Divine Intervention

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  She watched him clench his teeth.

  "We're still working this case together, Jasi. I won't leave until it's over."

  "I know," she replied softly.

  She watched him walk to the door. Her heart was pounding rapidly, but this time not from sexual passion.

  What was it about Brandon Walsh that made her blood boil with frustration…and desire? What was there about the man that made her lungs ache to scream his name? That made other parts of her body ache?

  "What did you say to me after I kissed you the first time?" he asked suddenly, pausing at the door.

  She went still.

  "When I promised that I wouldn't let you jump off a cliff," he prodded. "You whispered something in my ear."

  She shivered slightly and when she spoke her voice was dull, dead. "I said 'too late'."

  Too late. Those two words strangled her.

  Brandon gave her a piercing stare.

  A second later he was gone.

  Alone, Jasi felt like someone had kicked her in the stomach. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears.

  Were they for Brandon―or for her?

  Her past history with men and relationships in general gripped her like a noose around her neck, strangling every breath of hope, every sign of life that kept her human. But worse than that was her acceptance of that noose. It was almost as if she had carefully woven each strand, braided each rope―created the noose from her very existence.

  A trail of tears escaped down her cheek and she batted at them angrily.

  "Stop wanting something you can't have, Jasmine McLellan!" she moaned.

  Caring for Brandon Walsh would only prove to be dangerous to her. She knew that. It was her curse! The one she carried with her everywhere she went. The last man she loved was lying at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. Her job had killed him.

  No! She was better off alone, focussing her attention on capturing serial killers. And living with the dead.

  But how do I turn off these emotions?

  Push them away and solve the case, came the answer.

  Gathering her inner strength, she took a deep breath, meditating on her heartbeat. Confident that she could maintain her composure, she hailed Ben on his data-com.

  "I'll meet you downstairs tomorrow at eight," she said firmly. "Tell Natassia I'm going to bed.

  "Jasi, are you okay?" Ben's voice sounded hesitant, worried.

  "I'm fine. I'll see you in the morning."

  "Uh, okay then. Is Brandon still―"

  Click.

  Jasi abruptly ended the call.

  She perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the silent data-com in her hands. She didn't want to answer Ben's questions. Or talk about Brandon.

  What she wanted was to find the serial arsonist. And if that turned out to be Cameron…

  I am a professional. Nothing will stand in my way.

  Not even Cameron Prescott.

  Or Brandon Walsh.

  Taking a deep breath, she activated his number.

  "Hey, it's me," she said hastily. "We're meeting downstairs tomorrow. Eight o'clock sharp."

  "Fine," came his cool reply.

  "Brandon? I-I'm sorry," she whispered.

  There was an unbearable silence on the other end.

  For a moment, Jasi thought he had hung up. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded tired, beaten.

  "So am I, Jasi."

  Then the data-com died―and a part of her died with it.

  22

  Someone called to her, plucking her from a thick fog of sleep. Jasi raised her head from the pillow―disoriented. All she wanted to do was sink back into the warmth of her bed but the voice kept nattering at her, invading her pleasant dreams.

  "Jasi! Wake up!"

  "Natassia?" she groaned, opening her eyes cautiously.

  The shadowed blackness of the room wavered suddenly, a shift in time and space. Her hand crept from beneath the blankets, reaching for the Beretta she had tucked between the mattresses.

  "Natassia, is that you?" she called out, immediately alert.

  From the dark, she heard Brandon's voice, dry and full of sarcasm. "Do I sound like Natassia?"

  She heard a whisper of footsteps as he moved closer. Then the mattress dipped suddenly.

  "Idiot!" she heard him mutter in irritation.

  She wasn't sure if he was referring to her or himself.

  Rolling over, she caught the vague shape of Brandon's arm stretching past her head. Suddenly the lamp beside the bed flashed, blinding her. She squinted and blinked until her vision cleared.

  He was sitting on the edge of her bed.

  She glanced at her watch.

  It was just after midnight. She had only been asleep for an hour.

  "Shit!" she muttered. "What are you doing here? And why are you whispering?"

