The Grayce Walters Romantic Suspense Series

by Jacki Delecki

  “Do you want to give Ossie acupuncture?”

  “I don’t believe he needs a treatment. You’re taking great care of him.”

  “Do you think the t-shirt might help?” The older woman straightened her blouse, tugging at the hem. “I sure hope this is a lead.”

  Grayce smiled. “I hope so, too.”

  Grayce didn’t want to raise the woman’s expectations. Everyone had t-shirts with logos, but it was no accident that Ossie had given her the shirt. and she was going to find out why.

  “People will remember Angie if she volunteered there. It’s a small group.”

  “Maybe Angie was there before she…got lost. Dr. Dagger thinks Angie might’ve had a bad flashback and got confused. Right now, she might not know who she is.” Mrs. Hines’ voice broke. “He’s the one who talked me into going on TV. He hoped she might recognize me.”

  “It was very brave of you to go on TV.”

  “Not really. I’d do anything to find Angie. The idea of her wandering the streets…”

  As if sensing the terrible fear in the room, Ossie kneaded her paws on Grayce’s shoes.

  “Ossie sure likes you. She really isn’t friendly.”

  “I like Ossie.” Grayce ran her hand along the exotic cat. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

  “Angie’s friend Maddy used to wrap Ossie around her neck and pretend she was an expensive fur piece. The girls would laugh.”

  “Really, I can’t imagine Ossie tolerating the roughhousing.”

  “Ossie seemed to understand the girls needed laughter in their lives.” The bright light showed the harsh lines around Mrs. Hines’ eyes and lips.

  “It’s funny how animals seem to know when people need affection and Maddy sure needed affection.”

  “Why Maddy?”

  “All Angie told me was that Maddy had a troubled home life before she went into the Marines. She used to stay here when things got bad. Better here than, you know, on the street.”

  “Mrs. Hines, could I borrow the picture of Angie and Maddy? I’d like to show the women’s picture to the people I know at Teen Feed. If I get any information, I’ll call you and you can share with Hunter.”

  “I’d appreciate anything you could do.”

  “I need to get back to my office. But if you need anything, please call me.”

  * * *

  As she walked downstairs to the car Grayce reflected that she had wanted to reassure the woman, tell Mrs. Hines that she wasn’t going to give up until she found Angie, regardless of her son’s feelings. However, Hunter Hines’ strong yet simmering emotions felt to Grayce like a Pacific Northwest fault line—ominous and ready to rumble. So she kept quiet about it for the present. There may come a time when confronting Hunter Hines might have to happen—but when it did, she wanted to be prepared and rational, not a bundle of emotions herself—and she would prefer to have company if and when that day came.

  Chapter Ten

  Angie stood on the porch in the hot sun. Panic gripped her by the throat. She remembered nothing. Where was she? She tugged at a piece of yellow tape, and it slithered off the railing.

  When she turned back to the door she’d just come through. she caught sight of the condemned sign posted by order of the King County Sheriff’s Department. Her breath couldn’t make it all the way down and into her lungs.

  Impulsively she reached for her back pocket. Her hand expected to touch a lump of—what? Wallet? Nothing there. She felt faint and leaned forward on the porch railing as much as she dared, given the decrepitude of the wood.

  She forced herself to stillness. Breath at last reached her vital center. But her mind did not clear. She shook her head to clear it, but that only brought on a spasm of excruciating pain. She turned and looked back into one of the unbroken windows at the back of the house. To her terror, she did not recognize the reflection in the window, it might have been someone on TV, or a ghost. The face looking back at her was that of a stranger. She had no memory of who she was or how she had ended up at this condemned house.

  She stood terrified, unable to move. Her heart boomed in her chest.

  She had to get out of the sun. She needed water. She walked down the steps, following the sound of the traffic to the front of the house.

  She dodged the pedestrians on the busy street. Oblivious, she breathed deeply, inhaling fumes from the cars and buses. The noxious smell stirred a vague memory.

  Terror clawed at her. She darted into the street. An angry bus driver blasted his horn as he screeched to a sudden stop. She froze at the piercing blast and squeal.

