“Didn’t think you needed training.”
“Gotta keep the skills sharp, no matter what the game.” He flopped down on his bed. “I still contend, pleasing her in the sack is the first step to winning her over. Wouldn’t be the first time sex has been used as leverage.” He held up a flat palm to cut off any rebuff. “Don’t say you’d feel guilty. Women do that shit to us all the time.” Boone picked up his book. “Satisfied, she’ll be pliable. Think about all the good she can do, and not just finding Wilder.”
“I’d agree, but she’s dragging around a family history chock full of psychological drama.” Not surprising, the row with Boone purged his irrational worries. Now he could examine the root of his concerns. “I’m not sure how I’m going to dissuade her fears when she presents evidence to support her rationale.”
“For one thing, two isn’t chock full. And she’s not them. Her mom went ape-shit because she’s not really an oracle. Grandma never needed to hide her. She’s not even a little gifted, so it doesn’t count. Her mind couldn’t take it, which makes sense. And as far as Camille, we don’t know what actually happened. Losing Rodin as her lover could have been the reason she went coo-coo.”
Zane’s cell rang and lit up, displaying the boss’s phone number. He depressed to answer in speaker mode.
“’Lo?”
“Knew you’d still be up.” Jack sounded way too alert for the time of night. Even a little pissed off. “Start packin’, boy. You and the oracle are leaving tomorrow. One thirty flight.”
“I don’t think it will be that easy, Chief.”
“Solange will help you get her granddaughter on that plane. If you can get the earlier flight, do it. Just get her outta here as soon as possible.”
“What do you mean, as soon as possible? Did you learn something about Wilder?”
“No. About Vipond. He’s easily swayed by his right-hand man.”
“Savard? He couldn’t convince anyone of anything. He’s a total pussy,” Boone said.
“But desperate. If he can crack the oracle first, he comes out a hero.”
“What do you mean by crack? What did he suggest to Vipond?” Zane said.
“Something they’ve apparently done before. It was explained to me as a sedative to bring on the visions—without her knowledge, of course.”
Zane glanced at his brother and swallowed hard. In many ways, it wasn’t much different than what he planned to do through the dream break.
“The sedative isn’t a one-time shot, either. He has a doctor that is willing to keep her in a twilight state until she agrees to become the oracle. Personally, I don’t think he’ll stop even if she agrees. Since you left the restaurant empty-handed, he wants you booted.”
“That cocksucker.” Boone exploded off the bed.
“How could Vipond allow such a thing?”
“Desperate times. And I think Savard is trying to out-cowboy us.”
“No such thing as out cowboying a Gideon.”
“Damn straight,” his brother chimed in.
“I’m counting on that. And Zane…” Jack paused. “You’re going to have to work fast. I know you wanted a week, but once Savard finds out Delphine is gone—”
“He’ll search until he finds out where she went. With me AWOL too—”
“No telling how he or Vipond will react.”
His heart sank, but he knew the risk of dragging his feet. “You can count on me.”
“And me,” Boone perked up.
“You’re staying here, Slick,” Jack said. “Once the shit hits the propeller, you’re on clean up and distract. Shame you’re such a runt. We could have used you as a decoy for your brother.”
“You’re funny, sir.” Boone snorted and flipped the phone his middle finger.
“Now, get some sleep.” The boss disconnected and Zane chucked his cell onto the nightstand.
Silence settled between them for few beats, but the air seemed to buzz with electricity. “Man. This job got a lot more complicated.”
Boone stood and stretched. “Trade you. Savard for the oracle?” He turned off the floor lamp and waggled his eyebrows, grinning cockeyed.
For an instant, Zane considered his sweet talkin’ brother might be better suited for the job. But the notion died in a fit of anger the second he imagined Delphine being led up the stairs of the guest house. “No way. You keep a lid on that asshole here. He’s smart and probably has connections we don’t know about. I wouldn’t put it past Savard to figure out where we’ve gone.”