  He flicked his head at Natassia's empty bed. "I thought she was here and I didn't want either of you to clobber me."

  Jasi eyed him suspiciously, shifting her position.

  "How'd you get in?"

  He threw her a leering grin. "Someone from housekeeping was in the hall checking the ice machine. I told him that I locked myself out and that a gorgeous redhead waited in bed for me…naked."

  "I was asleep," she muttered dryly.

  She sat up quickly and the blanket fell to her hips, exposing a thin t-shirt. "And as you can see, I'm not naked."

  His searing eyes drifted slowly, leisurely, down her body. Then he caught sight of the pistol barrel pointed in his direction.

  "Jasi, for crying out loud!" he hissed. "Put that thing away before it goes off!"

  She gave a muffled snort, and then her gaze rested on the gun that was leveled at his groin.

  "I do know how to use this thing, you know. I'm a highly trained CFBI agent, in case you've forgotten. This is an M9 Beretta. Fifteen rounds, double-action semiautomatic. It's lightweight."

  She paused, admiring the gun in her hands and stroking it lovingly. Then she looked him dead in the eye.

  "And lethal. I can take out a rat at fifty meters."

  She held his gaze, unwavering.

  "Fine, but I'm not a rat," he mumbled resentfully.

  Her brow arched in skepticism and she pursed her lips.

  He chuckled nervously. "Come on, Jasi. Point it somewhere else. I'd like to keep what you're aiming at."

  "Then you'd better say please." She smiled mockingly.

  "Please," he said between clenched teeth.

  Jasi noticed Brandon began to breathe again when she lowered the Beretta and placed it on the nightstand.

  "Are you going to tell me why you're sneaking around my room in the middle of the night?"

  She glared at him, uneasy and distrustful. "And you better not tell me you're here to finish what you started."

  "What we started," he grumbled belligerently.

  "What?" She spared him a look, then reached for the robe she had dropped on the floor.

  Brandon stood and paced nervously. "Nothing."

  Unfolding herself from the tangle of sheets, she elbowed past him and flicked on the lamp at the table.

  "Well? Why are you here, Walsh?"

  "I couldn't sleep," he began. "I've been thinking about the case―about Cameron Prescott."

  "You could have discussed your thoughts with Ben instead of―"

  "I couldn't get through to Ben," he cut in. "His data-com is on privacy mode."

  They both turned toward Natassia's empty bed.

  Then Brandon faced her.

  His expression was serious. "I don't think Cameron's finished. And I think I know who her next target is."

  "Brandon," she said, straightening. "I still have doubts about Cameron's involvement."

  Brandon reached for her hand.

  "Don't," she warned him, pulling away.

  Grabbing her hand, he forced something smooth and sleek into her palm.

  "What's this?"

  She opened her hand slowly.

&
nbsp; In her palm was a Gemini lighter. "Gemini…the sign of the twins." Her head jerked upward. "Oh, shit. It was there all along. The goddamn clue was right in front of me!"

  "You received one in the mail almost two months ago, didn't you?" he prodded.

  "Yes."

  Brandon gripped her shoulders lightly. "Before Charlotte Foreman was murdered. Jasi, each lighter is a warning. She drops the lighter to indicate that someone is next on her list. She's warning us that there's another victim."

  Jasi gaped at him blankly.

  "Martin Gibney," he explained.

  "Gibney?"

  "Cameron Prescott wants revenge. Gibney allowed the child abuse to continue and he was directly involved in her mother's death."

  Jasi realized he made sense. There was something right about what he was saying.

  Martin Gibney and Norman Washburn were the two doctors responsible for the death of the prostitute. Cameron and Ronald's mother. Cameron would be relentless in her pursuit for justice. Revenge for her mother's death, retaliation for the constant abuse both she and her brother had suffered at the hands of Charlotte Foreman, and retribution for her brother's subsequent drowning.

  Jasi remembered her vision.

  The killer had crossed off a name…the middle name.

  Martin Gibney was next.

  "We have to stop her, Brandon." She scurried toward the dresser and started to remove her robe before realizing that he still watched her.