  A bright light flashed…the explosions hammered in her head…an IED. Danger! Frantically, she searched the street for a barrel or backpack or suitcase, something that might contain an explosive devices. Get to minimum safe distance!

  She had to escape. A place to hide. She needed a place to hide. Too dangerous to be exposed this way. She had to get out of the open.

  How long could she last out here ’til the Humvees arrived? The bright lights flashed again. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears. Where were the damn choppers?

  Panicked, she ran.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grayce huddled in a fetal position in a makeshift bed, a bare, stained mattress on a dank cement floor that stank of sewage. Some grim prison cell a million miles from anything human. Although Grayce knew she was dreaming, she couldn’t stop the endless terror. Unrelenting explosions and screaming anguish blasted all around her. Acrid smoke burned her nostrils. A sharp pain stabbed between her eyes.

  People and places shifted and transformed as the relentless panic swelled inside her. Grayce now ran under the sweltering heat, ran from a raging fire that threatened to consume her. The blazing fire was close on her heals, close to catching her. Intense heat seared the skin on her back and neck.

  The nightmare changed. Hunter Hines, a gun in his hand, hunted her through a jungle. The path was narrow and reeked of garbage.

  “I’ll catch you, bitch. And you’ll pay.” His maniacal laugh echoed in the dark woods.

  Fear forced her to run. She ran to reach the end of the long, winding path, where someone waited for her, someone she cared about was in danger, in mortal danger. Someone who hoped she would come soon.

  Grayce struggled to wake herself from the terrifying panic. She was caught in death’s grip.

  “Grayce, wake up. Grayce.” Strong hands rubbed her arms, warming her. “Honey, are you okay? You were shouting at me to run…and something about a gun.”

  Davis’ warm voice softened the sharp edge of her fear. He pulled her into his arms, and she put her head on his hard chest. The steady beat of his heart purged the nightmare’s dark demons.

  Davis pushed a strand of her hair that hung over her eyes behind her ear, placing open mouthed kisses along her moist hairline. “You’re sweating.”

  “In my dream, I was hot.”

  “Hot.” His voice lowered, huskier. “I like hot.”

  His erection pushed against her leg.

  She trailed her finger down his chest. “Not that kind of hot, I was running from a fire.”

  “Are you still having nightmares from that night? Tell me. Every time I think of that bastard…”

  She hadn’t meant to get Davis all riled up about their last case. In her half-awake state, she hadn’t guarded her words. “No, this dream is most likely from my treatment of Ossie, Angie’s cat.” She didn’t include that the nightmare had possibly come from Aunt Aideen’s prediction nor that she had been having recurrent nightmares since hearing that dangerous ominous prophecy.

  “I’m sorry I woke you again.” She had previously explained to Davis how she used her dreams to process her energy work with animals. It was a difficult idea for him to grasp and for most of the world, if she was entirely honest.

  “You’ll get uninterrupted sleep in DC.” She didn’t want to think about not waking in Davis’ arms.

  “What?”

  She realized her mistake the
minute the words escaped her mouth. Her nightmare had left her feeling vulnerable, otherwise she’d never have said something so unfair. “Davis, I didn’t mean it. I was trying to be funny, but it came out wrong.”

  “That I won’t be able to comfort you is hard enough without you making jokes. God, I hate this promotion.”

  “I feel the same, but you’re not going to the ends of the earth. And think about our weekends together.”

  He pressed wet kisses against her palm. “I hate that I won’t be here to comfort you after a nightmare.”

  He followed a path along the inside of her elbow. Pleasurable streaks raced down her legs. She hadn’t known her elbow could be so sensitive until Davis.

  She wrapped her leg around his, rubbing herself against him. “I don’t always have nightmares, only with really difficult patients like hard-headed investigators who won’t believe they’re in danger.”

  “Honey, I eventually believed you.” Davis leaned on one elbow and studied her face. “But there is something else bothering you. Tell me.”