“I’ll handle Savard. But remember, I’m not you.”
A flash of Boone’s quick fists connecting to his counterpart’s face pleased him. “Do it however you want.”
“Stop smiling, you lucky bastard.”
“I’m not feeling all that lucky. Or sleepy.”
“Well if you’re not going to sleep, then at least prepare.” Overhanded, Boone lobbed the romance book at him. “I guarantee you’ll start feeling lucky once the two of you are naked.” He stretched out on the bed and jabbed at the pillow under his head.
“It wouldn’t be right to seduce her.”
“That was before the clock started ticking. You heard Jack. Less than a week.” He flicked on his nightstand lamp and picked up his book. “Slow sex speeds up everything. I guarantee it.”
Chapter Fifteen
Heart heavy with an ache she was sure would never go away, Delphine tossed the flattened paint tubes and messy palette into the kitchen trash. She held the dirty brushes a moment longer, staring at the frayed bristles. They’d been ruined. Not worth cleaning. She let them roll off her fingers into the bin and then returned to her bedroom.
More focused than she was depressed, she packed up all her art supplies and pushed them into the corner. It didn’t take long. Most of her paints and charcoals had been used up. She felt the same way.
Used. Up.
Eyes averted, she picked up her once perfect rendering of a vibrant flower garden from the easel and turned the plain canvas back to face her. Safe from viewing the infernal mess on the front, she propped it against the stack.
Her one last, untainted piece of joy destroyed forever. Tears stung her eyes as if she was burying a treasured friend. In a way she was, only she’d done the killing. This time during an unconscious state of sleep-painting.
Broad strokes of ocher and black now consumed the tranquil scene. In its place, she’d rendered the distorted face of a man with wild, wavy hair circling his head like a scorched halo and eyes tightly closed beneath a heavy brow. His nostrils flared outrageously above his open mouth, the most prominent feature in the portrait. A giant howling maul, she remembered his screams that cut so deep into her center, she could feel his fear while he struggled in the throes of an unseen torture.
She shuddered, and a tear fell onto her cheek. Quickly, she knuckled it away, trying with every ounce in her soul not to feel sorry.
But she did.
For the tortured man in the painting.
For all the others she would surely see in her sleep for the rest of her life.
For herself most of all.
Ever since childhood, life had dealt her blow after blow, but she’d been able to deal as long as she had her art.
She’d have to give it up. Bury it before the damnable curse corrupted the one, pure desire that kept her heart beating.
A shuddering sigh that seem to well up from her toes rocked more tears from her.
What the hell was she going to do?
Through blurry eyes, the easel folded in her practiced hands, and she dropped it on top of the boxes. Snapping a clean bedsheet open, she draped it over her treasures and tucked the ends under the edges. As an extra bit of protection, she dragged the comfy chair across the room and shoved it up against the covered mess and then flopped into it.
Her back against everything she’d held dear, there was nothing left to do but mourn. By now she should have been all cried out, but the tears burned hot trails down her face, he
r soul purging non-stop.
If it wasn’t for Mamie, she’d pack up and go. Try to outrun the force determined to ruin her life. But Mamie was her only sane family, even if she belonged to that messed-up Society. And without money or a job, she had few choices at her disposal.
The doorbell chimed, and Henri yipped frantically from her grandmother’s bedroom. His little feet scurried over the hardwood floor, his nails clicking double-time.
Delphine bolted out of the chair and hurried into the living area, wiping her face dry as she ran.
The doorbell rang again, and the little dog lifted off his front legs, barking and pawing at the door.
She whispered down to him. “Shhh, Henri. Mamie is sleeping.”
As if he understood, he woofed once quietly and wagged his tail.
She peered through the peephole, prepared to tell the early riser they had the wrong apartment.
