Through His Touch (Mind's Eye Book 2)

by Deborah Camp

  “Let me pay for some additional security for you,” Levi said to Sissy.

  She flapped a hand at him. “I’ve got it covered, sugar. Crazies circle me constantly, so I always have a couple of human tanks with me wherever I go. I’ll hire an extra one. A handsome one.” Her berry-colored lips curved.

  “You’re taking this seriously, right?” Levi asked her. “You’d better be. Because I sure as hell am.”

  Pulling her mouth into a pout, Sissy rested her hand on Levi’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I’m as serious as a judge, sugar. And I love it when you get all macho and use that commanding tone of voice with me.”

  Trudy almost choked on her mouthful of muffin, drawing every eye to her. “Sorry. It’s just that when he uses that tone of voice with me I want to punch his lights out.”

  Sissy’s eyes grew the size of silver dollars. Chuckling, Wes pushed up from the table and went toward the laundry room. Levi watched him, arching a brow at his timely exit.

  “You’re going to Texas for Thanksgiving?” Levi asked, returning his attention to Sissy.

  Sissy’s hand slipped from his shoulder and her fingernails trailed along his shirt sleeve, all the way to the cuff, before losing contact altogether. “I’m taking a private plane to Austin this afternoon. I don’t know how many more Thanksgivings I’ll have with my mama. She seems so frail these days. It’ll be good to see her and my brothers and their families – and I’ll probably run into my exes while I’m there.” She grinned and looked at Trudy. “All my exes do live in Texas.”

  Trudy drank her coffee, mulling over the scent of gardenias that wafted off of Sissy’s creamy skin. “How many exes do you have?”

  “Just two.” Sissy shrugged. “But I’ve been engaged four times.”

  “Impressive,” Trudy noted, dryly.

  “Yeah, well, I like the chase, but I’m not crazy about gettin’ caught.” She gave a jerk of her head to indicate Levi. “Like somebody else we know.”

  Trudy held Sissy’s sparkling, mischievous gaze. Amazingly, she didn’t feel threatened or intimidated. Why had she been so leery about meeting this woman? It was obvious to her, even if it didn’t seem so to Sissy, that whatever had simmered between her and Levi had been doused. “He hasn’t lodged any complaints with me.” Trudy tossed off a careless shrug. “And I don’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

  “You’re wanted.”

  Levi’s gruff voice sent a thrill through her. Her gaze slid sideways to his and the dark glimmer of desire there doubled the thrill.

  “Every hour of every day,” he tacked on. When he spoke again, it was to Sissy, but his heated gaze remained on Trudy. “You have a lot on your schedule today, Sissy. Let me see you out.”

  When Levi finally looked away from her, Trudy glanced at Sissy and was pleased to see that the blond was a little flustered, although she quickly recovered as Levi stood. He cupped her elbow, assisting her from her chair, and escorting her to the front door.

  Listening to their low voices, Trudy could tell that they were talking about being careful and keeping in contact over the holiday. She ate another muffin and finished off the mug of coffee before Levi strolled back into the dining room. She noticed earlier that he was still wearing his dress trousers and shirt from last night. The shirt was wrinkled and all the buttons were unfastened, but for two in the middle of his torso. Nonchalantly, she reached out and unbuttoned those, letting his shirt fall open. He arched an eyebrow suggestively.

  “Sissy says you have me by the ‘wangdang’ as she calls it.” A big grin overtook him.

  “Say what?” Trudy giggled at the image that ballooned in her mind. “Well, she’s right. I do, every chance I get.” She stood up and nuzzled his neck, kissing the base of his throat, skimming her palms down his back. “Don’t go to work today,” she whispered against his warm skin.

  He laughed lightly and toyed with the gold disk dangling from her new necklace. “The office is closed until Monday for Thanksgiving, but I have that walk-through this afternoon at the construction site.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She drew back, secure in the circle of his arms. “Why is Wes here? Doesn’t he get the holiday off, too?”

  “He’s here just until noon. He wants to be sure you have everything you need. You’re going to prepare a Thanksgiving meal?”

