by Paula Graves
Time stood still.
Then he bent his head again, closing his lips over hers.
This kiss was different from any they’d shared before. It was slower, more thorough. Lingering, nipping, suckling. He brushed her chin, her cheeks with his lips, planted soft, sweet kisses on her eyelids and the tip of her nose. Her heart swelled, snared in the flood of passion sweeping over them.
McBride closed his hand over her breast, his palm circling gently, stroking her through her T-shirt. She moaned as her nipple tightened in response.
He rose over her, gazing down at her as if to memorize every freckle, every eyelash, every tiny line of her face. In his desire-darkened eyes, she saw her own reflection, the tangled hair and passion-drunk eyes of a woman falling in love.
He lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, tenderly. Her lips softened. Heat spread through her in great, velvety waves.
Suddenly, something hit McBride from behind with surprising force, and he drew away from her, uttering a loud oath. Lily blinked with surprise and found herself looking up at two sets of eyes—McBride’s and Jezebel’s.
He rolled away from her, the cat clinging to his shoulder. Lily scrambled to her knees and reached for the feline. “Jezzy, no!”
Jezebel clung for another moment, then released her death grip and bounded away. McBride reached over his shoulder, his fingers probing the small tears the cat’s claws had left in his cotton dress shirt.
Lily gazed at the torn cloth with horror. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over her. She never acts that way.”
He rubbed his shoulder, looking more frustrated than angry. “Probably thought I was trying to hurt you.”
She put her hands on his shoulders, turning him so that she could check his wounds. “Cats aren’t like Lassie. They figure we can take care of ourselves.” Her lips curved. “But they are territorial. She’s usually the one on top of me.”
McBride looked toward the windowsill, where Jezebel sat like an Egyptian statue, turquoise eyes glaring at him. “Sorry.”
Lily laughed softly and rose from the sofa. “I have some antibiotic ointment in the bathroom.”
By the time she got back, he had his shirt off. She’d known he was muscular, but the shirt had hidden just how well built he really was. He was leaner than she’d expected, his muscles well defined but not bulky.
She crossed to him, ointment in hand, wondering how she could possibly touch him again without throwing him back down on the sofa. Somehow she managed to apply the ointment to his scratches without letting her hands wander. “There.”
He looked at her, his eyes dark with lingering passion. She touched his cheek, her heart squeezing as he rubbed his face against her palm and pressed his lips against the fleshy part of her thumb.
She cradled his head and bent to kiss him.
But he gently pulled away, rising from the sofa. “I realize it’s a little late to remember this, but I’m still on duty.” He lifted her hands to his lips, kissed her knuckles lightly and took a step away from her. “How are you going to get to work Monday?”
“I guess I need to rent a car.” She should have done it while Rose was here to drive her around.
He shook his head. “I’ll drive you to work Monday and we can see about renting a car that afternoon when I pick you up. What time do you need to be there?”
“I try to get there by six-thirty.”
He grimaced but nodded. “I’ll be here at six.”
“Okay.” Lily walked him to the front door, her body buzzing with unfulfilled need.
McBride nodded toward Jezebel, who still glared at them from the window ledge. His lips curved slightly. “I think she’s still looking for an apology,” he murmured, dropping a quick kiss on Lily’s cheek before he left.
Closing the door behind him, Lily turned and glared at the animal. “Forget getting an apology from me, brat cat.”
She should probably be grateful that Jezebel had stopped them before things went too far. With all the obstacles to their tenuous relationship, jumping into sex this quickly was probably a very bad idea.
But damn, it had felt like a good one at the time.
LILY HAD THOUGHT she’d be glad to be back at school. But as much as she’d missed her kids, she found it impossible to concentrate on work.
All she could think about was McBride.
They had come so close to making love Saturday. The memory of his mouth on hers was so vivid it made her body grow warm and liquid with need.
But that had happened two days ago, and since that time she’d had a chance to think long and hard about what was going on between them.
The truth was, she and McBride were wrong for each other. There wasn’t a chance in hell they’d ever form a lasting relationship together.
Because she was a psychic.
There. She’d admitted it.
She was a psychic. She’d spent most of her life hating the word, hating the idea, but the truth was she couldn’t change what she was, no matter how much she wanted to.
And for the first time, she didn’t think she wanted to.
She had a gift, just like her sisters. Like most gifts, it came with strings attached. What she saw in her visions often brought her pain. There would be many visions she’d rather escape. But if her recent visions of Abby had done nothing else, they’d taught her that sometimes her gift could be a blessing as well as a curse.
She’d helped Abby. She’d comforted the child, helped her not be so afraid. God willing, her visions would lead her to Abby soon. Lily could never turn her back on her gift now.
Not even for McBride.
