Shiver

by Cynthia Cooke

  The French doors leading into the kitchen opened easily beneath his touch. Slowly, he moved through the living room until he stood outside her closed door. He paused to listen, then crept into the room.

  The cat looked up, startled. Yellow eyes glimmered in the narrow beam of his light before it darted through the door. She slept fitfully, tossing and turning, her hand clutching a corner of the pillow. So beautiful. She murmured as he reached for her cheek. She turned her head away from him.

  “Peekaboo, Devra.”

  She didn’t wake. That was okay. It wasn’t time yet; she wasn’t where he wanted her to be. He left her, taking his time as he walked through the living room, touching, his long fingers lingering. The door to the cop’s room was opened wide. Moonlight seeped in from the window, betraying a mound beneath the blankets where the arrogant cop lay sleeping.

  His knife flashed in the dim light, moving closer….

  SCREAMS ERUPTED through the house. Riley bolted upright, his heart pounding, his head thundering. Tangled in the blankets, he almost fell out of bed. Finding his footing, he ran to Devra’s room. “What is it?” he demanded as he burst through the doorway. “What happened?”

  In the middle of the bed, Devra sat with her arms clutching her knees against her chest. “Someone’s in the house,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

  “Don’t move.” He checked her bathroom, her closet, then did a quick sweep of the house. There was no one. No sign that anyone had been there. He hurried back to her room. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “No one is here.”

  “Did you check your room?” she asked hesitantly.

  Confused, he nodded. She released a deep breath and leaned back against the headboard. “I’m sorry. I guess I had another nightmare.”

  “It must have been some nightmare.” He sat on the edge of her bed. “Are you all right? Do you need anything?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “You seem pretty shook up. What was it about?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she hedged.

  “Sometimes it helps to talk these things out,” he offered. “Otherwise, you may never get back to sleep. And neither will I.”

  She smiled. It was an embarrassed smile, small and unassuming. He liked it. He also liked the way her hair looked all mussed and draped over her shoulders. She looked soft and vulnerable. And desirable. The smooth and enticing curves of her breasts were clearly outlined through her yellow T-shirt. He forced his gaze back to her face, before his thoughts became abundantly clear through the thin cotton of his boxer shorts.

  “Is it possible someone could have entered through the French doors in the kitchen?” The tone of her voice sounded soft, casual, but the sharp gleam in her eyes set him on edge.

  “I’ll double-check and make sure the doors are locked, though we’re pretty secure out here. We close the gates at night.”

  Devra nodded.

  “Anything else you’d like to tell me?”

  She straightened the covers over her lap, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “Let me help you,” he said softly.

  She looked up, her blue eyes locking on his. She wanted to tell him, wanted his help, he could read that need clearly on her face. If only she’d open up.

  “I’m sure you were right. It was only a bad dream.”

  “And if I wasn’t right? If it wasn’t only a dream?”

  For a moment she was silent, then she gave a reluctant sigh. “I dreamed someone was in the house, in this room watching me sleep.” She brought her fingers to her cheek. “He touched me and said…something.” Her scared gaze caught his. “I can’t remember.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Then what happened?”

  “He had a small flashlight.” She looked around the room. “He shined the light on Felix and scared him out of the room. Felix!” she called.

  “He must have gone out when I came in,” Riley said. “What then?”

  “He went to your room.” She hesitated. “He watched you sleeping.” She looked up at him, a slight tinge coloring her cheeks.

  She’d been dreaming about him. He felt a smile lift the corners of his mouth as he wondered exactly what his role in her dream had been.

  “When I saw the knife, I woke up screaming. He was going to kill you, I know it.”

  Riley’s smile dropped. “You don’t sleepwalk, do you?”

  “Not that I know of.” She looked grim. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  “How about some water?”

  She nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

  Riley walked into the kitchen, trying to determine what it was about her story that was nagging at him, or, better yet, what about her story didn’t bother him. Felix was sitting in front of the French doors staring out into the night. Riley stood behind him, trying to pinpoint what had the cat so captivated, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  He turned the bolt on the door, locking it. “Come on, big guy.” He picked up Felix, grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and returned to Devra’s room.

  “Felix!” she called and reached for the cat. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “You’re welcome. I think he wanted out, but it isn’t safe for cats out there at night. Are you going to be okay?”

  She nodded, offering him another sleepy smile.

  “Then go back to sleep and no more dreams,” he ordered. He shut her door and was back in bed and halfway to sleep before he realized what had been nagging him. He hadn’t let Felix out of her room. Her door had already been open when he’d arrived.

  Chapter Six

  Riley’s hands stroked her hair. His index finger blazed a trail across her lips, down the column of her neck to rest in the hollow of her throat. He was looking at her, those rich brown eyes boring a hole right through her and awakening sensations that had been dormant for most of her life.

  Then he kissed her.

  It was warm, lingering, soft.

  He touched her.

  As she’d never been touched before.

  He whispered her name. “Devra.”

  Hot fire ran like molten lava through her veins. She twined her arms around his neck pulling him down. “Oh, Riley,” she whispered.

  He stiffened.

