Destiny Strikes

by Flowers-Lee, Theresa

  “You haven’t heard me out yet.” Captain Harris glanced around, hissing in anger. “Don’t think I haven’t questioned my actions over the past hour. Settle your horses and you’ll see I did what I did for you.”

  Travis blew out a breath as the cold bucket of truth calmed his nerves.

  “What could have been so important for you to risk so much for me?”

  “Thirty years of instinct told me you needed to see this.” Captain Harris drew his hand out of his pocket and opened his fist.

  A shimmering purple and black feather ran the length and width of the captain’s hand. To the untrained eye, one wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Travis touched the vein. Instead of a smooth down-like texture, the feather’s barbs grated against his finger. He studied it in wonder. They were rough scales.

  “Why would you remove a Black Sicklebill’s feather, sir? I know a little about birds and saw something similar during one of my tours for the Navy. I was interested in a particular headdress while docked at a port in New Guinea. Are we looking for someone with an exotic bird?”

  The captain shook his head.

  “No. It was clutched in Becky’s hand, as if she’d ripped it off her attacker. There were no other defensive wounds. I don’t think any bird did this. In light of this latest death, you have twenty-four hours to figure this out. Friend or not, I’m starting to feel certain this case is related to you, somehow. I’m truly sorry, son.”

  “Okay.” Travis turned and left the man, who’d in-no-uncertain terms, had told him he had better find evidence, or else.

  Travis knew without question, these weren’t run-of-the-mill killings. Fallon was the key. And he could no longer ignore his past.

  CHAPTER 20

  Fallon strolled into the auto body shop with a badass paint job on her mind. After a late-night episode of Counting Cars, the idea stayed with her until the break of dawn. After a quick search of the Internet in hopes of finding an auto body and paint in town, Po Boy’s had popped up.

  Driving up to the place, she noticed it didn’t seem like much from the outside. The body shop appeared about as old as the town from the outside. The only legit aspect about the place was the collection of early-to-late model cars parked around the building in varying stages of completion.

  With a critical eye, she’d inspected a few. Whoever owned the place had a keen attention for detail. She respected that.

  Pleased with her decision, and practically bouncing through the open bay doors, she almost lost her footing when she spotted the man many wet dreams had featured.

  He was every bit as sexy as he’d been after their late-night traffic-stop introduction. In the unfiltered light of day, the man was gorgeous. Yippee, and in uniform this time. “Damn!”

  The bright interior showcased his dark-gray Dodge Charger on the rack being lowered as Fallon neared Travis and the garage mechanic.

  Her steps faltered, eavesdropping on their conversation.

  “Poor Becky loses her life. Then folks around here gossip about witchcraft. Like having one eye become violet can’t be medically explained.”

  Fallon listened intently as the mechanic tried to get the officer to corroborate his assumption. Yet, tall, dark, and handsome was remaining closed-lip, which didn’t deter the mechanic from continuing.

  “I know they didn’t report that on the news, or the name of the victim.” One broad shoulder lifted. “I know those details because my nephew works on the force. To see Captain Harris shook up like that really did a number on the young man.” He chuckled. “It freaked him out. He told everyone in the family he’d start going to church again.”

  Fallon had heard enough. She executed a perfect demure cough.

  The two men turned.

  She put a little extra sway in her hips with the last few steps.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. Can I help you?” The mechanic grabbed a grease towel off a nearby workbench and wiped his hands.

  Fallon came to stand close to Officer Travis, and the man never moved a muscle or acknowledged her. How rude.

  “Good afternoon.” The huskiness in her voice surprised Fallon as she shook the mechanic’s hand. In light of how the officer affected her, it only seemed fair to tease him just a smidgen. “I was wondering if you do minor body work and paint jobs,” she added, deliberately aiming her gaze at the officer.

  Judging by his compressed firm lips, and added color suffusing his face, her intentional double innuendo hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  “Why, yes, ma’am, we do,” the mechanic offered as his gaze darted between the officer and her. In dress blues, the officer’s chip and dale physic was drool-worthy. He bulged in areas designed to make a woman sweat.

  With the tip of her index finger tucked between her lips, she bit down on her nail.

  Natural sunlight filtering through the large roll bay doors enhanced his badge and each embroidered medal decorating his lapels.

  Standing at arm’s length and inhaling the crisp scent of what smelled to be Irish Spring soap, a memory surfaced. Her body lifted into strong arms. Her head on someone’s broad shoulder. She closed her eyes in hopes of making the image clearer.

  Impossible.

  Whatever she’d tried to recall was interrupted by the deep timber of the officer’s voice.

  “Are we done here?”

  God bless the man when he stated, “I’ll get your paperwork after I take care of this young lady. If you don’t mind?”

  He winked. “Welcome to my establishment. Pull ’er in, we’ll have a look.”

  On her way out, the mechanic whispered, loud enough for her to hear, “That is one hell of a woman. If the car is anything like the motorcycle I’ve seen around town . . .” followed by a low whistle.

