organized crime. I know it may be hard for you to believe, but evidence is mounting. We’ve already arrested Brandt on smuggling charges.” Celia stared at the stack of photos in Lauren’s hand. “But Robert was always so open about his business. He talked about it freely. How could he have done that? I would’ve known something was off, wouldn’t I?” “There are plenty of regular accounts covering the illegal activities, which included shipments of drugs, guns and other things.” There was no need to make the woman feel

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even worse by suggesting human trafficking. “McKenzie and Brandt Shipping provided the legitimate front—paperwork, harbor space and warehousing that allowed these guys to operate their business.” Celia lifted her horrified eyes from the photos to Lauren’s face. “Why would they kill him if he was working for them?” “I’m not sure yet. Maybe Robert decided he wanted out and was killed to keep him quiet.” Or maybe he’d screwed up a shipment or tried to cheat his underworld partners and pissed them off. But let Celia believe he was a little bit noble and trying to put a stop to something he never should’ve been a part of. The woman put a hand to her mouth and exhaled a shaky breath between her fingers. “My God, this is worse than I thought. It makes what I imagined seem petty and stupid. To think that Richard was mixed up with mobsters, that they came into our house and killed him. They might know Mike was a witness. The car that drove past yesterday… Are we safe?” “I have officers on twenty-four-hour watch, but I can enhance the security detail. Celia, you said this is worse than you thought. What did you believe happened to Robert?” “It seems foolish in light of this, but I was afraid he was having an affair.” She shook her head. “You think you know someone, but it’s impossible to tell what anyone really feels, isn’t it?” Lauren offered a small smile. “All you can do is listen to your instinct, I guess. But, yeah, sometimes it’s hard to know who to trust.”

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Chapter Eight

Jordan stood with the Stipe and McKenzie families at the memorial service. It felt odd. He hadn’t seen Mr. and Mrs. Stipe in years and barely knew Celia, but Danny had asked him to be with them. “I know we aren’t close like we used to be, but it would mean a lot to me to have you there. And Mike…well, you can help him in ways the rest of us can’t. Would you please stand beside him at the service?” He couldn’t refuse the request and now he held Mike’s hand, listening while the minister talked about what a loving father and husband Robert McKenzie had been. “We all make mistakes in this world and with God’s grace we learn from them and become better people. Like all of us, Robert struggled and fell sometimes, but he loved his family and wanted only the best for them.” The pastor sidestepped the breaking news about McKenzie’s shady business dealings, while still honoring his life. Mike’s small sweaty hand shifted in Jordan’s. He glanced down at the boy. A cowlick stood up on the back of his head. From above Jordan could see little of his face as Mike gazed at the photo of his dad next to the urn at the front of the room, but he could feel the emotion pouring from him—sadness, loss, worry and fear. You can talk, Mike. Just tell us what happened so you can feel safe again. The child looked up at him. Jordan knew he couldn’t hear the words in his mind, but received the message of trust. Continuing to beam calmness at him, Jordan accepted the boy’s pain and sadness, letting them fill him up and, hopefully, lessening Mike’s burden. By the time the service was done, Jordan was exhausted, his spirit zapped of energy. But the ordeal wasn’t finished for Danny’s family so it wasn’t over for him either. While the adults accepted condolences, Jordan stayed with Mike in the background.

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He caught sight of Lauren across the room, somber in a dark blazer, but her face as luminous as always. She looked at him and nodded briefly before turning away. The sight of her made his body ache all over as if he had the flu. He hadn’t been able to put her from his mind over the past three days since she’d brushed him off. He’d tried to chalk up their night together as another aborted relationship in a string of them, but couldn’t stop thinking of her. He’d been so sure it was different this time, certain he’d found someone with whom he could share all of himself. But his gut feeling had proved wrong, which just went to show an empathic gift didn’t mean good intuition. “Hey, you okay?” Danny clapped a hand to his shoulder, concern radiating from his palm. “You look kind of pale.” “I’m fine.” “This was a lot to ask of you. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have for myself, but for Mike…” “I understand. It’s okay.” The truth was, after months of living away from the turbulent emotions of people, his defenses were weak. He received impressions from every person he so much as brushed up against, everyone who shook his hand because they thought he was part of the family. He was no longer adept at fending off the onslaught. An old family friend drew Danny’s attention away. Celia and her parents were busy accepting condolences from those who’d come in support, as well as people indulging in morbid curiosity about the murder victim whom the press had revealed as a criminal. Reporters and others with no connection to the McKenzie family mingled with invited guests. Jordan squatted beside Mike, who was staring off into space. “You okay?” Celia joined them, her arm brushing Jordan’s, her grief washing over him. “This was a bad idea. It’s too much for Mike. I would’ve left him at home, but there was no one I could ask to baby-sit. Besides, I can hardly stand to have him out of my sight right now I’m so nervous.” “There are cops guarding you. I’m sure you’re safe,” Jordan said.

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“He feels safe when he’s with you.” She ruffled her hand through Mike’s hair. “He’s calmer. Would you mind terribly taking him out of here for a little bit? There’s a room for the family that’s quiet.” She indicated an antechamber off the main visitation room where family members could take private moments when needed. “Sure.” He nudged Mike’s arm. “Come on, buddy.” The boy’s blue eyes drifted slowly toward him, as though the words had to travel light years to reach him. Confusion reigned inside him. He was overwhelmed by the strangers and the unfamiliar location. “Don’t worry,” Jordan urged as he straightened and squeezed Celia’s hand once more, sending encouragement to her. He led Mike through the crowd and had almost reached the side room when a tidal wave of terror broke over him. Jordan froze, his hand welded to the child’s, an electric current of fear flooding him. Run! Hide! An adrenaline rush galvanized his body and he swept the boy into his arms. What had scared him this badly? Would a murderer actually show up at his victim’s funeral? When he saw who had caught Mike’s attention, Jordan wasn’t sure he was looking at the right person. The petite, dark-haired woman standing before the PowerPoint show of Robert McKenzie’s photos appeared harmless. Then she turned around, her gaze met Mike’s and another bolt of heart-pumping fear swept through the boy and into Jordan.