  Sometimes she forgot that her boyfriend was an investigator. A really good investigator. She hadn’t shared her concerns about Hunter Hines. She didn’t want to jeopardize Davis accepting his promotion because of the possibility of a prediction coming true.

  She traced her finger along the rough stubble on his jaw. She liked his virile morning shadow, his need to shave every day. “It’s been a hard few days. First, Angie and…” She almost blurted out Hunter Hines.

  “Your patients don’t have a clue how much you suffer with these nightmares in the course of healing them.”

  “They’re not exactly nightmares. Most times I can let the energy move right through me, but in highly charged dreams, it’s pretty difficult. Dr. Z told me that he sometimes has nightmares.”

  “You take on their pain and heal them.”

  She did a disservice to Davis when she didn’t think he understood. He approached her work in a logical, systematic way. He saw cause and effect, but delving into consciousness wasn’t linear.

  “I haven’t done the actual suffering. My dreams release the tension and fears that I absorb in the treatment.”

  “I know a better way to release your tension. And you might want to stay awake for this incredible release, but it isn’t necessary.” Davis pinned her arms above her head and licked the pulse along her neck.

  “You can close your eyes and sleep.” He made a trail of warm kisses along the side of her breasts, her stomach. He spent a great deal of time taunting her with moist kisses around her navel and down her thighs.

  Hot sensations were building. She writhed on the bed.

  “Are you asleep?” her tormentor whispered in a dark, velvet voice.

  He pressed her down on the bed with his heavy body and entered her in one thrust. He didn’t move, but kept her arms pinned above her head. He took her breast into his mouth and suckled hard.

  Pleasure and pain mixed into heady sensations. Grayce wrapped her legs around his hips and moved against him.

  “Davis, please.”

  “Is this helping the tension?” He plunge his tongue in and out of her mouth.

  “Davis,” she pleaded.

  “What do you want, honey?”

  She tightened around him.

  He let out a rush of hot air against her ear. “You shouldn’t have done that.” And then he began a frantic pace, taking them both over the edge.

  Davis collapsed onto Grayce. He was asleep in seconds.

  Grayce’s eyes, however, did not close, and the waters of Lethe eluded her. Actually, nightmares were better than insomnia, she decided. She glanced over at Davis snoring with blissful satisfaction.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grayce and James waited at the doors of University Congregational Church—wrong age, wrong clothes for the meal line for homeless youth. Even Mitzi stood out: woven collar instead of studded metal. Only Hollie, with her piercings, tattoos, and all black Goth, fit the dress code.

  “Help, I’m in a nightmare. Am I at an Iggy Pop reunion?” James said sotto voce, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Please wake me up.”

  Unfazed, Grayce turned toward Hollie and touched her arm. “You can still change your mind. James and I can do this.”

  Hollie hadn’t been back to Teen Feed since she started working as Grayce’s receptionist. Grayce wanted to spare Hollie this glimpse of her painful, former life.

  “Nah, boss. I’m good. And I wouldn’t want to miss this.” Hollie rolled her eyes toward James, the drama queen, with one hand on his hip.

  “I can’t believe you two nixed my Goth fashion statement. I would’ve done a lot better than this group. And I’d rock in black eyeliner,” James said.

  “You don’t have the edge to pull it off,” Hollie challenged.

  “Out of the mouths of children. Me without an edge? My Grace Kelly wasn’t edgy?” James and Hollie had developed the strangest and sweetest relationship. James, an only child, had adopted Hollie as his kid sister.

  “They’re opening the doors,” Hollie said.

  Their group waited as the hungry crowd filed in.

  Grayce attached Mitzi’s lead to the church bannister. “Sorry, girl, you have to wait outside.”

  Grayce swore she could hear a resigned Mitzi sigh before the poodle lay down on the sidewalk among the other dogs.

  “You’re not going to go around asking these kids whether they recognize Angie, are you?” James asked.

  “I’m going to ask Rosemary. She’s head of the program and knows all the youths. Hollie, you ask about Angie if it feels appropriate. James, just stay out of trouble.”

