Great, it sounded great, except for the part of her picking him up. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. What was she going to do with a dog? Tracy cringed at the thought of turning him over to the pound, though that was probably his best chance. But they always looked so sad in those cages when the animal shelters ran fund-raising commercials. It felt cruel to even contemplate the pound for Sugar-Bear after everything he’d been through. Maybe she could keep him at her place for now—just until she could find him a good home.
“Great, thanks Ken. I’ll stop by after work.”
“Not so fast. You owe me one, remember?” Ken teased, laughter in his voice. “How about I bring him with me and meet you at your place for a coffee and I can drop off this week’s book since you missed book club?”
Shoot, she’d forgotten. She hadn’t even started last week’s reading assignment yet.
“Rain check? And Ken?” Tracy smiled. “Thanks.”
She clicked the phone shut and tucked it away, already planning to stop at the pet store on her lunch break. After all, Sugar-Bear would need food and a bed. Maybe some toys.
“That your young man?” her seat-mate asked.
Tracy straightened her jacket along her back. “No, just a friend.”
Funny how a picture of Scott Anderson popped into her head at the woman’s words. She’d hurt him last night though she hadn’t meant to, and then in her embarrassment she couldn’t wait to get out of the car. So adult of her.
Tracy sighed and shook her head. Just as well. If they’d gotten together she had a feeling more than just his ribs would have been injured. Her heart would’ve taken the next hit.
A couple of bus stops later the woman lumbered off, and then it was her turn. Tracy navigated the busy aisle, leading with her briefcase so as not to knock anyone on her way past, and made her careful way down the steps into the congestion of early morning foot traffic.
The Medical Examiner’s office was a block over and rather than fight the crowds, Tracy decided to cut through the mostly deserted park that separated the two streets. The path wove through a small copse of trees and meandered along a man-made brook where ducks and the odd swan swam, hoping for handouts from passersby.
Normally she enjoyed the restful scene and often spent lunch hours feeding the waterfowl but today it felt as though the shadows had eyes. Maybe she was still jittery from yesterday’s encounter or maybe it was a sixth sense; either way her feet fairly flew across the expanse. She didn’t draw a solid breath until she reached the front door of the office. Her heart was slow to settle back into place as she nodded her greetings to the security guard, receptionist, and some of the other lifers, as she liked to think of the longtime employees who liked to work the weekend, same as herself.
By the time the elevator whisked her up to the fourth floor and she made her way to the lab, Tracy was feeling almost normal. That is until she stepped into the room and met the serious gazes of Scott Anderson and her boss, Gil.
“Tracy. I believe you’ve met Mr. Anderson,” Gil said as Scott stepped forward, hand outstretched.
So he was going to pretend she was merely an acquaintance, was he? Fine. Two could play that game.
She ignored his hand and strode around him to place her briefcase on her desk. “Sorry I’m late, my car was… indisposed. I had to grab the bus.”
“You should have called,” Scott said, and was echoed by Gil. The men glared at each other and Tracy’s temper soared.
Men were Neanderthal idiots, every last one of them. And speaking of which…
“Where’s Hank?” The man hadn’t called in sick once in all the time they’d worked together.
Gil looked at Scot and then avoided her gaze, the two of them suddenly co-conspirators. Tracy’s stomach dropped.
“What’s going on?” She wrapped her fingers around the back of the chair in a death grip. A helpless ache tightened her throat until she could barely croak. “Tell me.”
Scott took a step then halted when Gil moved around the desk first. He grasped her icy fingers in his, and met her gaze with saddened gray eyes.
“He’s dead, honey. Home invasion.”
* * *
When Scott first arrived this morning after calling, Gil Davis, Tracy’s boss, had shown up to speak with him. He’d treated Scott with respect—not as the movie star—but as the lone survivor of a car accident, and he’d taken an immediate liking to the man.
“I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything we can do…?” Gil asked and Scott shook his head. “I understand. Should you change your mind our doors are always open. Would you like to view the bodies now?”
Scott flinched. His stomach churned.
Now that the moment had arrived he was reluctant. Even though Lucas had paid him that extraordinary visit last night—then disappeared and left him thinking he was freaking crazy—the fact was both his friend and his sister’s remains lay on cold metal slabs somewhere in this building.
“I think I’ll wait for Dr. York if you don’t mind.”
“You know Tracy?” Gil asked, brushing a hand through his prematurely graying hair.
“We’re… friends.” Scott didn’t know if she’d exactly agree with that assessment but they were more than mere acquaintances, especially after their kisses. The musky scent of her arousal and the sweet taste of her lips had embedded themselves in his memory.
“Good, she’ll need her friends around her right now.”
Scott frowned. Was he talking about the dog?
“You heard then?” he asked.
“Yeah, the police commissioner called me first thing this morning.”
Not the dog then.
“What happened?” Scott demanded.
Gil looked at him askance. “I thought you knew. Tracy’s partner, Hank, was murdered last night during a home invasion.”
What the hell?
These attacks couldn’t be random. Something was going on and Scott intended on finding out what before he lost someone else he cared for.