  “I am.” She grinned at him. “All for you. Oh, and for Quintara. But mainly for you.”

  “I usually just watch football and sleep.”

  “You can do that, too, along with eating good food and sharing good company.” She pressed her cheek against his chest and hugged him. A flowery scent wafted up, accosting her. “Does Sissy always wear gardenia perfume?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Hmm.” She recalled, almost against her will, that the scent of gardenias had been on his clothes the day she’d arrived in Atlanta for his birthday. He’d been with Sissy?

  “Are you okay?” he asked, rocking side to side with her in his arms.

  She started, wondering if he’d somehow read her thoughts. “Uh, sure. Why?”

  “Because Detective Brand wants us to come by the station today and give a formal statement about your vision. Gonzo contacted him last night about it. You feel up to it?”

  She nodded, slowly. “Have they found Heather’s body?”

  “No.”

  “They’ve checked the cemetery?”

  “I think so.” His arms fell away from her and he moved out of her embrace. He jogged up the steps to the kitchen. “Want another cup?”

  She grabbed her mug and followed him.

  “I’ll meet the sub-contractor in a couple of hours and then we’ll go to the police station. Before that I’m going to try something.”

  “What?” She saw the slight tremor in his hand as he poured coffee into the mugs.

  “Contacting Nicola.”

  Chapter 14

  “This will be different from the other time you watched me channel,” Levi said, easing himself into the leather chair. He and Trudy had gone downstairs to his study/office where he would attempt to contact Nicola Bartlett. “I’m not at the crime scene like before, so I’ll use this.” He opened a lower drawer in his desk and removed a black scarf with silver stars sprinkled across it. “It belonged to Nikki.”

  Trudy settled into the rattan chair that was suspended from the ceiling by a chain, which had become one of her favorite places to read, check e-mail, or just relax. Nothing about this was relaxing, though, Levi thought. Anxiety and dread made his insides quiver.

  “She might not come to me,” he continued, running the starry scarf across his palm and through his fingers. “I might have to ask Gregory to assist me.” He glanced at Trudy, half-expecting her to say something smart-alecky about that. When she didn’t, he nodded. “Remember not to touch me. I might get pulled under pretty deep – so deep that I could have trouble finding my way out. Gregory is usually all the help I need. But if I grow still or it seems that I’m having trouble drawing a breath, say my name over and over again. I’ll hear you and fight my way back to you.”

  Trudy’s lower lip trembled and she pulled it between her teeth to stop it. “Should I call your name out loud or in my head?”

  “Both.”

  “Why have you decided to do this now?”

  “Because the murderer will realize – if he doesn’t already – that he killed the wrong woman – again.”

  “So, you’re more worried now than you were when Heather Asher was lurking around?”

  “Oh, I’m way, way beyond worried.” Was she that clueless about how this was affecting him? How it was gnawing at him, destroying him bite by chomping bite? “If anything happens to you . . .” He drew in a quick, slicing breath as voicing that abominable possibility twisted like a knife in his heart. Placing a hand on his chest, he rubbed the area to sooth the ache, but it didn’t help. Only one thing would rid him of the massive weight that had settled on him and the terrible feeling that there wa
s blood on his hands. “I’m going to find this bastard and take him out.”

  Trudy pulled her legs up into the chair and wrapped her arms around them. Worry knitted her brow. “The police will find him.”

  He scoffed at that. “Bullshit.”

  “They have a description now. They’ll find him.”

  Tipping his head back, he stared at the ceiling as he stroked the scarf and his fingertips tingled. “I hope you’re right.” But she wasn’t. He knew it, and he suspected that she knew it. “Let’s do this.” He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at her. “You ready?”

  “I am. Are you?”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see. She might refuse me.” Resting his head against the back of the chair, he closed his eyes. “Okay. Showtime, Wolfe.”

  The steady ticking of the clock on his desk broke the silence. He let the scarf slide between his fingers and pass over palms. He rubbed the fabric and called to Nicola as he sought a pathway to another dimension. Plucking her image from his memory banks, he used the tender feelings he had for her to entice her toward him.

