He pulled reading glasses from his shirt pocket and adjusted them, then began. “‘To Adrian Dellos. Here is some news for you. The cops are playing games with me, but they are going to wish they didn’t. I’ll show them all very soon who I am, and what I can do when I really get mad.’ It’s signed J. Marinaro.” The captain shook his head, then removed his glasses. “This could be a hoax, but we’re looking into it. In case it’s genuine, our BOLO for Marinaro is now ratcheted up even more than before. We have to find him before he does whatever it is he’s threatening. Get him in custody.”
Now more than ever, Trevor planned on taking care of that miserable killer his own way.
But they had to find him first, which meant he had to terminate his efforts to avoid Skye.
Was she crazy? Maybe. He’d tried hard to convince himself that was true. But too often he kept remembering the day he’d been shot.
Had he really been brought back by Skye? He’d seen her—heard her telling him to come back. No doubt about that. Or was there?
And if that part was somehow true, did it mean the rest of what she’d said was, too? Could he will a bad guy to die? Had he done so with Edinger?
Hey, that was a whole lot better than the way he’d been getting rid of killers before they could hurt anyone else. Better for him, anyway.
He’d noticed Skye hanging around the periphery of his life during the past week. He’d wanted many times to go up to her, but he didn’t.
When the captain was done and they’d been dismissed, he caught up with Ron Gollar in the hallway.
“What’s the SWAT take on Marinaro’s message?” the rookie asked. “Any chance of some early recruitment to increase your ranks?”
“You wish,” Trevor said with a grin. Ron smiled back. “I thought your first choice was Narcotics.”
“Oh, yeah—no doubt about my wanting to put a stop to the sleazes who deal and all. But after watching you guys in action, I’d rather be in SWAT.”
“Got it,” Trevor said. “I’ll let you know if there’s any chance of getting you to train with us one of these days so you can show us what you’ve got. Your military background’s a big plus, even though you’re still green around here.”
“Thanks,” Ron said, then hurried off to catch up with his partner.
Trevor looked for Skye. She stood farther down the hall with the other K-9 officers, who also had their dogs with them. He made his way through the lightening crowd. “Can we talk?” he asked when he caught up with her.
A sweet, surprised expression crossed quickly over her face, followed by studied coolness. “Go ahead,” she said, without moving from her fellow officers.
“Over here. Please.” He gestured toward a corner.
With a shrug, she followed, Bella at her side. “I’m not sure what you and I have to talk about. Unless you’re about to tell me you’re now certain I’m crazy, and I don’t really want to hear that.”
He grimaced. But, hell, he wouldn’t tell her, here in the middle of everyone, that he’d reflected on her story—and couldn’t completely discount it. “No,” he told her, “but assuming you’re not crazy, that e-mail makes it more critical that we do something, don’t you think?”
“We work with a lot of good cops and investigators,” she said. “Let’s just do our jobs.” Was it his imagination, or did her icy tone and curt words conflict with the expression on her face?
Hell, he wasn’t much for reading people, but she looked sad and full of longing. Or was he just reading his own emotions into hers?
“All right,” he said. “See you around, Skye.” But before he turned away, he touched her shoulder. “Count on it.”
Another anonymous tip had been phoned in. Reliable? Maybe not, but it had contained enough details that they had to check it out.
As screwy as it sounded, Marinaro had allegedly been spotted at an upscale department store in Angeles Beach’s poshest district. It was the middle of the night. The store was closed.
But a young woman who worked there had been reported missing earlier that evening, and her name had been included in the tip.
This could be a hostage situation, and Trevor was ready. Really ready, as his SWAT team geared up and got into position.
Was this a trap, the payback Marinaro had threatened in his message to the media? They’d find out soon. The team leader, Carl Shavinsky, held up his gloved hand to signal the guys to get ready. As always on their missions now, Trevor was reminded of Wes Danver. How he had gestured the same way at the warehouse.
And died.
Trevor had a hard time standing still. If Marinaro was here, he would be apprehended this time, dead or alive. And Trevor knew which he preferred.
Like his team members, he aimed his modified AK-47 assault rifle toward the building. He glanced at the crowd of black-and-whites and officers waiting for their orders.
Among them was Skye, Bella at her side. Both wore protective gear.
Trevor wanted to say goodbye, in case this was his last mission. If he was shot this time, could she save him again?
Would she save him?
Right now, with his nerves on alert, he could believe almost anything, including perhaps the fact that he could kill just by commanding the suspect to die.
Once again, the current team leader went in first. No need to bust down this door. The store manager was cooperating fully. A key had been provided, the entry unlocked.
“Angeles Beach P.D.,” Carl called, his voice deeper and louder than Danver’s had been. “You here, Marinaro? We got you this time.”
Again, SWAT officers in protective gear ran in, their small microphones looped in front of their mouths, weapons ready. Their shouts were chaotic in the empty store that was dimly lit only by security lights. “Marinaro? Come out before you get hurt.”
Was the tip that had brought them here correct? Had it been from the suspect?