Lauren watched everyone attending the memorial service. Sometimes killers were drawn to see the conclusion of their work, particularly if the murder was emotionally motivated. She hadn’t ruled out the possibility the shooter had intimate ties to McKenzie. As much as she tried to keep her attention on the crowd, her gaze kept drifting to Jordan. In the days since she’d essentially dumped him, she’d regretted it often, yet still believed it was probably for the best. She wasn’t geared toward having a deep, emotional relationship. It was more than she could handle, and she knew anything between them would be deep, not some frivolous affair. No. She wasn’t ready to open up that much.

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But, damn, Jordan looked good in his suit, tall and gangly yet somehow debonair. The dark suit made his hair seem even blacker, his eyes deeper and more soulful. Or maybe that was because he was so pale. He seemed worn and tired. Mike McKenzie clung to his hand, and it occurred to her that Jordan was reflecting the boy’s sadness. As she watched, the boy’s eyes went wide, and Jordan stiffened and grimaced. Something unseen had happened to affect them both. Lauren’s gaze went toward where Mike’s horrified eyes were focused. Camilla Santiago, the McKenzie’s housekeeper was staring back at the boy. Without pausing to think or analyze, Lauren moved across the room toward the woman. Her instinct signaled danger. Her heart beat faster and the hair rose on her nape as she reached beneath her blazer for the gun in her shoulder holster. Camilla was heading toward Mike. Jordan had lifted the boy into his arms and frowned uncertainly at the approaching woman. Lauren cut a quick glance toward the cop who was supposed to be guarding Mike. He stood several yards away, looking bored and not paying any attention to the developing situation. Moving faster, Lauren dodged around a cluster of people. She was too far away. Camilla stood before Jordan now, talking to him. Maybe the scene was as innocent as it appeared—the McKenzies’ long-time housekeeper checking on the boy she’d known since he was small. But Mike drew back from her hand and a fearful expression clouded his features. Something was definitely wrong. Lauren considered calling out to divert Camilla’s attention from the boy, but hesitated to reveal her presence. She didn’t want to be the catalyst that set the woman off. If Camilla had a weapon, would she dare use it in the middle of a crowd with cops on hand? The idea seemed ridiculous, but in Lauren’s experience, people often did amazingly stupid things when blinded by emotion. Jordan’s mouth moved as he replied to the housekeeper. He stepped away from her, and she reached out and grabbed his arm. Her body blocked Lauren’s view, but from the heightened tension in Jordan’s face, the woman may have produced a weapon. Camilla

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moved in close to the man with the boy in his arms, driving him in front of her toward the door past the oblivious people around them. “Shit!” Lauren drew her gun and flicked off the safety. She let her arm drop so the weapon was hidden alongside her leg as she followed the trio. If Camilla was armed and wired as tight as Lauren imagined, she’d have a hair-trigger response to any attack. Not only Mike and Jordan but the entire roomful of people was in danger of a shooting spree. The situation was critical, and the wisest course was to let the woman escape from the room before confronting her. Lauren caught up with them in the hallway outside the visitation room. Camilla was prompting Jordan toward the exit door. She glanced back and saw Lauren. She whirled around, pulling Jordan and Mike in front of her like a shield, her gun pressed into Jordan’s side. “Drop your weapon.” Lauren raised hers. The roar of blood in her ears was deafening. Her heart raced, but she kept her voice steady. “Ms. Santiago, Camilla, you don’t want to do this.” She could see from the woman’s terrified eyes that it was true. Camilla hadn’t meant to take hostages, but things had spun out of control. Her hand was shaking. It would only take a little pressure of her finger on the trigger to blow a hole through Jordan’s rib cage. “Please, just put it down. There’s no good way out of this. You need to talk to me.” Lauren glanced at Jordan’s face, as white as paper. From the pained twist of his features, he was experiencing more than fear of the gun dug into his side. Whatever Santiago and Mike felt, Jordan was experiencing, too. “I had to see him one last time. But he’s already gone. He’s gone. It’s too late to change anything.” Camilla’s voice broke. “You loved Robert, didn’t you?” Lauren kept her voice calm and soothing. Camilla nodded. “But he was using me right from the beginning.” Her hand on the gun relaxed slightly and a little of her fear seemed alleviated. Jordan, on the other hand, looked ready to collapse. Was he siphoning off her pain? “How did he use you, Camilla?”

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“Those men he works with brought me from Guatemala, smuggling heroin. Inside.” The pistol was slack in her hand, but still jammed into Jordan’s side. Lauren moved a step closer. “They used you as a mule.” “Si. Then I met Robbie. He was so good to me, gave me a job in his home and everything. I was only seventeen. I loved him, but he never really loved me. He never…” Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sucked in a wet, rattling breath. Lauren took another small step forward, aiming her gun toward the floor, but ready to bring it up in a second. “What did you have to do for him, Camilla?” “They needed a translator. I got more money than I’d ever imagined for recruiting other mules and explaining what to do. I was as bad as those men. Que puta!” she sobbed. Camilla was losing her focus on her hostages as she told her story. The moment was so close Lauren could feel it. A quick kick to her gun hand and one clean shot were all Lauren needed. “What happened to make you shoot Robert that night?” “I finally had enough to send for my two younger sisters. I paid for everything, their papers and their plane tickets. But those bastards told the girls they had to carry drugs to earn their way. They were packed with 200 grams each. They made it through customs, but Bethania’s burst inside her.” Lauren nodded. Heroine-filled condoms swallowed and later passed by the mule occasionally leaked or broke causing illness or death. She could imagine Camilla turning on McKenzie, the confrontation, the escalating argument, her realization she’d only been a pawn to him and then the shooting. “I never meant to kill him. I was so angry. He said he was sorry about Bethania, but he wasn’t, not really. He was as evil as those men were, and he never really loved me.” Lauren gazed right into the other woman’s eyes, letting her see her sympathy. “I get how it happened. But you don’t want to hurt Mike. Don’t make him another victim.”

