Through Her Eyes (Mind's Eye Book 4)

by Deborah Camp

  She squeezed his hand and then shook free of it, her blood boiling. “Stop it. Just stop it,” she hissed at him, drawing his startled gaze to her. “You really need to see Dr. McClain, Levi. I’ve done everything but cut open veins and rub our wrists together in a blood oath to get through to you that I’m in this.” She waved a finger between them. “This. Us. Why would I be thinking of putting aside money so that I could leave you? Take you for everything? Really? You think I’d do that? If I wanted your gosh-darned money, I would be spending it right now. Every freaking chance I got.” She sat forward, eyes trained on the seat ahead of her. “Oooo!” She hammered her fists on her thighs to release some of the fury rolling around in her. “You make me so furious I just want to slap you silly sometimes!”

  He was quiet for a full minute as she struggled to breathe normally and get her heart to stop galloping.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  She speared him with a look. “Go ahead what?”

  “Slap me silly.”

  She thrust the rapier in further, unamused by his amusement. “Go jump off a cliff.”

  He captured her hand and held on even as she tried to tug it from his grasp. “I won’t be such an ass once we’re married. I won’t feel insecure then. I promise.”

  She eyed him. “Try that out on Dr. McClain and see if she buys it.” She shifted her gaze to their hands. “Let go, Levi.”

  “You’re pissed. I get it.”

  “Let go.”

  After a few more seconds stuttered past, he released her. She edged closer to the window and away from him and tried her best to ignore the intensity of his gaze. It was like enduring the sun in your eyes. Uncomfortable. Painful. Punishing.

  Chapter 14

  The Armhurst fund-raising party for Re-home was packed. Their spacious Buckhead home was wall-to-wall people – all elegantly dressed, even the servers. Levi, in a tailored-to-perfection tuxedo, was pure eye-candy. Trudy could barely keep her gaze from straying to him and staying on him. She’d watched women openly admire him and tried to keep her possessive streak under control.

  She was still stinging a little from the quarrel they had on the flight to Atlanta. She’d waited for him to bring up the subject of her needing “escape money” and taking all his money if she left him, but he’d acted as if the words had never left his lips. Infuriating! She told herself to calm down and be nice. She’d set him straight and that was that.

  Focusing her attention back to her hostess, who was gleefully introducing her to every guest she could grab, Trudy wished she knew how to gracefully disengage. But it was no use as Mrs. Armhurst latched onto yet another passing guest.

  “Betina! Betina! Have you had the pleasure of meeting Levi Wolfe’s intended? You haven’t? Trudy Tucker, this is Dr. Betina Shuster. She’s a leading cardiologist. And her husband Dr. Roland Shuster. He’s a dentist. My dentist, as a matter-of-fact!” She twittered a laugh, the diamonds in her rings flashing merrily under the chandelier lights.

  “Hello.” Betina shook Trudy’s hand. “So nice to meet you – finally. You’re the talk of Atlanta, you know.”

  “I . . . no, I didn’t.” Trudy felt color tingle in her cheeks.

  Betina displayed white, straight teeth. A smile a dentist could fall in love with – and did, obviously. “I love your gown, but I don’t recognize the designer.” She stepped back a little to more closely examine Trudy’s silver form-fitting creation with a layered tulle skirt and one shoulder tulle strap. The bodice was just low enough to show the swell of her breasts. She’d chosen strappy silver heels and a simple diamond pendant necklace and stud earrings to wear with it. Levi had complimented her when he’d seen her in the ensemble. He’d kissed her and smiled knowingly at her cool reception.

  “I confess I don’t know who designed it,” Trudy said, running her hand along the gentle folds of fabric hugging her waist and stomach. “I bought it in New Orleans.”

  “How did you meet the charming Mr. Wolfe?” Roland Shuster asked.

  “Through a mutual friend,” Trudy said, editing it down from Quintara, my psychic mentor, introduced us and we worked on a murder case together.

  “Have you set a wedding date?” Betina asked.

  “No. Not yet.”

  Betina patted her arm and leaned in to whisper. “Wise to take your time, dear, when you’re dealing with a notorious bachelor like Levi.”