  Once outside, and after what she’d heard inside the shop, Fallon pulled out her cell and called Michael. After speaking with him about her concerns she rushed off the phone and drove the car onto one of the empty car docks the mechanic directed her to. If his earlier action weren’t confusing enough already, she was shocked when he came over and stood beside the mechanic at the front of her car.

  Men never did a damn thing you expected them to do and were frustrating as hell. It wasn’t like she wanted him to leave, but he hadn’t given her any indication he’d wanted to stay. With those damn shades on again, he was fucking hard to read.

  Gripping the steering wheel, Fallon recalled Michael’s strange behavior.

  “How much damage control should we prepare for? Or am I worried about you for nothing?” he’d asked without nary a salutation.

  “Damn. I’ve been gone a matter of weeks. You lose all respect for me, or what?” His growl had sent sonic waves of pain into her eardrum. Straight to the point. Got it.

  “We might have an issue here. Before you even go there, this time it has nothing to do with me.” She’d decided not to add her own troubles into the mix since Michael was in a foul mood. “Rafael’s been here and I don’t know much about the details yet. How much damage or how many people. The body I just heard about fits with the description of victims he’s been linked to in the past.”

  “Shit, that motherfucker is starting to piss me off.”

  Her fingers caressed the shell of her ear, hoping she had removed all traces of blood Michael had unconsciously inflicted.

  The mechanic’s chatter briefly interrupted thoughts of her talk Michael.

  “I’m going to pop the hood, take a look at your motor.” Her absent nod went unnoticed as the mechanic’s “whoo-hooo” faded with the roar of her engine.

  Michael’s tirade hadn’t ended there. “Then Rafael sends a cryptic text: ‘First truth, two storms,’ which leads me to believe something’s coming.”

  The mechanic stepped around the car’s raised hood and made a slice mo
tion under his chin.

  She cut the engine when he lowered the hood.

  Studying the police officer through the windshield, deep in thought of how she’d accomplish her goal, Fallon realized she needed him, and not in the way her body insisted she appease it, but for information.

  The mechanic moved to the driver’s side window, tapping on the glass.

  “Is everything all right, ma’am?” You seem to have blanked out there for a minute.” His brow lowered in concern.

  She put on a bright face, then stepped out of the car.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked.

  The mechanic went around the car again, inspecting the underside of the back bumper, the rear wells, anywhere rust had ate through the metal. Thorough, he also pointed out decay along the hood.

  “I can take care of this,” he confidently stated. “A few touch-ups here and there, not a problem.” Wiping dust off the car, he looked up with interest. “You mentioned over the phone you wanted a graphic depiction of lightning from the hood, up over the roof, down the sides, and ending along the back bumper. That about right?”

  She nodded. “Yes! Stormy night effect, if you can handle it.”

  She leaned against her car and faced him. “What do you think, Officer? Wouldn’t this car be able to pull it off?”

  She might not be able see his eyes, but he wouldn’t miss her breasts. She folded her arms, which pushed them even higher.

  When it appeared nothing she did would rattle the officer, she pulled out the big guns.

  “So, are you free later tonight, Officer Travis?”

  “Yes, I am,” he said slowly, giving her the once-over she’d been long denied.

  She squirmed a little under his scrutiny. Damn shades.

  “So what do you have in mind?” he drawled.

  Turning back to the mechanic, who, judging by the crooked smile, looked to be deep in thought over the job, she asked, “Can you give Travis and me a minute?”

  Nodding, he walked away without question.

  Fallon knew her future rested on two things: finding whoever was behind the murders, and staying out of trouble.

  Travis could help her with at least one of her problems.

  “Other than being a homebody and discovering this beauty,” she said, tapping the side of the car, “I haven’t had a chance to check out the rest of town. Maybe you could show me what people here do for fun?”

  “There are a few places where we could go. What time should I pick you up?” He tucked his hands into his pockets.

  Don’t look down. She looked, and smiled. “Seven o’clock will do.”

  The mechanic, who’d remained within earshot the whole time, came back over. “If you want, I can get started on this and maybe Travis can give you a ride home. I’ll go get both of your paperwork. Be right back.”

  After signing the paperwork, placing a hefty deposit on the job, she grabbed her leather bag out of her car, and then headed to Travis’s Charger. How convenient, he finally gets his car fixed on a day I need it. Lucky me. Smiling evilly.

  Travis came around and held the passenger door open for her, at which point she almost fell into the bucket seat. Gritting her teeth against the pain of her knee colliding with the glove box, she tried to situate her body within the small confines. She wriggled around until she found a comfortable position.

  He eased his car out of the garage bay, then left the car idling in the parking lot. She scowled at him. “What?”

  He pointed at her seatbelt. “Safety first.” His firm lips lifted in a slight tilt, and her heart stopped.

  The rush of blood to head shocked her into easy submission.

  CHAPTER 21

  By late evening, Fallon paced back and forward in front of the deep burgundy cherry wood grandfather clock. It was seven-fifteen and no sign of Travis.

