by Brynna Curry
The red haze that had washed over him was beginning to clear. He eased back and stared at his hands. He had almost strangled Liv’s brother. When this was over, he’d never be able to be a cop again. He didn’t have the control he once had. He’d kill and he’d enjoy it.
“My wife is dead and her killer had a free year on you. You’re trouble, Corrigan, and Liv isn’t going to be in it anymore. She’ll be staying with me until this is over.”
“You can’t keep her under lock and key. I’ll not have my sister shacked up with any man, especially not you!”
He whirled on Ryan. “I know you half-raised her, but you aren’t her father. Unlike you, I care about her. What she does or doesn’t do isn’t your problem anymore. She’s safe with me.”
Jack came home to a dark house. His heart stopped beating for a minute with fear. Had they taken her? Was she dead? He frantically searched downstairs, calling for her. She didn’t answer. He took the steps two at a time, panic already painting graphic images in his mind. It was then that he saw the reading lamp on in his office. He found her there, curled up in the corner chair, eyes closed.
She was sound asleep, his book held delicately in her hands. She had her little reading glasses perched on her nose, of course by now they’d slid crooked and were resting on her cheek. How could someone sleep like that? Well, he had no idea, especially not after reading a book like his.
He would have been insulted if he hadn’t known his work, and how drained she was. He’d seen it when she’d come to him, but then it had been covered with temper. He carefully took the book, so as not to wake her, and marked her place with a yellow sticky note. Two chapters left and she’d fallen asleep. Had he been gone that long? Then he took the glasses, folded them and slipped them into his t-shirt pocket. He gently picked her up, using his good arm to bear most of the weight, and not without a little effort he carried her to his room.
Jack was grateful he hadn’t had to climb the stairs with her, even though she was light. His shoulder was still giving him fits, though he’d gotten rid of the sling. He tried not to think about it when she stirred in sleep and snuggled into his shoulder. He laid her on the bed. She didn’t wake, not even when he slipped off her shoes, not even when he draped the fuzzy throw over her.
Jack watched her sleep, and tried to puzzle out why he’d become so attached to this woman he had known so short a time. Liv Corrigan had something over him. Lust? While he rubbed the twisting knots out of his stomach, he answered his own questions. Yes, he was definitely in lust with Liv. He didn’t have a problem with that. He was human after all, he thought, and she a beautiful woman. Affection?
Certainly, he cared, but he didn’t need her with him, wouldn’t love her, not like he had Serena, but he’d wanted to curl up behind her while she slept. He’d wanted to snuggle her close and just slip off to dream with her. That was what gave him the uneasy feeling in his chest.
So tired and exhausted from the worry, stress, the pain of loss, Liv made him feel happy just to be alive. Closing the door, Jack double-checked the security and all the locks, stretched out on the den sofa. “Think about it later,” he mumbled and fell asleep. When he dreamed, it was Liv who haunted him and not Serena.
* * * *
The room was filled with sunlight. She felt it warm and bright on her face. Liv could hear birds singing, water swishing, but that couldn’t be right. She was at Ryan’s house, not home. Slowly she opened her eyes, questioning at first. Jack’s bed? Jack’s bed. She automatically yanked what she thought was a sheet, and only succeeded in cold feet. Had she come up here and waited on him? She could only remember reading in his office then…nothing.
The alarm clock on the bedside table proudly displayed 1:30 on the digital dial. Where was Jack? What if he hadn’t come home? Was he in jail? Maybe he’d been hurt? What if he and Ryan were lying in a bloody heap in the middle of the floor? It chilled her to the bone. She should have tried harder to keep him from leaving. Well, she’d returned to the land of the living. Now she’d have to find him. She went to the door and turned the knob. She screamed as glass and water flew everywhere, but on the breakfast tray Jack held.
“You scared the wits out of me.” She still didn’t have all them all back. Had she heard him outside the door, or had she sensed him unconsciously?
