Immortal Flame (13 page)

Sarah hugged her daughter and pushed her toward Allison with a grin. “Quincy, listen to your Auntie Al. And don't spill anything in her car.” Hand in hand, Sarah and Bryce walked away.

Quincy grabbed Allison's hand, chattering about her day. With Peter on the other side of Ivy, they all strolled toward the street. Allison relaxed her guard, and Peter nodded at her polite noises of acknowledgement as Quincy prattled nonstop. Despite the queasy feeling from earlier that afternoon, Allison's cheeks warmed beneath his playful glance. Ivy eagerly tugged on her leash, seeking the next adventure.

Allison felt the tingle begin.

No. God, no.

She frantically tried to put up her mental shield and let go of Quincy, who, for her part, persisted with a strong grip and continued her monologue, oblivious to Allison's distress.

Allison couldn't get enough air. She could no longer see; the power of the developing vision blinded her. As they stepped onto the street, she didn't register the sound of squealing tires.

The next thing she knew, Peter grabbed her and Quincy by the arms, lifted them into the air, and yanked them backward. They sprawled on concrete while he somehow remained upright, balanced on the balls of his feet. She looked up in time to see Ivy fly backward with a sickening thud and a yelp. Ivy lay on her side, leg bent at an awkward angle, whimpering.

The sedan swerved within a few feet of them and sped off.

“Peter, is Quincy all right?”

He nodded curtly, picking up an uninjured Quincy in his arms, a dangerous expression on his face.

Nursing a sore hand, Allison crawled to her dog. Ivy lifted her head and whined. Allison ran her hands over her flank, hearing a yelp when she touched her lower leg and abdomen. Blood dripped from Ivy's mouth.

Standing in a crouch over Allison, Peter's heat radiated in intense waves that washed over her. That furious rage pinged like sleet on her mental connection. The picture of protective anger, Peter cradled a crying Quincy to his shoulder.

People swarmed around, offering help. Sarah and Bryce shouldered their way through the crowd.

“Honey, are you all right?” Sarah cried.

Peter deposited a frightened Quincy into her mother's arms. “Maybe a scrape on the ground, but the car didn't hit her,” he said. “Ivy's hurt.”

Allison appreciated how his protective stance shielded her from the press of the crowd. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked up at him, now a vengeful silhouette against the cloudy sky. He leaned halfway over Allison and Ivy, glaring all the bystanders into keeping their distance. If the echoes in her mind were accurate, he was either about to bolt after the car that nearly hit them or kill anyone who approached them.

“Please help me.” Her heart was breaking into pieces as her beloved dog struggled to breathe.

He knelt next to her. She flinched as his eyes turned a cold, lethal black. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Where's your car?”

“Right across the street.”

His voice was calm. Too calm. “Go open the back door.”

With a wince, she got to her feet.

He picked up massive Ivy as if she were a tiny puppy, careful of her leg, and laid her on the partially folded-down back seats and the trunk.

Allison climbed in with Ivy and handed Peter the keys. “Please?” She nearly wept, checking back to reassure herself that Quincy was okay.

He wordlessly closed the back door.

• • •

Peter had to get out of here. Too many people. Too much attention. His desire to kill someone was overwhelming the need to protect Allie.

When he sensed someone jog up and put his hand out, Peter spun and nearly took Bryce's head off.
Damn it, stay calm
.

It took Bryce a minute to get the words out. “Thank you for saving my baby's life.” His voice cracked. “I'll find the bastard who did this.” He motioned to the back window, where they saw Ivy's eyes, glazed with pain.

Peter nodded as Bryce ran back to his daughter and wife.

White-hot rage threatened to consume him. He couldn't think.

Focus on Allie
.

He started the car. “Where am I going?” He didn't mean to come off sounding like a drill sergeant, but that tone was the best he could manage right now.

At her directions, he carefully navigated the crowded street. Once clear of the sports complex, he drove as quickly as he dared to the vet hospital. His heart turned as he heard Ivy whine, a light thump of her tail, and Allie's murmurs of reassurance.

