Black Aura (18 page)

About the Author

Sometimes people grow up and sometimes some of us only partially grow up. As a child Jaycee had imaginary friends and worlds. She, like everyone else, assumed she’d outgrow it. Now she knows her friends grew up with her and want their stories told. When she’s not plotting murder and mayhem, Jaycee tries to keep up with her boys, stay ahead at work, and make certain her assignments in communications and science disorders are turned in on time. She does have to take breaks from all the above for the really fun stuff like laundry, dishes and yard work.

Jaycee lives in Texas with her family, two cats, two corgis and a fluctuating number of betas.

To learn more about Jaycee Clark, please visit
www.jayceeclark.com
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Look for these titles by Jaycee Clark

Now Available:

Angel Eyes

Talons: Firebird

He searches, waits and watches for the perfect one…

Angel Eyes

© 2006 Jaycee Clark

Psychic Cora O’Donnell doesn’t care what the majority of people think about her. She’s got her successful new age shop, Mystic Moons, and dark, strange dreams keeping her busy.

Rogan Duran, ex-special ops, is tracking a killer he swore he’d find if it took him the rest of his life. What he doesn’t plan on is a woman he thinks is weird. Rogan tells himself he’s just sticking around to keep Cora safe. Cora doesn’t want anything to do with the know-it-all, she just wants her peace back, and no amount of yoga is giving it to her.

But she can’t argue with one fact. There is a killer out there and not only can she sense him, she’s got what he wants…eyes a pale hypnotic blue. She knows sooner or later she’ll be the next woman the killer goes after…

The one with Angel Eyes…

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Angel Eyes:

The bell above her door chimed and Cora looked up.

All afternoon she’d only had five customers stop in, but then it was midweek and that was life. She knew closer to the weekend things always picked up. Which was why she was closed on Tuesdays and closed early on Wednesdays at four instead of five. It was now three fifty- three.

She sighed. Oh well, if she could get a sale, that was all that mattered.

Hell.

It was him.

Faded and worn Levi’s, their starched crease arrow straight, stretched over long legs and trim hips. Black boots. A long sleeved, dark red shirt under a chambray shirt with a button missing and a brown leather jacket tossed over his arm. She looked across the street and noticed the Harley hadn’t moved. Was it his? She’d bet it was. His face was weathered and creased from life or worry—perhaps both. Deep lines bracketed his mouth and eyes, his forehead. She wondered, for some absurd reason, if he ever smiled.

His eyes were a dark, chocolate brown. A color she’d always thought of as soft, but his were hard, unwavering and a bit unnerving. His brows, dark as his hair, faintly arched over his eyes, his nose was Romanesque and slightly crooked as if it’d been broken in the past. As he neared, she noticed again the scar splitting his left eyebrow. His mouth was firm, the lips neither full nor too thin. His neck was thick and corded, his shoulders probably the same.

Cora sighed. Just as before in the coffee shop, she felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room and she couldn’t decide if she wanted to stay or run.

The soft mood music she had on chimed from speakers, the birds chirping, the piano soothing. It seemed contradictory to the mood that suddenly filled the shop.

“Can—” She cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

His dark, unwavering gaze skewered her to the spot, narrowing and crinkling at the edges.

Then he smiled and it completely changed his entire countenance. The worry and seriousness lining his face seemed to relax as he walked closer.

Cora was glad for the counter between them.

“I don’t know, maybe you can.” He looked around the shop as he stopped at the counter. “What is this place?”

“Mystic Moons,” she answered, standing now and straightening the area around the cash register.

“I got that. I wanted to know what it specializes in.”

“Natural products. Shampoos, soaps, all organic and from age-old recipes. Things our grandmothers would have used or great-grandmothers in many cases.” She walked over and glanced at him. “Books on herbs. Here’s some rosemary.” She pointed to the potted plant.

He grinned at her again, his head tilting to the side. “Anyone ever told you, you have amazing eyes.”

She rolled hers. “No, never.” Cora walked back to the counter and let him cruise. What was he doing here? She knew it wasn’t to buy any new age mysticism.

“I hear you’re psychic,” he said, picking up a green marble orb from its pedestal of silver trees.

This time she sighed. “And?”

He turned and pierced her with those eyes. Cora shivered and rubbed her arms, holding his stare, though she wanted to look away. “So do you do like…” He frowned and put the orb back. She noticed his fingers were long, scarred and the nails blunt. The cuffs from his red shirt peeked out from under the chambray sleeves. “Do you?”

His question jerked her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, do what?”

“Do you tell fortunes?”

What a pity. If ever she met a man who might understand, he wasn’t it.

“And if I do?”

