by Nell DuVall
“Ouch,” Ian gasped.
“Sorry.” She pulled her fingers back. “Are you badly hurt?”
“I’m all right, just a little sore.” He patted Cassie’s shoulder then stared up at Brad. “Let her go. You want me, not her.”
“I did, before she called you about Justin. Now I have to get rid of her too. Move.”
With Cassie’s help, Ian climbed to his feet. Somehow, he had to distract Justin, no, Brad, long enough for Cassie to get away. She had done nothing to Brad. Ian wanted her out of this, away from the vindictive Brad and his gun.
Brad rested his hand on the door just beyond the table. “We’re going to the basement. I was just going to open the door, but now you can do it. Open it.” He stepped back and motioned Ian toward the door.
“It’s stuck. It always sticks,” Cassie explained.
Ian put his arm around her and pulled her close. She fit the curve of his arm just right. He had to protect her.
Brad stared at them, a nasty gleam in his eye. “Come here, bitch. As long as I have you, Hotshot here won’t do anything.”
Grabbing Cassie’s arm, Brad pulled her toward him. He glared at Ian. “Now get on with it.”
Ian stared at Cassie in Brad’s tight grip. His cruel fingers curled around her slender arm and dug into the flesh. Ian’s fists clenched in tight balls. He wanted to hit Brad for hurting Cassie.
“The door, man. Open the God damn door!" Brad grasped Cassie tighter. “You want me to shoot her?”
Ian shook his head and walked the few steps separating him from the door. He turned the knob and pushed gently, but the door didn’t move.
“What’s the matter? No muscles?” Brad sneered.
He glared back at Brad. “It’s stuck. Try it yourself.”
“So unstick it. Come on, I haven’t got all day. Maybe I should just shoot you up here.”
Ian pushed harder and the door began to inch forward. He shoved his shoulder against it, and the door gave way. He stumbled forward.
“Stop right there or I shoot your girlfriend.” Brad held the gun to Cassie’s temple. She stared out of the corner of frightened eyes at Brad.
“The door’s open. Now what?” Ian faced Brad and tried to gauge the distance between them and the chances of deflecting the gun before Brad could injure Cassie.
“We go downstairs. You first, and remember I’ve got my gun on the bitch.”
Ian started down the steps, one at a time as slow as he could. He heard footsteps behind him. Cassie’s sort of stumbling and then the heavier ones of Brad.
“I said move.”
A cold, hard object pushed Ian in the neck. Brad had moved the gun to him and away from Cassie. Ian threw himself backward against Brad’s legs.
“Cassie, run,” Ian shouted as he turned to struggle with Brad. He pulled down hard on Brad’s legs, trying to pull him away from her.
* * * *
Cassie fell against the top step alongside Brad. He had let go her arm as he dropped and tried to grab the railing. She scrambled upward on her hands and knees and over the doorsill into the kitchen. Once there, she pushed herself to her feet and raced for the living room. They needed help.
Praying for Ian, she grabbed the phone and hit 9-1-1. “Police, quick. Bradford Harrison is trying to kill Ian.”
“Ma’am? Is this 263-4879 at 2110 Sycamore?”
“Yes. Hurry. It’s an emergency.”
A shot rang out.
“Oh, my God! He’s killed Ian.”
“Lady, a patrol car is on the way. Get out of the house and wait for us.”
Cassie dropped the phone. Ian.
Brad had killed Ian. Tears stung her eyes and blinded her. With a quick swipe, she dashed them away.
She raced back toward the kitchen. The table lay on its side with the tablecloth hung askew. Fragments from the vase she kept on the table littered the floor.
Crunching over the mess to the open basement door, she peered through the darkness. She stared down into the inkiness below expecting to see Ian’s body sprawled there. Nothing.
She switched on the stairway light. Only a quiet emptiness met her anxious gaze. The washer and dryer stood under the window on the far side. She scanned past the furnace and back to the wooden steps leading down.
No Ian. No Brad.