“Sorry, I thought you’d still be sleeping. Hungry?” He held a tray—bacon, eggs, toast, and orange juice. A pink rosebud lay in a puddle of wet and glass on the floor.
“You cooked for me?”
“I’m sorry for what I said. I was upset and angry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’ve come to beg your forgiveness. So, you’ve been cooking for a week now, I thought I’d return the favor. Peace offering? Don’t you ever let people take care of you?”
“Probably not.”
She picked up the rose off the floor. She twirled it around her long slim fingers. “It’s okay. How did I get up here, anyway? I was reading, after that I can’t remember anything else. I enjoyed the story, by the way.”
“I carried you. You were dead to the world and happy about it.”
“You shouldn’t have. Your shoulder still needs to heal.” She brushed her fingertips over his shirt where a scar would rest underneath.
“It’s healing fine. Why don’t you eat your breakfast?”
Her irritation with him forgotten, she stood on her tiptoes. Lightning struck her, as it always did, every time she kissed him.
“I’m sorry I made you angry. It looks like you got your way after all. I stayed.” She started to kiss him again, and frowned when he pushed her gently away.
“Don’t just yet, Liv. I’m not so steady on my feet right now. You’ll be back on that bed in two seconds flat. I don’t think I have to tell you it wouldn’t be to sleep.”
“Wow, this is good. I didn’t know you could cook.”
He took a sip of coffee. “Serena taught me, so I wouldn’t starve if she… I shouldn’t talk about her.” He cleared his throat. “I went to your brother’s house last night. He told me some things I’m not sure I can deal with right now, but I know he’s telling the truth.” Jack prowled the room, gesturing with the coffee cup in his hand.
Liv winced at what he was doing to the carpet.
“What could he have told you about your own wife that you yourself wouldn’t know?” She caught herself. “Sorry.”
“This is a big nasty business, Liv. They’ll try again. I want you to stay here with me.”
“Ryan would never intentionally hurt me. I won’t go into hiding. Your man has detectives watching my every move. If I blink cross-eyed the whole world will know.”
“It’s not enough. These people are dangerous.”
She couldn’t stay here with him. Be around him twenty-fours hours a day. She’d never get any work done for mooning about like a lovesick schoolgirl. “I can’t.”
“I’m offering you a sanctuary, Liv. Take it. You’ll have your own space. If you don’t want me in sight, just say so and I’ll stay out of your way. I need to do this. Let me help, Liv. Please, I need to do something. I want you here. I want you with me.”
“All right.”
* * * *
The day had dawned hot and humid. The sun beat down unmercifully on the unmarked police car that was trying badly to blend in with the surroundings—not likely. A novice could have spotted the clunker in front of his house as a cop car. Jack tried to keep a straight face as the rookie cop fumbled his coffee when he suddenly popped up by his window.
“Jesus, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
Jack recognized them as the two detectives Liv had been talking to at the station.
“It’s a good thing I hadn’t wanted to kill you. It would have been all too easy. You should have seen me, or at least felt me sneak up on you. What kind of cops are you anyway? You’re supposed to be guarding her. If she’d gotten into trouble last night, it would have been on your heads.”
“Following and guarding are two differ
ent things. It would help if she’d stay in one place. It’s like trying to follow a lightning bolt.”
Jack managed to hide the twitch the thought brought to his mouth, barely.
“Well, this will make your day, then. She’s staying put, right here. No more running all over for you. Now, get someone to bring her things over. I’ve got work to do.”
“Here, sir?” Jack frowned at Daniels.
“Yes, here. Learn to pay attention to everything around you, not just what’s in front of your face. You’ll live longer for it.” He strode off. Jack would bet Nelson and Daniels couldn’t wait to spread the gossip over donuts and coffee.
Chapter 11
Devin stood in the shadow of night, in front of the Louvre and waited. He enjoyed the anticipation of the act as much as the prize. He was after a great prize tonight. He might have come earlier, switched the jewels on his own with his magic, but he would have missed this part of it.