“What are you planning on doing about it?” Frustration and an unfamiliar helplessness rode him hard.
Gil frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, crumpling his Hermes tie in the process. “I don’t know who you think you are, but we take care of our own around here.”
“Yeah? That didn’t work out so well for Tracy’s partner, did it?” Scott slammed his hand down on the desk, rattling some loose pens. “You need to get her some security until this shit gets sorted out. Who do you think has a beef with this department?”
Gil turned away and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I don’t have a clue. The police are working on it, let’s give them time to do their jobs.”
Scott sank into a chair. Ever since the accident he’d felt like he was submerged under water and couldn’t find his way to the top. The only positive thing in this new world he inhabited was seeing Lucas again—and meeting Tracy. He hated that she was in danger.
Lucas had tried to tell him last night he’d only returned to earth because Scott was in trouble, and it was his job to keep him safe.
Angered, Scott lashed out. “If you wanted to keep me safe maybe you shoulda watched where the fuck you were driving—buddy.”
Lucas had paled. “Yeah man, you’re right. And I’m more sorry than I can ever say. But, I think I’ve paid the price, don’t you?”
He’d reached out then but Scott had jerked away, head down in misery. It was his stupid ass idea. All of it. Because of him his sister and his best friend were freakin’ dead. Bile rose and he choked it down.
He’d turned, an apology on his lips, but Lucas had disappeared. Scott spent the rest of the night searching without hope. All he could do was pray he’d get another chance to make things right.
If Lucas ever showed himself again.
He’d needed to see his friend’s remains and prove to himself this wasn’t just a horrific dream, so he’d called first thing this morning.
And now h
ere he was, watching his girl—even if she didn’t think so—in the arms of another man.
Scott stood back, fists clenched, while Tracy crumpled into her boss’s arms. He ached to be the one holding her, offering comfort and anything else she might need.
The coincidences were piling up and he didn’t like it.
Chapter 13
Lucas grunted, landing flat on his back on the beach near the same cabin where he’d first met the Lord. The stars, large enough to touch, twinkled merrily in the sky mocking his discomfort. Storm clouds in rich shades of purple, pink, and navy blue hovered on the far side of the lake. Seemed kinda weird, considering where he was and all. So much for heaven being butterflies and daffodils.
His side burned like he had a bad case of road-rash. He lifted his shirt for a look and grimaced at the angry-looking red welt running along his washboard abs. It was festering. He needed to find shelter and some medical aid.
He climbed gingerly to his feet and had a look around. The campfire they’d enjoyed the fish at the other night had burned itself out and was nothing more than a blackened mess, rather like his life. Shivering as a blast of frigid air hit his skin, Lucas headed for the cabin.
He stumbled up the rough-hewn stairs. noting the old-fashioned rocking chairs on the porch facing the lake. A nice spot to relax on a warm summer’s evening if you weren’t an angel tasked with saving human lives.
His fist made a dull thud against the solid pine door. When no one answered he tried the knob and found it turned smoothly beneath his hand. He entered slowly, but the large room with an open beam ceiling was empty.
Making his way over to a single oversized porcelain farm sink, he turned on the taps. A stack of snowy white towels sat conveniently on the counter to the right but he hesitated, loath to ruin them. There wasn’t much choice though, he needed to get the wound cleaned.
Lucas dropped a hand towel in the scalding water then stripped out of his soiled shirt. After sluicing his face and neck he wrung out the towel and eased it against his side. Sweat broke out over his back and forearms, the pain almost unbearable, but he forced himself to repeat the procedure two more times before he was satisfied he’d done all that he could.
Weak-kneed, he searched for a place to sit and found an oversized tweed and leather sofa in front of a blackened stone fireplace taking up almost an entire wall. There was kindling already piled in the hearth and a match on the mantle so he took that as an invitation and lit the fire before lowering himself gingerly onto the couch. A beer and a hockey game and he’d be set. He leaned back and closed his eyes, figuring on a couple minutes of rest.
When he awoke he was lying stretched out on the sofa and a soft wool blanket had been thrown over his body. He swung his legs down and sat up, wincing at the tug on his side.
A female hummed quietly by the sink, her slender back almost hidden by a waterfall of golden brown tresses. The tips brushed the top of a skintight pair of well-worn jeans that lovingly cupped a heart-shaped ass. She seemed oblivious to the fact Lucas was awake, and continued her chore of cutting and arranging a giant bouquet of meadow flowers into a crystal vase. She made a pretty picture framed by the gingham curtains lining the plate-glass window. He cleared his throat to get her attention, curious about who she might be and what she was doing there.
Startled, she dropped the knife and it clanged into the sink. Her head drooped like one of her flowers. Then she swung around, her arms crossed defensively.
Lucas froze, shocked to his core. What kind of sick joke was this?
“Natalya?” he croaked.
* * *
Tracy sobbed until she couldn’t cry any more. Her chest was nothing more than a giant aching hole. Hank was dead. There would be no more stupid morgue jokes. No newspaper funnies left on her desk. No more bags of her favorite sugary donuts at coffee break.
No Hank.