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“I never wanted to hurt Mikey. After I found out he might have seen me, I didn’t know if he’d tell, but leaving town would look suspicious, so I tried to act normal and wait to see what would happen.” “Did you drive past Danny Stipe’s house the other day looking for Mike?” “I wouldn’t have hurt him, I swear. But if he happened to be out in the yard… You see, I thought I could just talk to him, find out what he might have seen, maybe convince him to keep quiet or explain what had happened so he could understand.” Her explanation became more confused as she went on. “And today…I didn’t expect the boy to be here. He doesn’t like crowds and Celia never takes him places like this. I thought he’d be with a sitter, and I could see Robert one last time. I had to come, don’t you see, to beg his forgiveness for what I did?” “But you came armed with a weapon,” Lauren pointed out. “Camilla you’re bringing more trouble on yourself with every move you make. If you give me the gun now, I can fix this. Please, before someone gets hurt.” Lauren slowly reached out her hand. With a sob, Camilla dropped her gun to her side. Lauren stepped forward and took the pistol from her limp hand. Covering her face with her hands, Camilla wept, loud wails that shook her body. As Lauren quietly told the woman her rights, she glanced at Jordan, still standing with Mike’s arms locked around his neck, face buried against his shoulder. “Are you both all right?” she asked when she was finished with Camilla. Jordan nodded. His eyes expressed more sorrow than one person should have to bear. Lauren wanted to alleviate any of that sadness she could, but for the moment all she could do was offer a smile. Her adrenaline rush carried her through the next half hour. First she transferred Camilla into Officer Grady’s care, swearing to the cop he’d hear more from her later about his lax security which had nearly cost lives. When he’d left with the prisoner, Lauren faced the daunting task of telling Celia McKenzie the news.

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She had no idea what the protocol was in such a bizarre situation. She debated waiting until after the viewing was over to destroy the rest of Celia’s illusions about her husband. But too many people had come into the foyer and witnessed Camilla being taken away. Gossip was starting to circulate. Lauren entered the chapel but before she even reached Celia, the woman walked toward her, a frown furrowing her forehead. “What’s happened? Where’s Mike?” “It’s all right. He’s with Mr. Langley in another room. But there’s been a new development in the case. Perhaps the funeral director should make an announcement and end the viewing so I can explain everything to you privately.” For the first time, Lauren appreciated Danny Stipe, who didn’t ask questions, but implemented her plan, quickly dismissing the guests and getting them moving out of the room. Meanwhile, Lauren ushered Celia and the rest of the family into the side chamber where Jordan and Mike waited. Jordan sat on a chair with Mike still wrapped around him like a little monkey. The boy disentangled his arms and legs and climbed down from the man’s lap to run to his mother. She knelt and gathered him into her arms, still frowning at Lauren over the top of his head. “Tell me what happened.” Lauren was used to difficult conversations. It was often her duty to tell people their loved ones had died or even been murdered. Facing the family’s grief and their anger with composure and compassion was probably the most difficult part of her job. It never got any easier. By the time she’d finished explaining everything to Celia and listened to her weeping, the adrenaline had slowly receded from Lauren’s system. Her body was shaky and exhausted, but she couldn’t relax yet. She needed to go to the station and formally interrogate Camilla. Jordan had withdrawn from the room after Lauren began talking to the McKenzies and Stipes. Before she left the building, Lauren went to find him to make sure that he was all right.

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He was alone in another antechamber off the visitation room. He sat on the floor with his forearms resting on his drawn-up knees and his head hanging down. Every line of his body signaled exhaustion. Lauren crouched beside him. “Are you okay?” He lifted his face. His thick bangs fell across his eyes and he pushed them back so they stood up in crazy cowlicks. His skin was corpse pale with dark smudges beneath his eyes, but he gave her a wan smile. “Never better.” “Liar.” She returned the smile. “You look like shit.” Like I feel. “Thanks. You look gorgeous. How do you manage to go through an ordeal like that and still look beautiful?” “Practice,” she quipped. “But seriously, are you going to be all right?” “In a while. I just have to shake it off. Hey, you were amazing in there, talking her down.” “But you were the one who was calming her. I swear I could see you sucking up her pain like some giant vacuum.” “Vacuum?” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but—” Lauren cut him off, leaning in to cup a hand around the back of his neck and press her mouth to his. She moved her lips in soft, nibbling kisses, teasing him to response. His mouth relaxed, growing soft and pliant beneath her lightly stroking tongue. As the heat and intensity of the kisses grew, Lauren opened herself to him. She reached out with her mind and senses and heart, inviting him inside her. Clamping down on her own busy interior life, she tried to become an empty vessel for his emotions to pour into. She pulled him into her arms, offering the comfort of her body and the strength of her support, willing him to release the collective misery that wasn’t even his own. And slowly tendrils of sorrow like vapors of fog seeped into her consciousness. Her heart ached and her body physically hurt from the tastes of acrimony and anger, guilt and gloom that permeated her. “Oh God!” she murmured against his mouth, suppressing a whimper.

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Abruptly Jordan drew away and he let go of her. His eyes opened and he shook his head. “You don’t want this. Believe me.” “No. I do. I want to help you if I can—even a little.” She grabbed his hands, entwining their fingers. “You bear everyone else’s burdens. Now it’s your turn to share your pain with someone. Let it go, Jordan. Give it to me.” She squeezed his hands tight and closed her eyes, and a renewed wave of emotions swept through her. It was like being in a crowded room at a party with the music too loud and people shouting over it. The din of feelings was deafening and overwhelming, but Lauren held firm, absorbing fragments of mostly negative emotions, but some positive ones too. Her head began to ache and her natural instinct was to release the cause of pain, Jordan’s hands. Instead, she sent back feelings of her own, strength and caring to replace what bled out of him. She imagined herself as a sort of intravenous replacement fluid and smiled at the concept, “the IV bag o’ love”. And she took that humor, the relief, joy and pleasure she felt at simply touching Jordan, and shared it all with him. The exchange of feeling was like refracted light trapped in a crystal; it careened back and forth between them. When she finally opened her eyes and returned to herself, Lauren didn’t know if minutes or hours had passed. She was emotionally drained yet uplifted. Joyful and bittersweet, her perspective had shifted and she felt like a different person, but that wasn’t a bad thing. She was ready to change, ready to open herself to the possibility of love and ready to trust her own instincts once more. Sitting back on her heels, she finally let go of Jordan’s hands, but remained gazing into his eyes for a little while longer before she finally spoke. “I have to leave now to take care of business, but…would you be interested in going on a date some time? No guns or criminals, I promise, just dinner and a movie.” Jordan smiled slowly, a lazy curve of his lips that made her want to kiss him again. “I’d like that.”

