What the hell?
As Ben backed the SUV out of the driveway, Jasi chewed her bottom lip. "Well, that was strange."
"You noticed it too?"
"Yeah. One moment he looked like he needed a nap―"
"The next, he looked like he'd been told he'd won the lottery."
"I know. What the hell happened?"
"Your guess is as good as mine." The words were barely out of his mouth when his data-com beeped.
Matthew's voice crackled through the speaker. "Any leads with Sampson?"
"We think he's having some kind of flashback," she answered. "In his dreams."
"Stay on him. He's the strongest lead we've got."
"Will do."
"Stay safe," Matthew said before disconnecting.
Ben glanced at her. "What do you make of all this?"
Another test.
"I think we'll discover the phone call Sampson just got came from a payphone near Parliament Hill. And I think someone is either blackmailing or threatening him."
Ben's head bobbed in agreement. "I think you might be on to something. What now?"
She chuckled. "Well, since you made fun of my cooking earlier and since I said I'd make you pay, you're going to buy Natassia and me the best dinner Ottawa has to offer."
Alone in her hotel room that evening, Jasi carried out her evening ritual of Pilates stretches on her bed, then sat cross-legged, eyes closed, breathing deeply.
In…out.
She kept her mind clear. No stress, no worries.
Fifteen minutes later, she felt calm. Tonight, she'd sleep.
She reached up and carefully disengaged the tight elastic band from her hair. Freed from confinement, wayward curls and waves bounced past her shoulders. She massaged her scalp and released a long sigh. For a moment she wished that it was someone else's strong, tanned fingers running through her hair.
The phone rang.
There was only one person who would call her on the hotel phone―Zane―and she had no desire to talk to him.
Against her will, her eyes were drawn to the phone. The message light flashed. She grabbed the phone, sucked in a breath and dialed the code for message retrieval.
"You have five messages," announced an automated male voice. "After you have listened to each message, please press 1 to save. To delete, press 2. To upload messages to your cell phone or data-com, enter your phone number followed by your room number."
She was tempted to delete all five messages, but she was curious so she stayed on the line.
"Hi, love. It's Zane. I was hoping we could talk. About last night. Call me tonight." He left his cell phone number.
Jasi pressed 2.
"Hey, it's me again." Zane sounded breathless. "I need to talk to you before I leave for New York."
Delete.
She quickly deleted the next two identical messages, but the fifth message made her pulse skip a beat.
"Come on, Jasmine, love. We can't leave things like this. I was hoping that I meant more to you than a one night stand. It did to me."
There was a long pause and she thought that was the end of the message, but then he said, "I know I messed things up last time, but seeing you again―being with you again―made me realize that I don't want to be without you. I need you, Jasmine. I'll be back soon."
Zane's voice was soft and tender, and his words singed her, burning into her heart. The only thing missing in her life was someone to share it with.
Someone to love.
She saved his message, then wandered to the fridge.
"Great," she said, peering inside. "No iced tea."
She grabbed a glass from the bathroom and strode out into the hall. The pop and ice machines were at the far end near the elevators. She dug in her jeans for some change and purchased a bottle of iced tea.
She turned to the ice machine, one of those ancient storage chest models with a spring-loaded lid to prevent people from leaving it open.
She opened the lid. "Aw, damn."
Someone had knocked the switch and inadvertently turned the ice maker off. There was a shallow pool of water in the bottom of the chest and a pile of half-melted cubes in the far corner.
But that didn't stop her.
She propped up the lid with her hand, the one holding the tea bottle. Then she leaned down so she could scoop ice into the glass in her right hand, but the further in she leaned, the harder it was to keep the lid from closing and smacking her on the head. She gritted her teeth. Praying that no one would walk by her and see her butt in the air, she leaned lower.
She probably would have been fine if she hadn't heard someone clearing their throat behind her. Before she could say anything, she heard the one thing that made her face grow heated. Someone was laughing at her.
