Dream Shadow (5 page)

The sheriff had been pissed too.

Grace smiled with satisfaction, but it didn’t last long. Being in Benton meant she was still in the sheriff’s territory. Her body leapt with just the idea of the man. The surge of emotion made her curious. She certainly wasn’t a stranger to being leered at. But Brice Campbell’s look was different.

The sheriff’s eyes had been alight with some unspoken promise. Her body burst into sensation as she considered exactly what kind of promise the man was giving her. The biggest surprise was that it excited her.

The idea of him pressing her to the floor made her body throb. She was keenly aware of him in the deepest places inside her body. Sexual tension after an assignment was normal. The heat building between her thighs two days later wasn’t. Her nipples were tightly beaded yet again as her skin began to tingle.

Clark shifted again, bringing Grace to immediate attention. Tilting her head, she caught Jacobs in her sight. “Why are we still here?”

Jacobs’s face turned into solid stone. Grace knew the expression. He used it on his men regularly. Well, she knew how to hide behind a mask as well. Grace caught the angry flash from his eyes as she slapped her own expressionless face on.

“You seemed in a hurry to see the forest a couple of days ago.” Grace didn’t even blink in the face of his displeasure.

“I was, and I achieved my goal.”

“With your back exposed.”

She didn’t care, but Jacobs did.

“Were you caught up in a link?”

She shook her head. “I chose to let it consume me.”

“Why?”

He was pissed but trying to understand her. It was the closest thing to friendship she’d ever been offered from a C.O. Which was why she didn’t lie to him, even when it was going to cause trouble. Like today.

“Reality is gray.”

“The inside of a body bag is pitch black,” he countered.

“I’m still here.” And she was tired of talking. “So discharge me if you don’t like my actions.”

Jacobs sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe you don’t have a career, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t put a black mark on mine by getting yourself shot.”

“I didn’t get shot. The target was retrieved. On paper it will look great.”

She snapped her head around and looked back at the forest. Conversations were needlessly complicated. Life was better when she avoided them.

“We’re having dinner with Brice tonight out at his place.”

Grace hissed in response. The sound was past her lips before she realized she was reacting. Jacobs raised an eyebrow, a tiny hint of victory in his eyes.

“That’s a waste of resources.”

The light of victory died and left behind something that looked too much like pity.

“Time. You’re not a resource.”

“That’s your personal opinion, Jacobs.”

And his C.O. would never let it interfere with a mission. Somewhere there was a file with a neat list of missions she’d accomplished. There would be performance comments, observations and details but there would be no personal information.

She didn’t exist.

Officially.

“Fine. Dinner. Mess or someone’s kitchen. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Let Jacobs haul her off to some dinner. Brice Campbell wasn’t going to make her run. Grace turned around and headed into the room for a shower.

She didn’t care. She wouldn’t care. She refused to care.

But she froze in front of the mirror. Her cheeks were pink. She stroked one, stunned to find it warm. Looking lower, she found her nipples beaded beneath her tee-shirt. She shook her head, wanting to deny any sort of reaction to the coming evening, but the physical evidence remained.

It defied logic. Practically every new man the unit got tried his hand at getting into her pants. The more veteran members of the team would take bets on just how fast she’d freeze him off.

But Brice Campbell could make her blush.

“Time to move, Grace.”

She tugged her jacket on and reached for the gloves that rested on the tile counter of the bathroom. Grace smiled as the black knit fabric clung to her fingers. Distractions from her flesh were annoying. Preventing her nerve endings from intruding with their limited perceptions was…comforting. Very controlled. There was a stability to be found in maintaining focus.

She never blushed when she was focused.

Grace climbed into the helicopter in relief. This
dinner
certainly wouldn’t last very long. In fact, she had half a mind to remain inside the black machine and refuse to see Brice Campbell again.

But it would be hiding.

That irritated her. It set flame to something that had been needling her since she’d faced off with the man in the hospital parking lot. Her hands began to sweat inside the gloves, proving her efforts to dismiss the coming evening as insignificant were a failure.

Grace dug her feet into the floor of the helicopter to keep her body secured in her seat as Jacobs lifted the bird off the ground. He took to the controls with the enthusiasm that two days of down time had left in his system. The craft banked at a steep angle while speeding along the rise of the forest. Grace let the exhilaration of the flight fill her.

The aircraft surged forward, propelling itself faster at its master’s urging. Grace enjoyed the freedom of the ride. It was a primal thing. The speed. The self-controlling need to not flinch as they sailed over a rise of land, pulling away from the ground. A lake lay before them and the craft hovered exactly one foot above the glassy surface of the water. The motion of the blades caused the water to run in waves out and away from the helicopter.

Grace loved the way Jacobs handled the aircraft. Air support was vital to the safety of his unit. Jacobs wouldn’t travel very far from his bird for any reason.

The clearing Jacobs aimed for was little more than an old logging road. Grace watched his face tighten as he considered the angle at which to bring his aircraft down. He touched the bird down and she pulled her helmet off.

Refusing to go would be admitting she cared. So she opened the door and ducked her head down as she made her way beyond the reach of the rotors. Jacobs was slower to leave the controls because he had to shut the machine down. Clark and another man who had drawn the short straws tonight made their way into the forest to dig in for perimeter duty. Neither man was happy about their duty.

She would have gladly traded places with them.

It was just another blunt reminder of how little she had in common with the world around her. She was different, always had been.

