Come Hell or High Desire

by Misty Dietz

  The white Lexus peeled out of the driveway.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Zack scrutinized Sloane as he held the church door open for her. She looked dazed and exhausted. He surveyed the as-yet undeveloped fields to the southwest where the sinking summer sun was in the throes of being swallowed by a blue-gray mountain of clouds. After the climate-controlled interior of the church, the moist heat wrapped around him like a soggy blanket. Combined with the boiling rage locked tight inside, he wondered how steam didn’t shoot out his ears. He practically trembled with it.

  Sloane opened her mouth to speak.

  “Wait.” The strain of the charade made his throat feel like gravel. He unlocked his truck and they climbed inside. Zack peered in his rearview mirror as he exited the church parking lot and pulled onto Twenty-Fifth Street heading north. “Someone can help you get your car later. I’m taking you home.”

  “Are you crazy? This is crazy! No, I’m not going home. We’re going back to Ann’s. When you bolted into the church like Rambo on a rampage, I thought you were going to kill him. He’s a man of the cloth!” She put her hands on her head. “Senior pastor of one of the largest churches in the state. How can this be? He left a second ago, so he can’t be too far ahead of us. Let’s find him!”

  His fingers gripped the steering wheel so hard the skin over his knuckles paled. “Calm down.” Calm down. He made himself relax his grip.

  “Calm down? This is a nightmare, Zack. How can I be calm? How can you? If the pastor’s not with Ann, who took her? What are we going to do?”

  Her hat was gonna be toast if she twisted it any harder. “We aren’t going to do anything. I am. What’s your address?”

  “Frustrating, frustrating man. Why are you always charming with everyone but me?”

  “Guess you bring out the best in me.” He smiled, but knew it didn’t reach his eyes when she shivered and shut up.

  For all of five seconds.

  “Take me to Ann’s,” she said.

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head, praying for patience. “Jesus, Sloane. Can’t you see I’m trying to protect you? If something— Woman. Okay, home or store?”

  “Ann’s.”

  She was going to turn him into a spewing volcano. “Don’t you have a business to run? Books to balance, shit to buy or something?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I’m not open Sundays.”

  She groaned. “Okay, okay. Okay.” Her fingernails suddenly raked at her skull. “Lord! I almost forgot. We have to go back to Ann’s. She has a diary!”

  He swerved into an empty parking lot and swiveled to face her, blood pounding in his ears. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ann keeps a diary. We have to find it.”

  “You’re just telling me this now? You should have goddamn said something right away!”

  “Don’t you dare curse at me like that, you seismic jackass!”

  He had to get out. He flung the truck door open and strode across the cracked asphalt. Her door slammed shut moments later, and within seconds she was wagging a finger in his face. “And don’t you walk away from me, either!”

  “Then don’t be such a damn shrew.”

  Color flooded over her cheekbones seconds before she punched him in the gut. Hard. What the hell! An ancient fire lit up his nerve circuits, and adrenaline had him widening his stance. His heart gunned.

  His groin tightened.

  And she was still shrill. “I’m not a shrew! How am I supposed to act in a situation like this? You think I’m enjoying this? I hate it! But unfortunately I have a conscience which would haunt me for the rest of my life if I don’t follow this through until we have some answers. You came to me and wanted to rule out the church first. Then with everything that happened, I forgot about the diary until right now. That clear enough for you, you—”

  Clear enough, honey.

  He vised her head between his palms and kissed her. He hadn’t meant to, but the moment her mouth opened to his, he was lost. Not breaking contact with her mouth, he wrapped one arm around her, his hand splaying across her ass, locking her hips against him. Her hands were in his hair, her hips grinding, driving him crazy. They feasted on each other’s mouth, tongues dueling, daring, seeking. He felt her fingers between their bodies, slipping underneath the waistband of his jeans, pulling at the hem of his shirt. Her fingernail scraped his abs and he groaned. She leaned away from his mouth, her eyes dead sexy. Liquid brown. Fuck, yeah. He was gonna—

  A car horn blew, jerking him back to life. Back to the parking lot. He looked over to see a man in a black minivan at a stoplight giving them the thumbs up. He honked twice more, waved, and drove on.