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Chapter Nine

“Hey, baby.” Lauren’s husky murmur raised gooseflesh on his skin and brought his cock to attention. “Hi. Hard day?” He grabbed her hand, pulling her through the front door and into his arms. She snuggled up tight against his body, her curves fitting his angles like the pair of them was made to mesh together. “They all are. Too long and too damn busy.” She smiled. “But a lot better when I know I’m going to see you at the end of the day.” “Did you have to go to court?” She was just the right height for his chin to rest on top of her head, and her nod bumped his chin. “Yeah. Camilla was on the stand. They’ve been keeping her hidden, and when it’s over, if her plea bargain goes well, she’ll be in Witness Protection instead of prison.” “It’s all pretty fucked up, isn’t it?” He nuzzled and kissed her hair. “She did murder the guy, after all.” “That’s the system. FBI is much more interested in taking down a syndicate than in a simple murder.” “Are they even going to try to get testimony from Mike?” “Probably a taped interview. The kid can’t go on the stand.” “Poor little guy. He’s doing better these days, but he’s still messed up. It’ll be a relief for the family when the whole ordeal is over and they can get on with their lives.” “Mm.” The sound vibrated against the hollow of his throat and her mouth pressed against him there, kissing and licking. “Guess what? I don’t want to talk about anything connected with my work tonight. Why don’t you tell me about your day instead?”

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“Worked on a design in the morning, stopped at the center this afternoon and spent time with the kids, then came home and caught up on some paperwork.” He paused. “And I stopped to look at puppies again. You sure you don’t want to get one?” She pulled away and looked up at him. “It’s your place. If you want one, you should get one.” He growled his annoyance at her continued resistance to the idea, but understood it. A mutual pet meant commitment and even after three months together Lauren was gun shy. “It wouldn’t be my dog. It would be ours. We both live here now.” A small smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I like dogs,” she admitted. Jordan cupped the side of her face and leaned to kiss her soft lips lightly. “Then tomorrow we’ll go look at the litter together.” A hot mixture of desire, pleasure, contentment and happiness surged from her, lapping over him like a tropical surf. She clung to his shoulders and kissed him hard. “I love you,” she mumbled, so low he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. But the pure, blazing light that arched between them let him know he hadn’t imagined the words. And she’d said them first—an abrupt, giant stride forward for Lauren. He smiled down at her and offered them back. “Love you, too.” Her cheeks colored as she shrugged off her jacket and dropped it beside her purse in the foyer. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him with her toward the bedroom. “Less talk. More action.” Obeying her command, Jordan swept her off her feet and carried her the last few yards to lay her on the bed. He stripped in record time then helped her with removing her clothes, pulling her silky red panties down her smooth legs. Every time he saw her naked body, it was a revelation, as if he wasn’t intimately familiar with it by now. Her skin was porcelain fine, unblemished and luminous, especially displayed against the navy blue sheets. He sat on the bed beside her and stroked his hands up and down her body, enjoying the soft, firm texture of her skin, the heat that radiated into his palms and the delicious mixture of emotions that filled him. She was dark and light, sadness and joy,

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vulnerable self-doubt and incredible strength, and he appreciated every aspect because the sum total was an amazing woman. Her nipples thrust up so invitingly, he had to bend down and take one in his mouth while tugging and rolling the other between his finger and thumb. His tongue rolled over the hard nub, teasing it, before he sucked it deeply into his mouth. Lauren’s soft whimper whipped his arousal to a greater height, the quiet, needy sound burning straight through him. Her pleasure filled him, igniting his own. She reached for his cock, her hand wrapping around his girth and simply holding him. Her thumb rubbed it idly while she lifted her breasts toward his suckling mouth. Jordan took her tit between his teeth, knowing how his sharp nips affected her. Lauren loved a little rough treatment of her breasts, a hard squeeze of the round fullness or a punishing pinch of her nipples. She gasped and moaned as he alternated between gentle fondling and harsh twists. His cock ached with her mounting desire which suffused his being. His need and hers bled together until the two of them were one throbbing, lust-drenched being. When they reached this state, which was usually almost immediately during lovemaking, it would be all too easy for Jordan to jump on her and pound her into the mattress. It took considerable willpower to make sex last when escalating, mutual hunger kicked in. He released her tit from his mouth and sucked in a breath before lavishing the other with the same loving, punishing treatment. He put up a mental block, shutting out some of the incoming sensations and reining in his own libido, while he left her chest and kissed his way down Lauren’s stomach. She wiggled beneath his tickling mouth, and her skin tightened and twitched when he dipped his tongue in her navel. He licked a snail trail down her belly to the little landing strip of hair that marked her pussy, then paused to breathe in her aroma, musky and feminine. His mouth salivated for a taste of her, but he decided to play a little first. Small, puckers of his lips against her inner thighs and all around her crotch were all he’d give her as she whined and arched her hips, begging for more.

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He slipped his finger along her seam, teasing between the soft folds to find her wet opening. He traced around it, delicately, carefully, causing her infinite frustration and yearning. More. More. The pleading for a firmer touch flooded him and he gave into the pressure, probing one finger, two, then three inside her. Her muscles clenched around them, drawing them deeper. And, as he thrust them in and out, he finally bent to flick his tongue over her erect clit. Lauren’s sigh of relief was audible both to his ears and inside his head. He licked the bud with steady strokes that brought her closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. Random flashes of pleasure gathered and grew stronger, combining like single threads into a strong rope that tugged on a place deep inside her. He could draw her climax out of her. A few more thrusts of his fingers and laps of his tongue would bring her to it. She was thrusting against him, moaning and lifting her hips. Jordan loved this moment when his lover trembled on the verge and he had the power to give her bliss. It was a simple act yet deeply moving. Breathing her in, he paused a moment just to hear her whimper of disappointment, to feel her hands clutching at his head, urging him onward. Then he withdrew his fingers from inside her, splayed both hands over her hips and held her while his tongue lapped feverishly over her clit. She arched up and wailed as the tension burst and a flood of ecstasy overtook her…and him. His cock was like steel, aching with the need to come. He thrust into the bedding, rubbing, desperate for relief while Lauren’s juices burst across his tongue. He lapped inside her, feasting on her flavor, then returned to her clit to give it a last soft lick. Twisting away, she clamped her legs together. Her nerve endings were so sensitized, the mere touch hurt. And he could feel that, too. He couldn’t wait, not a second longer. He had to be inside her now. Jordan moved up beside her and guided his cock to her. She was open, wet and ready for him, sliding onto his shaft in an easy glide, taking him in all the way to the hilt. After giving her a quick kiss, he pulled back so he could see her face. He liked making love like this, on their sides, as if they were having a silent conversation between their bodies.