Pulling up to the front entrance, he raced around to open the rear door, and Allie scrambled out. He gathered Ivy up in his arms once more and strode through the clinic door she held open. The receptionist waved them to the back and called for the veterinarian on duty, Dr. Sampson. Peter eased Ivy down on a metal exam table.

A young man, about thirty, ran into the exam room, taking in the injured dog, Allie, and Peter. “Al, what happened?”

“Someone hit her outside the sports complex a few minutes ago,” she said. Her hands shook as she stroked Ivy's head. “I think it's her leg, and maybe more.”

Dr. Sampson quickly assessed Ivy and called out orders to the vet tech. “Please set an IV, prep the OR. Let's get a quick x-ray of her leg, chest, and abdomen.”

“Do you need me to help?” she asked.

He gave her a professional smile. “That's okay.”

The tech deftly threaded the IV line into the dog's front leg. Ivy didn't flinch but lay still on the table, her breathing becoming shallower.

Dr. Sampson looked up. “You're welcome to stay, but I'll work faster if you wouldn't mind waiting in the reception area.”

“Absolutely. Please help her.” She gave her dog a kiss on the head and backed away, bumping into Peter.

He wrapped his hands over her shoulders to steady her, fighting the urge to fully wrap her in his arms.
Not here. Not yet
.

The receptionist escorted them back to the waiting area and offered coffee. Allie and Peter sat in silence. Eventually, she took in a shaky breath, rolling her neck and shoulders.

“Ivy's in good hands now,” he said.

“It's not just that.”

“Then what? The man from the park?”

“Not even that.”

“What?”

“Back on the street, I got a vision from Quincy.” She buried her face in his chest.

No
! Her statement slammed into him like a Mack truck. This madness, all of it, had to stop. His hand squeezed her arm so tightly, Allie whimpered. He forced himself to relax his grip and focus on the woman beside him. Peter tucked her more firmly into his chest, welcoming the softness of her body pressed against him. He wanted nothing more than to shelter her forever.

Forever?

There's no forever for me
.

Well, actually, there
was
forever, and that was the problem. As only a shade of a man, he had nothing to offer Allie or any woman.

Aware that the receptionist watched them a little too closely, he eased Allie away. At some point, her emotional state would appear out of proportion with what others would assume was grief for an injured pet. “Want to get out of here for a little while?”

With a shaky nod, she collected herself and pasted on a professional guise as they approached the desk. “I'd like to get some fresh air. Would you please give me a call when Ivy's out of surgery, or if her condition changes?” she asked the receptionist.

“Of course. Your number's in the system. Get a little rest and maybe something to eat.” When she smiled winningly at Peter, he ignored the woman's interested gaze. He wanted only one woman, and even that desire was wrong.

In the car, the silence wrapped around them like a heavy, wet blanket. Allie pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and sighed. He hated seeing this lovely woman's beaten expression.

As he reached out to touch her face, he checked himself and curled his hand into a fist on his lap instead. “Can I drive you somewhere?”

She jumped. “No, I don't, doesn't—” Abruptly turning to him, she said, “You must have somewhere you need to be. You don't need to be dragged through this mess today.”

“There's no other place I want to be.” Damn it all, if he didn't mean it, too.

When he turned the car on, the sound of the whirring heater fan scored the silence. The clouds had increased, turning everything gray and cold. He sat patiently. He had all the time in the world. Literally.

She leaned her head back on the rest. “Could you just drive for a while?”

Her sadness would have broken his heart in any other lifetime but this one. If all Allie would allow him to do was drive her around, he would do it as long as she wished, if only to stay close by her.

He pulled onto Main Street, arbitrarily turning right into light traffic. A few drops of rain hit the windshield. After about fifteen minutes, he made a left-hand turn, traveled under the interstate, and returned on a county road. Fertile valley fields blurred by as they rode in silence. Spotting a turnout that faced the now cloud-covered Wallowa Mountains, Peter pulled off the road.

“Want to talk about it?”

