The tree-lined street afforded some cover as he peered from behind his sunglasses into the crowd. When he spotted Allie at the end of one field, her hips encased perfectly in form-fitting jeans, his gut clenched. The long-sleeved T-shirt might’ve hidden her curves, but he knew better. His fingers spread out, recalling how her skin flowed under his hands. She stood next to the woman he’d seen the other day in the ER. He allowed himself a tight smile at their spirited cheering for an orange-uniformed girl waving to them—the princess from the ER.
Positioned far enough away that he wouldn’t be recognized, Peter remained close enough to observe. When the young girl ran up to hug her parents and Allie and then skipped back to the game, jealousy tightened its fist around his throat until he couldn’t swallow. His was a pathetic existence devoid of anything real or good. So what emotions remained? Bitterness and lust.
Outstanding.
He studied the field and street. On the next field over, a man stood off by himself, adjusting his jacket over thick shoulders and looking around with wide eyes. Only he wasn’t watching the game. Peter traced the direction of the man’s gaze.
Allie.
Peter’s spine went ramrod stiff.
His fists clenched.
Hell. The man in the leather jacket stared intently at her. Was this the guy outside her house? Peter grabbed the tree until bark shredded beneath his fingers as he kept the man in his sights. He wanted to race over and make the man stop … stop what? Watching a game? Watching spectators? Maybe Peter’s overprotective instincts blinded him to normal life. There was no way to prove that man did anything wrong. Peter would have to continue to observe.
After the game ended, the little girl ran over for an exuberant recap, judging by the clapping, high fives, and hugs all around. Searing acid boiled in his stomach. Family. Love. Two things he could never have.
Allie handed Ivy’s leash to the other woman and strode toward the sports complex’s bathroom near the road. Slinking behind a tree, Peter peered around. The bounce in Allie’s step radiated life and energy. The wiggle in her backside evoked more carnal feelings in him.
With effort, Peter dragged his eyes away from Allie’s trim form. Where was the man in the leather jacket? He searched again.
Right as Allie turned onto a concrete hallway between the restrooms, Peter caught a glimpse of the man dodging around the opposite side. Instincts screaming an alarm, Peter took off at his quickest human walk, trying not to draw attention but wanting to move faster.
Allie’s pain exploded inside his mind, staggering him forward two steps.
Her scream reverberated inside his head, turning his blood to ice.
No longer caring if anyone saw him, Peter covered the distance in mere seconds. As he skidded around the corner, Allie cried out, her shriek muffled by the cinderblock walls and cheering crowds nearby. His vision went red, and he heard only a howl of air in his ears.
The stocky man with the buzz cut gripped Allie’s hand in what would appear to an observer as an amiable handshake, but her pain echoed through the mental connection, staggering Peter backwards a few steps. Stark, desperate terror clear in her wide eyes, Allie pulled at her hand, but it remained trapped in the man’s grip. Her pupils constricted. Swirls of gold in her green, bulging eyes redefined horror as she gasped for air with a strangled gurgle.
The man shot Peter a nasty grin, and his thin lips curled in feral pleasure. “She’s interesting, this innocent. She’ll be a tasty, tasty treat. Yummy, yummy, yummy.” Spittle formed at the corners of his snarling mouth as the man pulled her toward him, his tongue darting out.
Peter couldn’t think straight over the roar of rage in his mind. “Get away from her!”
He leapt.
The man sneered and shoved Allie forward. She would have hit her head on the concrete if Peter hadn’t grabbed her shoulders to slow her fall. Tight wheezes escaped past pursed lips as she crumpled forward onto hands and knees. When Peter looked up again, there was no trace of the gaunt-faced man. Torn, he fought between his impulse to run after the man and kill him and the instinct to help Allie.
“Allie?” He eased her into a sitting position in the open walkway. She sagged against the rough wall.
Her choked sob tore him in two.
Peter ran his hands over her, searching for injuries. “What did he do to you? Are you hurt?”
