Through His Touch (Mind's Eye Book 2)

by Deborah Camp

  “Hello.” Lizzie shook Trudy’s hand and managed a weak smile. “Sorry to barge in like this. Couldn’t be helped, I’m afraid.”

  “I love your accent.” Trudy kept Lizzie’s hand in hers and drew her inside the living room. “Are you visiting in Atlanta?”

  “No. We – I used to live here. Then I moved to Kansas and then Texas. I was in California briefly.” She glanced at Levi. “But I’m back here now. I’m a bit of a gypsy, I suppose.”

  “Why did you come back to Atlanta?” Levi asked.

  “Taser got offered a better job here.”

  “Taser?” Gonzo asked.

  “Yes. He’s my . . . he was head bouncer at The Steam Room. It’s a posh club here. Have you been there?” she asked Levi.

  He nodded. “Yes, a couple of years ago when it first opened.”

  “I thought you’d know it. It’s become a popular place for people in the scene.” Lizzie started to turn toward Trudy, but she lost her balance and sat on the end of the sectional. She released a giddy, drunken laugh. “Ooopsy!”

  Trudy looked at Levi and lifted her brows in a silent question before she leaned near Lizzie, catching her attention. “I’ve made some tea. Would you like a cup?”

  “That would be lovely.” Lizzie blinked her eyes slowly, laboriously. “Are you Levi’s sub?”

  “His what?” Trudy asked, straightening.

  “Nothing.” Levi placed a hand on Trudy’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze, determined to steer the conversation away from that particular cliff edge. “I’ll have a cup of the tea, too. Gonzo?”

  Gonzo shook his head. “Not me. I’ll go back down and wait for Dr. McLain.”

  Levi nodded with a smirk. Gonzo and tea certainly didn’t compute. “Thanks.”

  He sat on the sectional near Lizzie while Trudy busied herself in the kitchen. Running a finger along a bruise on her wrist, he asked, “What are you doing here, Lizzie? Who did this to you?”

  “He did.” She grasped his hand and her grip was surprisingly firm. “Taser. He’s my dom, but I want you. Take me as your submissive, Levi. We’d be amazing together. You could push me to incredible highs. I trust you. I wouldn’t even need safe words with you.”

  “Listen to me, once and for all. I’m not a dominant. I’ve never been a dom. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  She cocked her head to one side. “You still think you’re a sub?” She looked in the direction Trudy had gone. “Is she your dominatrix?”

  The very thought of that made him laugh. “Hell, no. I’m not into that scene. I’ve never been.”

  “We saw each other at those parties.”

  “I was there as a guest! Get it through your head, will you?”

  “I just want . . .” She leaned back against the cushions, suddenly going limp, her eyes rolling up in her head. “I’m tired. I just want . . . you.” Her lips twisted into a semblance of a smile. “You’d know how to lay the good kind of hurt on me.”

  He frowned. “You need to come down off whatever you’re on.” He pulled his hand from hers.

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Her eyelids fell as if they were weighted.

  He watched as she slipped under, losing consciousness. A few minutes later, Trudy came back into the room, holding a tea tray between her hands.

  “She’s out cold,” Levi said, standing to take the tray from her and set it on the coffee table. “She’s high on something.” He ran a hand over Trudy’s glossy hair, admiring how the light picked out the lighter red strands from the darker ones. “Thanks for being such a good sport about this. When Dr. McLain gets here, we’ll decide what to do with her.”

  “When was the last time you heard from her?”

  “It’s been a few months. Since before we were in Key West.”

  “Oh?” She poured them cups of tea. “That recent?”

  He regarded her from the corner of his eye as she sat in the slipper chair to sip her tea. She was itching to know more. The woman of a thousand questions always wanted information. He sighed, deciding she deserved to be filled in. “She wanted to go into rehab, so I arranged that for her. But she left after only a few days of treatment.” He paused, knowing what was coming next.

  “You arranged for her rehabilitation. Translated, you paid for it.”

  He nodded. “She didn’t have any money.” He glanced at her.

  “The National Bank of Levi,” she said with a sardonic smile. “Only those needing money for psychiatric treatment can make withdrawals. Heather and Lizzie. Any others come to mind?”

