“Please, Alex.” Blood mixed with tears splashed on the marble floor, leaving little pink puddles around her feet. “I’m your wife,” she sobbed. Then she climbed on the ledge and hurled herself out the window.
* * *
“No!” Logan screamed in the darkness. The sheets clung to his skin, wet with sweat, and he slid out from under his date’s arm. She rolled onto her side, never opening her eyes.
He gazed down at her, wracking his brain to remember her name. Nothing.
What’s my life coming to?
He ran his hand through his hair and padded to the bathroom. A good, hot shower would help chase the recurring nightmare away.
But it was more than a dream. He knew that. Felt it. It wasn’t the first premonition he’d had, but it was definitely the most fucked up. Only a handful of his dreams ever came true, but as soon as one became recurring, haunting him night after night, it was bound to happen in real life.
And this one…this was something he couldn’t let happen. He'd never told anyone about his dreams, and he didn’t plan to. As long as he stayed single the rest of his life, he’d never have to risk his wife throwing herself out a window.
The hot water beat down on his skin, washing away the anxiety from his vision. He scrubbed his face, then washed his hair, and then moved down to wash the rest of his body. Always in that order.
The first night in his new place wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hell, it should never be like this. That’s what the woman in his bed was for—to stave off the impending doom that invaded his dreams. The vision only came when he was alone. That’s how it had always been. So, why the hell did he wake up screaming? And the dream felt stronger this time. More real than ever before. He felt the faceless women of his vision like they were right there with him.
“Mind if I join you?” The sultry female voice brought him back to reality. She slinked up to the shower wearing Logan’s shirt and nothing else. She smiled at him and dropped the shirt to the floor. He cursed under his breath and shut off the water.
“I’m done.” He yanked a towel off the rack and wrapped it around his waist as he stalked into the bedroom to his dresser. Sweat pants, socks, t-shirt. A good run would clear his head.
“Are you going somewhere?” The sting of rejection filled the air as the woman sat on the edge of the bed.
His stomach wrenched at what he was about to say. “Look. You’re a really nice girl. I’m just not looking for a relationship right now.” The words left his lips sounding too well rehearsed. Like he’d done this a hundred times. Maybe he had. He sat on a chair in the corner and laced up his running shoes.
“I understand.” She slipped her dress and shoes on, stuffing her bra and panties into her purse. Then she strutted to him, kissed him on the cheek, and handed him a business card. “My brother’s starting up a business, if you’re looking for an investment. He’s brilliant.”
“Thanks.” Logan flicked the card onto the table. “Can you show yourself out?”
“Sure.”
He chuckled and shook his head when he heard the front door click shut. Money. No one saw past the façade. No one really knew him, save for a few close friends. Reading people like he could, at least he knew who his friends were.
Quitting the family business, moving to Detroit, he’d gotten as far away from his father’s life as he could, and yet here he was, right in the middle of it. The parties, the women, the transparent so-called friends. Who was he kidding?
He could see where this train of thought was going, and he wasn’t in the mood for a pity party. He slipped on his shirt and headed out the door to run.
Always running.
The brisk autumn air chilled his lungs as he jogged along a path by the water. His party had been a success. He'd made a few business contacts; everyone had a good time. Well, almost everyone.
His thoughts drifted back to the blonde from the staircase. What could she have been so upset about? And what was a girl like her doing at a party like that? He’d never seen her before, and to say she stood out was an understatement. This girl was different. She wasn’t the slightest bit interested in him, and that made her all the more intriguing.
CHAPTER TWO
“Good morning, Lucia!” Allison beamed as she strode into the antique shop with a non-fat latte in each hand. She put one on the counter in front of Lucia and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.
“Good morning, Allison. Early appointment today?”
“No, I just couldn’t sleep.”
Lucia, a robust Italian woman in her late sixties, had silver hair and a keen eye for good deals on priceless antiques. “How was the party? Did you meet any nice men?” She raised her eyebrows and smiled.
Allison chuckled. “There’s no such thing.”
“I worry about you, dear.” Lucia’s thick Italian accent chopped at her words. “You need to find a nice man. Settle down. Raise a family.”
“I don’t think that’s in the cards for me.”
“How would you know that? When’s the last time you had someone do a reading for you?” Lucia crossed her thick arms over her chest and shifted her weight.
Allison sighed. “Do you have anything new for me to look at?”
“I got some new pieces in yesterday.” She motioned to an intricate cherry-wood vanity in the back of the showroom.
The moment Allison touched it, tendrils of sadness crept up her arm like ivy climbing a lattice. She saw a woman, who'd lost a child, sobbing at the vanity. She'd cried there every night; the furniture had trapped her energy.
“It's eighteenth century,” Lucia said.
“I know. It's got a lot of negative energy stored in it. I can clear it.” Allison closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she rested her hands on the vanity and focused her energy toward it. She opened herself up like a conduit, allowing the negative energy to pass through and out of her, releasing it back into the universe. She pulled a crystal out of her purse and placed it on the vanity.
