Preying Game (Decorah Security Series, Book #15): A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novel

by Rebecca York

  Inside was a staircase. Of course it would have been impossible to really descend into the earth so close to the ocean. Water would have been lapping a few feet below the floor. But he was in a hypnotic trance, and the rules of the natural world had no power in this place.

  Trying to keep hold of the peaceful feeling, he slowly descended the stairs, using the image of walking down to pull himself deeper into the trance—and to get him to Alice, since she’d said she was in an underground facility.

  The bottom of the stairs was dark, but he saw a light shining from somewhere close. When he reached the lower level, he found he was in a corridor underground, like the corridor Alice had told him led to her cell. The light was muted, with bulbs in cages overhead. Was this really where he would find her? Or was he making all this up because he wanted to be here?

  It hardly seemed possible that he had actually gotten to her location—after completely losing the connection with her a few hours earlier.

  Still, he followed the corridor to the end, where he found a heavy metal door with a lock and a horizontal slit, like a pass-through for dangerous prisoners.

  There was a small window in the door. When he looked through, he saw a woman lying on a bed, her eyes closed.

  He had no substance in this place, and there was no way to open the door. But if he could do the same thing Grant had, he didn’t need to open it. Putting up his hand, he pressed against the metal surface, watching with awe as his flesh went through the barrier. He closed his eyes and stepped forward. There was no feeling of resistance. But after several steps, when he opened his eyes, he was on the other side of the door.

  Elation surged through him. Still he didn’t trust the experience? Was he really where Alice was being held? Or was he making all this up because he wanted it so much?

  As he stared at the woman on the bed, he saw her body jerk and her eyes fly open. They focused on him, and he heard her make an exclamation.

  “Oh my God.”

  He knew from the look of shock that bloomed on her face that she could see him standing in the room. Or, more accurately, she was seeing the image he had created in his trance. Yes.

  For a few electrified seconds, they stared at each other, as though neither of them could believe what had happened.

  Was there a way to find out if it was real?

  When he took a step forward, the scene wavered.

  Madly he shouted, “No.”

  But it was already too late. He was back in his own bed, lying on his back with his heart pounding and his breath coming in uneven gasps.

  His curse rang through the room. All that effort—and it had come to nothing.

  Once again, he calmed himself.

  No, he corrected. It hadn’t come to nothing. He’d been in her room—her cell. And Alice had known he was there.

  She had looked as shocked as he had felt. But that proved nothing, he cautioned himself, not if he was making the whole thing up—like a beach where there was no water below the surface of the ground.

  The only way to prove it was real was to go back there. He had done it once. He could do it again.

  He closed his eyes, willing himself to be calm. But now his pulse was pounding in his temple, and he knew he had lost the slender connection again.

  Chapter 7

  The door of Alice’s cell slammed open, and Hayward stepped in, his eyes blazing. He was holding her breakfast tray, the tray he brought every morning. But he had never stepped into her cell before.

  His gaze flew around the room. “Now what’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Is someone in here with you?”

  She stared at him as though she thought he’d lost his mind. “Someone with me? How could there be?”

  “You tell me?”

  She could only shake her head. There was obviously nobody else in the room except her captor.

  “What was that I heard?” he pressed.

  She improvised quickly “Well maybe I cried out or something. I think I was having a nightmare. You woke me up.” Struggling to keep her expression neutral, she didn’t lower her gaze.

  Hayward had never risked getting close to her without a barrier. She tensed, wondering if she had a chance to take him down. He’d been forcing her to get into the best physical shape she could imagine. She was stronger and faster than she ever had been in her life. Maybe that would make a difference.

  Then he shifted the tray, and she saw the gun in his hand. If she lunged at him, she’d be dead before she could make it across the room.

  Perhaps a week ago, she might have done it anyway. It would be over quickly—all the torture and the threat. Now she had a reason to hope she could get out of here alive.

  “What does that look mean?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the isolation has finally made me crack up. Or you could be driving me crazy with your infernal routine.”

  He seemed shocked. She’d tried to think of little ways to defy him, but she’d never challenged him before.

  His gaze turned speculative. “You’ve changed. Why?”

  She shrugged. “Why do you think so?”

  He took a step back. “I’m not going to share my thoughts with you.”

  She knew he was shaken, but he kept the gun pointed at her as he set down the breakfast tray on the table, then backed out of the room and locked the door behind him.

  She moved to the table and picked up the glass of orange juice on the tray, sipping as she thought about Hayward and this telling encounter. He had so enjoyed being in charge of this whole scenario. Yet it hadn’t taken much to jack his confidence down a notch.

  It made her think that, in reality, he was a coward who enjoyed exercising power over people who couldn’t challenge him. Perhaps she’d stumbled on the truth when she’d come up with that emasculated stuff.

  As she alternated juice with scrambled eggs and dry wheat toast, she switched the focus of her thoughts.

