by Tina Donahue
“Sorry.” He backed into the foyer so she could pass.
She smiled as she would to a stranger.
“Jas, wait.” He followed her to the stairway and spoke softly so only she could hear. “I don’t want you to think I took advantage of you during the time we were all…that is…” His blush outdid Violet’s from a few minutes ago. He dropped his head. “I thought you wanted me. Maybe I convinced myself of it, but I’d never hurt you. I know you think you love him. Could be it’s real, could be it’s the curse. I wish you felt that way about us, but I’d be happy if you don’t hate me.”
Oh, Ben. “Hate you?” She cradled his face, tipping it so he’d look at her. “You helped so much. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.”
He turned his head into her hand, kissing her palm. His words warmed it. “I’m always here if you need me.”
Footfalls came down the hall. Ben moved away from her, not acknowledging Mike as he edged past him to get to the kitchen.
Mike watched for a moment. At her side, he said, “You sleep first, then you work.”
His hand covered her breast, caressing it through her silk robe with determination, possession. “No arguments, understand?”
He never gave her a chance to protest. In her bedroom, he locked the door and tore off his tee. She noticed a faint buzz, the same as she had earlier when he’d pushed Ben into the hall. Air, or a current of energy, whispered over her, no stronger than a sigh. Looking down, she gaped at her silk belt untying, her robe parting.
His jeans and underwear dropped to the floor. He stepped out of them, his cock fully erect. With his mind, he lowered the silk robe from her shoulders, stripping her.
Jasmine’s heart beat uncontrollably with surprise, excitement and longing. “Are you showing off?”
“No. But I will.” Naked, he came to her, one hand on her ass, the other on her throat, his mind trapping her arms behind herself, wrists together, defenseless against his power and male appetite.
His punishing kiss aroused. Her throaty sigh couldn’t begin to drown out his pleasured groan. She tried to push her tongue into his mouth. He wouldn’t allow it. This act belonged to him—he made the decisions, she complied. His sex ground into hers. In response, she parted her legs. Not good enough. With no warning, he turned her to face the bed, bending her at the waist, grabbing her ass and mounting from behind. His balls struck her buttocks with each penetrating thrust, his power massaging and tormenting her clit as superbly as his fingers had all the prior times.
Two orgasms depleted her. Heedless of her fatigue and his own, he gave her a third, his lips on her cleft, his fingers, rather than his penis, pumping inside.
She slept. So did he, his leg on top of hers, his arm draped around her waist, a reminder she wouldn’t get free.
That night, he allowed two hours of work, then took her repeatedly, tirelessly. She behaved as a glutton would, or a woman in love, her hopeless cravings turning to rapture.
Three days later, shortly before midnight, she got a lead.
“Oh my God.” Jasmine stared at the laptop’s screen. She motioned Mike over. “You have to see this.”
He leaned into her, the ends of his hair dangling on her shoulder, his scent a mixture of soap and sex. “St. Rita’s School? Erica sent this?”
“Around six, along with some other stuff.” Her voice shook with excitement. “Connor went to St. Rita’s with his good friend Larry O’Rourke. Look at this.” She tiled the screen so numerous pages would show simultaneously, pointing to the upper right corner as she spoke. “These are yearbook pictures of Connor and Larry on the swim team, playing basketball, soccer.” Her finger moved lower. “This article ran when Larry became a priest. In the upper left,” she tapped the screen with her nail, “there’s a newspaper series about him. He left the priesthood and began an outreach service to the homeless, addicts, you name it. And this,” she pointed again, “shows the president of the Hemmler Group presenting Larry with a check to start an afterschool program for disadvantaged kids. Why did Connor’s company get involved unless he had something to do with the donation? He and Larry must have remained friends all these years.”
Mike un-tiled the screen. He brought up the Hemmler article, scrolling down as he read. “It says here, this group is recognized for its charitable contributions.”
“And of the hundreds of organizations clamoring for funds they just happened to pick one run by Connor’s childhood friend?”
“No, he surely had a hand in this.”