And she knew exactly who it was.
"Stop laughing at me!"
"Nice view," Zane said, chuckling behind her.
Jasi raised her head. Too fast. Her hair caught on a hinge and she let out a loud yelp. The lid thudded against her head and the glass of ice and the bottle flew out of her hands, landing with a splash in the water in the storage bin.
"The least you could do is help me," she snapped.
Warm fingers moved over her head and she felt a small tug and then her hair was free. She came up, breathless and embarrassed.
Zane leaned against the wall and gave her a lazy smile.
"What?" she demanded.
His gaze drifted from her eyes to her blouse. "Cold?"
"What do you want?"
"What do you think I want?"
She crossed her arms defiantly.
"You didn't return any of my calls, Jasmine. I was hoping…well, you know what I was hoping. I'm in the city indefinitely now."
"Well, good for you." She turned away. "Have fun in Ottawa."
He grabbed her arm.
"Hey! What the hell―?"
Before she could utter another word, he kissed her, hard. He gathered her in close until she could smell the musky scent of his aftershave. God, she loved how he smelled. And how he kissed.
"Zane," she murmured under his caressing lips.
"Shut up, Jasmine," he whispered back. "Kiss me."
With a soft sigh, she gave in. The kiss deepened and grew more persistent, hungrier. Her skin was on fire, itching to be stroked, and she felt desire building until she thought she'd explode.
A door opened. A young woman stepped into the hall, her eyes widening when she saw them.
Zane grabbed her hand, tugging her into the elevator. His mouth barely left hers. As the doors closed and the elevator began to rise, he pressed her against the wall. Hot hands slipped under her blouse. In a flash, her bra was unhooked and replaced by Zane's hands. His thumbs stroked her breasts lightly, teasing them. His tongue slipped into her mouth, eliciting a moan of passion.
"Zane…"
"You want me. I know you do."
He pushed her blouse up and his mouth fastened on one nipple. Her breath came in quick gasps as heat built up between her legs. He kissed her lips again and she immediately missed the heat of his mouth on her breast. He shifted and she heard a zipper open.
"No," she moaned against his mouth.
He pulled away, but his eyes stayed on her lips. She knew exactly what he wanted. She wanted it too.
"We can't make love, Zane. It makes me too…" She struggled to find the right words. "…tired."
She wondered what he'd say if she told him that making love interfered with her psychic gift.
Don't do it.
The elevator jerked to a stop and it took a moment before Jasi realized that Zane had pressed the emergency stop.
She gave him a questioning look. "Why did you―?"
Zane kissed her again and began unbuttoning her blouse.
"Didn't you hear me?" She groaned. "We can't make love."
His warm lips found the ticklish spot behind her ear.
"Then we'll do what we can."
The bl
ouse parted and Zane swooped in.
"No, Zane…"
Oh God, yes…
23
Monday, May 7, 2012
Ottawa, ON
Her data-com beeped, jarring her from an erotic dream about Zane and a spray can of whipped cream. She blinked twice and caught sight of a bare glimmer of dawn between the curtains.
Buzz!
From the other bed, Jasi heard a groan.
"You gonna get that?" Natassia mumbled.
Jasi sat up when the 'com buzzed again. Figuring it was Ben or Matthew with some news, she activated the call.
"Is this Agent McLellan?"
"Yes. Who―?"
"It's Lorraine Sampson. I'm so sorry to wake you, but I didn't know what else to do."
The woman was on the verge of hysteria.
"Mrs. Sampson―Lorraine―you need to calm down."
The woman took a deep breath on the other end of the phone. "I'm trying to."
"Okay," Jasi said, "now tell me what's going on."
"Porter's been tossing and turning all night long, every night. And he's been waking up between three and four, moaning and talking in his sleep. I can't make out what he's saying, but whatever he's dreaming about is keeping him awake. In the morning he looks awful and he snaps at me every time I open my mouth." Lorraine choked back a sob. "I'm sorry I'm calling so early, but I can't take much more of this, Agent McLellan."