He shrugged. “Personally, I’ve never held much stock in fortunes that are yet to be made or lost.”

She huffed a breath and shoved a wayward curl behind her ear and strode to the bookshelf. “You in town for long?”

For a minute he didn’t answer. Then he said, “Depends.”

He had a deep voice. Why hadn’t she noticed before? And it mattered why?

It didn’t.

Without looking at him directly, she pulled a book off the bookshelf. Pagan Beliefs and the Resurgence in Modern Civilization. That should do it. She handed it to him. “Here, you can buy this and then let me know all the answers.”

“But aren’t psychics supposed to know all the answers?”

She glanced at him, angered, yet not surprised. Turning back to the bookshelf she grabbed Harper’s Guide to the Psyche: Sensitives. “Here’s another one. That’ll be…” she quickly added it up in her head, “…thirty-three dollars. Though I need to add tax.”

His lips twitched as if he wanted to laugh at her, but didn’t. Instead he took the book she held out to him and stacked it with the other one. “I’d like to look around a bit more.”

Cora glanced at the clock. It was already after four. “Fine.”

She walked to the door and turned the sign over so it read Closed to the outside world. Looking out over the street, she shivered and an image from an old nightmare rose up.

Eyes in jars…

Pretty, pretty angels…

Again she shivered and looked back at the man in her store. Where did he come from? What did he want? And why did she think of her stupid dream now? She’d only had it that once, but it had stayed with her.

A slow grin lit his face. Rolling her eyes, she walked back to the counter. A klutz. Lake would laugh her ass off. Here was the first cute guy in a long while. She glanced back over her shoulder to see him trying out different worry stones and had to admire the way his ass filled out the pair of Levi’s.

“You are in sad, sad shape, Cora O’Donnell.”

“Did you say something?” He unscrewed the top of another bottle and took a whiff.

“No.” She checked the register and rearranged the packaging. Okay, straightened the clear tape and restacked the bolts of ribbon. She could dust the shelves, but she already did.

Cora glanced back over her shoulder, watching him. He moved around the shop, picking up this or that, unfurling material swaths, the few dresses she carried, tie-dyed and slip-like. Then he moved onto the incense. She watched as he picked up the passion one and sniffed.

He sneezed.

She smiled.

He looked at her with an arched brow and rubbed his nose. Then he gestured to the entire shop. “People really buy into all this crap, don’t they?”

She narrowed her gaze at him and propped her elbows on the counter. “Why did you stop in here again?”

He rubbed his nose and strolled to the counter. He set the books down and leaned on his elbows as well. “To see you.”

She straightened. “Well, you’ve seen me.” She quickly rang up the total for the books.

“The lady down the way said you were psychic.”

She’d kill Lake later.

Cora waited. “You going to get those books or not?”

“Don’t you know?”

She closed her eyes. “The narrow-minded ass will probably buy the books so he can disprove every point in them.” She opened her eyes and smiled at him.

A slight smile played at the edge of his mouth. He dug forty dollars out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”

He walked out, pulling shades from his pocket and slipping them on.

Cora let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She hurried over and locked the door. The sun was already low in the sky. She wanted to be home before it set. She didn’t like the dark. Not lately.

She stood back from the door, looking out the big picture window and watching as he climbed on his Harley and revved it up. She’d never ridden a motorcycle, let alone a Harley. And he looked liked he knew how to handle that bike.

Shadows were creeping out. She sighed and rubbed her arms, chilled now that she was alone.

Something was coming. What or who, she didn’t know, but it was in the air—dark, thick and threatening.

Kia must learn to trust—before the evil in her house destroys them all.

Shadows of Evil

© 2008 Cheryel Hutton

For Kia Wolfe, moving to an isolated mountaintop is an act of independence from her demanding family and ex-fiancé. She’s literally dreamed about the regal old house for years, and for the first time in her life she feels at home. She’s here to stay, even though the house’s history of violent deaths is enough to scare off most people.

Garrett McKnight, owner of the contracting firm Kia has hired to renovate her house, is wary of the new resident. Emotionally bruised and battered by a self-centered ex-wife, he can’t get around the fact that there’s something about Kia that both attracts him and sets him on edge. And when Kia dabbles in a bit of Wicca, accidentally unleashing a hidden evil, it’s tempting to walk away and leave her to her to her fate.

But he can’t. Not when four people have died in that house.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Shadows of Evil:

Interest grew large and demanding inside her. Kia leaned against the opposite counter and eyed the man in front of her. “Okay, so tell me about the history of my house.”

She sipped her own beer as she watched his expression. He was thinking about how much to tell her, of that she was sure.