  Notorious? Trudy smiled at that. The woman had a point, but Trudy also felt that she had her hooks in him pretty deep.

  “Your glass is empty,” Mrs. Armhurst said, nodding at the champagne flute Trudy held. “Let’s get you a refill. Have you tried the bleu cheese and walnut stuffed mushrooms? No? Oh, you must. They’re divine, I tell you. Divine.”

  She hustled Trudy toward some long tables set near the wall where tuxedoed servers and bartenders smiled and moved with grace and fluidity. Trudy half-listened and nodded as her hostess asked for another champagne cocktail along with a couple of the mushrooms and something she referred to as “those scrumptious red bean dim sums.”

  Unerringly, Trudy’s eyes sought Levi and located him a few feet away. He stood in front of the fireplace, his shoulder against the mantel, all casual and elegant with his black hair combed back and tamed tonight. Her fingers itched to dive in and muss it. Two men stood with him and discussed something that had them all smiling.

  A woman approached Trudy. “Hello. You’re very popular this evening.”

  Trudy didn’t recognize her. Middle-aged. Hard to tell, but Trudy guessed the woman could be in her fifties. Pale blond hair, obviously dyed. Slender figure encased in a tight tube of black satin with black rhinestones glittering along the hem and bodice. She was attractive in an aristocratic way. Diamonds and rubies encrusted her bracelet and chandelier earrings. A wedding ring with a massive square-cut diamond weighted her left hand.

  “I have Mrs. Armhurst to thank for that. She’s been introducing me to her guests.”

  “Ah! Gloria.” Mrs. Armhurst patted the woman’s arm. “So good of you to come. How’s Frederick? Is he here with you tonight?”

  “Yes.” The woman glanced around. “Somewhere. Oh, over there with Levi. He’s feeling much better.” She looked at Trudy. “My husband suffered a slight stroke six months ago, but he’s recovered. In fact, he played a round of golf today.”

  “Good for him,” Trudy said.

  “Trudy, this is Gloria Dunleavy, by the way. She and Frederick own Dunleavy Pharmaceuticals. Here you go, dear.” Mrs. Armhurst pressed a champagne flute in Trudy’s hand, forcing her attention away from Gloria. “Taste this.” She held out a noodle-wrapped bite of something on an embossed paper napkin. Obediently, Trudy accepted it and took a nibble. “Mmmm. Yes. Very good.” She examined the other canapé – a stuffed mushroom sitting on a triangle of toast. When a warm hand closed on her elbow, she gave a little start, then a sigh when she saw Levi.

  He smiled at their hostess and then at Gloria Dunleavy. “Hello, there. Long time, no see. It’s good that Frederick is back to his former robust self.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?” Gloria looked from him to Trudy and back to him. “Congratulations are in order? You’re engaged.”

  “Yes. That’s right.” His arm came around Trudy’s waist.

  “When I heard about it, I thought it was a silly rumor. But then I ran into Dot Mitchell – you remember Dot, don’t you, Levi?” Her smile was almost feline as she purred Levi’s name.

  Levi’s smile, in contrast, was frosty. “I do.”

  “I thought you would. Anyway, Dot said that it was in all the tabloids. I don’t read those, but I did see the notice in the Atlanta Journal. There was no retraction, so . . .”

  His smile became even colder as he looked past her to Mrs. Armhurst. “Mind if I dance with my girl?”

  “Go! Go!” Mrs. Armhurst freed Trudy’s hands as she shooed her away. “I’ve purloined enough of your time this evening.”

  Levi turned toward Gloria again. “It was nice o
f you and your husband to come to this event. I do appreciate it. And, as usual, you look fantastic.”

  “Why thank you, Levi. I could always count on you for a compliment.”

  Levi led Trudy through the living room, dining room, and into a large room at the back of the house that overlooked the manicured gardens. The band was playing “Windmills of Your Mind” when Levi took her into his arms.

  “I couldn’t tell. Do you like that woman or not?”

  He looked over the top of her head, not meeting her questioning eyes. “I’ll tell you later. Let’s enjoy this dance.”

  “Is it her or her husband you don’t like or both?”