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The position didn’t allow for much movement, no frantic thrusting. It was a leisurely coupling, intimate and personal. He skated his hand down her arm from shoulder to wrist, then linked their fingers together. Unblocking the defensive screen he’d raised between them, Jordan let his feelings flow into her. He wanted her to know how happy, satisfied, complete…and how aroused she made him. With a little gasp, Lauren closed her eyes and received the influx of his emotion. Fulfilled, blissful, content, she telegraphed back to him. He knew exactly how good his cock felt to her, stretching and filling her inside, becoming a part of her body, a missing piece found. And the physical sensation was tied to an emotional equivalent of coming home. This was love. She loved him profoundly, even if she was still reluctant to say it except in a grudging mutter. He moved inside her again, pulling out and thrusting in, slow and easy. The friction on his cock, already throbbing with tension, brought him closer to the edge. Feeling Lauren’s orgasm had nearly tipped his, and it was only with a great effort of will that he could keep himself from plunging and rutting like an animal. But he maintained control, sweating with the effort, breathing hard and continuing to ease in and out of her in steady strokes. Her eyes opened and she looked at him. The pale hazel of her irises was swallowed in the dark dilation of her pupils. Her lips were parted and her breath whispered over moist lips. She met his thrusts with rocking hips. Her hand gripped the blade of his hip and pulled him to her. Jordan felt something happening within her, another rumor of ecstasy solidifying into fact. Vague pleasure became concentrated bliss, growing, swelling, yearning each time he entered her and hit a mysterious sweet spot deep inside. “Fuck me hard now,” she murmured, the words nearly a whimper of pleading. His control broke then. With an animal grunt, he rolled her onto her back and mounted her, thrusting hard and deep. No more seductive exchange. No more slow and steady. He unleashed his primal desires and possessed her body. Mine, mine, mine drummed with every beat of his heart, every plunge of his cock. He felt powerful and a

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little dangerous. The slap of naked flesh on flesh and Lauren’s soft, feminine moans and whimpers goaded him to greater heights. Now! His balls drew tight and the ratcheting tension burst, glory rushing through him. He cried out and became one with the pulsing in his cock as wave after wave of pleasure overcame him. His arms shook with the effort of supporting his weight and he collapsed on top of her, covering her body. Heat pooled between them and sweat from their exertion melded them together. The lingering fragments of erotic delight settled into a calm, quiet peace that suffused them both. After a while, Jordan rolled off her and lay by her side, still breathing hard and gazing vacantly up at the ceiling. “Was it good for you?” he quipped, grinning at the obvious sarcasm of the old line. She seesawed her hand in the air. “Meh. I’ve had better.” He laughed and turned on his side to face her. “No you haven’t.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss it. “And you never will.” “Have I mentioned how much I despise cocky men?” “Only speaking the truth.” He kissed her hand, then set it on her belly as he sat up in bed and reached for his phone on the nightstand. After placing a pizza order, he lay beside her again, drawing Lauren’s body into the curve of his. “Have you given any more thought to finding another job?” he asked. “I’m still considering…if the right opportunity comes up. Although I’d feel bad leaving. I’ve worked so hard to get where I’m at.” “But if where you’re at isn’t where you want to be…” He let the thought trail off. In the end, she’d have to decide on her own whether she wanted to continue the highpressure life of an urban investigator or shift her career to small-town police work. He wouldn’t influence her, even if he thought he knew what was best for her. That was something he had to guard against given how closely meshed they were. Sometimes his desires and needs bled into Lauren’s and vice versa until it was hard to tell which feelings were originally one’s own. It was important they maintain their own

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opinions, uncolored or clouded by the other. Yet another challenge of their unique relationship. They lay talking and cuddling while minutes slipped by. He told her about his day at the UIC Center for Learning and Neurodevelopment, where he now volunteered a few hours each week. He could connect with the kids in ways the doctors couldn’t fathom, reaching them on deeper levels than he’d ever share with the staff. If those medical types knew what he could do, they’d want to pick his brain apart to find out how it worked. “What you’re doing for those kids is wonderful,” Lauren said, shifting a little beneath the weight of his arm and “accidentally” rubbing her ass against his groin. “Not any more than what they do for me.” He was embarrassed by her praise and tweaked her nipple to divert her attention from him. The doorbell rang, and he jumped out of bed and into a pair of sweats to answer it. The pizza delivery guy was the same kid who’d stood on his doorstep three months ago on the night his life had veered like a pinball in a new direction. “Hi. How much do I owe you?” Jordan opened his wallet. The kid’s eyes were red-rimmed and the sweet, burnt odor of weed emanating from his clothes vied with the rich aroma of hot pizza. “Uh, nineteen dollars and eighty-five cents.” Jordan offered him twenty-five. When the boy reached for the money, he made sure to touch his hand. Be happy. He beamed good vibrations with all the energy he could muster, witnessing the effect in the youth’s startled eyes and sudden, goofy smile. Knowing he could give as well as take away from people was a new and powerful feeling. It was an aspect of his gift he wished he’d been aware of a long time ago, but maybe he hadn’t been ready then. Now he was. “Have a nice night. Drive safe.” “Sure. Thanks.” The pizza guy’s grin transformed his narrow-eyed face so it radiated goodwill rather than gloom. As he turned to walk down the sidewalk, his shoulders were straighter, his body no longer slouching. “Don’t smoke too much,” Jordan called after him, before closing the door.

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He turned and called out, “Pizza’s here.” “Leave it in the kitchen,” Lauren’s voice drifted from the bedroom. “Come here first because I think…yep, I’m pretty sure I need to fuck you again.” He laughed and went to obey her command. Be happy.

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About the Author

Whether writing historical, contemporary, paranormal or suspense, I’m primarily interested in the psychology of the main characters. I find the most entertaining aspect of a story is figuring out what makes these individuals unique as well as watching them change between the beginning and the end of the story. To learn more about Bonnie Dee, please visit http://bonniedee.com. Send an email to Bonnie Dee at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Bonnie Dee. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/bonniedee.

Look for these titles by Bonnie Dee

Now Available: Evolving Man Blackberry Pie Opposites Attract Perfecting Amanda The Valentine Effect The Countess Takes a Lover The Final Act

Coming Soon: The Countess Lends a Hand The Thief and the Desert Flower

He’s rich, single, sexy and…oh, yeah. Undead.

Obey Me © 2008 Paige Cuccaro A Gifted story.

