The Dream Stalker (Gifted Liaisons)

by Capri Montgomery

  Those weren’t his only demons. He had the battle within himself. The need to belong in two worlds, when in reality he only belonged in one. He had been given the name Split Feather from a young age because he had always struggled to belong in two worlds. He hated the name then and he hated it now. He hated it because it was accurately describing who he was and he didn’t want to be reminded constantly of his weakness, of his need to belong.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t be a good detective and still be Indian; it was that he allowed himself to believe he needed to be like them to be one of them. Despite his strong, tough exterior, deep down he wanted to belong, like a kid in high school fighting for a place amongst the in crowd, he was fighting for his place in their world. Instead of giving them the chance to accept him for who he is, who he was, he hid the best part of himself until it was lost even to him.

  If he wanted to fight this dream stalker he would first have to fight those demons, even then the dream stalker would prevail because he had never turned his back on his people, on his training. Warren felt as if he were fighting a losing battle, for the first time in a long time he felt helpless. He didn’t like that feeling at all. Now he not only felt inadequate as a husband, but he felt inadequate as an Indian, as cop, as a man. What he didn’t know, couldn’t know, was how to deal with that many demons in the short time he had to catch a killer. He knew this man would kill again, and if the frequency in the last three weeks meant anything, he would kill again soon. He had a taste for the thrill of the kill and he wasn’t going to stop, not until somebody stopped him. The police were useless now. They would only be able to stop what they could understand and see. They could arrest him, and do what? Put him in jail where he’d sleep at night, kill again, and get out of jail because he couldn’t possibly be in two places at once. He couldn’t possibly be killing from behind bars because he couldn’t possibly be able to walk through dreams. No, this problem went beyond the police, beyond the traditions of everyday men. This problem needed another dream walker. White Eagle was right. He was in age, closer to joining the spirit world than he was walking amongst the living realm, and he would be no match for a young warrior. The only viable option was him, a man they called Split Feather because he never seemed to belong to one world. God help people everywhere because he was useless, powerless to stop this warrior. Even if he faced him now, this very second he would be afraid of the power he possessed, of the skills that far surpassed his own.

  His thoughts haunted him as he drove back toward the precinct. The only distraction was a phone call, one he welcomed willingly. “Something new in the past hour, Harrison?”

  “Try two hours. It’s almost five partner.”

  Warren checked the dashboard clock. “I’m sorry. I guess I lost track of time.” He hadn’t realized it was getting so late. He’d obviously spent more time sitting at the end of White Eagle’s drive than he realized. “I’ll be there in twenty,” he added.

  “Don’t bother. Go home, have dinner with your wife. I know that’s where I’m headed.”

  “You’re headed to have dinner with my wife?” Warren tried to concentrate on the road ahead of him, but thinking about Daya distracted him, it always distracted him.

  “I would slap you if you were here right now. I meant I’m headed home to have dinner with my wife.”

  “The case solve itself while I was gone?” They didn’t exactly have time for dinners, as much as he wanted it himself, they needed to work this case, now more than before. He needed answers to questions. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t tell them what he knew thus far. It only mattered that he got an idea who this guy was because then he could, maybe he could, stop him.

  “No, but orders are orders and the captain says we’ll discuss the case in the morning. Right now he’s taking flack from the mayor on figuring out what this “madness” the press keeps calling him about is. He wants us refreshed for the morning meeting because we’ll be doing it with the mayor.”

  Warren cursed. “That’s all we need right now. We have nothing. There’s not even an official ruling of homicide for the deaths.”

  “You’re telling me. The thing is the press got wind of it and they’ve been calling the mayor all day. At first they thought there was something biological out there. When they found out homicide was investigating they went on the hunt.”

  “That’s just great. As if the first case to make the news wasn’t enough.” The first case, the doctor, had made the news because she was a prominent doctor in the area. The death had been reported that she’d died in her sleep, but that there were no visible signs of foul play. The husband wasn’t a suspect, etcetera. It went away as quickly as it made the evening news. Then there was the second one, also reported as a quick death in the paper of another local woman who had died in her sleep. There was nothing spectacular about that report because she was only a maid and nobody seemed to care about her. The third and fourth hadn’t made the paper as news, yet, but there was the obituary. By now, with the press calling the mayor he was sure there was some reporter with too much time on his hand linking one death to the next and all five were probably headline news on three, five and eight, by now.

  He hung up the phone with Harrison and called Daya. “I’m on my way home. We need to talk.”

  “I gather.” She gentled her tone. “I caught a glimpse of the preview for the six o’clock news and they’re talking about five women who have died in their sleep. I guess that’s what’s got you…” she let her voice trail off. “Anyway, I’m at home early. Alex put the court in recess for some reason and we all went home early. I should have kept working, but I wanted to get home.”

  “I’m glad you’re home,” he heard the abrasive tone to his voice. She was still calling the judge by his first name. He hated that.

  “Is it another dream walker?”