  His hand splayed across her hip and he brought her closer as he bent slightly to whisper in her ear. “Not now. Drop it.”

  She put some space between them, enough to observe the tension in his features and the shadow of vulnerability in his eyes. Surrendering for the moment, she rested her cheek against his shoulder and felt him relax into her. She closed her eyes as he guided her from one smooth step to the next, the softness of her gown caressing her legs.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight,” Levi said, kissing the top of her head. “Are you still aggravated at me?”

  “Yes.”

  He inched back to look at her. “Let’s put it all behind us. You know I didn’t mean what I said. It bubbled up from my shriveled, black, little heart.”

  She frowned, not agreeing at all with his assessment of his heart’s condition. “And you understand why I’d want to keep my own checking account?”

  “Yes, and it has nothing to do with having the means to hit the road.” He touched his nose to hers. “I’m a work in progress, but I am making progress, thanks to you.”

  “One lady I met tonight said I was the talk of Atlanta. I assume because I’m engaged to you. She called you a notorious bachelor.”

  “Who called me that? Gloria?”

  “No. Dr. Shuster.” She glanced up to catch the arch of one eyebrow and dash of a smile.

  “Betina. Yeah, she would.”

  “Why? Did she try to land you?”

  He barked out a laugh. “Land me? Like a fish?”

  “The big one that got away,” she teased.

  He grinned. “She used to be on the Re-home board. She’s so busy, she had to step down from it. But she’d always go on and on about how I brought a different woman to every event.”

  “See? Slippery like a fish.”

  “You netted me.” He hooked his arm around her waist and dipped her, making her gasp and giggle before he brought her upright again. “Planning on making me a trophy or . . .”

  “Or what?”

  His lips moved against her ear. “Or make a meal of me? Your mouth on me. Me in your mouth.”

  Her heart somersaulted and the inside of her thighs tingled. “I’ll let you know later. At home. Alone.”

  “Or we could duck into a dark corner or closet and –.”

  “Uh-uh.” She pressed her index finger against his naughty mouth. “Home. Alone.”

  His smile against her touch was like a spark against a pool of gasoline. Desire flared and ran hot through the rest of the evening that couldn’t end soon enough to suit her.

  ###

  “So, what’s the deal with the Dunleavys?” Trudy asked. She turned her head on the pillow toward Levi, hoping he hadn’t already fallen asleep after making love to her.

  His eyes glittered in the moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their bedroom, but he shut them against her question. A groan flexed his throat.

  “What?” She shifted onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “What’s the big secret?”

  He scowled and stared up at the pinpoints of light above the bed that mimicked a sky full of stars. “It’s not a secret.”

  “So, you don’t like her?”

  “She’s history, Trudy. Ancient history.”

  Suddenly, it slammed into her, making her wonder if she might have actually read his mind since the identity of the woman popped into her brain with certainty. “Oh, my God! Gloria. It was her! Right? The woman who used to . . . who paid you to . . .” She clamped her teeth together, unable to find words that wouldn’t injure him. He’d been propositioned by an older, married woman when he was in his early twenties, flat broke after moving back to the States from college in England. She’d paid all his bills, put him in a nice apartment, and gave him a car to drive. He’d been her boy toy and the arrangement had lasted more than a year before she’d taken it too far, wanting to share him with her friends and try some BDSM out on him.

  He’d been deeply ashamed when he’d told Trudy about that time in his life and she didn’t want to rub salt into those wounds.

  “I haven’t seen her in two or three years,” he said, each word sounding as if he were dragging it from the depths of his soul. “She and Frederick have never come to one of my Re-Home fundraisers before. It was a surprise to see them there.”

  “Maybe she wanted to compare notes with me.” She’d meant it as a funny remark, but his glare was anything but amused. “Sorry.” She sobered and ran her hand along his bicep. “She doesn’t look at all like I’d pictured her.”

  “How did you picture her?”

  “More curvy. Dark hair. Kind of exotic looking.”

  “Yeah, that’s not Gloria.”

  Another snippet of the conversation floated into her mind along with Levi’s cool reception of it. “And Dot? Who’s that?”