  James had wanted to come when he heard that many of the runaways were gay and escaping abusive families. Grayce had been treated to a rare moment of James’ gravitas when he said, “as a community we need to do more to help these young kids. Maybe I can think of a way to help.” Even Hollie had regarded him with a measure of respect.

  And Davis, knowing full well that James was a fifth degree black belt, had insisted James come to protect Grayce and Hollie. She couldn’t say no to Davis’ over-protective demand, since he was shaken by his move to DC. She couldn’t add to his stress.

  James threw his head back in feigned shock. “Moi? Then batted his eyelashes coyly. In trouble?”

  “Oui.” Grayce pointed at him. “Yes, you—with your critiques right out of Project Runway or Top Chef. Shall I go on?”

  “Hey, Hollie.” A guy about Hollie’s age with at least twenty piercings on his face sauntered toward their group. He carried a battered computer with a World of Warfare logo sticker on the lid. Hollie’s face didn’t show any recognition, but her body tightened imperceptibly.

  “Gator,” Hollie said with a snarl on her lips and in her voice. “See you’re still ripping off computers.”

  “Oh, God. All that piercing on his gorgeous face,” James said behind his hand in a theatrical whisper. “That had to hurt like a son of a bitch.”

  Grayce always felt at a loss when confronted with young people’s self-mutilation. There had to be tremendous pain and rage for someone to destroy his face as a rebellious statement.

  “I’ve been around,” Hollie said in her tough-ass voice and widened her stance to a defensive posture. Hollie feeling threatened was never a good situation. Her assistant had never shared her experiences from her year on the street but had alluded to the violence.

  “Those your parents?” Gator’s lips smirked, making his assorted facial hardware undulate.

  Gator was purposely baiting Hollie. She waited for James’ outrageous reply but he showed incredible restraint.

  Gator leaned closer to Hollie and said in a taunting tone, “Your mac daddy?”

  “What the fuck?” Hollie bridged the last inches between their faces. “You sayin’ I’m a ho, Gator? At least I don’t hang out in the starter zones and kill all the lower level players’ characters.”

  Hollie knew the rule of no violence at
Teen Feed. Grayce didn’t want this to be the moment she’d witness Hollie’s progress in her Aikido training.

  Grayce moved next to the combatants. “Gator, maybe you can help us. We’re looking for someone, and we think she may have come here asking about her friend.”

  Gator looked shocked by the use of his name. Hollie kept her aggressive stance as Grayce reached into her bag. She had to dig through the lipstick, Kleenex, new CDs, acupuncture needles, and emergency bandages to reach the picture of Angie and Maddy that she had tucked into her dream/meditation journal.

  Gator inspected the picture. Grayce thought she caught a glimpse of his eyes registering recognition. He shook his head. “Nah, I haven’t seen them.” And walked away.

  “What a prick,” James drew out the expletive.

  “Exactly,” Hollie said. “He’s such a creep—gives us gamers a bad name.”

  “You showed amazing restraint,” Grayce said to Hollie.

  “You knew I wanted to flip him, didn’t you, boss?”

  Grayce nodded. “I did get the feeling you’d like to settle an old score?”

  “He’s brutal, always looking to hurt someone.”

  “Then I’m happy that you chose not to respond to his taunts.”

  “It wouldn’t been a fight. I’d have flipped him in one move. You would’ve been impressed as would’ve Ellen, since sometimes I don’t think my mentor believes I’m making any progress.”

  James took the picture from Grayce. “Look at that God awful t-shirt. Who in the hell wears crap like that?”

  Hollie, who had been looking over James’ shoulder, said, “That’s a very cool World of Warfare shirt.”

  “Both women are attractive, but like other people whose names I won’t mention…” He looked at both Grayce and Hollie from their functional shoes to their ponytails. “Who don’t take the time to work their assets.” Only James would critique the missing women’s clothing.

  Last night, Grayce had searched the faces of both women for a clue, hoping to get any sense about them. She had awoken knowing that she had dreamt of them, but had no memory except frantically straining for something beyond her reach.