The Departed (25 page)

* * *

FOR a few seconds, those words didn’t want to connect in his head. No, that wasn’t right—they
wanted
to connect, but some protective instinct just wouldn’t let them, not immediately, at least.

He could feel the ridge of her scar under his thumb, the warmth of her skin. He could see the darkness of her gaze, the intensity of it. There was a small, solemn smile on her lips, so gentle and easy.

Closing his eyes, he let himself think about what she’d said—let himself think about the
words
.

Fuck.
Fuck
—

Abruptly, he caught the front of her shirt in his hand, fisted it, dragging her closer. He pressed his brow to hers. In a ragged, harsh voice, he demanded, “Do you mean it?”

“Now come on, Jones.” She chuckled. “Since when have I ever said anything I don’t mean?”

She might have said something else, but he didn’t know what—he couldn’t say he even cared. He was too busy kissing her, his mouth all but devouring hers. And she didn’t seem to mind at all.

Handicapped by his broken arm, he struggled one-handed with her clothing, determined to have her naked—
now
. She apparently had the same focus in mind, her fingers fighting with the buttons on his shirt, shoving it open, but she didn’t mess with trying to get it off. Fine by him.

He wasn’t too worried about his clothes, but hers were a different story. The shirt, it had to go. Same with her bra, her jeans, her panties, although his fingers were clumsy and everything seemed to tangle with him. Growling, he fisted his hand in the silky little strip of cloth high on her hips, ready to rip the panties off. She laughed and said, “Slow down there, Jones. I just bought those from Victoria’s Secret—you tear them, you buy me new ones.”

“Fine. I’ll buy you a fucking truckload.” With a vicious twist of his wrist, the fragile silk shredded. Dropping it to the ground, he turned and boosted her up onto the counter, stepping between her thighs. “We’re doing something stupid again, aren’t we?”

“No. We’re doing something we need to do.” She curled an arm around his neck and scooted closer, twining her legs around his hips. “Make love to me, Taylor.”

“Gladly.” He pressed his lips to hers, whispered, “I swear, one of these days, we’ll do this right…slower, easier. Spend more time in a damn bed.”

“This feels pretty damn right to me.” As he pushed inside, her head fell back. A ragged moan escaped her and he dipped his head, pressed his mouth to her neck. “I love you.”

“Look at me.”

She lifted her lashes, staring at him. The words were there. Trapped inside—fuck. Why had it seemed too easy for her? He started to move, staring at her, at this woman who was his everything, his world. Nothing mattered, not without her.

She lifted a hand and touched his cheek, pushed her fingers into his hair. “Jones…”

“My name,” he muttered. He turned his head, pressed a kiss to her palm. “Say my name, damn it.”

Chuckling, she pulled his head close. “Taylor.” She said it against his lips. As she did that, she rolled her hips against him, squeezing down with her inner muscles so that she milked him in a teasing, taunting caress.

Oh, shit…

Little warning tingles were already shooting straight up his spine, but he gritted his teeth. No, damn it. He wasn’t going to lose it after thirty fucking seconds. Especially since he hadn’t told her yet.

But then she did it again, and again.

“I love you.” It came out a broken, harsh groan against her lips, the words he could no longer keep trapped inside. The words he had to share with her,
now
.

She stiffened against him. Her hands tightened on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. “Taylor…”

“I love you,” he said again, and it came so much easier. Wrapping his arm around her neck, he cuddled her against him. That burning, driving need to take, to possess, to mark…it didn’t fade…it changed, morphed, settled into something different, so different. Something gentle, something he couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

They stared at each other. He barely moved against her, his broken arm braced against one of the cabinets by her head. Slow, gentle movements. But it was enough. Slow, gentle movements, while they stared at each other…almost like it was the first time.

A shaky sigh escaped her, a delicate flush rising from the swell of her breasts, darkening the warm brown of her skin. Taylor dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured against her skin. “I love you…”

Dez laughed, a dazed, delighted sound. “I know. I love you, too.”

It echoed in his mind, over and over. The release, as it came for them both, was just as slow, just as sweet and gentle. And for the first time, some of the darkness that had chased him for twenty-five years, it started to recede.

IN the warmth of Taylor’s arms, Dez slept. It came on slowly and because she’d always felt so safe with him, it hit her unprepared. She was so tired, so drained, unconsciously, she’d let her shields slip.

And when that happened, the ghost was able to slip in and touch her.

The drop in temperature was gradual. Neither of them noticed at first. Her sleep became more fitful and she grunted absently, shifting in her sleep, one hand closing into a fist.

The girl—

Anna? Was it Anna?

She could see her.

There was a field.

Dez muttered in her sleep, the words broken, making little sense. They might not have even made sense to her. But in her mind, she could see pictures. And finally, things began to piece together.

A hand. There was a hand in hers—no. Not
hers
—Anna’s.

Guiding her.
“We’ll go play. It’s more fun with a friend, isn’t it?”

