Come Hell or High Desire (6 page)

Chapter Eight

Zack caught Sloane as she collapsed. He carried her away from the foyer into the living
room where he hunkered down, filling up two thirds of Ann’s sofa. He could see faint
blue veins lying beneath Sloane’s cheeks. His hands wobbled as they smoothed her hair
back from her forehead. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She’d scared the ever-living hell out of him when she’d first gone into the vision.
Her face had lost all animation, as if she’d up and died right in front of him.

His arms tightened around her, and she curled toward his chest. Her scent drifted
over him, peeling away his last defenses. He studied the dark crescent her eyelashes
formed against the upper part of her cheek. The splash of freckles, barely noticeable,
on the bridge of her nose. The subtle color variations of her hair as the strands
shifted when he breathed. Her smooth, soft skin, too pale, way too pale…

He forced himself to look out the front window. He was lucky she’d fallen into a light
sleep because it wouldn’t do to let her to see him this rattled, though she’d probably
attribute it to his concern for Ann. Which would be right, but…

Something about Sloane pulled at him, dredging up feelings that terrified him. Made
him vulnerable again. And being vulnerable usually led to heartbreak.

Chill out.
These unsettled feelings were obviously the result of this crazy-ass episode. That
made a lot more sense.

ESP. What a racket. It mucked up his foundation of possibility. More than once, he’d
wanted to jerk her out of the vision, to just shut it down because he could feel it
damaging her on a level he didn’t understand.

But he was afraid of what might happen if he did something wrong. What if he couldn’t
bring her back? Could she somehow lose her way in that other realm? Never a gambling
man, he’d done the only thing he was sure of and clutched her hand so tightly he feared
he’d fracture her long, graceful fingers.

Then something around her had begun to change. He’d known the moment their spirits
joined because he’d felt jacked in, amped up. Every hair on his body had sparked with
awareness. Currents of power crackled along his nervous system, and he was hypersensitive
to the rush of her blood.

On the couch, he shifted uncomfortably beneath her weight as his body remembered the
sensation. Her eyelashes fluttered and her color was finally returning in that delicious
golden shade he knew covered so much of her landscape.

So beautiful and brave. So full of secrets.

He forced himself to look away. This was no time to be getting hard. She’d risked
her soul to find answers about Ann. The least he could do was not poke her in the
hip with a steel rod. He stared at the ceiling, inhaled deeply, and wondered if he
was dreaming when he felt a hand on his cheek. He glanced down and lost himself in
the liquid brown of her eyes.

“You all right?” she asked.

“You’re asking me?
Jesus,
Sloane.”

She sat up and quickly moved off his lap to sit beside him. She blushed, but her eyes
glowed. “You’re my psychic anchor, Zack. You grounded me through the vision. You can’t
imagine how big this is. I never believed it would be possible. Other than a mild
headache, I don’t feel sick at all. My
mother
doesn’t even have anyone who can do that for her.” Her eyes flickered as her fingers
tunneled into her hair. “I found some answers, but not nearly enough, I’m afraid.”

Her mother did this shit, too?

He said nothing, staring into her eyes, watching, marveling, at the drama of emotions
shaping her features while she replayed the vision in her mind. One of her hands scraped
across his thigh as it fell to the sofa and desire sparked in her eyes.

He smothered a groan.
Damn.
Her touch was tinder to his dry wood. His fingers dug into the textured linen sofa
to stop himself from touching her. He closed his eyes, needing to hide, feeling desperate
and completely out of his element.

She was holding her breath, he realized. They both were.
Powder kegs.
His eyes snapped open. The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and
his shoulders ached with the effort to hold still.

“Zack?” Her hesitancy calmed him enough so he could slam the door on an erotic visual
of easing those teensy shorts down her endless legs. What a dick. As much as he felt
like one, he wasn’t an animal.

She stood up and laughed shyly.
Cute. As. Hell.