Dimples deep and his smile as hesitant as the sunrise, Zane filled her little circle of vision. Against good sense, her heartbeat quickened, and the rush of attraction—joyful and expectant—welled up from that unidentifiable place in her body. Same as every time she laid eyes on Cowboy.
But he could only be here for one reason.
Round two.
And she wasn’t in the mood.
Yet knowing he was on the other side of the door thrilled her in a way she wished she could ignore.
Unlike Delphine, Henri couldn’t contain his excitement for company. He yipped and dragged a rough paw down the length of her blue jean-covered shin.
“Be quiet,” she whispered, still debating.
“I can hear you and Henri,” he said through the door. “You can let me in now, or I’ll stand here until all the neighbors wake up.”
That would include Mamie, and the poor old woman needed rest. She’d been talking on the phone when Delphine went to bed after midnight.
With the security chain in place, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack. “I will not be enticed to join Hell Runners, Mr. Gideon. You should go home with the other cowboys.”
“You’re right.” He curled his fingers into the brim of the Stetson gripped in his right hand. “You shouldn’t be coerced into doing something you’re dead set against. But…” He jammed his boot into the door crack, testing the strength of the chain. “You had made up your mind before I started talking. With what you know, I can’t say I’d blame you for being reticent, but I do blame you for being closed minded.”
“It’s not closed minded to protect myself.”
“You have no idea how to protect yourself. You have no idea what you’re up against or even how it will affect your mind. You don’t want to go bat-shit crazy. Understandable. But the path you’re on right now will ensure just that. No doubt.”
When she didn’t reply, he continued. “You might find relief if you listen to me.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, her thin T-shirt damp with sweat beneath her palms. “And you’re here to…”
“Talk.” He leveled his gaze at her. “You need information, so you understand your choices.”
“Choices?” She lowered her head and squeezed her waist. It was hard to fight his logic with the lingering images of last night’s terror, but she would. “I don’t trust anyone in that Society. Not even you.”
“You do some. You just don’t want to admit it.”
Her head snapped up. “You are very arrogant.”
“No. I’m confident because I’m intuitive. I’m also empathetic. Been there. Done that.” He cocked his head, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you want the nightmares to stop?”
“Of course.” She nodded and bore a stare into his gentle blue eyes. “But how can I trust you when you used me right from the start?”
It took a second for what she said to sink in, and then his jaw dropped and his brows furrowed. Eyes turning the color of a rough sea, he spoke through tight lips. “Are you saying that I targeted you on that first day?”
“Are you saying you didn’t?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m saying I didn’t.” He pointed at her, a brown paper bag dangling from his fingertips.
Henri barked and bounced on his hind legs to reach it.
“I can’t believe you’d even think that. I was shocked-as-shit when Solange showed up at that meeting. When her eyes met mine, I knew in an instant the one woman I wanted to date was lost to me. We’d shared probably the most perfect day I’ve had in a very long time. Well, screw stupid me,” he spat out hotly. “I thought it was the same for you.”
His outburst took her by surprise. Oddly enough, anger like that was usually fueled by honesty. The base coat for truth.
And it had been the same for her. That’s why she’d hurt so much. Why she wanted to block him out even more.
“Move your boot,” Delphine said, her throat tight.
“You’re seriously going to turn me away?” He touched his Stetson to his chest, lowering the arm with the paper bag. “I’m not leaving. You need my help.”
Henri yipped, his tail pounding against her calf, his nose jammed up and out.
“The holy terrier gets it. Why don’t you?”
“The holy terrier smells bacon.”
Zane allowed Henri to steal the bag.
“Now you’ll have to let me in.” His grin was weak. “You owe me.”
“So now you’re admitting that history repeats itself?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You waffle more than a politician.”
“No. I simply know my opponent, and based on that history, chose the best option.”
She nudged the pointed end of his boot with her big toe. “Just move.”
The corners of his mouth turned down, but he extracted his foot. “Fine. I’ll stand out here all day. All night if I have to.”