  He shrugged. “She’s fucked up, Trudy. She’s been an addict for as long as I’ve known her. In college she was prone to drinking too much and she experimented with drugs. Over the years, it’s gotten worse.” He took a drink of the tea, his thoughts traveling across the pond to a time when he believed he’d found his special someone. They had told each other of their fractured childhoods, fears they couldn’t shake, and dreams of being happy. “That’s what drew us together,” he murmured.

  “What?” Trudy’s green eyes rounded with alarm. “Drugs?”

  “No.” He sat on the edge of the coffee table. Leaning toward Trudy, he placed a hand on her jean-clad thigh to reassure her. “I never did that shit. What I meant was that we recognized the same things in each other. We’re both badly broken.”

  Chapter 15

  With her legs tucked under her, Trudy snuggled deeper into the sectional cushions and stared sightlessly at the night sky outside the living room windows. Adele’s haunting voice wafted from the stereo speakers and Trudy closed her eyes, trying to allow the songs to soothe her and get her mind off what might be going on in the guest bedroom.

  Almost an hour ago, Levi had carried Lizzie into the bedroom, followed by Dr. McLain. Trudy smiled to herself, glad to be able to put a face to Althea McLain’s name. She’d been curious about Levi’s psychiatrist and she was nothing like Trudy had pictured.

  A tall, slender woman in her late forties or early fifties, she had skin the color of milk chocolate and beautiful cinnamon colored eyes. She wore her dusky hair in a short, neat Afro. Since she’d come from home, she wasn’t in office attire, but her tailored burgundy slacks and silk blouse of cream and black swirls were casually elegant. But it was her voice that captivated Trudy. Dr. McLain had a soothing voice – clear and commanding. She enunciated each word so there would be no misunderstanding of her meaning. Trudy had no doubt that it would take a strong, self-assured person to wrestle with hard-headed, defensive, self-deprecating Leviticus Wolfe.

  Questions buzzed through Trudy. Why did Lizzie come here? Who had abused her? Was she in danger from her boyfriend? Was there still something between her and Levi? What drugs had Lizzie taken? Why did she ask if Trudy was Levi’s sub? Submissive. BDSM? Trudy hugged a pillow against her chest, warding off a shiver. Was Levi into that? If so, he’d certainly hidden it from her! Was this another of his secrets that he didn’t trust her with?

  Sighing, she picked up the remote and switched off the music. She couldn’t concentrate on anything and the bluesy songs were actually bringing her down instead of propping her up. She couldn’t hear a sound from the bedroom. What were they doing in there? Was Lizzie awake? Was she lucid? Was she going to spend the night or would Dr. McLain check her into the hospital?

  Suddenly, she heard raised voices – Levi’s, mostly. Without thinking, she went to the hallway and stopped just short of the guest room. The door was ajar and she could see Lizzie sitting in bed. Dr. McLain sat on the side of it, her back to Trudy. Levi stood next to her, his back also to the door.

  “Let’s not yell at each other,” Dr. McLain said. “Levi, stop being a guy and start being a psychologist.” She leaned toward Lizzie, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath. Now, did you see Taser kill someone or did he tell you he did?”

  “He told me,” Lizzie said, casting a warning glare at Levi.

  Kill someone? Those words rocked Trudy back on her heels and she
knew instantly that she’d been in that man’s mind. Just the mention of his name again solidified it for her.

  “He said he killed the right one this time.” Lizzie swiped viciously at the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I didn’t believe him. I thought he was all brag, don’t you see? Then he started droning on and on about getting back at Levi for taking me.” She flung up her hands in a helpless gesture. “That’s how he sees it. Every time I go into rehab, Taser believes that it’s Levi’s way of putting me somewhere so that he can’t find me.” She pushed her blond hair back from her face. Dr. McLain patted her shoulder again and nodded, urging her to continue. “He thinks I leave him and run to Levi because I . . . well, when I get pissed off, I tell him that I can always go to Levi.”

  “Have you made it clear to him that Levi is simply a friend of yours? Someone you knew years ago when you were both still teenagers?” Dr. McLain asked.