  Following her talk with Wallace, she’d searched everything in her closet in desperate hope of finding different clothing than what she’d originally settled on. Giving up, she settled with her first choice. She stood before the cheval mirror and observed the fidgeting reflection that stared back at her. She’d pulled out all the stops. Her hands smoothed down the sides of her black leather mini-skirt, under matching leather corset vest. A puffed-sleeve red silk shirt complemented the ensemble with a soft feminine touch. Considering the side view, the combination accentuated her narrow waist, full breasts, and lean, but muscular legs. Five-inch stiletto heels, well, they just made her feel special.

  “Where in JC Whitney’s catalogue is Travis?” she huffed.

  He was supposed to be outside her home waiting on her at seven. Another fifteen minutes passed since her last murderous glare at the clock.

  Shoulders drooping in defeat and ready to break open a bottle of tequila, she at last she heard the rumble of a truck and panicked. She ran to the bathroom and grabbed a bottle of Hypnose perfume. There was nothing like the combination of power and passion to make a girl feel feminine. Besides, she loved the name because it wasn’t flowery.

  After several good spritzes, she was as ready as she'd ever be when the doorbell rang. Racing back down the stairs, she slowed near the foyer, took a deep breath, and then opened the door. She threw civility out the window. “So, are you here to pick me up or just tell me you have some emergency?” Crossing her arms over her chest, she added, “If it’s the latter, you could have just called.”

  She refused to acknowledge the sinful tilt to his lips. His shirt hugged his entire torso, rippling over each defined muscle.

  Fallon's nether region clenched.

  “If you’re not too upset with my tardiness, let’s get going.”

  She grabbed her purse off the wall-table near the door and brushed against him on the way out. One of his thick brows arched higher than the other, and she had to smile.

  CHAPTER 22

  Fallon’s beautiful full lips parting on a sigh mesmerized Travis as she led the way down the stairway and across the lawn to his vehicle. Unwilling to take his off her heels, just in case she lost her balance, he noted each measured step demonstrated her mastery, even in loose gravel. The upward trek from shapely ankles to high skirt exposed a great amount of flesh, but not enough to consider indecent. If she weren’t mere inches away, he’d whistle. She looked spectacular.

  Hanging one strap over her shoulder, freeing her hands, and transforming her sour expression when it came to admiring his truck, her utter delight sparked a fire in his belly, hardening his cock.

  Deep in his chest, he suppressed a groan when she fondly stroked the truck’s frame in one long caress. Slender fingers traced the Ford lettering, and Travis’ body’s reaction suggested he wouldn’t make it out of her yard without tasting her oddly colored lips if she continued.

  “If you enjoy the outside, then I’m pretty sure you’ll appreciate what’s under the hood.”

  “I had no idea you were into classic cars,” she said, following him to the hood.

  Balling his fist, Travis thumped the top three times in the middle, hearing the latch release. “There’s a charm to the classics none of the newer cars have. Not only is it a glimpse at our history, but it’s built with a longevity none of the prefab paperweights can compare too.”

  “Travis, it’s beautiful.”

  A very clean 390 big block, covered in chrome, suffused her features in awe. Her knowledge astounding him. “The ‘68 Ford trucks were known for their poor handling when it came to a stopping power. Did you switch out the factory brakes for disk?”

  “If I wanted to drive this thing with getting whiplash. I also converted to power steering and added few other upgrades.” He pointed at some rewiring he’d done, noticing how close their heads were. When she turned to ask him another question, a hair’s breadth separated them. Her nearness felt ele
ctric as a spark moved through his system that made his skin tingle and the hairs on his arms stand on end.

  Unseen behind dark shades, their eyes locked.

  Pure lust punched him in the gut. He needed to learn if the dark-blue tint coloring her lips tasted like cotton candy.

  Faster than he could blink, she straightened, backing away before he could commit the thought to action.

  “Aren’t we supposed to be going somewhere, or is ogling your car all you had planned?” she asked stiffly, going for the passenger door.

  Once he’d settled her inside the truck, he closed the door behind her. Pausing for a brief moment at the tailgate, he wondered just how far he’d go to uncover the truth. Though the attraction was real, he felt guilty having an ulterior motive for accepting the invitation for this date.

  Shrugging off his unease, he focused on the task at hand. He had a mystery to solve. One way or another, tonight he would uncover her secrets.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going tonight? Or are you going to sit there and continue to be the strong silent type? I don’t even know if I’m dressed appropriately.” Fallon swiveled to face Travis.

  “You look perfect.”

  She squirmed under his intense regard. Her fidgeting stilled when he voiced a particular thought.

  “Since we met, one question has plagued me.” Puzzlement creased the lines between the middle of his brow.

  “Your lipstick is an intriguing hue. I can’t say I’ve ever seen that particular color and you make it look so natural.”

  Funny sensations summersaulted in her belly.

  For the first time in her life, she was shy about answering. Would he think less of her, or become bored as others had once they learned it wasn’t coming off. One date and it wouldn’t matter after tonight anyway.