"Has he mentioned why he's waking up early or why he's so…upset?"
"He says it's his dreams."
"What exactly is he dreaming of?" Jasi asked, sitting up.
"I don't know. He won't tell me. That's how I know they're really bad. He used to always tell me what he dreamt."
Jasi turned the lamp on low. "Mrs. Sampson, I don't know what to say. We don't have anything to go on, and without a lead…" She heard a tired sigh.
"I know, but I'm scared. I've never seen him like this."
"Has he been back to his therapist?"
"He said he went the day before yesterday, but he's getting worse. He's not eating. He locks himself away in his office every day, refusing to come out."
"Perhaps he needs to see his therapist more often."
"His therapist isn't doing a very good job," Lorraine said. "I think he should see someone else, someone better. He's supposed to be going back to work next week."
Jasi didn't know what to tell her.
"Please, Agent McLellan, you've got to help us. We can't live like this. I'm afraid Porter will have a heart attack." She lowered her voice. "Or do something crazy."
"I have a friend," Jasi found herself saying. "He's a psychologist. He's worked for the CFBI before. I'll see if he has time to talk to your husband."
"Thank you. I really appreciate this" Relief was evident in the woman's voice. "I want my husband back."
After Jasi disconnected the call, she turned off the lamp, lay back in bed and stared at the ceiling. She was ambivalent about getting Zane involved. Even though he worked closely with the CFBI, she'd made a point of keeping him away from her work.
He can't find out what I am.
As far as he was concerned, she was a CFBI investigator, nothing more. Zane needed to be kept in the dark. It was the only way.
She released a pent up sigh.
A light flicked on.
Natassia was wide awake, her blue eyes watching her.
"So, Jasi, who's this psychologist friend of yours?"
"Dr. Zane Underhill." She tried to be casual.
"Is he the guy you've been seeing?"
"I'm not seeing him. Well, not really. We just…uh…" She groaned. "Okay, yes I've been seeing him. He's an old…" She didn't know what to call him.
"Boyfriend?"
"For lack of a better term."
"Is he hot?"
"He's, uh…"
"That hot, huh?" Natassia grinned, then slid from the bed, her oversized T-shirt hanging almost to her knees. "Well, dear partner, time to get up. You can tell Ben and me all about him over breakfast."
"You can't tell Ben."
"Why not?"
"He hates Zane."
"Why would Ben hate your boyfriend?"
"Zane is not my boyfriend. We're―it's complicated."
"Relationships usually are."
"Ben thinks Zane is a player, and he doesn't want Zane to hurt me again."
"Again? He broke your heart before?
"Once, a long time ago." Jasi crossed her arms defensively. "But it won't happen again."
Natassia's brow arched.
"It won't," Jasi repeated. "I'm in control this time."
"If you say so, Miss Control." Natassia smiled sweetly and headed for the bathroom. "Dibs on the first shower."
"Just leave me some hot water," Jasi called after her.
As soon as she was alone, Jasi grabbed her 'com. She had programmed Zane's number into it the night before, after their ride in the elevator.
"Call Zane." She brushed the tangles out of her auburn hair while she waited for Zane to pick up.
On the fifth ring, he answered, his raspy Australian accent sounding sexier than ever.
"Ah, Jasmine. I told you you'd want more."
"Zane, I have a favor to ask." He chuckled and she felt a stir of heat. "Not that kind of favor."
"Whatever you want, love, it's yours."
"I need a consult."
"You want to see me professionally?"
"Not for me, Zane. We have a victim who was drugged, found unconscious on a park bench and can't remember what happened to him."
There was a long pause on the other end.
"He's having awful nightmares and isn't sleeping. His wife is really worried."
"I thought you couldn't tell me about your cases," Zane said quietly.
