Despite being a nervous wreck, Tori knew they had to do it.
Now, it was going to be about getting her husband to do it.
“Where’s Julian?” she asked, looking around the space. It appeared that she was still in the one bedroom, but her husband was nowhere to be found.
“He’s in a panic right beside you. He’s just finished cursing up a storm,” Bethany stated, grinning like a child.
“Next time, do you have to pull me under?” Tori asked. “Isn’t there a way to talk to me without all this drama? I can hear the music, so can’t you take it easy on him? If you want him to help, he needs to stay calm.”
“I can talk to you anytime. Once you hear the music, you’ll hear me. I just can’t do it that way for long. This takes up less energy, believe it or not.”
“Let’s try to cut back on this. It scares him.”
“And you, Tori?”
“I’m getting used to it. It’s better than a blackout. I don’t feel out of control.”
Bethany began backing away.
“Find out what you can from the victims. We’ll help them.”
Before she shimmered away, Tori heard her voice once more.
“Get the other man to help. He can find things for you,” she whispered.
Tori tried to figure out what that meant, but she was already slipping back through the gray and into the present time. She made a mental note to ask her husband what the hell it meant.
After she calmed him down.
Julian was losing it. He’d tried kissing her. Calling to Tori, and even dragging her out of the room. Nothing was working. It was making his stomach churn wickedly.
Just as he was about to do what he threatened, tossing her over his shoulder, Tori began to surface.
Opening her eyes, she was faced with a very freaked out husband.
“Victoria! Are you okay? What the hell was that?” he demanded.
Tori reached over to tuck some strands of hair behind his ears. She could see he was all riled up and needed the calming reassurance.
“It’s okay, Jules. I’m fine.”
He wasn’t nearly as convinced or calm. Immediately, his hand went to her belly. “Is she…”
“Yep, our daughter is fine.”
He let out the breath he was holding. “Thank God.”
“You blacked out, and I couldn’t get you back. It’s been a while since you did that.”
“It wasn’t a blackout.”
He stared at her.
“What was it then?”
It was time to be honest.
“When I was in the hospital and out cold, I saw Bethany. She told me that I was blessed with a new gift.”
Julian didn’t like where this was heading.
“Okay, and?”
“I am a conduit of sorts between the living and the dead.”
Yep, he hated this.
“What?”
She told him about their last conversation, leaving nothing out. She told him about Bethany not being gone, the six dead spirits in the house, and the danger lurking there.
He’d had enough.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he headed toward the door. “We’re going home. I warned you that I was on the edge. This was my breaking point. You never told me! This was something you should have shared.”
She grabbed the molding as he tried to exit the room. “If we go, they’re going to follow me. They know I can hear them. If we leave here, they’ll still be with me. It won’t change anything.”
He sighed, stopping in place.
“Shit.”
“We can help them, Jules. We have to do it.”
He knew she was right. “You should have told me about this. When my wife hears from a ghost that she’s going to be able to commune with the dead, I should have been the first to know.”
“It’s creepy.”
Julian looked over. “It’s dangerous. I don’t care about the creepy. I’m worried about you and the baby.”
“I’ll be safe, but I’m concerned about one thing,” she said, as he put her back onto her feet.
“What?”
“Bethany, as she was leaving, said that the other man could help me. How can Beckett help?”
He thought about it. “I may have not been completely honest with you either, Tori.”
She stared at him. “You need to explain, and fast.”
Julian sat on the end of the bed and told her all about Beckett, the corridor, and when he picked up Bethany’s skull from the makeshift casket.
“Oh wow.”
“I had to look it up. Apparently, there’s a cognitive gift called Psychometry. It said online that it was different for everyone, but I think he’s seeing things. You should have seen his face that day. The second his hand touched that skull, he was gone, just like you. I think he’s like Vivian.”
“And me.”
Julian had no choice but to accept it. “Yes, and like you.”
“Has he told you about it?”
Julian shook his head. “Until now, I haven’t said a word. This is his secret. If he wanted us to know, don’t you think he’d tell us?”
She figured that he was right.
“What do we do?” Tori asked. “Bethany said he could help us.”
Julian thought about it. “Maybe we should tell Claire. She’s his partner. What if we got her to reassure him that we can use his skill?”
That didn’t sound like a good idea.
“Jules, maybe you should handle it. We both know Claire likes him. This is going to put her in a tricky position.”
He was well aware.
“Okay. I’ll find the time to do it. How hard can it be to ask someone if they’re hiding a psychic gift?”
Tori started laughing.
“Yeah, I’m glad this one is on you and not me. That is going to be one hell of an awkward conversation.”
He was well aware.
* * *
It all happened so damn fast.
Claire was up on the ladder and suddenly Beckett was gone. He’d checked out mid conversation, all the while holding the antique letter opener.