They’d been friends and partners for most of the five years she’d worked here. What was she going to do without him?
Gil passed her a tissue and she blotted the worst of her tears away before meeting his concerned gaze.
“You going to be all right?”
She nodded, there wasn’t much choice. “Do they have any suspects?”
Gil looked away. “Not yet.”
Great.
None of this made any sense. What was the common denominator? Her eyes widened as she swung around to face Scott seated in front of her desk.
“This is all your fault.” She leaned over and slammed her hands on the desk. “Everything that’s happened started after your friend and sister arrived here. What kind of crap were you guys into before that accident?”
He didn’t answer.
“Tell me,” she cried, her fingers tingling with the urge to shake him until he admitted his guilt.
“Tracy,” Gil warned.
Scott shook his head and latched onto her hands, refusing to let go when she would have pulled away.
“I can see where that beautiful head of yours is going, but you’re wrong. Lucas and I have never gotten into the drug scene. Ever,” he emphasized. “I’m not going to lie to you, there were plenty of parties and more than enough chances to try the shit out, but we weren’t into it, okay?”
He squeezed her hands, then let go before standing. “I’m not sure what this is about, but we’re going to find out. I have money; I can hire private investigators to do some digging around. There has to be a link somewhere.”
“We don’t…”
“No thank you,” Gil spoke over top Tracy. “We don’t need anyone coming in and muddying the waters. The Chicago P.D. know what they’re doing, let them do their jobs.”
Gil strode to the door, stopping with his hand on the knob. “Don’t go anywhere, Anderson. They’ll probably want to question you soon.” He turned to Tracy. “If you need some time, I understand. Take a break, it’ll help.” Then he nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.
An awkward silence fell over the room. Now that she had calmed down, Tracy was embarrassed by her outburst. It wasn’t like her to be so emotional. But then, she’d never had a partner get murdered before either.
“Do you honestly believe I have something to do with this?” Scott moved around the desk until he stood directly in front of her. He tipped her chin up.
She met his gaze defiantly. “I don’t know, do I? We barely know each other.”
Instead of getting mad like she expected, his lips quirked. His thumb brushed slowly along her bottom lip and her eyes slid to half-mast. She gulped, unable to deny the sensual reaction to his touch.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
His mouth took over where his thumb left off, feathering gently along the edge of her lips until she opened on a sigh. “Don’t what?”
Their lips clung, bound by invisible threads.
“Deny that we have something between us?” he asked.
More teasing, exploring kisses meant to drive her out of her freaking mind.
“I’m not,” he murmured, answering himself. He stepped in closer, so close she could feel the exaggerated beat of his heart and the heat radiating from his big body. The all too evident ridge of his arousal.
Even as she met him kiss for kiss a small voice in her head kept asking if she knew what she was doing, who she was kissing.
The answer; not a freaking clue.
But she meant to find out.
Chapter 14
Lucas scrubbed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath before he chanced another glance at the woman he’d just been ogling. Nothing had changed. Natalya stood before him in a shirt that was too damn short—was that a diamond winking at him from her belly button?—and a pair of jeans that looked as though they were painted onto her lithe frame.
Shit. Natalya’s here.
Which meant she must also be in transition?
Cursing their luck wouldn’t change a thing, even if it would be a good momentary release. It was his fucking fault this was happe
ning and now others were paying the price.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asked, looking impossibly young and innocent. The sunlight streamed through the window behind her, bathing her body in a warm, ethereal glow.
Lucas rose, moved to her side, and held out his arms. “C’mere. Of course I’m glad to see you.”
She flowed into his arms and laid her head against his chest.
“I just wish it wasn’t here,” he whispered into her hair, inhaling the fresh scent of the meadow on her skin. He’d spent so many years thinking of her as Scott’s little sister, it was hard reconciling the undeniable attraction coursing through his veins. He’d never realized how petite she was. The top of her head barely brushed his chin, and his arms wrapped around her narrow back, came conveniently close to the sides of her breasts.
Feeling like a pervert, he kissed her forehead and set her back to get a better look at her familiar, yet somehow different, features. He didn’t remember those cheekbones being quite so high. Nor had he noticed the lush fullness of her mouth. Jerking his gaze from her lips, Lucas relaxed a little when he met her blue-green eyes. The mischievous smile lighting their depths was one he knew well.
“Well, this is a fine pickle I’ve gotten us into,” he muttered.
Nat giggled, the sound a sparkling brook that quenched his tortured soul. From the time she was little, he and Scott had known she was special. Different from the rest of the hard-scrabble kids trying to eke out their place in a world that refused to cut them a break. Her bubbly personality and enjoyment with the simplest of pleasures—whether it was a tulip poking out of the hard ground, the lazy buzzing of a bee, or the gift of a cookie he’d filched from the local supermarket—made his life bearable during those tough times.
“At least we have each other,” she said. She leaned to the right, her gaze searching the room behind him. “Where’s Scott?”
She doesn’t know.
It was one thing for her to go off to college and not see her family until the holidays, but this…
The Guardian (Mended Souls Book 1) Page 7