Sophie Merlo dreams of becoming an international journalism star. Until her uncanny nose for news leads her into the path of a brutal serial killer. Now she’d be happy just to survive the week. Alex wants only one answer from Sophie—how she wormed her way into his exclusive vampires-only club, something no human should be able to do. He thinks he’s being set up in a string of murders, and he’s got a good idea who it is—Octavius, his long-time, bitter rival. Only Octavius could figure out how to leave Alex’s distinctive mark behind on the victims’ throats. One drop of Alex’s saliva on Sophie’s skin has her babbling a river, swimming in desire for him—and agreeing to use her persuasive powers to help find the real murderer. Caught in the middle of a century-old feud between two rival vampires, there are only three things Sophie knows for sure: One of them is a killer. The other wants to take her to bed. And they’re both lying. If she can’t figure out who’s lying about what soon, her career hopes could vanish. Right along with her last drop of blood.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Obey Me: “Do you know? Do you understand what it is I want to do to you?” His breath warmed across my mouth, the hint of wine and some other tempting spice I couldn’t name filled my nose, rippled down my throat to breeze through my lungs. “Yes. You…you want to take my…blood.” He lifted his chin and pressed a kiss to my forehead. The skin beneath his lips warmed instantly with a heat that went beyond simple body temperature. It seemed to

ripple all along my skin working its way through my body like a drug. “That’s right. But do you understand what the feel of it will do to us?” I swallowed again, my eyes closed, my nose brushing under his chin breathing in the sweet powdery scent of his cologne, his lips feathering against my forehead. “Blood lust.” The words were barely audible. “Lust. Raw and powerful. To lose all abandon. You won’t be able to stop. You must be sure, Sophie…now.” He leaned back just enough to watch my face. I nodded, uncertain my voice would be heard. “I’m sure.” I held my breath. His gaze focused on my mouth again and my lips parted an instant before he pressed his kiss. The taste of him filled my mouth, cinnamon and sweet wine, the flavor swirled over my tongue, warmed down my throat like a fine liqueur. Delicious heat spread like a blaze gone wild, burning me up from the inside, igniting every nerve ending, awakening my body so my muscles pulled tight, need coiled low and my thighs trembled. His muscles flexed under my hands pulling me closer, tighter. His kiss deepened and my mind swam with the feel of his tongue exploring my mouth, his fingers denting my back, gripping my head, holding me…like prey. I felt consumed and wanted more, but he pulled himself back, trailing his lips along my cheek, nibbling my ear, teasing his teeth over my neck. I shuddered, each scrape of his teeth sending a fast pulse through my sex. Hot and wet with lust, I squirmed in his arms, fumbling with the buttons down his shirt. Alex pulled back enough to help, shrugging the white cotton off his shoulders, allowing only a moment for me to work his belt and zipper before his hands slipped up to my shoulders. I unfastened the button of his slacks so they loosened around his narrow hips just as he hooked his fingers on the edge of my dress and slid the red elastic tube off my shoulders and down my arms, letting it fall down my legs to pool on the floor around my feet. I was left wearing only a pair of lace boy-cut panties and my high-heeled shoes. Both matched the dress. The neckline had been too low to allow for a bra. Alex’s blue eyes took me in, lingering over me from head to toe as though a picture were being drawn in his mind. My heart thundered in my chest, muscles so tight my

breaths came in soft, shallow pants. I wanted his lips on mine again, his arms around me, the heat of his hard body pressed to mine. “Alex…” I fought not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. His eyes met mine and the heat of his stare nearly took my breath. He swept in and pressed another searing kiss to my lips then bent lower to capture my breast in his mouth. I gasped as the warmth of his venom penetrated through the pores on the sensitive flesh. The gentle massage of his hand turned my knees to rubber. I wrapped my arm around his head, held him to me as he suckled my breast, tugging the hard nipple into his mouth. Would he bite me there? A wave a desire swamped through me and I moaned out loud at the thought, arching my back, pressing my flesh deeper into his mouth. I wanted to feel his teeth sink into me, to feel the rush of blood as it spilled from my body into his. Somewhere in the distant parts of my brain, I felt his hands at my hips, the soft chafe of my lace panties sliding down my thighs, tickling the tops of my feet, hooking on my high heels. I shifted to toe off my shoes, but Alex’s arm clutched around my waist, stilled me instantly. “Leave them on,” he said, his voice rough and sexy. He gazed up at me, the scruff of his day-old beard scraping my nipple as he spoke. My breath caught at the maddening mix of pain and pleasure, and all I could do was nod. He lowered his face to my body again, kissing and nipping, the teasing promise of his bite spinning my mind, churning a firestorm of desire through my veins. He tasted my body, kissing the bottom round of my breast, slipping lower to the tip of my breastbone, then lower still to my belly. He sank to his knees and finally, in a heart-stopping instant, he pressed a kiss to the coarse hairs at my sex. With a firm wet lick, he traced his tongue between the sensitive lips. The sensation buckled my knees and in a move far too quick and fluid for me to track, he stood, scooping me into his arms, driving me backwards toward my bedroom. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my high heels catching his back, snagging the belt loop of his slacks. An instant later Alex was on top of me, his body pinning me to my mattress. He kissed me hard, driving his tongue into my mouth, filling me with the taste of him, the

heady burn of his venom. I arched my hips, felt the hard line of his erection trapped beneath layers of cloth. My skin hummed with the feel of his kiss pulsing through my veins, my body moist and ready for him. I reached for his slacks, the tight elastic of his underwear…and pushed. Alex ground his hips against me, triggered my body to push back, wanting the hardness of him to fill me. I pushed at his clothes again, nudged them to the highest curve of his ass. His stiff sex and the press of his body against mine kept the material from slipping lower. Enough. I wanted him inside me and with a small point of my high-heeled shoe, I snagged underwear and slacks alike, and shoved them down his thick muscled legs. Alex pushed up on stiff arms, shifting his legs, kicking and pulling himself free of his clothes. His erection thudded against my groin, brushing through the hairs at my sex again and again. I reached down and took hold, feeling his thickness, caressing his length. Alex stilled for a moment, then rocked his hips, enhancing my strokes. His was thick and long, but the velvet skin wasn’t as taut as it could be, it wrinkled and gathered at the head moving with my hand. His body didn’t possess enough blood, his heart too weak and slow to flood his penis. He was hard enough to do the job, but he’d never reach satisfaction this way. I flicked my gaze to his and found him staring into my eyes, reading me.