Cassie turned back to the kitchen. Sirens whined outside. The roar of a motorcycle filled the air. The vivid memory of the black helmeted motorcyclist filled her vision. She started toward the back door as the front door chimes rang.
Hesitating, Cassie shifted her course. She wanted to find Ian.
The chimes rang again followed by a heavy thumping. “Police. Open up.”
She ran back to the front door, flipped the lock, and threw the door open.
One uniformed officer stood on the porch while another remained at the curb next to the white police car. Its red and blue lights lit up the street. Neighbors peered from nearby windows.
“You called 9-1-1?” the tall officer demanded.
“Brad’s got a gun. He’s got Ian.” Cassie turned back into the house.
“Where?” The officer followed, communications unit in hand.
“I don’t know. I heard a shot. I’m looking for him.”
“Where did you last see them?”
“Here in the kitchen, but they’re gone.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The hulking black hog of a motorcycle roared toward Ian. Brad hunched forward as his fingers grasped the handlebars. Dust and gravel flew up from the churning wheels.
Ian glanced first right and then left as he ran for his life. The wooden garages and chain link fences along the narrow alley offered no escape. His breath came in gasps. His legs pumped hard. He lengthened his stride. The roar behind him intensified.
To his left loomed another garage. To the right a low gate beckoned.
Dashing for the gate, Ian kicked his feet as high as he could and prayed. He vaulted forward. His heel grazed the top of the gate, and he sprawled on the grass of the yard.
The fence shuddered. The sound of screeching metal reached his ears. Then, the motorcycle roared past.
Ian picked himself up and hobbled to the gate. This time he opened it and walked through. He limped back along the dusty alley toward Cassie’s.
Just as he reached her place, she came running toward him with a uniformed officer following. “Oh, Ian, are you all right. Did he shoot you?” She hugged him close.
He clasped her tightly to him. “I’m okay, just a little bruised.”
She looked over his shoulder. “Where’s Brad?”
“Took off on his motorcycle.”
“Excuse me, sir,” the officer interrupted. “We have a report of a gunman.”
Ian turned to the officer. “Bradford Harrison. He just took off on his motorcycle down the alley.”
As the officer raised his communications unit, he looked at the dust trail leading up the alley. “Is he armed?”
“He dropped his gun inside.”
“Bill, suspect on a motorcycle—" The officer looked at Ian.
“A Harley Davidson. Black.”
“A black Harley Davidson heading east along the North Sycamore Alley. Not armed, but considered dangerous. Notify all units.” He turned back to Ian. “Can you give us a description of the man?”
Ian nodded. “About six feet, muscular, black hair, brown eyes.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Jeans and a t-shirt.”
“A white shirt with Greenpeace printed on the front,” Cassie added.
The officer relayed the information.
“Oh, he also goes by the name Justin Lord,” Ian told him.
The officer passed that along too. “Why don’t we go inside and you folks can give me a report.”
Cassie leaned against Ian as they walked arm and arm toward the house. “I’m so glad he didn’t shoot you.”
“So am I.” Ian grinned down at her. “But I’m sore as
hell. He won’t get another chance.”
“But he got away.” Cassie stared up at him, worry coming back to haunt her eyes.
“We know who he is, and so do the police.” He smiled down at her. “Don’t worry. They’ll catch him.”
Cassie led them through the kitchen and into the living room. She and Ian sat side by side on the sofa holding hands. The officer sat on the adjacent easy chair. He placed his communications unit on the table between the chair and the sofa.
After handing them a business card, he pulled out a notebook and pencil. “I’m Officer Davis. Let’s start with your names and addresses.”
Cassie and Ian supplied the necessary details and he wrote them down. “Now, can you tell me what this is all about?”
“Well, the rabbit—" Cassie began.
Ian held up his hand. “Better let me tell it, Cassie.”
He turned to Officer Davis. “Bradford Harrison is the son of a man who used to work for me. Two years ago, his father, James Harrison, stole money from my business. When I threatened to prosecute him, he had a heart attack and died. Shortly after, his wife committed suicide.”