“Exactly. He disappeared but didn’t go to his relatives. I wouldn’t either, knowing Desiree might show up and cause them no end of grief. So, what other options did he have? He could have left town and had strangers surround him, but what if one of them turned out to be a Wanderer? If I were forced to run, I’d want a measure of safety, someone I trusted to be on my side. Who would be better than a friend you’ve known since your teens? One who was once a priest? One that’s not tied to you in an obvious way?”
Mike nodded slowly. “Connor’s name wasn’t mentioned in the Hemmler article. Did you find any press on him and Larry as adults?”
“No. This is the only article that came up on Google and Bing.”
“Tomorrow I’ll go to see Larry and if your guess is correct, Connor.”
“Not without me you’re not.”
His thumb flicked her nipple. He tried to sound stern. “You need to rest.”
“I’ve slept more these last days than I have in months.” She brought his hand to her mouth and nibbled on his thumb, making him smile. “I want to get some answers from Connor. I deserve it.”
“And a whole lot more.” The tip of his nose touched hers. “Want me to use my power to throw him around, smash that pretty face of his?”
She smiled, knowing she’d miss his sense of humor as much as his compassionate heart, and would envy the woman he’d finally fall in love with. Her voice caught with emotion. “Ask me again tomorrow if he doesn’t cooperate.”
“You got it.”
As the hour drew close, Jasmine’s stomach began to churn. Dressed in beige linen trousers and a short-sleeved white blouse, she caught Mike evaluating her. She brushed an imaginary speck from her sleeve and felt compelled to apologize or explain. “It’s what I usually wear, or used to wear before Desiree.”
He finished dressing in a fresh pair of jeans and cotton shirt he’d brought from his apartment. “Looks nice.”
For a boring business manager, a woman he wanted to save. One he wouldn’t keep. If he ever witnessed her without the effects of the curse, his interest would evaporate like water on hot concrete. He gave her a small taste of it now as he averted his gaze. A dull ache spread from her belly to her chest.
Sketchbook in hand, Violet came out of her office to hug Jasmine and wish them luck. Lily and Ben, both with paint on their clothes and hands, offered the same from the hall outside his room.
Mike slung his arm around Jasmine’s shoulder, giving her a quick, brotherly hug, which matched her unimaginative attire. “There’s no reason to worry, everything’s going to go well. We’re getting close.”
They were reaching the end.
Larry O’Rourke lived in a boxy two-story building where the only view of the Atlantic was from a TV screen. The Cartoon Channel played loudly, in English and Spanish, from several units. Mothers yelled at their offspring. One of the kids cried.
Jumpy, Jasmine scanned the building’s shabby vegetation and the bordering street. She saw men in baggy jeans and white T-shirts waiting for their rides to construction sites or other manual jobs. Women pushed shopping carts, presumably to the nearest grocery store. Older children rode their bikes, free from school for a few more days.
No Desiree.
Mike rapped on Larry’s door. A stocky man with strawberry blond hair and a ruddy complexion answered, his smile untroubled and wide. The aroma of bacon and coffee wafted past him onto the landing. “Morning.”
“Mr. O’Rourke?�
�� Mike asked.
“Yep.” Larry passed his smile to Jasmine. “You must be with Anita’s shelter. She told me you’d be coming today to iron out the details.”
Jasmine leaned to the right to see past him into the shadowed apartment. “We’re not with the shelter. We’re looking for a friend of yours.”
“Connor Rolands,” Mike offered. “It’s important. We need to speak to him right away.”
Larry’s smile hung on for a millisecond longer. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Connor Rolands?”
“We’re not with the Wanderers,” Jasmine said. “Desiree didn’t send us. We’re looking for her.”
The man’s face drained of color.
“You know what happened,” she said, then cried, “You have to tell Connor that Jasmine Dante is here. He’s inside, isn’t he?”
“All we want to do is talk,” Mike said quickly. “We need information.”
Larry shifted his weight so he’d take up even more of the jamb, not letting them look inside. “Ah, I saw him a few years back when we had a school reunion, but since then we lost touch.”
His complexion reddened considerably with his lie.