She sensed that something dark and horrible had happened to the detective. Something that made belief impossible for him.
So she had a decision to make. She could either take what she could get, knowing that it wouldn’t end well, or stop playing with fire now before she got burned.
Which was it going to be?
By the time the school bell rang at three, she was no closer to an answer. And McBride would be there soon, forcing her hand. She tried to distract herself by getting a head start on grading the day’s papers while she waited.
But by ten to four, McBride still hadn’t shown.
Carmen stuck her head through the doorway just after four, her expression full of curiosity. “Got a call from Lieutenant McBride. He’s stuck in traffic, but he’s on his way. You want to call him, tell him I’ll give you a ride?”
Lily knew she should probably take Carmen up on the offer, but realized that by avoiding McBride, she’d be only delaying her decision. “I’ll be fine. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“Okay. Everybody else has left, but Roy’s in the gym sweeping up, and Mabel is over at the portable classrooms if you need anything.” Carmen left with a little wave.
Lily passed the time preparing her own classroom for the next day’s lessons. The air was thick with silence, the deep hush that could be found only in places like schools, as if the remembered sounds of children laughing and talking somehow made the rare quiet tangible.
When the classrooms emptied, the thermostat had been turned down. Lily shivered and pulled her warm cardigan more tightly around her, looking out the window toward the school entrance. She wished McBride would hurry.
She was about to turn away from the window when she saw a car pull into the parking lot. She thought it was him for a moment, until she realized the vehicle was the wrong make. It disappeared beyond the building.
The hair on the back of her neck rose.
She dipped her hand into her purse and pulled out her keys. A small vial of pepper spray was attached to the key chain; she unsnapped the safety tab from the vial and slipped into the dark, deserted hallway.
Her footfalls sounded like thunder in the void, rivaled only by the roar of her pulse in her ears. She forced herself to take deep, steady breaths as she walked quickly to the second-grade classroom that faced the faculty parking lot. She slipped through the do
or and hurried to the window.
The car was a light-colored sedan, maybe a Ford. The driver’s door opened and a man stepped out, a baseball cap low over his face. Lily backpedaled slowly, watching the man move furtively toward the side door, disappearing from sight.
Her heart racing, she wondered if the door was locked, and decided she didn’t have time to make sure it was. She whirled and ran from the room, heading for the front entrance. There were homes across the street; if she could get there safely, she could knock on doors until she found someone to help her.
She hit the front door running, but it didn’t open. She pushed again, rattled the metal panel, but it was locked. So was its mate.
She banged her hand against the second door with frustration. The sound echoed through the empty hall and died away, supplanted by her ragged breathing.
And a furtive noise down the hall.
Lily held her breath.
There it was again. A soft scraping noise, metal on metal. A soft, hollow rattle.
He was opening a window.
Okay, don’t panic. There has to be another way out.
The gymnasium. Of course.
Carmen had said Roy was there, cleaning. The gym was on the far side of the building, and the sounds she was hearing indicated the intruder was somewhere between.
But there was more than one way to the gym. And she had the advantage of familiarity.
Lily sped silently toward the lunchroom doors halfway down the hall. She could no longer hear the window rattling, but surely he hadn’t had time to crawl through yet.
She covered the last few yards and was reaching for the door handle when she saw him. All in black, from dusty boots to the knit ski mask he must have donned on his way in, he filled a doorway ten yards to her left.
He froze, surprise evident in his stiff posture. She went still as well, just for a second.
Then she bolted through the cafeteria door.
The door swung shut behind her, hitting him with a soft thud as he followed her. She kept her back to the cafeteria wall as she scooted across the room, knowing his eyes wouldn’t adjust to the dark for a few seconds. He’d probably waste time feeling for a light switch that wasn’t there, not knowing it was on the side of the room where the faculty sat, so that mischievous students couldn’t play games with the lights.
She was almost to the end of the cafeteria before she heard him closing in behind her. She sped up, knees knocking into chairs as she skimmed past tables in her frantic dash for the door.
Her fingers brushed the cool metal handle but missed. She groped again, but it was too late. Arms like tree trunks crushed her, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“Where you goin’, Lily?” His breath burned her ear. She smelled stale cigarettes and peppermint. The combination almost made her gag. She didn’t recognize the voice, so it wasn’t the one Abby called Skeet. The mean one.
Lily clutched the little vial of pepper spray in her hand, wondering if she could get far enough away from him to use the spray without also incapacitating herself.
“What do you want?” She could barely gasp out the words.
His grip tightened, constricting her air further. He lifted her half off her feet, jerking her toward the door. “I was gonna leave a little note for you in your classroom, but since you’re here, I’ll deliver it in person.”