On the outside, he appeared to be frozen solid. The man just stopped moving with the object clutched in his hand.
She recalled the issue in the car when he touched her ring.
Something had to be wrong.
This was odd.
Rushing down the ladder and toward him, Claire reached his side. Staring up into his eyes, they were vacant but filled with terror.
It was like he was in a coma, trapped inside his body.
“Beckett,” she called, trying to get his attention. Touching his flesh, a chill raced through her.
She was confused as hell as her heart began pounding.
This was definitely wrong.
Since she’d never dealt with anything like this before, Claire wasn’t sure what to do. The man wasn’t responding--like in the car. Instead of calling to him, she went into his body, hugging him to her. Hopefully, he’d use some of her warmth.
“Beckett,” she called once more. “I need you to come back to me. Follow my voice. I know you can hear me. Come on, Beckett. I need you.”
He didn’t move. His only motion was when his lips parted slightly to release a breath.
Claire stared at them and knew she had one option left. Going up on her toes, she placed her mouth over his to share a kiss. If this didn’t work, she was going to have to get Julian and Tori.
She was at a loss.
And scared.
Something was definitely wrong with Beckett Rand.
He was lost.
The darkness closed in on him, and he was suffocating in the fear. It had him by the throat, so tight, that he couldn’t even scream for help.
As the visions assaulted him, Beckett had no choice but to live through them. He could see one woman being brutally hacked to pieces with the letter opener in his hand.
She screamed in pain as the killer took he
r life.
He was forced to watch as life ebbed from her and onto the library floor.
Beckett wanted nothing more than to escape. The visions of death were taking him deeper. He’d only gone this deep once before, and it ended up with him in the hospital and a coma.
He couldn’t breathe.
If he wanted to survive, he needed to get out. As the killer’s cloaked form turned toward him, the dagger was in his hand.
Now, it was ready to strike again.
Beckett screamed, knowing no one would hear him. The only sound to escape his lips would be that one held breath. There was no doubt in his mind that he was screwed.
No--it was far worse. He was dead.
Just as he was ready to accept what was going to happen, he could smell her. He swore that Claire’s scent was permeating the dark.
How?
Then, he could taste her.
The lip gloss she’d been wearing filled his senses. He was suddenly wrapped in a fruity wave of flavor.
Why?
Last, he could focus on his sense of touch. Claire was against him, sharing her warmth.
Then her voice called to him.
Beckett used that as his anchor to reality. Following it back, he let the sunlight, that was Claire, save him.
Just as he reached the surface, he could feel her mouth moving over his. No longer was he frozen. Instead, his body was on autopilot, and he was kissing her.
It was heaven.
He’d always wondered what it would be like. It had been a long five years without the touch of the opposite sex. Living the life of a monk was hell, but this had been worth it.
She was perfect.
Slowly, the warmth returned to his body, as the letter opener fell from his hand. His palm went to her back, pressing her even closer.
Beckett allowed himself a few more seconds of peace after being gripped in the crushing fear. God knew he needed it.
What filled him was like nothing he’d felt before. In that moment, Beckett knew he needed this more than he needed to breathe.
Claire fell into the kiss. At first, she suspected that it was like kissing a lifeless corpse. Then, his lips answered her call. Slowly, tenderly, and with emotion, Beckett gave in.
It thrilled her.
It gave Claire hope.
From the way he was holding her, it was apparent that he didn’t hate being near her. No man kissed a woman like this when he didn’t like her. She could feel the heat from her lips to her toes.
It was hot.
Holy shit!
It was scorching.
Her fingers found his hair, and she allowed herself the gentle slide of her hands through the black silkiness. When he didn’t stop her, or protest, Claire held on.
Beckett moaned.
Forget heaven. He’d been wrong. Kissing Claire was pure torture. This was exactly why he didn’t touch her. It was why he kept his distance. He knew that the second they did this, he was going to have a hard time battling back.
Now he wanted her more than living, breathing, or eating. In that second of need, Claire Littlemoon had become the one person who could destroy him.
Shit!
The overwhelming fear caused him to retreat.
Slowly, he freed his lips from hers.
Neither spoke.
Not for a few seconds. Both were too focused on the heat and heavy breathing.
Finally, she had to know. “Beckett, are you okay?” she asked, still clinging to the man against her.
He stared down into her eyes, trying to gauge what would happen next. There was concern and lust, but no fear.
Well, there was one good thing. She wasn’t going to run screaming from the room. At least he had that, right?
“I’m fine.”
He tried to get her off his body, but she wouldn’t relinquish her hold. Okay, maybe it was a half-hearted attempt. After all, the sensation was amazing.
“What happened?” Claire asked.
“I can’t,” he stated, knowing that if he said the words, he was screwed. He’d done this once before with a woman who supposedly loved him. The admission he’d made drove a wedge between them before causing her to stray.
It ended everything he had.