  She opened her eyes, but it wasn’t Riley staring back at her, it was Tommy.

  She gasped.

  His eyes rolled into the back of his head. She felt something wet and sticky and looked down. Blood. So much blood.

  She tried to scream, but it caught in her throat, choking her. He fell forward onto her, his heavy weight pushing her down. Cold water rushed over her face and ran into her mouth, filling her lungs.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  A strange peacefulness seeped through her. She no longer felt the cold, she just felt tired. She looked up through the rushing water at the tall dark figure coming toward her.

  Riley.

  Devra gasped and awoke.

  She stared at the ceiling, her pulse racing, her breath coming in quick breaths. Oh, Lord. She’d been dreaming! She sat straight up and shuddered. Her subconscious was trying to tell her something. But what? When would Tommy stop haunting her? When could she ever have a normal life, with normal reactions? When would she ever be able to meet a man without wondering if he was an enemy? Would he hurt her?

  She stood under the hot spray of the shower, trying unsuccessfully not to think about this dream that was unlike any she’d had before. While it had the lifelike clarity and same physical stimuli that her “visions” had, this was no vision.

  There was no victim. Except for her?

  But she wasn’t seeing herself being killed. There was only her…and Riley. And so much blood.

  Hers? Tommy’s? Riley’s?

  A sliver of dread bored into her as she dressed. Were her visions changing? Was she seeing what could happen, instead of what was happening? She shook her head. Her vision of the intruder last night had
been real. Her monster had been right here in this house, in this room.

  How had he found her again? Riley would have been killed, if she hadn’t woken. She had to get away from here, but where could she go? The killer found her so quickly this time. She was running out of options. And worse, she was running out of hope.

  She walked into the kitchen.

  “Good, you’re up,” Riley said and pulled a mug out of the cabinet. “Sit down and have a cup of coffee. We need to talk.”

  She agreed.

  “I think you were right,” he said. “I think someone could have been in the house last night.”

  She took a deep gulp from her cup. Was he starting to believe her?

  “When I came home your door had been shut, but later after you woke from your dream, I realized your door was open. Had you gotten up for any reason and perhaps left your door open?”

  “No.”

  His dark eyes narrowed in contemplation.

  She fidgeted under the scrutiny.

  “Then your nightmare might very well have saved my life.”

  Surprise caught in her throat. “Then you believe me?”

  “If it’s true that you dreamed someone was in the house and, in fact, someone was, then it’s not too far off the mark to believe that someone had also been stand ing over my bed with a knife in his hand. Or that he followed us when we left your house yesterday. Your safety here has been compromised.”

  “I agree. What can I do?”

  “Be extra careful.”

  She nodded. “And?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let it happen again.”

  Okay, not exactly what she expected to hear. What if he wasn’t as all-powerful as he thought he was?

  “I won’t let you out of my sight. Nothing is going to happen to you on my watch.”

  Warmth crept up her throat at the thought of his full attention focused solely on her, while anxiety twisted and turned in her stomach. Now he’d start questioning her, wanting every detail of her visions—where they came from and how. If only she knew.

  “Hope you’re hungry,” he said.

  “Starved,” she admitted, and wondered where the third degree was. Did he really believe her? She stared at his back, trying to figure him out. Instead, all she thought was how could someone look so sexy scrambling eggs? The strong muscles in his shoulders rippled as he slid the rubber spatula beneath the eggs and flipped them.

  He turned, placing bowls of steaming eggs, potatoes, bacon and grits in front of her. She’d been so focused on him, she hadn’t seen the abundance of food he’d prepared. “Wow,” she breathed. “This is impressive.”

  “When you’re a bachelor, you either learn to cook or starve. I don’t like to go hungry.”

  She could see that. In fact, she was sure he didn’t deprive himself of anything.

  “Shouldn’t we find somewhere else to stay?”

  “And miss a great opportunity to catch this guy on my home turf? Not on your life.”

  Eyes wide, Devra looked up, a forkful of eggs midway to her mouth. But wasn’t that what they were talking about? Her life? “I guess you know best,” she said feeling more than a touch confused.

  “Don’t worry. As long as I’m around nothing will happen to you.”

  His confidence was not comforting. There was something about the look in his eyes that sent warning lights flashing through her mind.

  A piercing scream filled the morning air. Devra dropped her fork. Riley was up and running out the door. She hesitated for only a second, then was running after him. Riley entered the barn, just as she rounded the house. She rushed forward, then slowed near the opening as she heard loud, heart-wrenching sobs that reached inside her and grabbed hold of her heart.

  Tentatively, she entered the barn. LuAnn was on the ground, her face buried in the fur of one of her dogs. Both arms were opened wide and wrapped around the still bodies of two other dogs. Riley bent near the form of the fourth. Devra’s throat tightened, squeezing off her breath.

  “It’s okay,” Riley said softly. LuAnn looked up at him, her face wet and swollen. “They’ve been drugged, but they’re not dead. Just sleeping.”

  “But why?” she asked. “Why would anyone do that?”

  Riley looked up, catching Devra’s eye. LuAnn turned to her and gave a little cry, her eyes widening with shock. “No,” she moaned and shook her head.