  Sloane burst into a fit of laughter that quickly dissolved into tears.

  And that clinched it. He’d woken up this morning in some creepy-assed Twilight Zone.

  He wiped away her tears and laid his forehead against hers for a few moments to get his brain rewired. Then he guided her over to the passenger side of the truck, opened the door, and nudged her inside. He walked around to the driver’s side, then eased into the seat, adjusting this way and that to accommodate the monster in his jeans.

  Sloane sniffed loudly. “Now can we go to Ann’s?”

  He banged his head against the steering wheel before glancing at her profile. Her fingers fidgeted in her lap.

  Looks. Brains. Compassion. Sense of humor.

  Add to that one heaping dose of courage and what do you get?

  Zack totally FUBAR.

  Definitely time to cut her loose.

  She was sitting beside him because she felt obligated to help him find Ann. Their chemistry was a result of the circumstances. Danger always had a way of heightening attraction. God only knew how many brawls Kasey had instigated for him for her viewing pleasure. And she’d only nursed his injuries if he’d been the victor. “What if we’re dealing with some psycho here? Doesn’t that scare you?”

  That dimmed the light in those hellcat eyes. “Well…yeah. But it’s too late for me to back out now. Besides, who do you trust with my safety more…you, or the police who don’t even know there might be foul play yet?”

  Nailed. The woman already knew how to manipulate him. He gave her the scowl he saved for employees who were caught dicking around. “You’re really a piece of work.” He’d hoped to tick her off, but she actually smiled at him. He rubbed his cheek to stop himself from smiling back. “Okay. But before we go to Ann’s, you’re going to tell me why I feel like I’m hooked up to a navy submarine generator every time I touch you.”

  Her smile slipped. She shifted on the leather seat, brushing some imaginary lint off her blouse. Aha. He knew there was something to it.

  Seconds ticked by. He purposely turned down the A/C. Then, keeping his eyes between her and the rearview mirror, he laid his right hand on the top of her seat back again, only this time his thumb brushed the bare skin of her neck. Pulses of energy jumped under his skin.

  Her gaze flew to his.

  Busted, little woman.

  “You play mean.”

  “Not mean, Goldie. Equal.”

  A few more seconds of silence ticked by while sweat gathered in a bead to run between his pecs. He leaned his head against the headrest and narrowed his eyes to slits so he could still use his peripheral vision to keep tabs on her and any activity outside the truck. She brought a hand up to inspect her nails. Then rummaged through her purse until she came out with a nail file, which she promptly tossed on the dash before reaching over to flip the A/C on high.

  “Fine! Along with the visions, I sometimes have the ability to be attuned to the energy of others.”

  Zack studied her, feeling a curious lightness in his chest. She fixed her hat on her head like it was a piece of body armor.

  “I don’t know why it’s so strong with you. Nor why your energy doesn’t suck the life out of me like most other people’s does if it sneaks past my barriers.” She wa
s inspecting her nails again. He brushed the backs of his fingers along her jaw and felt her shiver.

  She looked at him with such naked vulnerability it robbed his breath. “And the fact that you also feel this connection is totally unbelievable. It’s— I don’t share that part of myself with anyone. If I even tried to explain what happens to me… Lord, people would think I was a freak. Know I’m a freak.”

  That she should have to hide parts of herself from the world caused anger to surge through him. His fingers trailed along the exposed column of her neck. “I’ve met a lot of freaks over the years, and trust me, you don’t qualify.”

  “Must hang with a rough crowd, then,” she muttered.

  Zack laughed, which finally drew a smile from her. “Back in the day… You have no idea. Last time I checked, though, I wasn’t made out of metal.”

  “Yeah. About that? I’m not sure what’s going on. Our energy fields must be highly sensitive to each other.”

  No shit. “Really,” he drawled.

  She nodded.

  He wanted another smile. “I’ve been called a lot of things over the years, but seismic jackass? That elevates me to a whole new level, I guess.”