  “A friend of hers.”

  “A friend she loaned you out to?”

  He shifted onto his side, giving her his back. “I’m tired, Trudy. I know my sordid past fascinates you, but . . .”

  The noise in her head drowned out the rest of Levi’s words. Trudy slammed her eyes shut, hoping the loud roar would diminish and leave her alone. It was replaced by pressure between her temples.

  She opened her eyes and found herself staring at her lap. No. A man’s lap. Sitting in a wheelchair, his fly open, his penis out. He pumped his thick, short penis, faster and faster, up and down, feeling it get hotter against his palm. He twisted his hand on the way back up and ran his thumb over the tip where clear, sticky liquid had oozed out.

  Hot damn, that feels good! Been too long. Even I deserve to bust a load now and then.

  His penis flexed and hardened. Heat pooled in his scrotum as tension built in his chest and arrowed down to the nothingness below his hip bones. Fisting his free hand, he brought it down on his right thigh. She heard the sound when it connected but didn’t feel anything.

  Could have been holding a knife and thrust the blade clean through and not even known it until he saw the blood oozing from the wound. Blood. Lovely blood. Life’s serum.

  Images skipped through her mind – a girl screaming as blood streamed from a wound in her throat, a young man on his knees begging before a gun was pressed to his forehead and then his forehead exploded from the impact of a bullet, a man sobbing as he looked down at his chest, split open and pulsing out blood. Her stomach churned and her throat closed up even as the gruesome scenes tickled the edges of his mind with joy. His joy. Not hers.

  It was him. Him. Fisting his penis. His hand moving so fast it was a blur. His penis standing tall on its own when he held it by the base. He slipped his hand down, cupping his balls, feeling their weight and tightness. Fingers closing around his penis again, he gave it another yank or two, wondering when it would erupt.

  Can’t tell anymore. Used to feel it grab my spine and climb up to the nape of my neck right before I came. Must be close . . . must be . . . yes! There you go, blue eyes. All over your gorgeousness. I like it. Do you? I know you would, you handsome brute, you.

  Milky liquid jutted from his penis, arced, and landed on a photo lying on the tiled floor. She knew that photo. She’d seen it on the Internet. A photographer had taken it in a Los Angeles studio for Entrepreneur magazine. It was a color photo of Levi. Now covered in cum.


  And she knew that voice in her head.

  How do you like it, Miss Tucker? Can you see? Can you?

  “No! Get out!” The image waffled and then was gone, replaced by nothing at first – then light and shadow, something blocking out everything. Oh, someone’s head. A face. Levi.

  “Trudy? Are you back? Come here. Let me hold you.”

  His arms came around her like shelter from a storm. She rubbed her cheek against his chest and the hair tickled her nose. He smelled so good. He felt so good.

  “Where’d you go? Is he stalking or murdering?”

  “Neither.” She didn’t want to move or think yet. Her head pounded. “I need some water.”

  “Right.” He hugged her tightly for a moment before letting go and bounding out of bed and walking bare-assed into the bathroom.

  Even in her groggy, brain-addled state of mind, she appreciated the sight of the long muscles in his legs and tight bunching of them in his backside. He had dimples at the base of his spine that she loved to lick and kiss. She thought of what she’d just witnessed and cold anger blew through her.

  “Here you go,” Levi said, walking back to her and holding out a glass of water. “Take a drink and a deep breath, then fill me in. Did you get his name?”

  She took three big swallows, letting the water soothe her burning throat and wash away the tightness in her chest, the sick feeling in her stomach. “Wasn’t him. It was Desmond Forté.”

  Levi stared at her, uncomprehending, lips parted, eyes questioning. “How? That can’t be. He’s not killing anymore.”

  “He was sending a message to us.”

  “A message? Wait. How does he get in your head?”

  “I don’t know!” She finished the water and leaned sideways to set it on the table. “But he does. He tried before . . . at the séance? I know he was trying to tap in. I could feel it, but I didn’t know what it was at the time.”

  “You saw him looking at you and Bonifay that day. He put that image in your head.”

  “Right.” She shivered. “I don’t like this. It’s freaky. Freakier than usual.”