“That was really something, huh?” She brushed her hands down her hips. An enticing
little gesture. “Anchored together in a vision like that is incredibly…intimate. I’ve
never shared one before, so I guess we’re sorta bonded. A little.
Maybe.
”

Bondage.
She wasn’t helping to ease his lust haze at all. “Oh great, vision virgins.”

“Not anymore.” Her laughter bubbled up again. He leaned back against the sofa and
laced his fingers behind his head, resigning himself to a permanent hard-on. “So what
did you see?”

She bit her lip, and he nearly lost his no-touching resolve at the quiet appeal in
her eyes.

So she feels it, too.

Somehow that calmed the beast in him. A paradox, but he was grateful. He smiled at
her. She blushed and paced the length of the living room, relaying the details of
the vision. By the time she recounted Ann’s attack and then her voluntary departure,
Zack was wearing his own path in front of the picture window, emotions—different ones
this time—running hot and hard through his blood.

The tomcat strolled into the room like he owned it. Sloane bent to stroke him. “So,
do you have any idea who the man might be? Someone like him certainly sticks out,”
she said.

He wanted to pound his fist into the wall. “What type of man is savage enough to knock
a woman around like that? I’ll find him and kill him. A person like that’s a menace
to society.”

She walked into his personal space. “Let’s relax and make a plan, okay? Going ape-shit
isn’t going to help right now.”

“If you think this is going ape-shit, you’ve led a pretty sheltered life, princess.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Zack.”

They glared at each other until he sat down heavily on the edge of the sofa. “What
could he have wanted her to get rid of—”

Oh
.

Oh, God.
The baby.
The rushing in his ears, the sick feeling in his gut, told him it
had
to be. He cursed wildly.

Her clapping hands finally got his attention. “Take it easy! Lordy, what is it?” she
asked.

“The baby! He was talking about Ann’s
baby,
the roadkill motherf—” He spun away and pulled on his scalp so hard he was surprised
he didn’t come away with chunks of hair.

Her eyebrows drew together. “Baby? What baby?”

“Ann’s knocked up!”

“Don’t be so crass!”

He advanced on her until they were nearly nose to nose. “Fine, fine! Sorry to insult
your refined sensibilities, but I’m beyond bent right now, headed full steam toward
ape-shit.”

“Yep.”

He made a sound of disgust and walked away from her to glare out the front window.
Ann was having a baby, and the sperm donor not only wanted nothing to do with it,
he wanted it
gone
. The man had obviously cut her on so many levels. How could she have gotten tangled
up with the likes of someone so heartless? And how could he have been so blind to
it all? He turned around to see if Sloane was still there.

Only then did she speak. “I’m sorry. I wish I would have seen more. Seen what is happening
now
, instead of what already happened.”

“Did she leave with him later?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know. I didn’t see out the doorway. I only saw her.”

He wanted to start swearing again, but bit the inside of his cheek instead. “Okay,
but what’s your gut say? I won’t hold it against you if you’re wrong.”

“I don’t think she left with him later on.”

“Why?”

“She had freshened up, but wasn’t wearing any lipstick.” At his confused look, she
continued. “Her man wears expensive clothes, and his hands and nails look like they’ve
never seen an honest day’s work.” She looked pointedly at his disheveled appearance,
and he couldn’t help but appreciate her comparison. “If she’s pregnant with his baby
and unsure of his intentions, she’s always going to try to look her best for him.
That’s my guess, anyway.” Fear edged into her eyes. She pursed her lips and held out
her hand. “Okay. Give me that stupid note.”

The woman was a warrior. Truly.

He walked over to the sofa. “You’re gonna sit when you do it this time.” When she
complied, he sat next to her, grabbed her left hand, and put the note in her right
one. The minute her fingers clasped the paper, she swayed on the cushions. Zack shot
up and knelt between her legs. Her eyes rolled back.

Not knowing what she was experiencing sucked. All he had to go on was her facial expressions
and utterances. And that was bad enough. How could she stand it?

“Zack?”

She can talk to me this time?
He curled his other hand around her fist holding the paper. “I’m here.”