  Come to me. He pleaded with her to move away from the comforting light for just a few minutes and join him in the fog of limbo; that place between the bonds of humanity and winged souls. He felt her resistance and imagined himself diving into a pool of darkness – deeper and deeper, searching for her, his arms outstretched, his fingers splayed. Grab onto me, Nikki! Please, I’m begging!

  Warmth engulfed his hands, his wrists, his arms, and then his whole body. The waves of darkness evaporated and there she stood – Nicola, her blond hair cascading like water down her back, her smile beatific, angelic. She was surrounded by soft, white light.

  “Hello, angel. It’s so good to see you. Please, come closer,” he whispered.

  Nicola shook her head and sadness emanated from her.

  “It’s all right, Nicola,” he whispered to her. “Show me. I have to see. Did you know him?”

  She shook her head again. He could feel her reticence and her refusal.

  “You know me, Nikki. I’m not going to have a moment’s rest until I right the wrong that was done to you. And now he’s taken another and he wants to hurt Trudy. All because of me. I can’t allow that. Please, angel. I must see. You must help me.”

  Slowly, she took a step and then another. Reaching out one slim hand, she nodded, her mouth unsmiling and her brow knitted with reluctance. The moment his fingertips touched hers, he found himself in a dark place. A rope or cord was wrapped around and around his body, making it impossible for him to move. Something oily and foul-tasting was in his mouth, shoved against his tongue. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dimness and he saw a coiled snake tattooed on a taut, muscled belly and chest.

  Don’t tread on me.

  Where was he? Vague memories swooped through his mind of a parking lot. Behind an apartment building. Nicola’s place. A white van was parked next to her car. The door of it slid open. Before he could turn around, a charge gripped his whole body, making him convulse and bite his tongue. The world went black.

  Don’t tread on me.

  He peered up into a face he didn’t recognize. Large head, tanned, lined, rugged. Black eyes, thinning brown hair gathered in a queue. He wore a black leather vest and no shirt. Black leather pants with silver studs down the sides. He clutched a whip in one hand and snapped it over and over again. Close. So close he could feel the tip of it graze his knee – Nicola’s knee.

  “You like rich pussy boys?” he asked, his voice as greasy as his hair. “He’s supposed to be psychic, huh? Well, I got some special vibes, too. I can tell when a man ain’t a man – when he’s really a faggot – and my radar says he’s a closet fudge-packer. He’s so pretty. You like pretty boys? Pretty pussy boys?”

  Who is he? Why is he doing this? He’s talking about Levi. He knows Levi? Her thoughts became Levi’s.

  The man brought up the whip and the lash laid open Nicola’s cheek. The searing pain shot through Levi, quickly followed by shock.

  Going to die. He’s going to kill me. Mom! Dad! Oh, please, no. God in heaven, no!

  Her terrified thoughts were profoundly more painful than the next flash of the whip, opening skin on her shoulder and breast. A boot reared up, kicked her in the face, and she toppled over onto her back, her arms crushed beneath her against the cold, cement floor. Shock descended, coating her senses, even as she heard and felt the savage ripping of her clothing, the man’s soft laughter, and his heavy breathing. The shock numbed some of the pain when he shoved himself into her over and over again and when his big hand slapped her until her nose and lips bled.

  “Pussy boy took what’s mine, so I’m returning the favor,” the man grunted as he ejaculated on her face. “Took my special girl, so I’m taking his. I saw your picture with him. Pretty. Both of you so fucking pretty. See how he likes you now!”

  Grabbing up the whip again, he stared at the thick handle and smiled triumphantly before he shoved it and his fist straight up into—.

  Nicola let go of his hand and he started falling. . . falling . . . he clutched at the scarf as if it would stop his descent. His throat was raw from panting or . . . was he sobbing?

  “Levi!”

  Trudy’s voice penetrated the gloom. He felt her hands gripping him . . . catching him, stopping him. Saving him.