Jasmine’s frustration and anger flared. She snapped, “You accepted a donation from his company in January. He’s not with his family. He has to be here. If not, then you know where he is. You have to tell me. Because of him, Desiree did something to me, a curse or a spell that won’t let me sleep. It’s killing me!”
Mike took her hand, his grip comforting, his voice calm as he spoke to Larry. “Like I said, all we want to do is talk. But I will tell you this. If he refuses to show himself and anything happens to Jasmine, I will come back. No matter where Connor hides, I’ll find him and I will make him pay.”
Larry’s arms tightened. “Ah, I think I could call him and—”
“Lar, it’s okay,” a weary voice said from inside. “Let them in.”
Chapter Fourteen
Connor wasn’t the man Jasmine recalled. In a few short months, he’d lost his tan and too much weight. His clothes hung grotesquely on his large frame. Gray streaked his brown hair, once darker than hers. Prominent lines beneath his eyes and around his mouth aged him far beyond his thirty-two years.
He sat on the edge of the cheap sofa, legs bobbing, ready to run. His hands shook so badly orange juice sloshed in his Styrofoam cup. “Jasmine.” He flicked his gaze at her like a whipped dog. This from a man who’d had boundless confidence and charm at the seminar, casually asking for a dinner date he knew she wouldn’t refuse. “How’d you figure out I was here?”
She took the chair Larry offered, thankful her trembling legs wouldn’t have to hold her. “Mike knew what to look for.” She gestured to him. “He used to be with the US Marshals, working in their witness-security program.”
Connor stared at his juice. “If you found me, then Desiree…” A defeated sigh replaced his words. He buried his face in his free hand.
Mike spoke in a firm, reassuring voice. “She won’t show up here as we did. From what I understand of her, she’s not going to use a tactical approach.”
Connor’s shrill laugh pierced the modest living room. “I wouldn’t put anything past her. She’s like a disease that won’t go away no matter what you do. There isn’t a moment when she’s not in my head.”
Larry put his plump hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The few times Connor can sleep, he has nightmares about her.”
A chill ran through Jasmine. She rubbed her arms, trying to warm them. “I’ve been having dreams too. In mine, she’s watching us at Tempos. When I leave, she follows me into the street and…” She shook her head, unwilling to continue.
Connor groaned. “I didn’t think she’d find us there or even know about the date. I had no idea how crazy she was.” He lowered his hand, studying his palm as he spoke, his voice haunted. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
Mike spoke first. “Tell us about Desiree.”
“Oh God.” He trembled as if wet leaves were stuck to him, clammy, cold, and he wanted to shake them off.
Jasmine shivered, torn between running from here and watching a man’s courage disintegrate before her eyes.
“Desiree,” Mike prodded.
Connor heaved in air. “We went out a few times shortly before I met Jasmine.” He glanced at her then Mike. “I’ll admit, Desiree’s beauty attracted me. Shit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more gorgeous woman. But we had nothing in common.” A shudder ran through him, followed by his words, quicker now, saying he had to get it out. “Conversation with her became more trying than a ten-mile run. No matter what subject I brought up, even insignificant stuff like what I thought about the newest challenges on reality TV, she didn’t offer anything of her own. She just listened. I’ll admit, I like to have the floor to offer opinions and talk about myself, but not that much. I tried every topic I could think of to engage her. She simply sat there, looking at me as if I were Moses arriving with the tablets. At first, it flattered me. Later, I wondered what in the hell was going on. Finally, I just didn’t call her anymore.”
Mike scooted forward in his chair. “You have her phone number?”
“Not a home phone. I had no idea where she lived. We met up at places for our dates. The number she gave me was where she worked as a receptionist, some kind of homecare employment service.”
“Closed now,” Larry offered.
Connor put his juice on the coffee table and laced his fingers, squeezing them so hard Jasmine saw his knuckles blanching. “I thought my not calling her would be the end of it, she’d move on to another guy. Given her looks, I knew she’d have no trouble finding someone. Instead, she started calling me.” He shook his head, his tormented expression said he was remembering. “At first, she left voice mails on my cell phone. Nothing heavy, just asking me to call when I had a chance, she’d love to hear from me. God, she sounded so sweet and kind of confused, like she didn’t understand why I hadn’t made another date. I felt sorry for her and made the mistake of calling back, wanting to break it off like an adult, but lost my nerve. She was thrilled to hear from me, and I mean with a capital T. I ended up lying, telling her that I’d be busy for awhile and couldn’t see her because of work.”