The dog yapped and pranced around the bag in an anxious circle.
“Shhh, Henri,” she admonished again and closed the door. With a quick slide, she unfastened the chain lock and reopened the door, this time wide.
Zane smiled relief that didn’t extend to his eyes. He was smart enough to remain guarded.
The dog yapped behind her.
“If you’d have moved your foot the first time I asked, we all could have shared what was in that bag.” She closed the door and pressed her back flat against it. “Understand this—I let you in because I had another nightmare last night.”
“Bad?”
“Mamie and I talked for a while before I went to bed. She said the visions can be removed. Is that true?”
“Yes.” He nodded, but she noted the hesitation and stiffness in his body language. “But it isn’t easy. You’ll have to confront the nightmares head on first.”
Her stomach clenched. “Isn’t that what I’m already doing?”
“No. The visions come to you as nightmares because they have control. You need to take control. There’s a process for that. I can guide you through.”
“A process?” A drizzle of hope swirled into the anxiety roiling inside her.
“Yes. It’s not difficult, and you’ll gain a better understanding of what we do.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?” His eyebrows winged up. “Okay as in yes?”
She nodded, all the while thinking about her ruined painting. “Because I do want the nightmares to stop, but understand—I haven’t changed my mind about joining Hell Runners.” She didn’t let the downturn of his mouth slow her. “Controlled or not, I don’t want the visions. I presume I’ll have more visions in the process of getting rid of them, so this one time I’ll be your oracle.” Delphine held her hand out to seal the deal.
Zane seemed to ponder for a moment. No doubt a handshake to him equated to a signed contract. A moment later, he enclosed her hand in his. An unexpected shiver skittered along her core.
“This one time.”
His prolonged handshake reminded her of his kiss—firm, yet gentle and full of promise. Another shiver claimed her, and she relinquished her grip. Better to keep th
e arrangement all business.
“I hope we find your friend.”
“Can’t ask for more than that,” he said, but frustration rolled off him as strong as his sexy cologne. “Will you let me back in if I run out and get us some breakfast? I haven’t eaten anything.”
“I think I can handle an American breakfast. A few eggs. Bacon too, if you’re of the mind.” She started toward the kitchen.
“I’m of the mind.” His rich voice filled the apartment. “Coffee?”
“Coffee is assumed. Would you mind feeding Henri his feast?” she said over her shoulder. “He’s a noise maker, and Mamie’s still sleeping. I hope. She was up late.”
Zane nabbed the bag off the floor on the way to the kitchen, the little dog bouncing around his legs with every step. “As late as you? You look like you haven’t slept a wink.”
She rubbed fingertips across her tired eyes like she could ease away the dark telltale circles. “I was painting.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly.
“Painting for pleasure or because something from the other side made you?”
Irritated he got right to the heart of the matter, she turned her back and started the coffeemaker.
“Look, I want all this oracle bullshit to not to be true as much as you do.” She heard him tow a kitchen chair gingerly over the floor. “But that’s not the case. Neither one of us can hide from it.”
She turned around, crossing her arms over her chest. “That’s a matter of opinion.”
“Sit,” he ordered, and Henri complied with a quivering ass. “No. It’s a matter of fact as of last night’s meeting of the big-wigs.” Torn bits of bacon, egg, and cheese covered his palm. He lowered the treat to the impatient dog, who wolfed it down while wiggling.
“What happened last night?” She didn’t like her future discussed behind her back.
“This isn’t something I can say easily, but I don’t have a choice. It’s why I was so desperate for you to let me in this morning. And I sure as shit didn’t want to shout it through a crack in the door.” He inclined his head toward the other kitchen chair. “Breakfast can wait.”
“No. I’d prefer to stay busy.” She selected a skillet from the three hanging against the wall over the stove. “Go on.” Opening the refrigerator, she began removing the few items she’d need to cook.
Dream Breakers, Oath Takers Page 12