They stalked around display counters, pivoting often to resight their weapons. But they saw no one. Until…
“Hey!” came a shout from Trevor’s right, followed by more. “Miss? Hell, she’s been shot. Is that him? Marinaro? Drop your weapon! Now! Hell, he’s getting away!”
“See to the victim—the female,” Carl shouted, running in the direction Marinaro had probably fled.
Trevor moved forward and looked down. Behind a counter lay a beautiful young woman. Her clothing suggested she shopped here often. The amount of blood on her suggested she might have shopped here for the last time.
Rage surged through him. He’d been too late to protect her.
And Marinaro? Could he be getting away—again?
Nothing Trevor could do about that at this moment. He reached down, touched the side of the woman’s neck.
A pulse! Very faint, but…Trevor lifted his radio to demand that someone call the EMTs. But first he would call Skye.
No need. “Oh, my, there she is,” said a soft, familiar voice from beside him. He looked up. Skye stood there, Bella at her side looking edgy but staying still.
“She’s alive,” he told Skye. “Barely.”
“I know.”
“Can you save her?” he demanded.
There it was. The challenge. Could she save the woman? If she did, would he have any choice but to believe in the powers she’d professed to have?
He’d figure that out later.
“I’ll see, Trevor,” she whispered, looking him straight in the eye. “Please distract the others for now.”
Other officers had entered the store, going into areas already cleared by SWAT, looking for victims.
A couple officers approached them.
Hell, here goes, Trevor thought. “Stay back,” he commanded. “Officer Rydell is an expert on first aid.” Was that true? He didn’t really know, but it would at least get Skye where she needed to be. “Someone call the EMTs while she sees if she can help the victim.”
He watched as she knelt beside the woman. Bella backed off, almost as if she understood w
hat her partner was doing. Skye took the woman’s well-manicured hand as she closed her own lovely blue eyes. Her fair skin grew even paler as Trevor watched, and her head nodded slightly, as if in response to a rhythm only she could hear.
He realized some of the other guys were watching, so he stood. “Back off!” he ordered again. “Give them space.”
He saw Ron Gollar at the fringe of the officers. Ron nodded slightly as if he knew exactly what was going on. “Over here!” he shouted. “I think I saw a reflection from a weapon—up this escalator!”
Nearly all the officers followed him, checking behind other counters and clothing racks.
Trevor didn’t know how much time passed while he watched Skye. A minute? Several? And then the injured woman started to gasp for air.
“Hey, is she okay?” one of the other officers said, and as everyone turned to look Trevor kept them from getting closer.
The EMTs soon arrived and took over from Skye. She rose, looking as weak as if she had handed the woman some of her own life force. Was that how she did it?
He didn’t know, but he was going to find out.
He approached and put an arm around her, trying to make it look more like a friendly gesture to a comrade in arms than the hug he intended. “Are you all right?” he whispered.
“I am now.” Skye’s voice was soft and hoarse. “She wasn’t as close as you were, but she could have gone either way.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “She’s a nice lady. Hardworking. Has a young family and a lot left to do with her life. It only took a moment for me to decide to save her.”
Would the woman have survived anyway? Maybe, but Trevor didn’t think so. He wanted to hear more. A lot more.
“Good job, Officer Rydell,” he told her with a smile. “How about grabbing dinner with me later, when we’re off duty?” He waited, unhappy that he felt so nervous about her reply.
“All right, Trevor,” she finally said.
And it was all he could do not to kiss her right there.
Marinaro had gotten away through the store’s honeycomb of exits and loading docks. The SWAT guys and others had been questioned and reprimanded by their superiors, and then had to cooperate in a press conference where the latest incident was discussed and the cooperation of citizens was requested to find this armed and dangerous suspect.
Dellos had all but taken charge of the inquisition. Skye had gone home and watched it on TV. The guy seemed to love rubbing the ABPD’s nose in its failures, especially those regarding Marinaro.
Skye was sure Trevor wouldn’t be in the best of moods when he finally joined Bella and her at the outdoor patio of the hamburger joint nearest to the station. But fast and informal was what they both needed now.
She was looking forward to Trevor’s admission that she had, in fact, passed the test.
Skye hadn’t really minded Trevor’s scrutiny as she helped the victim survive. The woman’s spirit had already arrived on the rainbow bridge, but she hadn’t had to work hard to bring her back. And as she’d told Trevor, her decision had been easy this time. The victim had a loving husband and babies at home. She was a manager at the department store where she’d been attacked, which was why she’d been there so late.
Fortunately, she had described her attacker. Definitely Marinaro. In fact, he’d even given her his name.
“Just so you know,” he’d said to her. “Someone’s been imitating me. But I’m for real. Too bad you won’t be alive to report it—but I’ll make sure the damned cops learn their lesson.” That had been after the sexual assault…And then he’d shot the woman.
“Hi,” said the deep voice Skye was coming to love. She looked up to see Trevor. He wore the gray sweats of the SWAT team training outfit, and he looked exhausted.
As he bent to pat Bella, Skye said, “Sit down and tell me what you want. I’ll go get it for you.”
“What I want,” he told her, standing and drawing her to her feet, “is you.”
Much later, Skye looked over toward Trevor. He lay on top of her sheets, breathing hard, with the sexiest grin on his face.