"Normally I can't. But I think you could help us."
"You can't force therapy on someone."
"I'm sure I can get approval from the victim. Besides, he's already seeing a therapist."
"Then why doesn't he make a few extra appointments?"
"His wife doesn't think his therapist is helping him." She sighed. "Look, Zane, you're one of the best. I'm sure we can convince him to have a few sessions with you."
"So who is this victim?"
"Porter Sampson. The politician they found drugged in the park."
"I can see him at two this afternoon. Give him my room number. And Jasmine?"
"Yes?"
"I'm doing this as a favor to you."
"I know. I guess I'll owe you one."
"I'll find some way to collect."
The smirk in his voice was evident, and she smiled.
"Thanks, Zane."
She hung up, for the first time feeling hopeful. Porter Sampson needed someone to break down the invisible wall in his mind. She didn't have to tell Zane anything more about her involvement in the case. As far as he knew, she was a damned good CFBI profiler.
Maybe not as brilliant as Ben, but I am good.
She called the Sampson residence next. Porter Sampson picked up right away. He sounded pissed.
"What do you want now, Agent McLellan?"
"I heard you aren't sleeping well."
"My wife needs to mind her own―"
"I'd like you to talk to a friend of mine," she blurted. "He's an excellent psychologist and he's worked with us before."
"I have my own therapist."
"Zane has worked with the CFBI before. He's an excellent hypnotherapist. You do want to find out who drugged you, don't you?"
Sigh. "Of course I do."
"Mr. Sampson, you obviously need help dealing with your nightmares and the sleep deprivation, and we need to know what really happened to you when you went missing. We can either work with your therapist or you can use my friend."
There was a lengthy pause.
"If this gets out it could ruin my career," he said. "No one trusts a politician who's seeing a shrink."
Jasi bit her tongue. No one trus
ts a politician, period.
"I'm sure we can keep this quiet," she said.
"You better." There was a razor-sharp edge to his voice.
"I can promise you, Zane is very discreet. He'll only share with us anything he discovers that pertains to the case."
"Well, maybe I could see your guy. I have a lady doctor and she doesn't seem to be helping much. Maybe it'll be easier talking to a guy."
"That's a good way to look at it," she told him. "You have an appointment with Dr. Zane Underhill at two today." She gave him the details, then hung up.
She threw back the blanket and slipped into the plush hotel robe. As she prepared the coffeemaker, she thought of Porter Sampson. Zane had his work cut out for him. But if he got through, maybe they'd find out who had taken Sampson.
And why.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
She crossed the room and peeked through the spy hole in the door. A distorted Ben grinned back at her. She opened the door and ushered him inside.
Ben glanced at the second bed. "Where's Natassia?"
"In the shower." She scurried over to the coffee pot, feeling suddenly nervous. "I have an idea, Ben"
"I'm up for anything at this point."
"I think Sampson should see a CFBI psychologist."
"Good idea. I'll contact Matthew and have him recommend―"
"I've already got someone in mind."
Ben gave her a surprised look.
"I know someone here," she said. "A friend."
"The only psychologist you know is…aw, Jazz, please don't tell me he's back in the picture."
She swallowed hard. "Zane is here in the city. On business. We can use him."
"Use him? Like he used you?"
"This isn't about me, Ben. This is about finding justice for Porter Sampson, Monty Winkler and their families. If Zane can help Sampson remember, then it'll be worthwhile. I've talked to him and―"
Ben's eyes widened. "That's who you've been seeing. I knew it. How long has this been going on?"
A door opened behind them before she could answer.
"Morning, Ben." Natassia emerged from the bathroom, thankfully wearing a robe. She gave Jasi a worried look when she saw Ben's dark demeanor. "Everything all right here?"
"I told him Zane's in town."
"Zane's an ass," Ben snapped. "He'll use you and toss you aside, like he did last time. For Christ's sake, he almost got you killed."
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