Tending the Spirit has never been so sexy.

Future Found © 2008 Mima A Claimed story.

As a tree singer, it is Shay-non’s duty—and pleasure—to tend the chi of the few remaining trees left after the Cataclysm. Even if it means enduring the life-sucking presence of the greedy cybernetic elites who own them. But the moment she steps into Elite Sandor’s compound, he throws her world into disarray. Instantly, she finds herself tricked into twenty-four hours as his sexual “guest”, an infuriating prospect. Then he lets her see, but not touch, the magnificent oak in his possession. An oak that shouldn’t exist. For one moment with the tree, she’ll do anything—even submit to Sandor’s attentions. Sand has waited years for Shay’s unmet sexual needs to weaken her defenses enough to make his move. The time is ripe to begin a spiritual revolution, plus convince the lovely singer he has always loved her from afar—all in one day’s time. A daunting task, especially since her earthy sexuality has him making all sorts of deviations from his plan. Now that he has her captive, he can only pray. That she’ll agree to help him defy the Council and raise an illegal forest temple. And that she’ll see past his sensual blackmail into his heart. Warning: This book includes brief references to m/m and ménage relationships. Some readers may be disturbed by references to a death during sex. There’s also sex involving a tree that will forever make you smile when you hear the term “tree-hugger”.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Future Found: He stopped while the droid laid out the eating cloth and set the food precisely in the middle. Then it left. And he was still staring. She was on the altar, unveiled. The opalescence of her skin was more glorious than the silver veil. Kneeling with her legs splayed, he could clearly make out her sex below her spread ass. Her cheeks rested on her

heels, her back arched, her hands reaching gracefully up into the cone of light. The crown of her ruby hair faced him since her head was thrown back in apparent ecstasy. It was worth the cost of the sunshine bulb he’d installed. He walked around her, within touching distance. Her belly was adorable. Her nipples were hard, bitty berries. The position she held flattened her breasts to merest swells. At mouth level. Slowly, her hands drifted down and rested on those splayed thighs. She rolled her head forward to look down at him. He’d meant to initiate the contract after a meal and some conversation to reassure her. But the plan could tolerate this new deviation. “Shay-non, you are unveiled before me.” His voice sounded husky but he didn’t care. Let her see that his attraction was more than the plan needed. “Sand, I initiate this contract.” He did not think about the plan, his goals, his faith or his tree. He thought about the impact of those eyes without a veil between them. That skin, blushing in the strong light. That musk scent rising from her spread thighs. Those blood-red, lickable nipples. Wait. Wait for her. It must be her. His eyes flitted from one part of her to another, dazzled by her reality. Curves, everywhere. His cock fattened. An eternity later, her hand rose toward him. His gaze flew to hers, but she was staring at his hair. She reached out like a slowed, half-time vid. Her touch landed on his hair near his left ear. He watched her eyes dilate, the brown fading from chocolate to black. He saw the tremor of her long lashes, her lips break open revealing a row of tiny white teeth. He was lifting in his pants, the cotton catching him. Her fingers threaded into his hair and touched his scalp. He could feel each of the three fingertips. She pulled her hand down through his layers, behind his ear, heat scalding the rim. A hectic red appeared on her cheekbones that had been too pale. She hesitated at the bottom, then her thumb gently trapped his earlobe and rubbed it with her forefinger. He was so aware of how it was fleshy, and hot, in her firm grip. His head spun as his cock abruptly hardened. Her gaze moved along the line of his jaw, and he felt her focus on his mouth like a physical touch. His own lips parted, fascinated, as the blush on her face spread down her

neck. His earlobe was abandoned when she delved in a sweep along the curve of his ear. His breath began to come heavier. The head of him was rubbing against the soft waistband. Her fingers moved where her gaze had, all of them trailing along, petting his lips, the outer edge, the inner skin. Rotating her hand, she sent her palm gliding on the sensitive skin under his chin while her thumb tested the edge of his teeth, boldly daring his lips. He froze absolutely still when she held her breath. She pushed her thumb into his mouth and he closed his lips over the joint while his tongue curled and sucked. The blush cascaded onto her chest, and his gaze followed it. Her other hand lifted to touch herself, hesitated, middle finger a breath from her nipple. He sucked gently, scraped his tongue over her nail. Her nails scored restlessly against the line of his throat. She took her thumb from his mouth and laid her hand on his shoulder, her damp touch painting the hollow above his collarbone. Then she closed her eyes as she delicately played over her nipple. He watched her face, now flushed. Her eyes tossed behind her lids. He studied her fingers, how she dragged the edge of a nail over the tip, how she barely touched herself, sometimes tracing the lower swell where her breast met her torso. His dick bounced. Her grip tightened on his shoulder, nails biting suddenly, as she trailed those fingers down her sternum, over her belly, and hovered over her split lips. Open your eyes. See me. He didn’t say it. But she answered his plea. She gave the faintest gasp at catching his gaze. She wasn’t focusing as well as he. Her lashes fluttered like the rarest butterflies. Her lips were so plump and ripe. His mouth burst with saliva. Her hand lightened its grip on his shoulder, soothed the shirt over the muscle there with a swirl of sensation. Then she dragged her palm flat down onto his pec and ground her heel into his nipple. His balls churned and boiled. Her eyes looked dazed as she watched her hand massage him, gripping the fabric and his muscle, fingertips pattering over the whole sweep of his chest. Finally, she stilled with her thumb pressing hard against his nipple. He was still watching her face, the want on it making him fiercely glad, when she looked up and met his eyes again. His breath hitched. Hers looked blank now, wild.

He steeled himself as her weight increased, pressing against him. She rose up higher onto her knees. She paused, gathering her balance, taking a deep breath, then looked down at her lower hand hovering over herself. He had no choice but to follow the slender line of her arm down past her breasts.

Who is learning more…the novice? Or the master?

The Countess Takes a Lover © 2008 Bonnie Dee Countess Meredith du Chevalier, a widow with a reputation for being sexually adventurous, is intrigued when she is approached by a gentleman who wishes her to “make a man” of his son. Sensing a passionate man beneath Christopher Whitby’s reserved exterior, Meredith takes on the challenge, inviting the botanist to her country home to revitalize her abandoned greenhouse. Chris finds people to be a chaotic, animalistic species, and has chosen to devote his life to the study of plants. One kiss from the vivacious countess, however, and his inner animal is aroused. But lust is only a fraction of what he feels for the vulnerable woman hiding behind a brittle façade. He resolves to coax her to grow until her petals unfurl in a glorious bloom. To her surprise, Meredith finds Chris brings much more to life than just fallow soil. But just as their love begins to thrive, he learns about the secret arrangement. Meredith must risk her heart for the most dangerous lesson of all—love.