The officer nodded. “So what about this...” He looked down at his notes. “This Bradford Harrison?”
Ian sighed. “He’s their son. He blamed me for their deaths and tried to kill me. If you check with Officer Jackson, you’ll find a report on a similar incident last Saturday. Cassie, Miss Blake,”—Ian squeezed her hand—“tried to save me. She interrupted Brad’s attempt to kill me. I guess that made her a target, too.”
“Hmm.” Officer Davis rubbed his chin. “So he came after Miss Blake?”
Ian nodded. “When James Harrison worked for me, I never met his son. For a number of reasons, after the last attack we suspected Brad Harrison might be someone who worked for me, but under another name.” He left out all mention of Cassie’s dream warnings.
“How did you discover Harrison worked for you?” The officer looked puzzled.
“It’s a long story.” Ian ran a hand through his hair and winced as his fingers passed over the place where his head had hit the table. Cassie leaned forward as if to speak, but he squeezed her hand again.
“Miss Blake actually worked it out.” Ian saw the puzzlement on Officer Davis’ face. He didn’t want to tell him about the rabbit or Cassie’s dreams. It would only confuse things.
Instead, Ian rushed on with his explanation. “Anyway, she checked into the birth records of Harrison and two young men who work in my office. She found out one of the men was supposed to be African-American. Both the men who worked for me are white, so we knew something was wrong. Miss Blake called me.”
The officer looked confused. “Then why did he come here?”
“I’m not quite sure. Somehow, either this Harrison heard the message or he had decided to kill Miss Blake to get her out of the way. She spoiled his earlier attempts to kill me. Her message made me angry to think Harrison had fooled me. I wanted to confront him.”
“That might have been dangerous.”
Ian sighed. “Yeah, but I didn’t want him to just disappear. Then he might still attack us.”
Officer Davis shook his head. “Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I called Officer Jackson about Brad Harrison, but at the time I didn’t know he was impersonating Justin Lord.”
“Who is this Justin Lord?”
“A co-op student from Columbus State.”
Officer Davis made a few more notes. “We’ll have to check on this Lord.”
“I ... that is, we think Harrison must have killed Justin and taken over his identity,” Cassie added.
“We’ll have to check the files then for unsolved murders or missing person reports.” The officer made another note. “That still doesn’t explain why you came here, Mr. McLeod.”
“I had gotten Miss Blake’s message and tried to call her. When I didn’t reach her, I was worried. Since Justin, I mean Harrison, lives south of here, I stopped on my way there. When I got here, I saw the motorcycle in back and realized Brad was here. I forced my way in. The rest you know.”
The communicator beeped. Officer Davis held it up to his mouth. “Davis here.” He listened to the response.
Ian heard the words semi, accident, and dead.
“Well, folks, I guess we can wrap this up. The boys chased the suspect up Interstate 71. He cut in front of a semi and got creamed. Not much left to scrape up.”
Cassie gasped and buried her face in Ian’s shoulder.
He held her close. “It’s all right. Brad’s dead. He can’t hurt either of us any longer.” He rested his head against her hair.
“I know,” she sniffed, “but what a horrible way to die.”
Ian looked over at Officer Davis. “Do you want anything more from us?”
“No, that wraps it up.” Davis closed his notebook, slipped it into his shirt pocket, and then stood. “We’ll want you to come down to the station and sign a statement, but that’s all. I’ll let myself out.”
Cassie started to rise, but Ian refused to let her go. Holding her made everything better. He felt sorry about Brad, but he was glad it was over and they no longer had to look over their shoulders. Cassie’s rabbit was dead and could never harm them again. The door clicked shut behind Officer Davis.
Ian tipped Cassie’s face up and gazed down into her soft blue eyes. The fear had gone.
“Oh, Cassie, I love you so much.”