  “I spoke with White Eagle today,” he exhaled sharply. “He says it’s a dream stalker. I’ll explain that when I get home, but just know this is a lot more serious than I can say over the phone. I can’t…never mind. I’ll talk to you about it when I get home.”

  “Okay. I uh, wasn’t expecting you. I grabbed a bite to eat on the way home, but I can put dinner on for you if you want.”

  “Don’t bother,” he said. He didn’t want anything right now, probably not ever. He was stressed, pissed at his inability to stop this bastard and feeling more worried about “Alex” than he was two hours ago. Was the judge thinking as much about getting inside Daya as he was wrapping the case? Was he calling her into chambers for something more…No, he couldn’t allow himself to think that way. Daya wouldn’t betray his love like that. At least he hoped she wouldn’t.

  She had been in love with the judge and from what he knew, love didn’t just go away. Love waited, like a snake in the grass, and when the timing was all wrong it would jump out and attack. The timing was wrong now. He needed Daya to be completely his. He needed the judge to be a non-issue, but he could hear the admiration in her tone. The same tone she had used when she’d told him she had been in love with the man. He should have run then, but he wanted her, loved her, had to have her for himself. Now he was paying for that stupidity with the mother load of wild ideas about Daya and the judge. What bothered him was not that he imagined Daya having sex with the judge, but that he was starting to believe she just might.

  Damn if he could get it together for ten minutes maybe he could stop putting himself through hell. This was Daya. This was the woman who had professed her love to him in front of God and family and he knew she didn’t take that professed promise lightly. If he could convince the irrational side of his brain that his woman was completely his then maybe he could walk her dream, share the connection they once had.

  The guys down at the station had one thing right. If he didn’t correct things soon then he and Daya would be headed straight for divorce court. He could hear the frustration in her tone. He could see her taking the blame and by God, he let her. He let her think everyt
hing was her fault, and while he blamed her for some things…maybe a lot of things, the problem was him. The problem was his thinking, his insecurity, and yet he’d let her believe it was her own.

  She had taken a case, not just any case, but a case with the judge presiding over it. That’s what bothered him the most about her taking the case right before their unplanned honeymoon. He thought she had taken it so she could see the judge, flirt with the judge, wiggle her ass in his courtroom and ride his cock in chambers. That’s what it was. Any man with sense would know a woman, an attorney, couldn’t just sit around for two weeks without taking a case…especially not an attorney in as high demand as Daya was.

  Why was he so worried about the judge? Why couldn’t he let it go? Daya had married him…not the judge. Yet somehow he wondered if circumstances were different if the judge would be the one bedding Daya every night. If he didn’t get his act together soon then circumstances would be different and she would be going home to the bastard.

  How could he tell her what he thought? How could he tell her that he hadn’t been able to walk her dreams because he was afraid he’d walk in on her and the judge at it like rabbits? That would go over well. She’d either hit him or throw his ass out…of his own house no less, and he’d deserve it. She had never once accused him of having an affair…not that he had ever once given her any idea that there was another woman in his past that he’d been in love with. There wasn’t one. Maybe that was another part of the problem. Daya had been in love, with the bastard for seven years or more and then they broke up because she wanted a commitment and he didn’t. They hadn’t broken up because things were just over, it was because she loved him and wanted more and he was too afraid to give more. That was then and this was now and Warren worried that the judge was ready for more…maybe he worried that Daya would remember that love and go running back to him. He hadn’t exactly been giving her a reason to stay lately.

  The first thing he saw when he walked into the bedroom was Daya half naked. Any normal man would have stripped off the rest of her clothes, but the sight of her made his blood boil. “You wore that to court?!” He nearly exploded.

  She jumped nearly a foot off the ground. “Jeeze, you scared me. I wore a suit to court.”

  “You wore that under the suit.”

  “I always wear underwear under my suits,” she said as if that should have been obvious. She wasn’t just wearing underwear. She was wearing a sexy black lace bra that had one of those pieces connected that looked like a mini corset, but without the hold, not that she needed it with her trim body. She also had on matching black, lace panties. The garter and stockings were long gone, but he knew she’d had them on because Daya didn’t wear pantyhose, she wore stockings. That probably made it easier for the judge to do her in chambers.

  He knocked the thought from his mind. He trusted her…he just didn’t trust the judge.

  “You’re going to court; what the hell do you need to wear that for?”

  “First of all, don’t curse at me. Secondly, you know I like nice underwear, it helps make the outer outfits look better and it makes me feel sexy.”

  “Who do you need to feel sexy for?” He mumbled, but she heard him. Her eyes narrowed.

  “For myself,” she snapped. “You used to find my underwear sexy. You used to couldn’t keep your hands off me. I’m sorry it bothers you so much now, but I’m not going to put on granny panties to suit whatever bug you have up your butt!”

  She stormed out of the bedroom, in her underwear, and into the kitchen. He followed her, although he probably shouldn’t have. She opened and slammed drawers closed as if she were looking for something. He was afraid if she kept it up she’d knock one of the doors off its hinges.