“There. That should do it. I bet it'll sell quickly.”
“Oh, Allison. What would I do without you?”
She smiled. “You'd have an extra room in your store.”
“And furniture that never sells. Your small office in the back doesn't put me out one bit, child. I'm thankful to have you. Come on, I have another piece in the store room.”
Allison followed Lucia as she waddled past the centuries-old furniture to the back of the building. To the left of Allison’s office, a double door led into the store room. A large, oval table sat in the center. Dark mahogany wood and intricate carvings etched into sturdy legs gave it an aura of romance.
“It’s beautiful,” Allison said.
“It’s French. Late seventeenth century. What do you think?”
Allison took a deep breath and placed her palms on the table. She closed her eyes and focused on the energy in the wood. An intense wave of fear gripped her throat, slamming into her body, and sucking the air from her lungs. Her knees gave out. She crumpled to the floor, her heart pounding and her head throbbing as she struggled to regain her composure.
“Allison! Are you okay?” Lucia knelt at her side and put her hand on her forehead.
Her vision wavered, but she sat up and looked at the table again. Stored energy had never struck her like that before. It felt like a frying pan whopped her in the face. What the hell?
“I’m okay. It was just…really strong. I can clear it. Just give me a minute to prepare.”
Lucia helped her to her feet. “No. It’s too much for you right now. You can try later. Come, our lattes are getting cold.”
“No.” Allison stopped and turned back to the table. “I can do it. I’m fine. Really, Lucia.” She smiled at the woman and touched her shoulder.
But she wasn’t fine. She didn’t have this kind of trouble. She took care of herself, made sure to keep the negative energy out. So why was she so rattled now?
Maybe it was the spirit last night. Those over
whelming emotions had shaken her up. Normally she could avoid ghosts, but this one was so strong, she’d thought it was a living person.
Then there was Logan. She didn’t mean to read him, but his loneliness struck a chord in her. His silent screams for help tugged at her heart, and her thoughts kept drifting to those piercing blue eyes. She could admit she was attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be? But hopefully she’d never have to see him again.
She’d have to work harder at keeping her guard up.
Focusing her attention back to the furniture, this time she prepared for the sudden explosion of despair that crashed into her chest. As the anguish slammed into her, she gripped the edge of the table and held on, allowing the horrid images to play in her mind, the energy to rip through her body.
“I see a woman. She was tortured on this table. She was raped.” Allison clamped her mouth closed as the agonizing energy invaded her. Anguish. Fear. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her bottom lip as the woman’s misery escaped her. It was too much. Too terrible to bear. She fought with all her strength to hold on to the table. To release the energy. She felt it pass through her like a thousand razor blades slicing her soul. And when there was nothing left but a soft hum of electricity, she opened her eyes.
“There. It’s cleared. You might want to leave a crystal on it for a few days before you move it out to the showroom, just to make sure it’s all gone.” She stood up straight, and the room tipped on its side.
* * *
When her eyelids fluttered open, Allison lay on the treatment table in her office. The aroma of spiced tea wafted in as she shakily sat up and swung her legs over the edge.
“What happened?” She pressed her hand to her pounding head.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” Lucia handed her a mug of hot tea and settled into a chair. “You passed out, and I carried you in here. You’re lucky you’re so skinny, or you’d still be in there on the concrete floor.”
“I don’t know what happened. The energy affected me more than it usually does. I cleared it. Then one minute I was fine, and the next I was waking up in here.”
Lucia set her mug on the table and shifted her weight forward. “You’re working too hard. You should take the week off. Get some rest.”
“I can’t do that. I have clients who depend on me.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me.” Lucia heaved herself out of the chair and gave Allison a hug. “Anything that comes in this week can wait in the store room. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will. Thank you.”
* * *
His adrenaline flowing from his run, Logan darted up the back steps and into his kitchen. Classic rock blasted through his ear buds as he made a pot of coffee and poured a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. There’s nothing like a big bowl of sugar to start the morning off right. He chuckled as he spooned the multi-colored cereal into his mouth. It’d been his favorite since he was a kid. When his parents were together, and his dad was still his hero.
What a crock.
How his mom sheltered him from the abuse was still a mystery. Even through all the mistresses and the verbal assaults that later turned physical, Logan and his sister had no idea what their mother was going through. Some called her weak for putting up with it, but Logan knew better.
She was the strongest woman he knew. She did everything in her power to be sure Logan and his sister had the best lives possible. And only when she was sure they were on their own and could take care of themselves did she leave. Now she had a good job and an apartment upstate, and her ex-husband could have all the mistresses he wanted. Logan’s mom was his hero now.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the invasive thoughts from his mind before they spun out of control, and jogged upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. He was sponsoring a benefit for the local children’s hospital, and there was work to be done. Work he could feel good about.