Tonight the air moved in lazy gusts among the trees. The redwoods swayed in slow rhythm as they waited for the moon to cast light over them. Despite the pleasure she found in the night, Grace was preoccupied with the exact reason for their visit. Lots of civilians had questions for her. Jacobs rarely allowed them close enough to voice them.

That suited her fine. There had been too many years where she was forced to endure the prodding of the curious. Now that the powers that be had their file on her, she rarely needed to endure interrogations from anyone other than her immediate commanding officer. A few of her previous C.O.s went out of their way to ensure they didn’t need to do it very often.

Artificial light announced their destination. Grace surveyed the log structure that Brice Campbell called home. The outer walls were in fact large logs. The bark had been stripped from the wood and it was sealed to keep out the weather but no paint had been applied. It wasn’t small. Large multi-paned glass windows were set every eight feet along the front of the house. There was a porch that ran the entire length of the house. The roof extended to cover it, and support beams were spaced between the windows.

The trees grew right up to the porch line. The only part of the forest that had been cleared, besides the logging road, was the small gravel road that gave access to the garage sitting twenty feet behind the house. Grace stopped before stepping onto the porch.

Sheriff Brice Campbell was waiting for them on a porch swing. He shook out his frame and straightened up as his eyes caught them approaching his house. One hand reached for the brim of his hat and tugged it gently while his eyes held hers.

“Good evening.”

This was his territory and pure confidence was carried in his voice. The challenge was clearly written in his eyes. Grace stiffened her spine and stepped up onto the porch. She was not afraid of the man, but the urge to hesitate was strong. Grace made it five steps into the large family room before she went rigid. Her senses rioted. Every corner of this house was his. His scent was drifting in the air. She lifted her head and tried to identify it, but it was too elusive. Turning on her heel, Grace eyed the door.

“Leaving before dinner is rather rude, sweetheart.” Brice folded his arms across his chest, making him appear more overwhelming than he already was.

“Social customs are time consuming as well as distracting.”

“Someone really should teach you what the phrase
off duty
means.”

Grace simply raised her eyebrow. If she didn’t respond, he couldn’t have a conversation with her. The thought didn’t give her much satisfaction and it was childish. Grace considered both men before shaking off that small bit of guilt. There was nothing immature about being tired of interrogation.

But Brice Campbell made her…sensitive. Pressing her lips into a firm line, she moved to one of the windows to consider the view. Fine. She was in the house. Both men moved off in the face of her dismissal, making her smile. Grace took a slow breath into her lungs and tried to calm her surging emotions.

Now that she was farther into the house, Grace caught the scent of dinner in the air. Whatever it was, it did smell good. The rattling of dishes reached her ears as well as bits of the men’s conversation.

Left to herself, she wandered about the house. It was dark, but she preferred it that way. Next to the living room there was a dining room. It had a beautiful wood floor. The room was bare except for a large oil painting. It depicted a scene of a huge black stallion rearing up on its hind legs. Strength radiated from the creature, despite the fact that it was only a creation of paint and canvas.

A hallway was next to the dining room. The first door led to a bedroom. It was a guestroom. The bare essentials furnished it. The floor was wood again. In fact, the hallway had a wood floor with a length of carpet running over it. A bathroom was next. Grace stopped in the next doorway. It was another guestroom.

The next room caught her interest. All the pieces of furniture were antiques of some sort. There was a large wooden chest with a domed top. Grace stepped in and slowly ran a hand over it. The wood was smooth and well oiled. Next to that was an old coat rack. A uniform of some sort hung from it. At first glance it looked like Air Force dress blues. It wasn’t. Two rows of brass buttons ran down the front of it. It was a Union Civil War uniform. The pants were neatly hung behind the jacket. A length of crimson caught her eye.

A large gun rack was centered on the wall behind her. The guns that were resting in it were long rifles and looked to date from the Civil War period too. There were three rifles and two smaller hand pistols. They all gleamed from recent polish.

The last item that rested on the gun rack was a sword. It too was polished to a high luster. It rested carefully on the rack without its scabbard. Grace reached out softly to touch the butt of one of the pistols.

“That’s a black-powder gun. I use it for a little hobby of mine.”

Grace stiffened. Brice Campbell moved like a panther, silent and steady.

“I think you’re the only person I’d be willing to make an exception to the rule of snooping through my house for.” He shot her a victorious grin. “It’s nice to know you want to know more about me, Grace.”

“That isn’t—” She stopped, realizing she was responding emotionally to him.

“Yes, it is what you’re doing,” he countered. “Dinner conversation isn’t your style.”

He was right. A curl of excitement hit her belly because it felt almost intimate to be read so well. Everyone thought they understood her but it was rarely true.

“But that leaves me wondering if I should just pull your hair next to see if you’ll chase me.”

“I will not.” She snapped but felt the sting of a blush spreading across her face.

“Too bad. I had a great ending planned for when I let you catch me at the bedroom down the hallway.”

“I could catch you if I wanted to.” The words were past her lips before she realized she was playing right into his plan.

“Oh, you want to, Grace. You just don’t know how to recognize the signs. You might be a psychic but you are also a very attractive woman.”

His eyes slowly moved down her length. There was a blatant honesty about the way he looked her over. He always brought his eyes back to hers when he did it. A small shiver raced down her spine in response. Brice Campbell wasn’t interested in just looking. There was a promise burning in his eyes that made her shift back a step.

“Is it people that make you nervous? Or me?”