“I thought we were going to go trick-or-treating…”

“Oh, but we can’t. That isn’t safe. I want my angel safe—”

Angel—

Images flashed. Bright and vivid. The child, she didn’t understand. Jerking back, hands slick with sweat, belly clenching with horror, she stared at her new friend.
Angel—?

He’d called her his angel.

With a scream, Dez jerked upright.

* * *

SHE was still shaking.

Taylor sat in the bed, holding her, torn between his own grief and the need to do
anything
to make this better. Rubbing a hand up and down her spine, he waited for Dez. He didn’t know how long it would take, and although impatience ate at him, he said nothing, did nothing. He couldn’t rush this.

As much as he wanted to.

He’d been awake for more than an hour.

When she’d first started to stir in her sleep, it had awoken him. He’d never slept peacefully and even though he’d given in sometime last night and taken one of the damn pain pills, her restlessness had pulled him straight out of his sleep.

She’d been talking, muttering to herself.

A walk—?

Trick-or-treating…

Anna had disappeared on Halloween. And their mother had never allowed either of them to go trick-or-treating. It was a crass and common thing, Elsa had insisted. Taylor wasn’t going to try to fool himself into thinking this wasn’t about Anna.

In his gut, he knew it was.

But he couldn’t rush this. It was about his sister, and he could do nothing but wait.

Another twenty minutes passed before Dez stopped shaking. Another ten minutes before she spoke. Her voice was hoarse as she said, “Where is Anna’s grave?”

* * *

“HER flowers are missing.”

The sound of his voice was startling in the early morning silence. Dez jumped and shot him a puzzled look. “What?”

That emotionless mask was firmly in place as he slid his gaze her way, but she saw that screaming, dark anguish in his pale eyes as he said quietly, “Her flowers. Every year, when I visit her grave, I bring her daisies. I just left them the other day…the day she disappeared. They should still be here. They aren’t.”

A cold shiver, one that had nothing to do with the twenty-degree wind chill, ran down Dez’s spine. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she looked up at the marble angel. It was the same one she’d seen before, and now that she was focused, she could feel those whispers more acutely. Although it went against her training, she lowered her shields completely, and when she did, a blast of whispers assaulted her.

Find me…please find me…I don’t want to stay lost
—

She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. God, did she
know
?

Help me, please…

“Where are you, baby?”

The screaming, roaring chaos in her mind all but deafened and blinded her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus—

With a groan, she clamped her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to ease that chaos.
Focus, focus—

She could do this, damn it. She could. Channeling the calm she’d always gotten from Taylor, but refusing to let his presence block everything the way it often did, she blocked out
everything
but the information she needed.

Where. Are. You
.

The answer didn’t come in words. Dez couldn’t even be sure the answer came from Anna. It was just
there
. And it was so ridiculously simple, she knew she should have realized it before now. Swallowing, she turned and looked at Taylor.

“We need to go to the field out behind Beau’s place again.”

For the briefest second, there was horror in his eyes. And then gold-tipped lashes swept over his eyes, shielding them. And he nodded.

* * *

ONE hand lay over the fragile stem of a daisy.

The other held a pen.

Such lovely daisies. Did you like them? I imagine you must have or he wouldn’t give them to you, I suppose. If he wasn’t your brother, it would bother me that a boy was giving you such flowers. But a brother is different from a boy.

The slender fingers gripping the pen tightened.

Some boys, though, some of them…

A memory rose up to taunt—
My pretty angel, did you think I wouldn’t hear? Little slut—

HIS knuckles were bloodless. Dez wished she could reach over and stroke the tension away, wished she could make this better. But she couldn’t. There was no easing this pain for him. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the headrest and made herself find some level of inner calm.

It had never been more important, she realized. And it would never be harder to find. She tried to dredge up some shields that would let her find what she needed to find without leaving her totally exposed. Whether or not it would work, she didn’t know.

But just in case…

“So.” She shot him a halfhearted smile and asked, “Do you have a Taser on you by chance?”

A spasm twisted his mouth. His eyes closed for the briefest second as he slowed at a stop sign. He glanced her way. The shuttered look in his eyes spoke volumes. “Yes. I hadn’t planned on needing it but I’ve always kept one in my briefcase. After the last episode…”

“Good.” She blew out a sigh. “I’ve never had to have that particular pleasure, you know.”

“Don’t make me use it, please.” He pressed on the gas with a little more force than necessary as he took a winding road that led out of town, toward Beau’s house.

She reached over, touched his hand. “If you need it, then do it—don’t think, just do it. I’d rather not be trapped in one of those visions any longer than needed.”

“I know.”

The rest of the trip passed in silence, a tense, unhappy silence. Dez didn’t recognize the unmarked, narrow road he took, although she did glimpse what looked like Beau’s house some distance ahead. They parked in a narrow little spot off the road and she braced herself as she climbed out of the car, waiting by the hood as Taylor went around. She glimpsed the Taser as he tucked it away and she grimaced, mumbling a heartfelt prayer he wouldn’t need it—for both of their sakes.

As he drew even with her, their gazes connected. “Are you going to be okay?” she asked quietly.

“After you collapsed on me, you’re asking me?” His gaze was unreadable.