He stripped and dropped his clothes in the appropriate hampers—lights with the lights and darks with the darks—then stepped into the shower. As he finished his cleansing rituals and turned off the water, the sound of his dresser drawer opening and closing rattled from the other room.
He paused, but shook his head. Just my imagination.
Then another sound of wood sliding against wood and the thunk of the drawer slamming shut. Odd. Wasn’t the housekeeper off today? The drawer opened one more time, then his keys clattered on the wood floor.
Holy crap. He was being robbed.
He stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before he slinked up to the bathroom door. His heart pounded as he readied himself for a fight. His black belt in Tae-Kwon-Do wouldn’t help him against a bullet, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. He swung open the door, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw…nothing. He slipped out the bedroom door and crept down the hall, checking each room for the perpetrator.
Still nothing.
“Come on out you little bastard.”
He reached out for an emotion. For some sliver of fear or excitement to guide him to the intruder.
Nothing.
The only sensation in the air was the smell of his own adrenaline and his pulse throbbing in his ears. He searched the entire house, and still he found no one. All the locks were engaged, the windows latched.
Was he losing his mind?
Satisfied the house was empty, he went upstairs to get dressed. Still, that nagging feeling that someone was there, watching him, wouldn’t go away. He swept the room one more time, looking behind the curtains and under the bed. The dresser sat still and quiet, and he ran his hand along the drawers, opening each one to find everything in its place.
He knew what he’d heard. But how?
He pulled on dark jeans and an onyx sweater and turned to the nightstand to pick up his phone. But he stopped cold when he saw his keys lying on the floor by the bed. He hadn’t imagined that.
How the hell? They must have just fallen off. He’d set them too close to the edge, and they fell. That was the logical answer. But as illogical as it seemed, he knew someone had been in his room. He could feel it.
He knelt by the nightstand and put his keys on the edge to see if he could get them to fall again. He leaned in close, balancing the ring on the ledge, willing them to fall so he’d know he wasn’t losing his mind. His ringtone blasted out of his cell phone, and he fell flat on his ass, knocking his keys under the bed.
“Shit. Paranoid idiot.” He grabbed his phone. “Hello?”
“Hey Baby Brother! I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“It’s ten o’clock, Lisa. You know me better than that.” The frustration drained away at the sound of his sister’s voice. “What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just checking in to see how your first night at Grayhaven went. How was the party?”
“It was good. You know, same old routine. How’s the family?”
“We’re good. Ben got another promotion. Oh! And Caitlyn–okay, okay. She wants to tell you herself.”
A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Well, put her on.”
“Uncle Logan! Uncle Logan!”
“Hey, Pipsqueak. What’ve you been up to?”
“I lost another tooth! See?” He heard Lisa in the background explaining he couldn’t see her over the phone, and he chuckled.
“Wow! That’s great Caitlyn. How’s kindergarten going?”
“It’s good. I learned how to ride my bike too. Without training wheels or anything!”
“You are one amazing girl, you know that?”
“Yeah! Mom wants to talk to you. When are you gonna come see me again? I miss you.”
“I miss you too, angel. I’ll come see you as soon as I can. Bye.”
“We all miss you, Logan. Especially Mom.” Lisa’s voice held a serious tone. “And we’re worried about you. Have you met anyone yet?”
He leaned back against the bed and rubbed his forehead. “We’re not hav
ing this conversation again.”
“Oh, come on. You’re not Dad. Your life doesn’t have to be just like his.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”
“How? By never settling down? Never giving anyone the chance to love you?”
He grit his teeth. “Dad did settle down, and look what happened to Mom.”
She sighed. “You don’t have to relive his mistakes either. Just try. For me. For Mom. Okay?”
“All right, I’ll try. But I’m not making any promises. Listen, I’ve got some work to do. I’m going to try to get back out to New York soon.”
“I hope you do. I love you, bubba.”
“Love you too, sis.”
He fished his keys out from under the bed, slipped on his shoes and headed out the door.
Going back to New York was the last thing he wanted to do. But he couldn’t abandon his family. Surely, he could get in and out of the city without his dad tracking him down.
Hopefully.
CHAPTER THREE
What in the world was going on with her? Allison curled up in her favorite chair and sipped her herbal tea. She was on the edge of a very slippery slope, and if she wasn’t careful, she might sink again. Like last time.
No. Not like last time. It’s not going to happen.
There was a reason she didn’t deal with spirits anymore. But how a table—an object—got to her like that was a mystery she needed to solve. She couldn’t handle blacking out every time she felt negative energy.
It must’ve been the ghost. The dead woman’s invasive emotions threw her balance out of whack.
She put her mug on the table, threw a plush, periwinkle pillow on the middle of the floor, and sat cross-legged on it. She needed to meditate. She’d focus on clearing out all the energy Logan Mitchell’s ghost shot into her. Then she’d work on getting her shields back in place. She’d hit her psychic rock bottom before, and that was not a place she was going back to.
To Catch a Spirit (Spirit Chasers Book 1) Page 2