Her skin was the color of paper ash. She recoiled until she finally focused on him. “I’m going to be sick.” Struggling to her feet, she staggered into the women’s bathroom.
Peter helped her into a stall, supporting her as she knelt and vomited, her lithe frame shaking. He brushed her long hair back and handed her a paper towel to wipe her face.
He would kill that man for touching her.
When she flinched, he relaxed the grip pinching her shoulder, the grip he wished were around that man’s neck.
After her breathing calmed, he helped her stand and they stepped out of the stall. A woman entering the bathroom sniffed as the corner of her mouth turned down.
Allie whispered, “You can go out. I’ll be right there. I’m okay.” Her hoarse voice stopped him dead in his tracks.
“Your voice. Are you all right?”
When she coughed, the harsh, dry sound raked across his nerves. “Couldn’t breathe for a second there, but I’m better now, thanks.” She inclined her head toward the woman in the stall and raised her fine eyebrows.
Peter backed out of the restroom and paced outside until Allie exited. When she finally emerged, the haunted, hollow expression in her dull eyes made him reel back a step. He supported her upper arms as she leaned against the cold cinderblock wall.
“What the heck? Who was that man?” she asked, her sweet voice still raw, her green gaze drilling into his.
His thundering heart injected hot rage through his veins. The need to hunt the cretin who had hurt her began to overwhelm the need to remain close to Allie.
He rocked back on his heels. “I’ve never seen him before.” He paused. “Strike that. I saw him around town the other day. I bet that’s the guy from outside your house.”
“What?” she whispered.
He held her upright as she staggered forward, her ashen face contorted. When she clutched at her midsection, he drew her up into his arms. Protect her. He wrapped one arm around her lower back and covered her head beneath his other hand, tucking her into his chest, wanting to surround her with his body.
When she trembled, he tried to let go, worried that their physical contact might trigger a vision. With a sob, she fisted her hands in the material of his shirt. Damn it. If she needed him, he would hold on to her as long as she wanted. Taking a deep breath and concentrating, he blocked his mind from her. He could at least protect her from the painful images of his kills.
She straightened up and leaned back. “Oh God, he was near my house.”
“I presume that’s who he was. I can’t be completely sure.” He held her secure in his arms. “Allie, can we sit down? You don’t look so good.”
He kept her close until they reached a street-facing park bench. Peter stood over her, scanning the area as Allie leaned forward, put her head in her hands, and took a few deep draws of air. He laid a hand on her upper back and rubbed lightly, taking care not to touch any skin.
After some minutes, she composed herself and stared bleakly at him, her eyes red-rimmed. The torment etched on her haggard features scored his heart.
He sat down, draping his arm behind her on the bench. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“The man triggered another vision.” She frowned at her right hand and shook it vigorously. “I wasn’t expecting it, couldn’t block it. I tried, but the images came too fast, too hard.”
He squeezed her shoulder through the T-shirt fabric. “What did you see?”
“This guy made your visions seem like preschool playtime. If I saw this guy killing people, then all I can say is that he obviously liked it.”
“Wh
at?”
“They were bizarre images: a shoe, a lake, a child’s bloody hands. And in some of the images, I saw him torture people. I heard—no, I actually felt the screams, the pain. Men, women … children. They were in agony. I can’t even describe it all … ” Her hair fell forward as she bowed her head again.
He reached for her, but closed his hand in a fist. “Is it okay if I touch you?”
She sniffed. “You won’t hurt me. I’ve got you blocked. Strange, but it seems easier to do with you right now.”
Peter pushed a lock of light brown hair back as glints of gold reflected in the sunlight. When he touched the soft skin on her cheek, there was only a little sense of connection. Maybe he was getting better at suppressing the memories, or she had become accustomed to his mental presence. He cleared his throat. “How did you get that much information from him? He made contact with you for only a few seconds.”
“I don’t know. All the images were instantly in my head. And I can still sense him in my mind. Like a bad aftertaste.”
She shuddered again. Peter tightened his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side, where they sat silently.