  Flicking her head, she ordered him to turn away.

  "You sure?" he asked with a devilish smile.

  Annoyed, she waited impatiently with her hands on her hips. As soon as he turned around, Jasi peeled off the robe and stripped naked. Then she slipped into fresh panties and a pair of jeans.

  "Have you warned him?" she asked.

  "I, uh, called his house," Brandon stammered, still facing the balcony.

  Bending over to reach into a drawer for a clean t-shirt, she heard a sharp hissing sound. She spun around, holding the t-shirt tightly in front of her, and eyed him suspiciously.

  Brandon stood motionless, his back still turned to her. Her eyes were drawn to his well-defined arms and the tight black jeans. She sucked in a breath and her heart skipped a beat. There was something about Brandon Walsh that was just so damned sexy.

  This is insane, she thought, mentally slapping herself.

  "Give me another minute!" she blurted.

  Brandon cleared his throat nervously.

  Realizing that he could turn around any moment, Jasi quickly fastened her bra and slipped into the t-shirt. Over it, she strapped on a lightweight Kevlar vest. It was black with fluorescent orange letters stenciled across the front and back. CFBI.

  "Okay, you can turn around now."

  Brandon hesitantly faced her, watching her every move.

  There was admiration in his eyes…and something else.

  Desire.

  "D-did you talk to Gibney?" she stuttered.

  He nodded. "His wife answered the phone. She said Allan Baker called an hour ago and asked to speak to him."

  "And?" she prompted anxiously.

  "And…about ten minutes ago, Gibney took off. To meet Baker. His wife has no idea where he went, or why. But Lydia did say one thing."

  "What?"

  "She said Allan Baker didn't sound like himself. He was impersonal, distant. She thinks he sounded scared."

  Jasi locked onto Brandon's pale blue eyes. "I think Cameron wants to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. She's after Baker too."

  "You think she's jealous of him?" he asked her.

  "Cameron interviewed Baker on many occasions. She knows that he would never be a loving half-brother. He's too much like his father. Maybe she holds him responsible. After all, Baker has the life she deserved. And Gibney helped take it from her."

  "And now she has them both," Brandon murmured.

  Jasi cursed. Where would Cameron take Baker and Gibney at this time of night?

  She caught sight of the moonlit sky through the glass door, and she gasped. Moving purposefully toward the balcony, she stopped dead in her tracks. With the two lamps casting a golden light across the room behind her, she could see Brandon's reflection in the glass of the door―perfectly. In fact, she could see everything.

  Everything!

  Mortified, she whirled around, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. She gaped at him, indignant and pissed off at his brashness.

  At least he had the decency to look guilty. He reminded Jasi of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  But damn it, these were her cookies!

  "Nice view, Walsh?" she sneered, her eyes narrowing.

  "Very nice," he quipped smoothly.

  Ignoring him, she grabbed her data-com from the nightstand and activated it. "License plate search, Martin Gibney, 103 Dremner Boulevard, Kelowna."

  When a list of Gibney's license plates showed up on the monitor, she noticed one was in motion. "GPS search, license 1DOC739."

  The green light on the monitor flickered while the satellite circuits busily navigated through the city. A few seconds later the GPS locked on its target.

  "He's heading north on Highway 97," she stated.

  "Loon Lake is up there."

  She groaned. "So is Washburn's cabin. Or what's left of it. Did you try Baker or Gibney on their cell phones?"

  "Yeah, they're not answering. If we hurry, we might be able to catch up to Gibney. He's only got maybe fifteen on us."

  She leaned over, grabbed her hair and pulled it into a ponytail. Securing it with a black elastic band, she said, "Maybe we'll get lucky and he'll have to stop for gas."

  "Maybe he'll run out of gas," Brandon replied wryly. "That would be lucky for him."

  Jasi strode over to the closet, then strapped on a shoulder harness for her gun. Then she pulled a short black jacket over top, zipped it halfway and tucked her data-com into a pocket.

  "Why do you think Ben isn't answering his 'com?" she mused.