He hung his head. “The next day she sent a basket to my office from an outrageously expensive gift shop. There was gourmet coffee, French pastries, designer water, orange juice and a note telling me to take care of myself. When I got home that night, I listened to her message on my machine. Again, she sounded so sweet. She said she hoped work went well and that I’d finish soon so she and I could be together. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I called her work number, knowing it had closed for the night and left a voice mail. I told her I didn’t think going out again would be such a good idea. That she was beautiful and sharp, but I wasn’t looking for anything exclusive or lasting.” His face lifted.
Jasmine winced at the hollows around his eyes.
Misunderstanding her reaction, he spoke quickly, “I know it was the coward’s way out, and I’m not proud of it, but I really did not want to get into a drawn-out conversation with her with me doing all the talking. It wouldn’t have solved anything and I was afraid it might have hurt her even more.”
Sighing, he sagged back into the sofa. “A couple of days passed and nothing happened, so I figured it was over. When the ladies at the office started talking about a strange woman hanging around, I didn’t equate it with Desiree. I thought it was a homeless person wanting to use the building’s public restroom or trying to panhandle a few bucks. Happens all the time. The next day, I had lunch with a friend of mine, a woman who works in the legal department. Nothing sexual there. She’s old enough to be my mother for God’s sake. While we were in the restaurant, someone slashed her tires. I never once considered it might be Desiree. And then I met you.” He looked at Jasmine.
Terrified and saddened at what he’d become, she had to force herself not to avert her gaze.
“I woul
dn’t have put you at risk if I’d known what I was dealing with,” he said, “but I didn’t.” He glanced at Mike and Larry. “I couldn’t believe Desiree showed up at Tempos. Jesus, she scared the crap out of me. I’d never seen eyes that wild. You know what I mean.” His gaze shot to Jasmine. “I know I should have admitted to knowing her, but God I just didn’t want to. It would have made it seem even worse than it was. After I dropped you off, I drove for a while, trying to figure out what to do. By the time I got home, my machine showed fifty messages. The next day there were a hundred. All dead air. She had called and let the tape run without saying anything. Somehow, that was more frightening than having her scream or cry. She followed me. No matter where I went, there she’d be, watching, waiting. I talked to a cop friend who told me it would be nearly impossible to prove she was engaged in stalking. The places I saw her were all public. She had every right to be there. Not once did she confront me. She left no messages. He advised me to ignore her, she’d eventually go away. I knew better. There was something else going on with her, an intangible I couldn’t quite grasp. I Googled her and the place where she worked. That’s when I found out about the Wanderers and started to believe the occult was more than the musings of the Church and fiction writers. I knew reasoning with her wouldn’t help, nor would a confrontation. She’d never give up until she got what she wanted. So, I decided to give it to her.”
Surprised, Jasmine straightened. Mike rested his hand on hers and shook his head, warning her not to speak.
Connor rubbed his face before continuing. “I saw her again at the bar where we first met. Instead of leaving, as I had the other times she’d followed me, I told Desiree I was glad to see her. I’d been wrong to break it off, to let anyone else get in the way. She seemed wary. She told me she could make me love her, but hadn’t. She wanted me to come to her on my own. As crazy as this sounds, I figured she was threatening me with some kind of spell. We danced and had a few drinks. I didn’t want to take her to my condo, I figured she’d never leave, so we spent the night on the beach and started hooking up as we had previously for our dates. I did everything I could to make her believe we were back together. At the same time, I made plans to run. No job or condo is worth what I figured she’d do. She’d put me in a hell where I had to love her and if that didn’t work, she’d kill me or blind and paralyze me like the other Wanderers had done to their victims. With Lar’s help, I’ve been hiding out here.” He spoke to Jasmine. “You said she cursed you and now you can’t sleep?”