  “It’s okay, LuAnn. It’s only Devra. Remember, you met her yesterday.”

  She looked up again—eyes narrowing, lips drawing tight. “She looks so much like Michelle. I don’t understand.”

  He went to her side and offered his hand. “I’m going to take you back to the house.” He helped her stand. “The dogs are going to be all right. I’ll call Dr. Williams once we get there.”

  She nodded and patted his hand. “Thank you, Riley.” But before they’d gone two steps, she stopped and turned back to the horse stalls behind her. She left Riley’s side and ran to the stalls. A deep cry escaped her.

  “What is it?” Riley asked, his voice filled with anxiety.

  “Storm. He’s gone.”

  “TONY,” RILEY SAID softly as his partner answered the line. “I need you to do me a favor and check with the phone company to see if any calls were placed from my house last night.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  “We’ve had an intruder. LuAnn’s prized stallion is missing and the dogs were drugged.”

  “You think Miss Morgan had something to do with it?”

  “I don’t know what to think.”

  “I think you should find the lady a nice hotel.”

  “Not yet. But do me a favor and see if she has a cell phone.”

  “Your call. She could be a total whack job. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Riley couldn’t get the image of someone standing over his bed wielding a knife out of his mind. What if it had been her? What if she were completely insane? He couldn’t get a handle on why a serial killer who was allegedly after Devra would go after him or steal a horse. It made no sense.

  “So do I, Tony.”

  CAUTIOUSLY, DEVRA walked farther into the barn.

  Riley had taken LuAnn back to his house to call the veterinarian. She was all alone, and more than a little jumpy. So much for never letting her out of his sight. She watched the shallow breathing of the four dogs lying on the ground and hoped they’d make it.

  She stopped in front of the first stall where she read the sign above the door. Babe. “Hello, Babe,” she crooned. The horse’s ears wiggled. She reached out a hesitant finger and stroked his long nose. From her dream, she remembered gloved hands reaching into a stall and big, scared brown eyes. Why would he steal LuAnn’s horse?

  “He was Michelle’s favorite.”

  Devra spun. Mac stood close enough to touch. Her heart jumped in her chest. She stepped back against Babe’s gate. Mac reached forward and took a blond curl in his grasp, letting it wrap loosely around his finger.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, hoping to appease the anger she could still see burning in his eyes.

  He dropped the curl. His dark eyes perused her face, then moved slowly down her body. “Too bad about the dogs.”

  “Yeah,” Devra said nervously. What was it about him that seemed so familiar?

  “What do you think happened here?”

  “I don’t know,” she muttered, and suddenly started to feel dizzy. The horse’s wet nose slid against her neck.

  She jumped forward, tripping. Mac caught her by the arms, his strong grasp holding her upright—a little too strong, a little too tight.

  Babe whinnied behind her.

  “What do you want?” she asked, afraid to look into those dark, rage-filled eyes.

  His lips curled upward.

  “What’s going on?” Riley asked from the doorway.

  “Just getting acquainted with your friend here.” The contemptuous gleam of animosity dimmed to a cold dead hate.

/>   Devra shivered.

  “Dr. Williams is on his way,” Riley said, walking into the barn.

  Mac turned and left without saying another word.

  “Are you all right?” Riley asked.

  She nodded, though she wasn’t. She wasn’t anywhere near all right.

  Riley reached behind her to open Babe’s stall. She watched his large deft hands slip the bridle over the horse’s head. “I see you’ve met Babe,” he said and hefted a large leather saddle onto Babe’s back, lifted the flaps and tightened the straps. He appeared so strong and sure of himself, so in control. “He’s a gentle horse.” He turned and met her eye. “He’ll take good care of you.”

  She didn’t answer, just stood staring at him. “What do you mean, take good care of me?”

  “We’re going for a little ride.”

  “Oh, no,” she said, backing away from the beast. “I don’t think so.”

  “We’re going after Storm. Unless you’d rather stay here with my brother. I won’t leave you by yourself.”

  Devra looked out the barn’s opening, but didn’t see a sign of Mac. “And you think I’d be safe with him?”

  Riley looked at her, a strange speculative sheen in his eyes. “My brother isn’t dangerous.”

  “Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.

  “Stand on this,” he said and gestured toward a polished stump, “then throw your leg up and over his back.”

  She knew this wasn’t a good idea, but she wasn’t about to stay there with Mac. She stepped up onto the stump as he instructed, except at the last minute Babe shifted just as she extended her leg over his saddle. “Oh!” she cried, and grabbed the saddle’s horn.

  With a firm grip on her shoulder and another on her rear, Riley gave her a push, righting her up on Babe’s back. As she settled herself in the saddle, she could still feel the burning impression of Riley’s grasp on her jeans. “Lord,” she whispered. What kind of fool was she?

  Riley took Babe’s reins and led him around a tree. Devra clung to the horse’s back, her legs holding a death grip on Babe’s ribs, as she became accustomed to his height. “I don’t know about this,” she stammered. “I’ve never been on a horse before. Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea.” Perhaps Mac wasn’t as dangerous as he appeared.