To any casual observer, they appeared to be a couple simply relaxing on a park bench, enjoying an early spring day, but he knew better. Today, he had failed to protect her. He wouldn’t make that same mistake again.
A balding man with a goatee whom Peter recognized as the young soccer player’s father strolled over to their bench. “Al?”
“Hi, Bryce.” She popped on sunglasses.
Peter wasn’t buying her too-bright tone of voice.
“Are you okay?” Bryce eyed him suspiciously.
Peter kept his arm firmly around her shoulders. “She got sick, and … ”
Allie jumped up from the bench with a quick, thin smile. “Bryce, Peter Blackstone. Peter, Bryce Zachary, my brother-in-law.”
When the two men shook hands, Peter gave him a little more pressure than he should have.
“You, uh, from around here?” Bryce asked.
Think.
“I had planned to interview for a teaching position at the university when I got into a bad accident.” He motioned toward Allie. “Doctor Al here patched me up, good as new.” He grinned in what he hoped was a disarming expression. Smiling felt unnatural these days.
Bryce crossed his arms over his chest. “So what department at the school?”
“History. I’m a big World War II buff.”
He uncrossed his arms. “Well, you escaped a close call then.”
“Pardon?” Peter blinked.
“The accident. You’re the guy who crashed off the interstate and down the embankment last week, right?” Bryce whistled. “You are one lucky guy, walking around healthy and all. Most folks wouldn’t have survived that bad of an accident, much less feel fine a week later.”
Peter smiled. “I had an excellent ER physician. And yes, very good luck.”
“You need a ride home or something?” Bryce asked Allie.
“And miss the rest of Quincy’s season debut? No way.” Taking a few steps toward the field, she added, “They’re getting ready to start the last game. We’d better get back before she thinks we’ve forgotten her.”
As the kids lined up on the sideline, Bryce turned toward the restrooms. “I’ll meet you back there in a minute.”
After Bryce left, Peter stared down at her. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Better now, thanks.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” He placed one finger beneath her chin, appreciating the warmth of her skin and the low-level connection buzz that flowed between them. “So. Can I watch the game with you for a while?”
“So you can keep an eye out for that creep?”
“That’s one reason. But the bonus is spending more time with you.”
Color crept into her cheeks, making him smile. When she breathed deeply, he stared at her T-shirt for a moment too long. His pulse jumped.
She cleared her throat. “Come over and cheer on the Antelopes for a while.”
“Antelopes? They’re more like neon Oompa Loompas to me.”
“You’re probably more accurate.”
As they turned to walk down to the field, a whiff of rotten eggs drifted by his nose.
He froze. Hell.
Sirens going off in his head, he searched the area. If his hunch was correct, Allie’s life was at immediate risk, worse than from the man who had put his hands on her. Peter had to get her out of here.
“Would you excuse me a moment? I need to take care of something. I’ll meet you at the field in a few minutes.”
“Of course. Is there something I can do?”
He pretended to be calm. Anything to get her away from him. “No, please go to the field and stay with your family.”
“Is there something wrong?” A line formed between her eyebrows.
“Not at all,” he lied. “I’ll be over in a moment.”
After he’d reassured himself that she returned to the sideline with her sister, Peter slowly turned in a full circle. There, between two SUVs, a thin man preened in a side mirror. Peter couldn’t miss the sheen of oil on the man’s long, black, curled hair.
Damn, the knife on Peter’s leg fired up, too, as it recognized its maker.
Jerahmeel looked up from his unabashed perusal and crooked a finger at Peter. He wore a deep purple suit with a maroon ruffle visible from his neck to his chest, a bizarre intersection of forty-years-late style and a garish interpretation of French Revolution chic. However, true to form, not a thread was out of place.
Peter’s heart beat a tattoo against his chest wall as he approached his boss. Jerahmeel rarely appeared in person because it sapped too much of his energy. That’s why he sent minions. So why had he taken the effort to show up now?