  Lizzie shrugged, glancing quickly, furtively at Levi like some kid who had been discovered being naughty. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what have you told him – exactly?” Levi asked, his voice so low that Trudy could barely hear him.

  “That you’re a dom like him! All right?” Lizzie said, lifting her blood-shot eyes to Levi in a bold challenge. “That you want me as your sub.”

  Levi shook his head slowly and propped his hands at his waist in a menacing pose. “You really don’t fucking care who you hurt, do you?”

  “I didn’t know he’d go this far,” Lizzie snapped. “Lately, he’s gotten too rough. Way too rough. But I didn’t believe for a second that he’d actually kill someone!”

  “So, to teach me a lesson – to send me a message, he killed Heather Asher,” Levi said. “And he killed Nicola Bartlett.”

  Trudy took a step back and leaned on the wall, struck by the memory of the man’s lust for violence. His moral compass, if he’d ever had one, was irrevocably damaged. He liked pain. He liked fear. He consumed it like it was nourishment. And Lizzie had led him straight to Levi. Straight to her.

  “He’s been more aggressive toward you?” Dr. McLain asked in her controlled, professional way. “Did he put these bruises on you?”

  “Yes. We’ve always played rough.” Lizzie gave a little sniff. “We like it that way. But it’s like he wants to almost kill me. He makes me black out and laughs at me when I come to and I’m hysterical. Last time he paddled me, I said my safe word to make him stop, but he kept on and on with the cane. He said we weren’t going to have safe words anymore. That we were beyond that. That’s why I came to you.” She looked at Levi, her eyes wide and seeking. “You’re always there for me, my lovely Levi. My comfort.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Levi said, his voice whip-sharp. “I’ve told you never to call me that.”

  “They’re words, Levi. Not weapons,” Dr. McLain said, sternly.

  “Some words are worse than weapons,” he shot back.

  Trudy shook her head, having trouble following the conversation, and then it clicked. Comfort. That was Levi’s last name before he’d legally changed it to disassociate from his father. He had been Levi Comfort when he’d met Lizzie in England. Lizzie was either totally unsympathetic or totally cruel if she didn’t know that calling him her “comfort” would slice through him like a rapier.

  “What did I say that was so hurtful?” Lizzie asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.

  “My name is Wolfe,” Levi said. “As you well know.”

  “Oh, that.” Lizzie shrugged. “Old habits, love.”

  Trudy examined the woman’s pale face, trying to discern her real motives. Had calling Levi by his family name been a mistake or a guided missile? Observing her carefully, Trudy felt certain that she had Lizzie down cold. She was a consummate user. She’d learned how to wield her feminine allure to get what she wanted, what she needed, and then she had no compunction with giving you the back of her hand, a cool dismissal, or even making fun of your distress.

  “Where is your boyfriend now?” Dr. McLain asked. “And what’s his real name? Do you know it?”

  “His last name is O’Shea. Taser’s his street name, but I don’t know any other for him. And I don’t know where he is.”

  “Bullshit,” Levi growled.

  “I don’t!” Lizzie repeated, anger creeping up to stain her pale cheeks with bright pink. “We were evicted from our apartment last week and we’ve been staying in motels and with a friend a night or two. When Taser came to get me at the drug rehab, he lost his job, so we’re living hand-to-mouth now.”

  “But you found money for drugs and booze and cigarettes,” Levi noted.

  “Yes, we did manage that.” Lizzie threw him a murderous glance. “Must you be so unpleasant and unforgiving, Levi? I didn’t kill those women. I had nothing to do with that.”

  “The hell you didn’t,” Levi said, straining forward, directing an accusing finger at her. “You had everything to do with it! You’ve been feeding the beast, haven’t you? Throwing him red meat every chance you got, making him crazy with jealousy over absolutely nothing. You know damn well that I’m not a dom and yet you kept telling him that I was and that I wanted you. You’re anything but innocent, Lizzie.”

  Staring up at him, Lizzie’s brown eyes grew slumberous with lustful yearnings. “You could be a magnificent dominant. You’re a natural, you are. When I think of what we could be together – do together, I get all wet and creamy.”

  Trudy’s stomach lurched and she found herself staring at Levi to catch his reaction. Levi’s shoulders slumped and he flexed his long fingers.