Larceny, being somewhere you aren’t supposed to be, doing something you’re not supposed to do, was a thrill of its own. His team was already in place and waiting for his signal, each in black from hair to toe, so as not to be seen. Devin had his arm around Nicolette; except for the dark clothes they appeared to be lovers lost in the romance of Paris at night. They moved as a unit to a doorway. In mere seconds, she had the alarms down, and they were in.
It was he who whisked the diamond from its resting place. So complicated were the alarms, he actually had to use magic to do it. Replaced with its recreated copy, the Regent lay safely in a velvet pouch in his pocket. He could feel the power and history pulsing from it even now, but that was for later. There would be much to do later. They left as quickly as they came, without leaving a trace of their passing. Tomorrow he’d catch the first flight out and take Gueraldi his diamond. Tonight was for magic.
Devin declined Nicolette’s invitation of her company for the rest of the evening. She wasn’t happy about it. Alone, he went to his room, and left her pouting in the hall. His team had their payment, and he owed them nothing more than that. He had learned not to get attached to people over the years, after he had lost friends and loved ones. He remained the same year after year, while everyone else withered and died with new lives being born to take their places.
He changed into a robe of black velvet that grazed the carpeted floor. His eyes were wild with sorcery when he cast his circle, a lion before the kill. It was time for his prize. He took the stone into his hands and used it as a looking glass. Devin absorbed the power of the emotions it had collected as old as time itself. As he did now and then, out of curiosity mostly, he sought her out.
“Show me she that is bound by three, Earth Air and Sea. As is my right, for I am her key. Hide me from her sight so that only I may see what destiny has in store for me. As I will so mote it be.”
With eyes closed he held the diamond while it grew hot in his hand, and looked across the distance to the stone circle by the sea. He couldn’t see her yet, not just yet. Arianne was still the wind, but he felt her magic. He saw the spell cast again, saw her become the air.
She was beautiful, desirable. He wanted her instantly and hated the sight of her all the same. It was all he could see, for now, but something had changed. Time was shifting. He had essentially stayed the same since he had been trapped. He didn’t age, at all, not even by a day. His hair hadn’t grown, and if he cut himself he didn’t bleed. It was like he was caught in limbo, until this morning. He’d had to shave for the first time in a millennium. Proof that the spell was unraveling, even if ever so slowly. He didn’t know what was causing the change, but it meant this half existence would soon be over. It might be worth his while to find out what was causing it. He didn’t want her to be waiting for him when it was, but the spell itself would compel him to seek Arianne, compel him to lust for her. Love? Well, love couldn’t be ruled by magic.
* * * *
Liv struggled with a killer while working at the little desk in the guest room of Jack’s house. It was difficult to be in such close surroundings with him constantly—even though she had the run of the house, she was always bumping into him in the hallway. Or every other minute Jack was just there, giving off that aura of power, tempting her, and it was distracting. If I don’t find something constructive to do I’ll go crazy. Work. It was the best way to get him out of her head until she wanted him there. So she read over Macy’s plight and got down to business…
Her head hurt, but her vision was clear. As soon as she registered the fact, she wished she hadn’t. Macy was bound to the altar in the old church. The carved wood was still covered in the victim’s blood, and she was lying in the pool of death. Blood that had gone cold like the killer she sought out. Well, she’d found him now, hadn’t she? Great. She tried to move but her limbs felt sluggish. Had he drugged her? How long had she been out? Had her call even gotten through? She saw him, wearing tattered and filthy robes of a priest. A foot long crucifix hovered above her chest. The end had been crudely fashioned into a knifepoint.
“You have sinned, my child, but I will give you penance.” His voice held no emotion, just dead words. She tried to respond, but found she was gagged. No one knew where she was. Tears slid down her cheeks. Her captor silently reveled in them. Tears always came with the moment of repent.
“Tears, holy water born of remorse and prove deference,” he mumbled and crossed himself.