“People died here,” he finally said.

Now that was interesting information. “Really, how?”

“A father and two sons were attacked by an animal right in the front yard.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll watch out for marauding bunnies.” She took a long drink of her beer to hide the smile.

He sent a narrow-eyed look her way. “A couple who lived here in the seventies was killed by an escaped criminal.”

“I’m careful, and I have Dracula to protect me.”

The dog barked to second her assessment.

“Ms. Wolfe—”

“Kia.”

She heard him sigh. “Kia, I’m trying to tell you that you might not be safe out here alone.”

She put the back of her hand against her forehead and leaned dramatically against the counter. “I’m just a poor little woman in this big old house all alone. Oh thank you, kind sir, for trying to protect me.”

“It isn’t funny.”

She put her hand down, and saw irritation along with what looked like true concern on his face. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

He nodded before he turned up the last of his beer.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dreaded wardrobe smirking at her from the living room door. She took a pull on her beer to cover her smile. “Hey, cowboy. I bet all that physical labor you do makes you good and strong.”

He eyed her as if he didn’t trust her. Good instincts. “Reasonably.”

“Good, ’cause I need some help.”

“Does this ‘help’ involve heavy furniture by any chance?”

She nodded. “There’s this horrible old wardrobe that just won’t budge for little ol’ me.” She batted her eyes in his direction.

He sighed. “Where is it?”

She smiled her prettiest smile, and led him to the offending piece. “When I got this thing, I didn’t realize how heavy it was.”

He gave it an experimental push. “You’re not kidding. What’s this thing made of, lead?”

She took hold of the other side. “Yep, it’s where I keep the kryptonite.”

He caught her gaze and grinned. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m immune.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, cowboy.”

It took a lot of struggle on both their parts to move the wardrobe twenty feet across the foyer and into the parlor/bedroom. They were both gasping and drenched with sweat when they were done. “You gonna pay for my hernia surgery?” he asked.

“No, but I will give you another beer.”

“One’s enough. I’ll take some water, though.”

“Coming right up.” She went into the kitchen and took out two bottles. “Thanks for helping,” she said as she handed him one of them. She hoped her true appreciation was showing through. Maybe he wasn’t a pushy jerk after all.

“You’re welcome.” He gulped the water.

She smiled. How could drinking water look so sexy? “And for believing my ghost story.”

He nodded.

“And for trying to warn me.”

He looked at her then. “Even if you don’t believe me?”

There was concern in his eyes again, and it tugged at her. “It’s not that I don’t believe you.”

“You just aren’t scared of ghosts?”

“Not really. I think they’re kind of cool.”

“Got a piece of paper and a pencil?”

She pulled a small notebook and pen from her purse. “Gonna write me up a bill for the furniture moving?”

He gave her a slow up and down perusal. “As intriguing as that might be, no.”

“I appreciate your help.” She felt a smile pull at her face, as her blood began to heat.
Wanna help with another little problem? Maybe something involving a bed?

“You’re welcome.” He handed her back the pen and notebook. “That’s my number. I only live a couple of miles from here.”

Convenient
. “In case the ghosts try to get me?”

“Yes.”

She looked into his bright green, way too serious, eyes. “Thanks, cowboy.”

He tipped a nonexistent hat. “Anytime, little lady.”

Kia watched as he sauntered across her lawn and climbed into his truck. The view was stunning.

“I do believe I’m going to like it here,” she told Dracula.

As he drove the two-point-three miles between Kia Wolfe’s house and his, Garrett considered what sort of person would move to the middle of nowhere, live alone, and actually enjoy encounters that would send most people running and screaming.

A sexy one, that’s who. Swallowing hard, he tried to ignore the heat that moved through him just picturing her body. The energy that woman had. And the fire. She would be an awesome lay, that was for sure. And she’d made it pretty clear she was interested.

So why wasn’t he in her bed right now? It was a man’s dream come true—a sexy woman ready to offer herself up without strings. He suspected that she’d be insulted by an offer of commitment.

So why not take advantage of the situation?

Because he was far from convinced that would be a good idea, that’s why.

The fact that she seemed thrilled to have bought a haunted house bothered him. Did he want to get involved with another screwy woman? Hadn’t his ex-wife taught him anything?

Not involvement, he reminded himself. What Kia Wolfe was offering was a roll in the hay. At least that’s what she seemed to be offering. You never knew with women. Again, there was his ex-wife as an example. Tricky creatures they were.

Then again, it had been a long time since he’d been with anybody. Kia was offering, and he was tempted. Fun, that’s what she wanted. And he could use a little fun. Short-term fun. Until the house scared her away.

If she was lucky.