“Yes, my lord Jerahmeel. What may I do for you? Why are you here?” He swept his arm around to casually encompass the mundane human activities taking place in the park.
Jerahmeel’s snicker grated like chalk on a board. “Checking in on your assignment.” His thin red lips twisted into a moue of unhappiness. “You don’t seem focused on your work.”
“Of course I am, my lord.” Peter ground his teeth.
“Tell me about that lovely mademoiselle you are courting.”
“We aren’t courting. She helped me after a bad accident, that’s all. She’s of no consequence.”
Nothing good would come of his boss focusing his attention on Allie. Nothing.
Jerahmeel leaned close and inhaled deeply. “Ah, parfum de femme. She smells delicious. Who does she remind me of? Silly memory, I’ll think of it soon.”
Maybe Jerahmeel had distracted himself. Peter stood completely still, not breaking the silence. Somehow, he managed not to curl his lip while the sulfur-scented manifestation of Satan groomed himself to purulent perfection. When Jerahmeel finally raised his head to stare at Peter, those coal black eyes were cold and blank.
“You will not allow a fille to distract from the task I’ve set before you.”
Peter locked his legs. “My focus on my work has never been in question.”
Jerahmeel scowled as faint smoke rose from his head.
Hell.
Peter struggled to stay civil. All he wanted to do was run to Allie and act as a physical shield against this evil creature. “Actually, my lord, I don’t know specifically what my assignment is. Would you illuminate me?”
“That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Normally the assignment is clear. But I’m bored. I want to see if you can figure out your mission on your own.” He licked his pinkie finger with the tip of his too-red tongue and smoothed a black eyebrow.
“I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t.” Smoke coiled from a finger. His eyes glinted like two red embers in the depths of that unnatural stare. “See, you aren’t focused enough. So know this—if you continue to pursue your interest in this mortal woman, I will ensure that she is destr
oyed. To keep you on track, of course.”
Ice flooded Peter’s veins—sweet Allie subjected to Jerahmeel’s cruelty? “Hold on, there. You’re not allowed to touch a mortal.”
“I don’t have to. There are other means of facilitating change.” A tiny flame emanated from his middle fingertip. “You understand?”
“Of course. But I also know there are certain rules that bind you from intervening in humans’ lives.”
“Merde. How do you know this?”
Keep him from thinking about Allie. “I have well-informed friends.”
“Well, I, too, have well-informed associates, Mr. Blackstone, and they are not bound as I am to silly rules.”
Those silly rules were all that kept innocent humans from being mere nutrition for Jerahmeel. If he skirted the rules on technicalities, all humans were in danger.
Peter squeezed his hand into a fist. Even though his strength would be no match against something like Jerahmeel, Peter would die trying to keep his boss away from Allie. “You will not touch her.”
“I will not have to.” Jerahmeel blew out the flame and straightened his suit jacket before waggling his fingers. “Good day.” In a blink and a whiff of sulfur, he was gone.
Allie had been marked. The attack by the man earlier this afternoon had to be connected. Maybe a precursor. Damn.
Peter might not be worthy of a future with Allie, but he could at least ensure that she lived to have a future of her own. Putting on what he hoped was a carefree—or at least concern-free—expression, he headed to the soccer field.
Chapter 11
Allison tried to clear away the hideous images, chafing her arms as though that nasty stalker had covered her in slime. Her life had flipped upside-down. Not only was she fighting a bizarre attraction to an even more bizarre unhuman, but now she had to worry about a crazy man who killed women and children attacking her again. How was that evil man connected to Peter? She experienced similar visions with both men. That resemblance couldn’t be coincidence.
She wanted to ask Peter, but he was useless at the moment, locked in intense conversation with Bryce. Peter had casually mentioned playing football at Ohio State, and now thirty minutes later, as one of the biggest football fans around, Bryce was still going on about the virtues of the Pac 10 conference versus the Big 10. She rolled her eyes as she caught a few phrases regarding the “Ducks,” Bryce’s beloved alma mater on the western side of the state.
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