  Brandon eyed her candidly, then flicked his head toward Natassia's bed.

  "Oh," Jasi blushed, tucking the Beretta into her holster.

  When she looked up again, his eyes pulsed with worry.

  "I never realized you carried a weapon," he admitted.

  She shrugged. "There's a lot about me you don't know."

  Ignoring Brandon's wicked grin and leering eyes, Jasi let out an indignant hiss. "I'm a CFBI agent, for Christ's sake! I can work other cases―not just arsons. As a PSI, I don't just read fires and let someone else bring the bastards in. I bring in my own."

  He grinned slyly. "So you always get your man?"

  She resented his attitude and scowled. "Almost always."

  There was a moment of silence, and then she opened the door. "Come on! Let's get Natassia and Ben."

  Crossing the hallway, she rapped loudly on Ben's room. No answer. Brandon nudged her aside and began pounding on the door, hollering Ben's name.

  Suddenly a bald, sweaty man in a dirty tank top poked his head out from a room across the hall. "Hey! Shut the hell up!" The man's eyes were inflamed―bloodshot.

  Jasi mumbled an apology, barely looking at him.

  "She's CFBI," Brandon explained with a flick of his head in Jasi's direction.

  The man took an unsteady step forward, jabbing a beefy finger threateningly in the air. "I don't give a shit who she―"

  He broke off, then stammered, "CFBI, d-did you s-say?"

  Jasi growled when she recognized Albert Hawkins, the manager of Kel-Cabs. When she marched toward him, Hawkins swore and slammed the door.

  Brandon flicked his head. "Maybe I should―"

  "Come on, Walsh," she ordered, intercepting him. "We don't have time for him now. I have to go back to my room, pick up a few things."

  Long strides took her back to her hotel room. She wrenched the closet door open, reached inside and seized a black tote bag. Opening it, she yanked out two extra clips for the Beretta, dropping
them into a pocket on the front of her jacket. Then she grabbed two mini-cans of OxyBlast and her nosepiece.

  "I never know what I'll need," she explained when she caught him studying her. "We definitely need a ride though."

  Brandon grinned. "A rental is waiting downstairs for us."

  She flashed him a surprised look. "Hmmm, a man who thinks ahead." She glanced at her watch. "Shit! It's after midnight. Where the hell are Ben and Natassia? And why aren't they answering their 'coms?"

  "What do you want to do?" Brandon asked hesitantly.

  Frustrated, she chewed her bottom lip. "I have no idea how long they'll be. We have to get to Gibney and Baker―before Cameron does."

  Stepping out into the hallway, they made their way toward the elevator. Inside, Jasi recorded messages for both Ben and Natassia. She wanted to contact Divine, maybe have him pick up the arrest warrant for Cameron Prescott. But then she'd have to explain how two of his best agents were currently unavailable.

  Glancing at Brandon, Jasi was relieved. He may not be a gun-toting CFBI agent, but he was strong and intelligent. He also knew arsonists.

  Five minutes later, they were seated in a spacious Infiniti FX75 SUV.

  "When you said rental I was thinking more along the lines of a nice little compact," Jasi complained as they screeched out of the hotel parking lot.

  "Bigger is better," he winked, then grinned.

  Clenching her hands in her lap, Jasi stared straight ahead, determined to ignore his innuendo. Her imagination, however, had other plans.

  "Jesus, Walsh!" she snapped. "I'd like to get there in one piece, thank you."

  Brandon laughed lightly as he wove the silver SUV in and out of traffic. "Relax, Jasi. I know what I'm doing."

  It wasn't so much what he was doing that had her all hot and bothered. It was what the man was capable of doing. Being in close confinement with him made her palms sweat. Watching his strong hands shifting gears with ease brought dangerous thoughts to her mind.

  Gripping the door handle tightly, her heart stopped beating when they took an off-ramp and headed for the highway. Somewhere between the vans and trucks loaded with camping gear, she felt the familiar pitter-patter of her heartbeat, kicking itself into high gear. While they dodged through unusually heavy traffic, she wondered whether everyone in Kelowna was escaping something.