  She smiled. Bingo.

  “Sorry,” she said, but didn’t look it. He put his truck into gear, trying not to think about how easily she’d managed to convince him to do what she wanted—go to Ann’s—when every cell in his body wanted to call in every favor that every shady character in town owed him to find O’Neill.

  He pulled out of the abandoned parking lot, forcing himself not to look at the siren beside him, but doing it anyway.

  Next stop, Ann’s.

  He had about six minutes to steel himself for a new round of…who the hell knew.

  It was not his damn day.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Zack leaned against Ann’s bedroom door watching Sloane cautiously inspect a hairbrush. She’d long since ditched her hat, so he could easily see the dark circles under her eyes. He’d obviously put them there because he sure as hell hadn’t noticed them earlier. His idea of searching the dresser drawers had been fruitless, so they were back to that hocus pocus thing to find the diary. Which left him feeling worthless.

  “What can I do?”

  She gave him a shaky smile. “Grab a bucket, and be ready to hold my hair back?”

  He straightened to move toward her. “I’m sorry you couldn’t find the rhino. I’ll pay for a new one.”

  She held up her hand, concentrating on a pair of diamond studs nesting in a bed of pink velvet on the dresser. A tremor moved through him. Her touch or her gift? He wasn’t sure, but he was suddenly hyperaware of the woman next to him. Of the rapid pulse at her neck. The delicate arch of her brows over eyes that changed color with her emotion.

  Brown was the color of her passion. Eloquent, dark, complex. The color of disturbed earth at the feet of sequoias.

  Her sudden indrawn breath was like a blow because he knew by now what was coming. He almost told her to stop. All those other times had been so hard on her. But she touched the earrings, and her face lost animation. He wrapped his arms around her. Her very essence seemed to quiet, to still in a sort of supernatural concentration.

  Zack buried his face in her hair, willing her strength as she faced whatever secrets those earrings might share. When she started, her speech was languorous. “The air is hot, humid. She’s laughing at you and John. Catfishing. The three of you are catfishing on the Red River.”

  The back of Zack’s neck crawled. That was four, maybe five years ago now.

  “She touches her ear. These earrings. She’s happy. Loves you because you’re both pretending to enjoy the wilted sandwiches she made. You’re nagging about her perfume. It’s attracting bugs, you say. She smiles. Dragonflies are everywhere, whizzing around your heads, and she loves the hum of the pontoon’s motor. You tease one another and laugh over whose fish has the longest whiskers…”

  Zack’s vision blurred for the first time since he’d had to explain to the police how he’d found his father’s body swinging from a rope. Sloane took him back, resurrecting that day on the river with the family he’d been lucky enough to create later in life.

  Good times. A sense of belonging.

  All he’d ever wanted.

  Sloane’s head lolled, then righted itself.

  “No, Goldie. Come back.”

  She blinked, but obviously didn’t see him standing in front of her, her voice a mere whisper this time. “Somewhere else now. An office. She knows he’s attracted to her, and she’s enjoying the attention. The man—I can’t see his face—leans against the edge of the counter. His cologne smells expensive. She thinks he has nice teeth, nice hair. Eyes, too, when he isn’t trying to intimidate someone…but… He’s her father’s age. Even older. Oh, Lord, it’s Benjamin. Timothy Benj—”

  “What? No!” Zack jerked back, his arms breaking the circle around her. Sloane swayed again, and he grabbed her, sat them both on the bed and scored the small white trash can just in time. Sloane clutched it as the she expelled her guts.

  Zack held her hair back, murmuring to her until she staggered to the bathroom. His eyeballs burned until he thought his optic nerve had short-circuited. Enough was enough. The woman would need to be hooked up to an IV if she attempted any more readings. And they hadn’t even located the diary yet.

  He was pretty damn sure he believed in her ESP now.

  He went to stand beside the tomcat guarding the bathroom door. He wanted to barge in to make sure she wasn’t drowning in all that water he heard running. He listened intently, only turning away when he heard her softly say, “Tori?”