If he said it again, history would repeat itself.
“You can tell me.”
He shook his head, once more trying to move away from her.
“I can’t, Claire. Please. I can’t.”
It was all she could take. His eyes were those of a scared, wounded animal, and it hurt her. Taking his face in her palms, Claire forced him to stare into her eyes. “Beckett, you’re carrying something too heavy. Tell me. Let me help you bear it.”
He needed to escape.
God! He had to go.
She wouldn’t relent. Taking a chance, she leaned in and brushed her lips against his. “Let me help you,” she whispered. “Let me save you, Beck.”
His heart quaked at the gentle action, and the use of a nickname his brother used to call him.
“Tell me. I can see you’re upset.”
They were the same words that his ex had used right before he told her. The anger swelled, and he became bitter and wounded. Here it went again.
History was destined to break him.
For a brief second, he’d found peace in her arms.
He loved the way she felt.
Too much.
He loved the way she smelled.
Too much.
Now it was about to end. God help him, he was going to share his burden once more.
“I’m a freak, okay, Claire? I carry a horrible curse inside me. The day my brother died, I caused the accident. I played recklessly with his life. Now, I have to carry this demon in me.”
She didn’t back away.
“Go ahead, Beck. I have you,” she promised, trying to remain against his body. It wasn’t easy. Everything in him was coiled tight as he poised to strike, defending himself.
“I can feel the energy in objects. I sometimes see flashes of what happened with them. That letter opener killed someone,” he admitted. “It’s called psychometry. It’s my dirty secret.”
He waited for her to say more.
“Like in the car, with the ring?” she asked.
He nodded. If he wasn’t pressed between her and the desk, he would have bolted out the door and into the unknown to escape her.
“The visions hurt when I fall into them. Usually, it pulls me under.”
She took off her ring and placed it on the desk. Then, she went back to gently touching his cheek. “Better?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m a freak. I have to go.”
Once more, he tried to break away, but Claire wasn’t letting that happen. She didn’t doubt that if he made it to the door, he’d never come back.
She didn’t want that.
“You’re not a freak, Beck. You’re far from it.”
She moved back toward him, now that he’d put space between them. Again, he was trapped between her and the wall of books.
“Is this why you’ve been mean to me?” she asked, needing to know. “Is this why you scowl at me?”
“I was married. I told my wife. She didn’t …let’s just say she didn’t react well.”
That broke her heart.
“I’m not her,” she offered.
He wanted to believe that, but he couldn’t. The hurt was still here. It was so close to the surface, threatening to break him even more.
“I’m not her, Beck. I’m me. I don’t think you’re a freak. What can I do to make you see that I won’t hurt you like she did?”
He didn’t know.
For the last five years, he always expected the worst.
Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the big leather sofa. “Can you sit on it?” she asked, not sure if it was safe.
“Yes. It’s fine,” he stated, not feeling anything coming from it.
He sat, and to his surprise, she didn’t take a spot
beside him, but instead in his lap.
His heart began pounding.
Claire took a chance. Now that she knew he didn’t loathe being near her, she had to find out more. Curiosity was killing her, and sitting in his lap was better than she ever imagined.
“Tell me about your gift.”
“Curse.”
She didn’t correct him. Beckett Rand was a tough man. Just showing this much weakness had to be killing him. He’d been a rough and tumble lawman, and now his soul was there for her to see.
Claire let him have his way.
“You know how people believe that when you die, if it was a violent death, your energy remains behind?” he stated.
She nodded. “Yes, like when ghosts haunt a house. Do you mean like that?”
“Yes. Well, when an object has that same bad energy tied to it, I can pick it up. At first, it started as small flashes. Now, as of late, it’s full blown visions. The first bad one was when I met your brother and sister-in-law. They found that skeleton and I touched her. Immediately, I saw her death.”
“Oh, Beck,” she said,
When he flinched at the use of his nickname, she stared into his eyes. “Does me calling you that bother you? I can stop.”
It did and didn’t.
That nickname was something so sacred and personal, yet it didn’t feel bad when she used it. It sounded like heaven on her lips.
“No, you can. I just haven’t heard it for a while.”
She ran her fingers down his cheekbone. Yeah, there was some Native in there, she’d bet on it.
It made him sexy as sin.
“Keep going,” she offered.
“They’ve been getting worse and worse. It’s to the point now that I can’t touch anything old. I’m worried that it’s going to consume me.” While it terrified him to share his fears, he’d already begun and there was no going back.
“How did I get you back?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know how you did it. No one, including myself, ever can.” It had to mean something, right?
Claire had brought him back into the light.
“We’ll get through this. Don’t worry,” she offered. “I’ll go get Julian, and we’ll discuss it.”
“NO!” He was up and Claire was forced from his lap.
Unthinkable Games (LIttlemoon Investigations Book 3) Page 9