  “What are you looking for?” He snapped.

  “My husband,” she retorted. “Because the man I’ve been living with these past few months is an asshole-jerk imposter.”

  Daya cursed. She didn’t usually do that, which told him two things. First, she was pissed at him and ready to take his head off. Second, he was on thin ice…and so was their marriage. Daya was the typical lawyer, she held her cool no matter what. She’d had to learn that trait since she litigated against some hard-nose lawyers who thought they were bigger and better because they had the right equipment between their legs, and the right amount of practice under their belt. She wiped the floor with them without breaking a sweat. To see her like this now told him he’d be best to apologize and walk away until she calmed down. But he did neither.

  “Why are you doing this, Warren? What is it…you don’t want me anymore and you’re trying to find a way to get rid of me? Because I swear,” her voice trembled, “I can’t take much more of this. You make me feel like I’m to blame for everything. You make my heart break every time you mumble, and grumble and snap at me. I’m doing all I can here. I don’t know what else to do.” She wiped away a tear. “If it’s going to be bad don’t put me through hell for it. Just tell me to get out and I’ll go. My heart is already breaking I don’t need you to shatter it in the process.” She started to walk away from him. “I’m going to sleep in the spare room tonight. It’s clear you need your space and God knows I can’t be in the same room with a man who makes me feel like you’re making me feel right now.” She left him standing there, drowning in the fog of his own thoughts. She’d nearly given him an out. She’d told him she’d leave. God, he was pushing, literally shoving her out the door and he couldn’t stop himself. He was like the man driving a car, seeing the cliff yet barreling full speed for it instead of away from it.

  What hurt more was that he’d hurt her. He’d done the one thing he’d promised not to do…break her heart. She was in tears and it was because of him. Instead of standing in the kitchen like a dumb deer caught in headlights he should have gone after her and begged for forgiveness…why hadn’t he?

  Chapter Two

  “Good morning,” Warren tried to hand her a cup of lemon tea.

  “Not this morning, thank you.” She was already dressed and ready to get out the house. She’d barely slept. It was the first time since they were married where she wasn’t in his arms at night. It was the first time since they were married that she allowed herself to envision her world without him…and she didn’t want that world…he obviously did. “I’m in court all day and I have some paperwork to do before I come home. I’ll be in late.”

  “You can do the paperwork here.”

  “No, I’d prefer to stay in the office. I need to concentrate and I can’t do that here.” She couldn’t concentrate there because every second in every room was reminding her of last night, of their argument…of the fact that he might just ask her to leave. She wanted to offer to leave now, just to save herself the humiliation, but she was afraid he might just tell her to go. She wanted to work things out, she wanted things to go back to the way they were…but they couldn’t go back.

  She wasn’t a child making a wish on a star. She and Warren weren’t connected, he wasn’t even trying for a connection and no matter what she did, how much she tried to be a perfect “cop’s wife” she wasn’t what he needed. They were fireworks in bed…once, not now because he hadn’t touched her in weeks. But she figured they never really were as compatible outside the bedroom as she led herself to believe. He was a cop, a detective. He arrested the bastards and she got them off…at least that’s how he saw it.

  Only one of her clients, truly only one, had been guilty. She had known it in her gut, but she hadn’t been able to get off the case. She had even slipped and started doing shabby work until Alex reminded her that even if he did get convicted her lack of fine work would be the cause for an appeal, a reversal of the court decision, and her disbarment. Had she known the snake was guilty up front she wouldn’t have taken the case, but she didn’t have much say in the matter. She worked for a big law firm and just because she was their top attorney it didn’t give her special privileges when it came to case loads. If the money was right her firm took it an
d put the best person on it.

  She wanted to open her own firm. She wanted to talk to Warren about it weeks ago, but he had pushed her away. He had work to do and he didn’t have time for breakfast, lunch or even dinner. She had stopped in on his job once, dropped off coffee from Strabucks…he liked their coffee…and he had brushed her away. “Not now,” he had said the moment she asked him to spare ten minutes of his time. She just wanted to talk to him, maybe hold his hand as they walked along the lush landscaped precinct like they used to, but he wanted no part of her. She wished she could say that was the first sign that things were crumbling, but it wasn’t. Things started falling apart the moment she took on that case. He didn’t understand that she didn’t have a choice. She had tried to wait for him, but he had to testify and when the new case came down her bosses put her on it, without question, without verification of time, it was just dropped in her lap without the right of refusal. If Warren had only listened to her he would have known that, but he didn’t listen. He was angry with her, and maybe he had every right to be, but she didn’t deserve his treatment of her.

  “I’ll move my stuff into the spare bedroom tomorrow…”

  “The hell you will,” he snapped.

  “Warren, it’s clear to me that you and I—”

  “I said no.” He stood abruptly and the force of the movement nearly knocked the chair over. “I will not have my wife sleeping three doors down.”

  “Is that what I am…your wife? Lately it hasn’t felt like it.”