For someone as exhausted as he was, he’d done wonders, first with his caresses and kisses, which made her nearly crazy with craving him, and then with satisfying her—more than once.
She couldn’t help grinning back. Maybe foolishly. But this man did things to her in ways she couldn’t explain, even to herself.
She was in love.
But before she could say anything, he reached down and pulled her burgundy-colored sheets over both of them. “Okay,” he said, “you convinced me today—although I think I knew the truth even before. And if you can save lives that way, I have to believe your explanation of how I killed Edinger. I need to know how to deal with that power.”
She nodded, her hair moving along the pillow where her head lay. “Just be aware of it,” she told him. “Be sure you only use it when you have to. I trust you, Trevor. I don’t think you’d hurt anyone indiscriminately, but—”
“Not if it made me look bad in your eyes, Skye,” he said, bending toward her. As his mouth met hers as it had so many times this night, she shivered in delight as she heard him whisper, “I love you.”
And as she told him she loved him, too, he began once more to touch her body intimately, lovingly, exquisitely…and for an additional time that night, she succumbed to the passion of being one with Trevor Owens.
Chapter 18
“A nd you believed him?” Hayley sounded completely dubious.
Skye sat on the sleek red sofa bed she had picked up at a large chain store that sold mostly Scandinavian products. She held her phone’s portable handset up to her ear with one hand as she scratched Bella’s tummy with the other. Her favorite classical music CD played softly in the background.
“Yes,” she responded quietly. “I believe he won’t abuse the power.” She’d just told Hayley about how Trevor helped shield her at the crime scene the previous day.
But she didn’t explain that Trevor’s promise of caution had been made between phenomenal bouts of lovemaking.
“Well, the whole thing’s pretty amazing,” Hayley continued. “After all these years dealing with our own abilities, I guess we’ve seen enough not to discount anything that’s supposedly a myth of our culture. But a guy getting any power at all, when we’re used to it being a women-only thing? Scary. Especially that kind of power, conveyed without intent but because of a sexual connection.” She paused. “So how is he in bed? I assume you’re still connected to each other that way.”
“I’ll let you make whatever assumptions you want.” Skye felt embarrassed despite the fact that Hayley was one of her oldest friends. Her change in mood must have been obvious to Bella, since the Malinois rolled to a sitting position beside her on the sofa and whined.
“Well, let me know if he has any friends whose lives need to be saved. My love life needs an upgrade.”
“Good night, Hayley,” Skye said with a laugh, then hung up.
Her timing couldn’t have been better. The doorbell rang, and Bella started barking. Skye hurried to answer the door. She knew exactly who stood there, waiting to come in.
She threw the door open and enjoyed the lustful grin he leveled on her. “Hello, Skye,” Trevor said in the sexiest tone she had ever heard. His dark, sensual eyes took in her body as if she’d stripped to greet him.
She was immediately engulfed in his arms. His hard body against her curves nearly turned her legs to the consistency of sand.
“Come in,” she managed to gasp as his lips engaged hers in one of the hot, sexy kisses she had already come to love.
And he did.
The next week was heavenly beyond Skye’s most imaginative dreams. Nothing especially exciting occurred during her times on duty, which didn’t always coincide with Trevor’s. And when they ran into each other at the station, they behaved with utmost circumspection—though she wanted to jump his bones right there.
But nighttimes…Whenever possible, they spen
t them together. In her bed, his, it didn’t matter.
Skye had fallen for Trevor as hard as a woman could. This had to be the reason she’d felt a connection with him when she had found him dying.
The love they now shared had to be the reason she had been compelled to bring him back.
Everything was wonderful, and Skye was happier than she had ever been.
She knew it was too good to last.
The 911 call had come in about an hour ago—at one o’clock in the morning. SWAT was immediately deployed, since the woman who’d called had whispered that someone was after her. She gave the address of this rambling, three-story warehouse a mile closer to the ocean than the one where Danver had been killed and Trevor wounded. Had it only been six weeks ago? It felt like months to Trevor. A lifetime.
A lifetime changed irrevocably by that night when he was introduced to Skye and her amazing powers.
Powers he now believed in.
Powers he now, perhaps, shared—to some extent.
Along with the other SWAT team members at the scene, Trevor scrambled into his protective gear. They had assembled behind the big black van glistening under the artificial light in the alley, which was now filled with black-and-whites and the officers on duty who would follow SWAT in once they had control of the warehouse.
And the suspect. And, hopefully, a living, breathing, rescued victim.
Trevor heard a screech of brakes and peered around the edge of the van. A vehicle skidded to a stop at the perimeter of the scene. A news van?
“Keep the civilians back!” shouted Shavinsky. Trevor wanted to shout himself, or kick some butt, as Dellos exited the van with a microphone in his hand. Was he already on the air? Trashing the ABPD yet again?
Where were the officers who dealt with crowd control? Trevor didn’t see Ron Gollar. A couple of K-9 officers were there, at least, including Manny Igoa and his dog, Rusty. They headed toward the news van, and Trevor heard the loud protestations of Dellos, who was probably on the air so he could claim police interference with First Amendment rights or something equally inflammatory.
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