  He blinked rapidly several times and her face came into view. Her green eyes were wide with panic. Disengaging one of his hands from hers, he wiped at his face to remove the vestiges of the vision and the feelings of fear, pain, and, horror that clung to him like long, slippery tentacles.

  “Levi?” Trudy knelt before him, her hands stroking through his hair.

  He shivered and swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. Somehow he’d ended up lying on the floor. He sat up slowly, the pain of Nicola’s death still present in his own body. “How can something that evil walk the earth?” he rasped past the burning pressure in his windpipe. “Soulless piece of filth.”

  “Are you okay?” She helped him stand and sit in the chair again. She sat in his lap, curling into him.

  He buried his hot face against her throat and held her close, taking a few more moments to center himself.

  “Nicola didn’t know him,” he said, his voice muffled against Trudy’s skin. “She’d never seen him before. But it’s the same man. I saw that snake tattoo you glimpsed in your vision.”

  “You got a good look at his face?”

  “Yes. He has dark hair, balding on top, and he wears it in a pigtail. It looked greasy. He has dark brown eyes, I think. His face is lined, so I would guess he’s in his late thirties or early forties. He’s built like a weight-lifter. It’s the same guy.” He drew in a breath to steady himself. “It was all about me. Revenge against me.” He raised his head and looked at Trudy. Her green eyes swam with unshed tears. “He’s avenging some wrong I’ve done to him, but hell if I know what it is. I swear to God I’ve never met this guy. But what he did to Nicola –. When I do find him or he finds me, I’m going to fucking kill him.”

  Trudy held his face and brushed her thumbs back and forth beneath his eyes. “Maybe he’s like Heather and he has convinced himself that he knows you when he really doesn’t.”

  He considered that theory for a moment before rejecting it. “No. It’s too personal. He’s making me pay for some wrong I’ve done to him.”

  “Okay, so that might mean that it has to do with someone you have in common. He thinks you’re encroaching on his territory. Could it be about your company? Or that you were – involved with his wife or girlfriend?”

  He started to shake his head again. “No, I haven’t been with anyone . . .” Unbidden, an image of Lizzie flashed in his mind.

  Trudy grabbed his shirt collar. “You’ve thought of someone. Tell me.”

  He looked away from her all-too-piercing gaze. “It’s nothing . . . I don’t think.” Scattered thoughts converged and he examined them. He didn’t like it, but he could be on the right trac
k. “Gonzo mentioned that the guy might be a biker.”

  “Because of his clothing,” Trudy said, nodding.

  “Yes. And the man who killed Nicola and Heather wore leathers. The man Lizzie’s been seeing has a motorcycle.”

  “Lizzie?” She drew back to stare at him in confusion. “England Lizzie? Why would this have anything to do with her? You said that you hadn’t seen her in years.”

  “I haven’t. But she’s kept in touch through e-mails and an occasional phone call.”

  “Does she still live in England?”

  “No, she’s here. Not here in Atlanta . . . as far as I know. She was living in Texas. But she was in La Jolla, California a few weeks ago. I don’t know where she is now. With her boyfriend, I guess. He picked her up.”

  “Picked her up from where?”

  “A drug rehab clinic. She was there for treatment.”

  “What drug is she addicted to?”

  “Prescription drugs. Party drugs.” Could Lizzie be at the center of this nightmare? She certainly had a knack for causing trouble. “It’s a long shot. It’s just that . . . I haven’t met this guy, but he does own a chopper.”

  Trudy eased out of his lap. “You should mention this to Detective Brand. He could maybe find out the dude’s name and more about him. Or do you know his name?”

  “No. She refers to him as her ‘old man’ or her—.” He clamped his lips together, stopping himself from saying dom. No need to get into that with Trudy, he told himself. “I don’t know his name.”

  Looking at the scarf clutched in his fist, he spread it out on the desktop, then carefully folded it and tucked it into the bottom desk drawer. Nicola’s sweet face wavered in his mind. “I’m glad that’s over.”

  “You’re very brave,” Trudy said.

  He rolled his eyes, feeling totally unworthy of such an accolade. “I should have channeled her before now. I just didn’t want to go there.”