  Hayward had come in with such a menacing posture that he’d captured all her attention. He’d been her nemesis for weeks. Not only that, he’d been the center of her universe. But no longer. That role had switched to Jonah Ranger, the other man who had been here this morning.

  She’d been asleep, dreaming of Jonah—of his lying beside her in bed, holding her and kissing her and telling her everything was going to be okay. Then she felt a change in the air in the room, opened her eyes, and saw someone standing by the door. Him.

  He looked the way he’d described himself, with dark hair and blue eyes. Bare-chested, dressed in a pair of faded jeans.

  He hadn’t been exactly solid, she thought, as she brought the image back. Knowing it was Jonah was more than a question of his appearance, though. She sensed it because she felt a connection between the two of them that was almost supernatural.

  She couldn’t hold back a small laugh, and wondered if Hayward was listening for her to say something in here. What did supernatural mean exactly? She knew Jonah wasn’t a ghost. But at the same time, it was impossible for him to be here in reality. The mental link between them had brought him. Well, not just that. She suspected he had put out some kind of superhuman effort to get to her cell. That knowledge was like the warmth of the sun finally shining into this underground room. He had cared enough to somehow reach her. And she prayed that he could do it again.

  She wanted to lie back down on her bed and open her mind to him—inviting him to return. Surely that would make the process easier. But at that moment a bell rang, and she knew that her breakfast time was over. She had to get ready for the day. And she had to be alert for anything that could help Jonah get her out of here.

  As she dressed, her thoughts switched back to Hayward. He’d told her he’d gone to Africa and hunted big game. And he’d said that hadn’t been enough of a challenge for him. He’d told her he wanted to hunt the ultimate prey. And without worrying about the morality of taking human life, he’d done it. In cold blood. With a lot of preparation.<
br />
  He looked physically fit. But his mind was like a nest of snakes. And that made him dangerous in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

  oOo

  Jonah lay on his bed, breathing hard. He had done it. Against all odds, using self-hypnosis, he had sent his apparition to Alice’s prison. He’d materialized outside her room, stepped through the solid door, and managed to stay there for a few seconds, until the bastard who kept her captive had showed up. That had been enough to break the link with her.

  But if he’d done it once, he could do it again. He settled the pillow comfortably under his head and went through all the steps he’d followed earlier. Putting himself in a trance, going to the relaxing beach, descending the stairs to the corridor that led to her cell. But this time the light in the hallway was dimmer. It was like he wasn’t quite there. And when he walked to the door of her cell and pushed his hand against it, he met resistance. He shoved harder, changed the angle, pounded his fist, but none of it worked. This time there was no way to get through the door.

  Exerting his will in this twilight place only gave him a headache.

  “Shit,” he muttered as the whole scene flickered out of existence.

  Apparently he couldn’t just come here on his own. Alice had to be ready to receive him. And probably now she was busy. Working out, he thought with a snarl. The bastard was making her push herself to her physical limit.

  Jonah sat up and ran a hand through his hair. After a lot of effort, he’d managed the initial trip to her cell on his own. But now she knew he had done it, and hopefully she’d be able to reach out to him—the way she had that first time on the car radio.

  Realistically he knew he’d have to wait until she was alone and receptive. Which probably meant tonight.

  He cursed again. How was he going to get through the next ten or twelve hours waiting to try it again?

  He went for another long run along the country roads near his auto shop, this time at his normal pace. The activity made him feel closer to her. Maybe she was doing the same thing.

  Back home, he stopped beside the Chevy and put his hand on the flat roof, thanking God he’d bought the car. If he hadn’t done it, he was sure he wouldn’t have hooked up with Alice.

  Upstairs, he showered and dressed.

  At a Starbucks in a shopping center on Route 1, he got a coffee and a breakfast sandwich. Bringing the food with him, he drove to the Decorah medical facility.

  Grant was sitting at the security station when Jonah walked in. He looked up and gave him a considering look. “I’m guessing you’ve had some success with Alice.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Your attitude. You seem . . . calmer. And more confident.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “Sit down and tell me about it.”

  Jonah took the other chair and put his food on the counter. He was taking a sip of coffee when Grant asked,

  “You know where she is?”

  “Not yet, but I took a page from your playbook.”

  “As in?”

  “I went to where she is. The way you went to Jenny when she was being held captive. I never would have considered trying it—except that I knew it had worked for you.”

  Grant’s eyes lit up. “Way to go. How did you do it?”

  “Self-hypnosis.”

  “Clever. I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

  “But you had the advantage of already being with Jenny,” he answered, not making a big deal of what kind of contact the other couple must have had.

  “How long were you with Alice?”

  “It was only for a few seconds. Then I think the guy who’s holding her came to the door, and the connection snapped off.”

  “If you could do it once, you can do it again.”

  “That’s what I’m praying for,” he answered. “I did try again. I got to the place, but I couldn’t get through the door. I think I can’t make contact with her unless she’s receptive.”