She reached up, touching his cheek. “It’s not my blood that could be out there somewhere, Taylor.” She stepped closer, sliding an arm around his waist. “Are you going to be okay? If…I—hell.” She tipped her head back and stared at him. “We just managed to find each other. I don’t want to lose you already. As selfish as that seems, I’m scared it will happen. But even more, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Anything you tell me is going to hurt.” He hooked his hand around her neck, pulled her close. “But I’ve already figured out enough—you’re here for this. I know that. And whatever happened to my baby sister, it’s keeping her trapped here. She deserves better than that.”

He pressed his brow to hers. “Help her let go. No matter what we find, it’s going to hurt. But keeping her trapped here just because I can’t face the truth makes me even more of a bastard than I already am. We’re not doing that. And I’m not losing you, either. So let’s get this done.”

* * *

HE hoped he hadn’t lied. Oh, he wasn’t worried about the deal with losing her—he wasn’t giving Desiree Lincoln up, not while he breathed. He just hoped he could face what she told him.

The frozen grass crunched under their feet as they walked along, breath foggy in the cold air.

They’d been walking for twenty minutes when he saw it starting for her. It was always a disturbing change to see. Sometimes because she’d have that little smile on her face. Today there was no smile. Today, her eyes got darker, her mouth flattened into a firm line, and there was something about the way she stared off into the distance that made him wonder if she was even
here
.

Occasionally her mouth would move, but she never said a word. Sometimes she’d cock her head, like she’d heard something, something he couldn’t hear.

Then abruptly, she stopped. Her head turned. And she stared.

Taylor vaguely knew where they were—Meyer’s Field. And it was pretty damn close to where they’d been the other night. Dez was staring off at some point to the north and when he moved closer, he could even see the point her gaze was fixed on.

And her lips were moving again.

In some silent, soundless conversation.

* * *

“NO—stop it! Let me go!”

Anna was screaming. The lady touching her, she wasn’t hurting her, but when she
did
touch her, there was pain. Pain in her head, and Anna couldn’t block it off. Sometimes that happened, but usually, it wasn’t like this.

It hurt, and it hurt and it was ugly, so ugly—

My angel, my pretty angel. You little slut, you let him touch you
—

She tore away from the lady and tried to run, but the lady caught her. “No!” Anna screamed, swinging out, hardly able to see for the tears. Pain cramped her belly, but it wasn’t really hers, it came from the lady.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” the lady babbled, trying to hug her, trying to hold her.

Earlier, those hugs had felt so nice. Mama never really hugged her like that. Taylor did, and Daddy did, but Mama never hugged her. Anna liked those hugs. But now…ever since the woman called her angel…

Whimpering, Anna tried to get away. The ugly pictures swarmed
her mind. A man, she knew him—what was he doing? It was wrong, she knew that…so wrong. Grunting and groaning—she saw images of him looming over her, only it
wasn’t
her.

Anna cried out, tried to get away, but the lady wouldn’t let go. She bit her. The lady screamed, and her grip loosened. Anna ran. Blindly, she ran. She didn’t care where she ran, didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, she just had to get away. She could see the little cabin the lady had been taking her to, but she couldn’t go there, she couldn’t. The roots grabbed at her feet, trying to trip her, and finally, one did. She went flying and immediately jumped back up.

Behind her, the lady called her name.

Anna shot a look behind her, didn’t see—

And then she was falling.

* * *

THE darkness came so sudden and swift, it froze the air in Dez’s lungs. Her eyes flew open and she struggled to breathe around the shock of it, struggled to separate herself from that deep connection with Anna. Too deep—she’d felt the terror, felt the pain of death.

The emptiness.

And her horror.

Finally, she managed to get in a breath. Then another. The band around her chest eased and she shoved against Taylor’s chest, eyeing the Taser. “Put that thing away,” she wheezed.

“If you’d made me use it, I might have spanked you.” He gripped her against him with his busted arm, stroking the back of her head with his good hand. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, licking her lips. “Physically, at least.” It wasn’t the complete truth—her belly was in turmoil and her head ached. But that would pass in a few more minutes.

Emotionally, though…she wasn’t sure.

Emotionally, she was a disaster.

Closing her eyes, she let her mind process what had just happened. The thoughts were jumbled, trying to settle into a weird sort of pattern. Something…she needed to figure out one crucial…

“Holy shit,” she whispered. Pushing back from Taylor, she stared at him. “Taylor, your sister was gifted.”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, she wasn’t.”

Dez pulled out of his arms and stood up, slowly, not trusting her shaking legs. “Oh, yes. She was. It wasn’t
her
I got those images from.
She
got them from somebody else. And she didn’t understand. But the person who took her had been abused—she was the one who’d been attacked. Anna had those images in her head when she died. I…” She swallowed, shaking her head. “Maybe all of that is part of what kept her trapped here, I don’t know. But Taylor, she was gifted.”

He just stared at her, his face pale, eyes glinting. “Dez, I can recognize gifted. I’ve always been able to. Anna, she was special, but…”

His voice trailed off. His eyes closed.