She thought of the twelve young faces that were now etched in her mind, the images of their grieving parents. She had failed them. She hadn’t stood for them. Macy wept silently. There was nothing at her disposal to cut the ropes, even if she had been able to reach them. She couldn’t free herself. I’m going to die. With that thought, panic sneaked back in. Her cellphone vibrated in her pocket. Lucas. He would come, surely he would. She began to pray like never before as the madman brought the holy symbol down.
Lucas Grant cursed the endless ringing of her phone. Had he gotten to her? He hit the parking lot of the church with a spray of gravel. His backup was only moments behind him, but time was precious. He couldn’t wait for them. As he slipped through the side door, he had only one thought on his mind. Macy. It was a weakness he couldn’t afford if he was to help her at all. He saw her, so still, tied to the holy altar. He watched the knife begin its descent. He saw her so many different ways, in laughter, sadness, pain and passion. His eyes focused, he shielded his heart with ice, and pulled the trigger. Her name left his lips before his bullet ever found its mark.
Macy heard a single shot fire through the air. She saw the knife fall from her attacker’s hand as he fell on top of her with a sickly thud. Gore oozed from the hole in his forehead and onto her face. She lay there unable to breathe with his dead weight on her.
Lucas’s eyes didn’t flicker at the sight of what he’d done. It had been necessary. He tossed him aside like the garbage he was, and quickly untied his partner. His hands and eyes raced over her, searching for little hurts. She was all right. Macy was covered with blood and brains, but she wasn’t seriously hurt. There was nothing else he cared about at that moment.
“Lucas, I’m okay. Just a little bump on my head and a lot scared. I’m all right.” She was still shaking when he took her up in his arms and out of the church, away from murder, from justice, from death, and into the light…
Liv stretched her fingers and hit the save button. More often than not, it ended like that, one saving the other. Their ongoing not romance was a tease that kept readers coming back. This fourth book had carried them from partners to lovers. She hoped it would key in just enough tension to keep her readers waiting for the fifth. She sighed heavily. Time to set it aside. It would have been a lot easier to solve Macy and Lucas’s romantic issues than her own. Now she had nothing to do but sit and wait. That was irritating and didn’t help her current problems in the least. She would have to deal with Jack sooner or later, better now. She went in search of him.
* * * *
Jack huddled up in his office wi
th the door locked. He needed to work and to distance himself from Liv. The close quarters were making it very hard keep their arrangement a gesture of courtesy. She’d been avoiding him, whenever possible, and still he couldn’t breathe for wanting her.
Too much had happened to add one more complication to the list. He must have been crazy to suggest she stay as his guest until all this was over. It had seemed like a logical solution—Jack had better security than most of the safe houses the police had—and at the time it had made him feel a lot better. He hadn’t known it would be pure hell to lie awake at night knowing she was just a few steps down the hall, sleeping soundly in one of those filmy nightgowns she loved. He wished Liv would end the torment and come to him.
Why had Sissy done the things she did? Had she really turned dirty? Was she a thief? What else had she done that he didn’t know about? She had protected him, and he wasn’t grateful to her for it. She had lied to him about it, damn it, lied when she should have been square with him. How long had she held back? He would never know. Dead men, or women in this case, tell no tales.
Jack clacked away at the keyboard for a while, but didn’t really accomplish anything. The room felt chilly. He got up twice to adjust the thermostat, but it didn’t help. The dial may have read seventy, but the room was cold enough for him to see his breath. The air conditioning must be on the blink again. He was frowning at the screen saver and deciding what to do about it when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Liv? It couldn’t be. He’d locked the door, part of him remembered. Who then? He sat there frozen. Something just didn’t feel right to him. The hand that touched him was ice cold. He was afraid but compelled to turn around. Sissy. A mix of shock and wonder, love and regret washed over him.
She stood behind him just as beautiful as the day she had died. Her lips curved into a smile.
“Hello, Jack.” Serena’s icy voice floated to him.
He had to be dreaming. She couldn’t be real, but she was standing close enough to touch. “Sissy? How? Why? God?” He’d wished for this meeting countless times. He sat back down in the chair.