He leaned down and kissed her. Her mouth, soft and yielding under his, enchanted him. He traced her lips with his tongue and then slipped between them. His pulse raced as he tasted the sweetness within.
He caressed her back, savoring her narrow waist and the supple curve of her hips. The kiss became deeper, and her tongue probed his. His hand slid around to feel the gentle swell of a full breast. She moaned at his touch.
“Cassie, I love you and want to be with you. How about it?”
“Ian, I love you too.” She clung to him for a moment, but then pulled back. “There’s something I have to ask first though.”
“What?” He stared at her, suddenly afraid. He had listened to his heart and found the only woman he had ever loved, but maybe she didn’t want him.
“It’s my dreams. I have them. I don’t know why. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
“Everyone dreams.” He tried to pull her close again.
“I know, but mine are different. They’re warnings about the future. I can’t promise it won’t happen again. Then what?” She searched his face, her eyes deep pools of worry.
“We’ll face that when it happens.” He pulled her against his chest. “If it hadn’t been for your dreams, Brad might have killed me.”
Cassie pushed back again. “But you don’t like dreams. You didn’t even tell the policemen about them.”
Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t tell him, because I didn’t want him to think we were nuts. I believe you, and I believe in your dreams. Isn’t that enough?”
Cassie studied Ian with a troubled gaze. “But can you accept them? And me?” Her last words came in a low whisper.
“Cassie, I never thought I would ever fall in love, but I have. You make me feel anything is possible. I have to believe in your dreams. Look what happened. I’ll admit it hasn’t been easy for me, but you’re worth any effort.”
“You really mean that?” Her eyes probed his, as if trying to measure his sincerity.
“Yes, I mean it, but you have to be patient with me. This doesn’t come easy. Anyway, I had a hunch about you. That’s why I came here.”
She blinked, eyes wide. “You did?”
“Damn right I did. All the way down High Street, I couldn’t get it out of mind that you were in danger. I had to do something.”
“Maybe you’re gifted too.”
“One psychic is enough. Come here. I want to kiss you.”
Cassie melted into his arms. She had the man of her dreams, and he said he accepted her and her dreams
.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Saturday, Cassie’s stomach fluttered as she and Ian looked for a parking spot near Tula’s Tea Room. She wanted Tula and Ian to like one another. After several trips down the side streets, Ian finally found a spot big enough for his Accord. He locked the car and took Cassie’s arm. A pleasant tingle ran along her arm and to her heart.
She smiled up at him. “I have a special friend I want you to meet.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He gave her arm a light squeeze and the tingle intensified.
Ian loved her, of that Cassie had no doubt, but how would he feel about Tula? What if the two people she cared most about didn’t like each other? She gripped Tula’s sun pendant and rubbed the disk with her thumb.
As they entered the Tea Room, Tula greeted them. She hugged Cassie and looked up at Ian, speculation in her amber eyes.
“Ian, this is Tula Mohr, my best friend. Tula, this is Ian McLeod, the man of my dreams.”
“I hope you mean that.” Ian squeezed Cassie’s hand.
“I do, in every way.” She squeezed back and snuggled closer to him.
Tula held out a long, slender hand to Ian. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Cassie has talked so much about you that I feel we’re old friends.”
“She’s told me about you, too.” Ian’s tone told Cassie he approved of Tula.
“Tula, how about a pot of your Special Tea and some apple flan? I’ve been bragging to Ian about how good they are, “ Cassie prompted.
Tula grinned. “I saved a couple pieces. Somehow, I knew you’d be by. Pick any table you want, and I’ll be right back.”
Cassie pulled Ian toward the back. “I usually sit near the kitchen. It makes it easier for Tula.”
“Hi, Cassie.” Kinesha waved as she passed with an appreciative glance at Ian.
“That’s Kinesha, you’ll like her too.”
“With a smile like that, who could help it?”
Cassie stopped at the table just this side of the kitchen. Ian held her chair and took the one next to her. He looked about the room with considerable interest.
“Looks busy.”