  “Oh, Christ, Lizzie, you need help.” He turned on his heel and then his head jerked back when he spotted Trudy through the half-open door.

  Trudy started to apologize for listening, but stopped herself. She had every right to be included in this little scene. After all, Taser had meant to kill her! Anger spiked through her and she stepped inside the room and around Levi so that she could lock gazes with Lizzie. Instantly, Lizzie’s brown eyes darkened and narrowed when confronted with Trudy’s hard glare.

  “Your boyfriend has been trying to murder me. I assume you understand that, don’t you?”

  “I do now,” Lizzie said, folding her arms so that the green sweater hugged her small breasts. “I came here looking for Levi. I didn’t know you were living here, too.”

  “And if you had known?” Trudy asked, wondering if Lizzie would actually admit the truth.

  A tiny smile poked at the corners of Lizzie’s mouth. Her shoulders pumped in a careless shrug. “But I didn’t.”

  Trudy nodded. Oh, yeah, lady, she thought. We understand each other. You look out for Lizzie and only Lizzie.

  Tipping back her head, Lizzie closed her eyes and snuggled down under the covers. “I’m utterly exhausted. My brain simply cannot function another millisecond.”

  Dr. McLain looked at Trudy and Levi and rocked her head toward the doorway, indicating they should go. “I’d like to speak to Elizabeth privately. I’ll join you in the living room shortly.”

  Trudy turned and left the doctor to deal with her. She stalked to the windows, gazing sightlessly at the twinkling lights of Atlanta. It was raining, making the lights blur and streak across the glass. A jagged shaft of lightning lit the sky just as Levi came to stand behind her. His hands curved on her shoulders and he pulled her back against him. She relaxed, needing his warmth, strength, and security.

  “She’s staying here tonight?” she asked.

  “Lizzie? Yes. Dr. McLain will check around and find somewhere she can go, but it will probably be Monday before that happens.”

  Trudy expected as much, since it was a holiday weekend. “You’ve never met her boyfriend?”

  “No. I told you, it’s been years since I’ve seen her.” His lips brushed her temple. “I hate that she ruined your holiday, Trudy, but now we know who killed Nikki and Heather Asher.”

  “He’s extremely violent. I’ve been in his head, remember? He likes to give and even receive pain.
And he absolutely, positively detests you. He’s like a cur dog fighting another dog over a bitch in heat. He’s single-minded. All he wants to do is win, kill, and then nail the bitch.”

  He ran his hands up and down her arms. “We’ll put him away. He won’t touch you. He won’t even fucking breath on you.”

  “You stay out of it. Let the police find him and arrest him.” She started to turn around and face him. The soft click and rattle of a door handle sent them both whirling about to Dr. McLain.

  “Is she sleeping?” Trudy asked.

  “Yes, she’s pretty much out on her feet. But she’s in no danger,” Dr. McLain said. “Essentially, she took some roofies and then she downed a couple of Xanax right before she got here, so she’s amped out. She’ll sleep for hours.” She motioned for Trudy and Levi to take a seat. “Let’s talk.”

  Trudy settled on the sectional and picked up Mouse, holding her close and nuzzling her velvety head. She felt as if she needed something to clutch – like a life preserver.

  “Trudy and I were just discussing notifying the police about Taser,” Levi said.

  “You can do that after I leave. For now, please take a seat.” She sat in the slipper chair and arched a brow at Levi, waiting for him to obey. Her coppery eyes shone with patience, intelligence, a dash of amusement.

  Shrugging, Levi eased himself down onto the sectional beside Trudy.

  “Tomorrow she’ll be lucid and anxious, of course, because she’ll begin to have withdrawal symptoms. Lock up the liquor. No beer, either. Go through your medicine cabinets and hide everything but aspirin and bandages. That also goes for mouthwash and cough syrup.” She smiled at Levi. “You should already know this, of course.”

  He nodded. “It’s good to get a refresher course. What about smokes?”

  “She could have those . . . on the patio. Don’t allow her to stink up your home.”

  Trudy glanced from one to the other, fascinated how their relationship switched from doctor and patient to psychiatrist and psychologist and then back again.