  She must’ve had her phone in her pocket. Why couldn’t he remember that she wasn’t a loner like him? Their backgrounds probably couldn’t be more different. She had people to turn to when things went south.

  And what a poor me whiner he was becoming.

  He walked down the hallway into the kitchen, carefully curbing his urge to knock his fist into the drywall. Focus on Ann.

  In the vision, Sloane had witnessed Benjamin flirting with her. No way could Ann be involved with both the pastor and Tim Benjamin. Could she?

  He’d obviously left her to the wolves. One who probably walked around his church like a saint. The other who got off on using people for his own gain.

  Zack exhaled deeply to tamp down the anger. He walked to Ann’s desk, pulled out his cell phone, and dialed Archie.

  “What’s up, man? You hear from Ann or the police?” Archie yelled at the dogs to stop barking.

  “Not Ann, but the police are looking into her phone and bank records to see if anything turns up. So far, nothing.” Zack rolled his shoulders. “You still know how to get in touch with Donovan?”

  Archie whispered a string of obscenities. “No good reason to get in touch with a low life like that. Not anymore.”

  “But do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Liar. Zack tapped a pencil on the desk. “You ever hear of Divine Shepherd Lutheran?”

  “Who hasn’t?”

  “Ann’s having an affair with the head pastor.”

  Archie sputtered on a drink. “No way.”

  “I need Donovan’s number, man.”

  More obscenities. Then he finally rattled off Donovan’s number like it was a daily call. “You’d better keep it tight, or you’ll have to deal with me.”

  Zack couldn’t reassure him, so he hung up. He slid the phone into his pocket, then leaned against the smooth oak of Ann’s pantry door. Archie had kept his nose clean for years now.

  Or mostly clean.

  Donovan was a mean, morally depraved SOB from Minneapolis who not only ran a wagon show of narcotics and black market weapons, but also a harem of street tarts and computer hackers. So how could Archie spit out his number like that?

  Maybe now was a good time to start praying again.

  Zack felt her seconds before she entered the kitchen. He shoved the paper with
Donovan’s number into his pocket. She pulled out a chair at the table and plopped down, stretching those legs that dried the saliva in his mouth. Even her feet with the blue toenail polish made him hot. He turned away and closed his eyes.

  “Hey, thanks for holding my hair. I was only kidding, but…”

  Zack opened his eyes to look at her when she paused. The thousand watt smile she beamed at him made his pulse hopscotch. “But?”

  Her smile broadened impossibly. “It was really sweet of you.”

  He swallowed. Her normally golden complexion was still ashen. “Sure. It seems…” Traumatic, overwhelming. “Pretty rough on you.”

  She looked down at her hands, engrossed in her nails. “I’m going to find that diary.”

  “No, I’m taking you home now. You look like you need to sleep for a week.”

  “Gee, thanks, that’s really flattering, but no. The longer Ann’s missing…”

  Damn her, she didn’t need to say it. For a moment he allowed his eyes to trace the contours of her face. The shadows made her cheekbones even more pronounced. “You don’t really think she had—has—something going on with Benjamin, do you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to think. From the vision, I’d have to say he was certainly interested in her, but at that particular time, I didn’t get the sense that she would have been receptive. But who knows what happened later—if there was a later. I couldn’t tell when that vision took place. Does he—” She clawed at her neck. “Does Benjamin stop by the office a lot?” Her voice cracked on the last word, her hand moving to press against her stomach.

  He couldn’t stand to see her so affected. “You’re going home. Now.”

  Her pupils dilated even more, and she stood and backed away from him even though she was nodding like that was exactly what she wanted to do. “We need to go over it one more time. Who are all the people who could have picked her up? I mean, she’s got to have some other family or friends around. Right? Everyone does.”

  She hadn’t been this agitated even after all those other horrifying episodes. Why now? He edged closer to her—slowly—and pitched his statement as placid as possible. “Ann never knew her mother. John was an only child, and being sixty-eight when he died last year, he’d already lost both his parents.”