He could feel some of the tension drain out of her fingers. “I can…I’m starting to…
I guess,
feel
myself on both sides this time. Oh, wow. Here, with you, and…he…he’s writing on a
small table. Coffee smells and birds. Feels like morning. Nice, groomed hands. Oh!”

He was probably bruising her, but he couldn’t make himself loosen his grip. She moaned.
He was ready to burn that fucking paper. Burn it and stomp on the ashes like an Aborigine
with face paint and a loin cloth.

“He’s tearing off duct tape and affixing the note to a door. He strikes the door with
his fist and laughs.” Her mouth worked silently as though trying to talk and listen
at the same time, but only managing to listen. “His aura is so black. I can’t see
him. Only his hands. Nice hands. Ann. It’s her. The note is about her.”

The confirmation was a blow to the solar plexus. He dropped her hands. The note slipped,
floating, twirling like a whirligig to the floor. Sloane blinked awake, then sank
back against the cushions.

He shouldn’t be surprised that the note was indeed about Ann.

People say the
not knowing
is harder.

Not always.

He exhaled so strongly her hair stirred. She smiled weakly, and he shook his head
before going to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water. He handed it to her.
After a large swallow, she set the glass down and looked at him. He couldn’t read
her expression, and he wasn’t sure his voice wouldn’t crack, so he kept silent.

“I’m sorry—so sorry—I couldn’t see who it was. I’m…even more afraid for Ann and her
baby. And now you. The note writer’s malice is…rather overwhelming. Terrifying, actually.”
She shuddered. He stood, gave in to the emotion driving him, and kissed her hair as
he pulled her into his arms.

Who would want to treat Ann that badly?

Or was the hatred for him?
That
he could accept a lot more readily than someone despising Ann.

He leaned back to look at Sloane. “So you saw note-man’s hands. And you saw the hands
of the cretin who hit Ann. Same guy?”

She pressed her fingertips against her cheekbones. Pressed them so hard her fingers
left white marks when they lifted. “Maybe. They seemed very similar.”

He was hoping it would be a slam dunk. But life almost never worked that way. He walked
to the picture window once more.
Now what?

“All I can say is they weren’t hands like yours. They didn’t have any scars or calluses
or…”

He turned back to her. She pressed her fingers over her lips, then let them drop.
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

“I am what I am. I appreciate your efforts.”

She bowed her head and didn’t say anything as they walked to the foyer and then outside.
She put on a brave smile. He frowned and opened the door of her SUV. She slid into
the plush interior, her vanilla scent tempting him to…what?

Ask her to stay?

But she had to go. His head was seriously messed up right now. The note. A baby. ESP.
Kidnapping. The day seemed to have ripped a page from one of the thrillers Ann loved
so much.

She slid onto the seat. “Have you contacted the police yet? I have a connection in
the Fargo PD’s intelligence unit who might be able to help.”

“Since it’s been less than a day, the cops won’t do much more than file a report unless
there are suspicious circumstances. Adults can go missing if they choose. But…I’ll
tell them what I can.”
Clearly, none of this stuff.

Her soft smile reached her eyes this time, and he felt like a hero.
Stupid.

“Then at least we know all the bases are covered. Would you please call me when you
hear anything?”

She could have told him to have Ann call her. She didn’t. It pleased him. And the
fact that it did,
didn’t
please him. “Sure.”

“The cat?”

“I’ll look after the stray until she gets back,” he said.

“And if you come across the crystal rhino—”

“I’ll hang onto it and let you know. Sorry you didn’t find it.” He hit the automatic
locks on her door and slowly backed away from the vehicle. She started the engine
and rolled down the window.

“Well…bye then?” She didn’t put the car in gear.

What more did she expect him to say?
I don’t really know you, but you’re amazing?
She’d think he was a head case. Yet those gray-brown eyes worked to storm his fortress.
He moved toward the SUV again and brushed the back his fingers across her cheek before
he could think better of it. “You okay? What happened in there…”

Her eyes grew luminous. “I need some time to think about all of it, too. I’ve never
been able to simultaneously stand in both realities—my life and the visions. It…helps.
Rather a lot. So thank you for that. Really.”