  “You said—the guy who’s holding her captive. What’s his name?”

  “Hayward.”

  “First or last?”

  “She doesn’t know.”

  “Well, maybe you can do some research.”

  “I’m planning on it.”

  He didn’t add that he had to do something to keep from going insane until tonight.

  Chapter 8

  For Jonah, getting through the day was like wading through thick mud where every step made you feel like you couldn’t possibly go an inch farther.

  His only option was to focus on Hayward, using every lead he could get on the Web. He found a town by that name. A county. Many people, including a professor at Johns Hopkins University. But an academic didn’t seem like the right kind of guy.

  Still he looked the prof up and determined that he was a very unlikely suspect.

  The process was frustrating, particularly since Jonah didn’t feel like he was doing anything besides eliminating leads. But it did keep his mind off contacting Alice. There was no use torturing himself by trying to do that until the two of them could have some quiet time.

  oOo

  Getting through the day was agony for Alice, especially since she sensed that Hayward was watching her every move more carefully than usual.

  Finally, the exhausting physical routine was over, and she was alone in her cell again, eating her unexciting dinner. Still, she couldn’t throw off the tension that seemed to weight her down like the blanket a dental technician used before X-raying your teeth. Moments after Jonah had flickered into existence in front of the door, Hayward had come bursting into the room. When Jonah came back, would they be interrupted again?

  She didn’t say “if.” In her heart, she was determined it would be, “when.”

  After dinner, she forced herself to act as she normally did, taking a shower, putting on a nightgown, and climbing into bed.

  When the lights dimmed, she breathed out a sigh of relief. Lying under the sheet and light blanket, she considered tactics. Should she try to make her mind blank? Or should she call out to Jonah and let him know she was waiting for him?

  One thing she did understand—when he made it here, they must not talk out loud. Her exclamation was what had brought Hayward bursting into her cell this morning.

  She closed her eyes, imagining the dark-haired man she had seen. When she could, she’d thought about him during the day. She guessed he was a little older than she was, but not much.

  In her mind, she called out to him. Jonah, I’m waiting for you. I’m trying to help you come here. Then she couldn’t stop herself from adding, I need you.

  When she heard no answer, she felt a sharp pang. Still, she kept her gaze fixed on the spot by the door where he had appeared for a few seconds this morning. Did she see something flickering in the darkness? Or was that only what she was praying for?

  To keep herself from speaking, she pressed her fingers to her mouth.

  Jonah, she whispered in her mind. Had she really seen him for a few seconds this morning? She told herself it was true—and that Hayward had known it, too.

  But that wasn’t proof of anything. He’d only been reacting to her reaction.

  She wasn’t really expecting an answer when she called out again. But she heard him answer, Yes.

  Thank God.

  She kept her eyes focused on the place where she hoped he was standing. At first nothing changed. Then, all at once, she saw him, tall and broad shouldered. Well, he wasn’t exactly there. He still looked like a ghost. She could see the door in back of him, through his body. Last time he’d been wearing only a pair of faded jeans, maybe because he thought he wasn’t going to make it here. Now he had added a dark tee shirt.

  He stood where he was for a long moment, looking around the cell.

  This is where he keeps you?

  Yes.

  He made a rough sound. The bastard.

  The way he said it sent a shiver along her nerve endings. She’d been thinking of Jonah as kind
and gentle. Now she was seeing another side of him—the dangerous security agent.

  It’s okay, she said quickly.

  The hell it is.

  I’ve survived—so far.

  Because you have grit.

  Do I?

  You must.

  She liked hearing the way he talked about her, but words of praise would only stroke her ego—not free her. Changing the subject, she asked, How did you get here?

  He looked like he was trying to figure out how to free her, until he realized he wasn’t going to fix anything immediately. First I tried a self-hypnosis technique I’ve used before, and then I followed the sound of your “voice.”

  Oh!

  It was easier the second time. I guess I couldn’t do it until we’d established a stronger connection.

  How did you know to even try?

  My friend Grant did it—with the woman who’s his wife now. She was being held captive, too, and he was able to get there—and rescue her. Well, with help.

  She swallowed hard, considering the implications.

  He had been standing beside the door.

  She held her breath as he crossed the room. It seemed to take forever. Then he was standing beside the bed. She could still partly see through him. But now he looked more solid.

  Does he have a camera in here or something? Jonah asked.

  I know he watches me. Not just here. In the other areas. So there must be a camera. Maybe they don’t work with this low light.

  She pushed off the bed, steadying herself before she took a step toward him. Then, before she could tell herself it was a bad idea, she reached around his body and clasped him in her arms. She hadn’t even known if it was possible to hold onto him, but she felt his substance. When she closed her eyes to shut out his ghostly image, he felt even more solid and real. From his appearance, she had expected him to be cold—like a ghost. But he seemed to be the same temperature as the room.