Enjoy the following excerpt for The Countess Takes a Lover: Despite what his father thought, Chris was neither a fool nor particularly naïve. He’d known when he agreed to come to the countess’s estate that it was not merely to examine her greenhouse. The kisses at the Botanical Gardens had clarified that. It had taken him a few days of consideration to decide whether he was ready to accept what she offered, but he was tired of his celibate life, tired of imagining what intimate congress with a woman might be like, tired of holding to some high ideal of intellectualism over base urges that he’d set for himself. Yes, he’d known when he responded to her invitation what he was letting himself in for. Meredith du Chevalier was a sophisticated, experienced woman who took her pleasure whenever and wherever she chose and for some reason she’d chosen him. He was damned well going to take advantage of her tutoring in the art of lovemaking.

What he hadn’t counted on was how quickly things would escalate from a few kisses to her taking him by the hand and nearly dragging him upstairs to her bedchamber. Not that he didn’t want to go. But his head spun with the heady liquor of lust, or perhaps from the lack of oxygen due to kissing, and he wished he might have a moment to get his bearings before the act began. There was her bed, the tall posts draped in blue fabric, the white and blue coverlet pulled back invitingly. In a few moments they were going to be lying together on it. He would be inside her body. His cock swelled in anticipation yet at the same time his stomach twisted. What if he didn’t do it right? What if he made a fool of himself by exhibiting his virginal inexperience? Oh God, he wished he’d taken his father up on that offer of practicing with a prostitute. He would surely reveal his incompetence, perhaps move too fast or release too soon, or worse, lose his momentum completely. She turned to him, her eyes bright and a smile playing over her lips. Her black hair had fallen completely loose from its pins due to his hands being plunged into it. She looked charming with the curls framing her heart-shaped face. Her jonquil-colored dress was like a ray of sunshine in the dim room, which was shuttered against the heat of the day. The slats of the shutters were open just enough to let in a faint breeze and a few rays of light that illuminated the elegant furnishings and plush carpet. “Are you ready?” The countess stroked the side of his face. “You look uncomfortable.” “No. I’m fine. I’m ready.” He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart. Once more she curled her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down to her as she rose up on the balls of her feet, reminding him of how short she was. “Just kiss me. The rest will follow naturally,” she whispered, before blending her lips with his. He closed his eyes and did as she bid, and of course, she was right. It felt good and natural to hold her in his arms. His hands knew what to do, where to touch, how to stroke up her back and then down again to hold her rear. Her buttocks were buried beneath layers of fabric but he still felt a thrill at the unbelievable liberty of touching them. He pulled her tight against the hard erection filling the front of his breeches. It was nearly

painful in its throbbing need. The yielding softness of her body both relieved and made the ache even worse. He needed to be inside her, not rubbing against her. He kissed her mouth, slipping his tongue between soft lips to touch hers. She teased him, darting her tongue out and pulling it back in a little game that made him smile. He’d never realized playfulness might be a part of lovemaking. After kissing her softly and gently then hard and deep for several minutes, he pulled his mouth from hers and moved it to her neck. The smooth, warm skin beneath his lips, the pulse of life in her throat and the salty taste of her skin sent new waves of desire coursing through him. He licked down the column of her throat and along her delicate collarbones. Her soft intake of air, such a sweet, feminine sound, made him feel strong, powerful and very masculine. He dared to dip his mouth lower, to kiss the flat plane of her chest down to the soft swell of her cleavage. The top mounds of her breasts pushed up by her tight bodice were displayed in a tempting froth of lace that framed them like a picture. He kissed them. By God, his mouth was on her breasts and they were so incredibly soft. Their plump fullness yielded to the pressure of his lips. They were scented with rosewater and he thought he would never again smell a rose without thinking of her breasts. Her hands threaded through his hair, pushing on his head slightly and encouraging his exploration of her breasts. “You may remove my dress,” she murmured, tugging on his hair to pull him away. Chris straightened and the countess turned her back to him that he might unfasten the row of hooks down the back of her bodice. His hands felt huge and clumsy as he concentrated on the painstaking assignment. He was in too much of a hurry and his fingers trembled from nervous excitement. Giving an impatient grunt, he considered ripping the dress open. “Patience, ma petite.” She laughed and her smooth white shoulders shook. “Open your present slowly. Savor each moment.” He resumed the task and this time followed her advice, bending to kiss each inch of flesh as it was revealed. She wore no corset beneath her high-waist dress, just a light

camisole, the fabric so sheer it revealed her rosy skin. He kissed her right through the cloudy material, his mouth wetting it and molding it to her flesh. As soon as he had enough hooks unfastened, he peeled the bodice down her body while she pulled her arms from the small, puffed sleeves. He pushed the dress over the flare of her hips and let it fall to the floor in a pool around her feet. Within seconds he had her camisole peeled off, too, and turned her to face him. Other than white marble statues in a museum, he’d never seen a naked woman. The mystery of the soft mounds a woman’s décolletage only teasingly advertised was revealed to his sight. His breath caught as his gaze riveted on the pale globes of flesh, small and high with rosy aureoles and peaked nipples centered in each. They were lovely. He thought he could simply feast on the sight of them for hours, but his body had other ideas. His hands reached for them and his tongue swept over his lips, eager to taste them. Touching her breasts tenderly, he stroked the flesh, as soft as a kid glove, feeling the texture beneath his fingertips. Then he cupped one in each hand and tested the weight and firmness. Finally he could resist no longer and drew one erect tip into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over it and sucked lightly. Such bliss! He never stopped to worry if he was doing it right, and the countess moaned softly, assuring him that she was pleased. While his tongue laved the slope of her breast and suckled her nipple, he continued to fondle her other breast, rolling the tip between his thumb and forefinger lightly. “You can pinch a little. I don’t mind.” Chris glanced up to meet her eyes, the dark gray of a stormy sky. “A little pain mixed with the pleasure is a good thing.” She smiled. “As long as the lady wants it.”

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