Groaning, she said, “Which part?”

“Any of it.” He reached out and touched her cheek.

She flinched, but then relaxed and leaned into his hand. Their connection flared, but not nearly as powerful now.

He savored the soft skin beneath his fingertips. “Did you feel that?”

She blew out a breath. “Only a little. It's becoming second nature to do whatever it is I do to filter the visions. At least with you. I wish I could have done that earlier today. I guess I wasn't ready.”

“Not your fault.”

“It is my fault if something bad happens to someone I love.” She leaned into his palm.

Peter moved his hand from her cheek into her hair and lightly massaged until she closed her eyes with a sigh. He indulged himself in the feel of her silky hair sliding over his rough hand. Not forever, but good enough for now.

“That guy from the park was scary,” she said.

“Could you tell anything about him?”

Guilt squeezed like a fist in his chest. He'd brought Jerahmeel's hit man here. But Allie didn't know that. If she did, she wouldn't want anything to do with Peter.

A line formed between her brows as she turned to him. “I thought you'd know. The vibe I got from him felt similar to when I first contacted you.”

“That's strange. Can you tell me what you saw?”

“Well, death, of course. But worse than anything I saw in your images.” She rubbed her arms. “Awful images of torture, blood everywhere. Women and children screaming, the suffering went on and on and on. One of the images was of a pregnant woman. He killed her and the unborn child. And he
enjoyed
it. Oh God, the screams.”

He needed to destroy this sicko who'd set his sights on Allie.

At her shivering, Peter turned up the heat and pointed all the vents toward her. He didn't know anyone from his cadre of coworkers who performed that kind of torture. Most of his … colleagues … simply did their job, hoping each kill was the one that would release them from their contract, and then moved on. Obviously, Jerahmeel had recruited someone new, or someone very different. He'd call Dante or Barnaby later and see if they knew anything.

“Anything particularly helpful about the visions of him?”

She pinned him with her gold-flecked, emerald gaze. “Besides the unrelenting anguish?”

He cringed at her sarcastic tone. “Yes.”

“Just odds and ends.” She stared out the windshield. “That disgusting man's mind was crammed full of depraved torture and blood and guts. But you know what was strange? When I touched Quincy, it was more specific. I heard a scream for help, and then I saw a mountain lake and a glass shoe.”

He stilled his hand on her scalp. “Glass shoe?”

She nodded. “No idea what a glass shoe means, but I saw it. Maybe I'm channeling Cinderella or something strange. My power's been changing over the past week, so I'm not completely sure what to believe right now.”

“Changing how?”

“More visions, more pain.”

When she wouldn't meet his eyes, he let the matter drop. She was hiding something, but he'd find out later. Meanwhile, he was drawing a blank on anything in his world that a glass shoe represented.

“Anything else?” he asked.

She sighed. “The vision happened too fast to pick up details. Everything's mixed up in my head. I can't tell where one vision started and the other one stopped.”

“It's okay, probably didn't mean anything.”

“What're the chances of that?” She closed her eyes and flicked her hand at him to silence him before he could answer.

When she groaned and leaned her head back, he rubbed her neck, willing her to relax. After seeing what destruction he was capable of, how could she still trust him? He barely trusted himself. As he kneaded the muscles in her neck, he fought the need to wrap her in his arms. He fought a growing, base need to do much more.

I am a sick bastard
.

Forcing his thoughts away from his tightening groin, he appreciated the fine features of Allie's face, her long neck and smooth skin, her soft lips. She smelled like fresh, green grass and coffee. He inhaled deeply.

Home.

Damn it all, she smelled like home.

Something he would never have.

With all the evil he had done, he didn't deserve to be near this woman. But as long as he could be here, he'd not betray Allie's trust. He could at least do this one thing and keep her safe.

When her cell phone rang, she jumped, and he tightened his hand on her neck.

She opened her purse and thumbed to answer the phone.

• • •

She pressed the phone to her ear, heart pounding. “Hello?”

“It's Doug Sampson. Ivy's out of surgery.”