He whirled her around and pinned her to the wall. Her elbows banged against the porcelain tile, pain shooting down to her fingertips and threatening her grip on the pepper spray. But she gritted her teeth and held on.
“Stay away from this thing.” He spoke slowly. Clearly. “I know the feds are watching your house. They’ve tapped your phone by now, haven’t they? Do you really want the headache of being involved in this case?”
She wrinkled her nose at the sour smell of his breath. Fear still pulsed through her veins, but anger was catching up.
I know something, too, she thought, lifting her chin. “You don’t know as much as you think you do. Like, at this very minute, there’s a policeman on his way here to take me home.”
“Don’t try to bluff me, Lily.”
“Didn’t you notice my car wasn’t in the lot?”
He jerked her to her toes and slammed her back against the wall. “Your car was totaled the other night.”
Her heart caught. “You drove me off the road.”
“And you still didn’t get the message, did you?” He tightened his grip on her. “So I’ll deliver it face-to-face. Stay away from this case. Tell Walters you’re through. Tell that cop you want out. Got it?”
She bit back the pain radiating from her bruised spine. “What are you afraid of? That I know who you are?”
He let her go suddenly, as if her skin had sent out an electrical pulse. Taking advantage of her momentary freedom, Lily lifted her hand in a smooth arc and pressed the top of the pepper spray dispenser. A noxious cloud of stinging spray filled the air, some of it floating back toward her even as she ducked and ran.
Her eyes stung and began to tear up, but she didn’t slow down, weaving through the maze of tables and chairs toward the lunchroom door. She heard coughing and cursing behind her, closer than she liked. The ski mask the man was wearing must have blocked some of the spray.
She hit the lunchroom door with a thud and burst through, darting to the left.
With a crunch of shattering glass, her attacker slammed through the door behind her, too close.
Lily turned the corner and ducked into the male faculty bathroom, locking it. She retreated to the back stall and crouched in the corner, her breath coming in harsh rasps.
She’d just run herself into a trap.
Chapter Eleven
McBride pulled into the paved circle in front of the school, cursing himself for taking the expressway. He was almost an hour late, after making such a big deal over driving Lily to school for her own safety. If she’d rented a car on Saturday as she had suggested, she’d be safe at home instead of sitting alone in an almost empty school, waiting for him to arrive. She was probably ticked off at him, with good reason.
He headed up the walkway to the front door and pulled the handle. The door rattled but didn’t open.
Locked.
He frowned. Had she found a ride home?
He walked around the building toward a cluster of portable classrooms, where a tall, handsome black woman was locking up. She gave a start as she turned to see him.
“Sorry. I’m looking for Ms. Browning to give her a ride home, but the front door is locked.”
The black woman smiled. “Oh, Ms. Herrera always locks that door when she leaves. Roy and me—Roy’s my husband—we clean up after hours and go out the back doors when we leave. Ms. Herrera told me Lily was waiting on somebody. Says you’re a policeman.” She peered at him. “Mind if I see your badge?”
He smiled and showed her his shield.
She pulled a set of keys from a ring on her belt, led him around to the front and unlocked the door. “Lily’s room is that way.” She pointed. “Fourth one on the left. Y’all come get me when you leave, and I’ll lock it up.” She headed back around the building.
McBride hurried down the hall to Lily’s classroom. He stepped through the door, already opening his mouth to apologize. But the room was empty.
“Lily?” He took a quick look around to make sure he wasn’t missing a hidden closet or cloakroom. He saw her purse lying open on top of her desk. But no Lily.
He stepped back into the hall and looked down the darkened corridor. He was about to call her name when he heard a muted scraping sound. He went still, instinct taking over. Easing the 9mm Smith & Wesson from his holster, he held his breath, listening carefully.
He heard another soft rattle, then a brittle banging noise, like something hitting a window. His stomach clenched with tension and the beginnings of fear as he crept toward the noise.
The sounds were coming from a room two doors down.
By the time he reached the d
oorway, he hadn’t heard any sounds for several seconds. He readied himself just outside the door, straining to hear any noise, however tiny. He looked down to ground himself, sucking in a deep preparatory breath.
And saw the splatters of blood.
Blackness poured into his brain. He fought through the fear and braced himself, running through police procedure like a mantra. Go in low, cover your back, stay alert.
He had to do it. He had to do it now.
He burst into the room, pistol held firmly in the correct two-hand grip. He swept the room with the gun and his sharp eyes, quickly ascertaining that it was empty.
At least, it was empty now.
He crossed to the open window, careful to remain low. He saw movement outside, a blur of cream. A car, he realized, speeding out of the parking lot too fast for him to get more than a cursory look at the make and model, much less anything like a license plate. It careened down the street, ran a stop sign without even slowing and disappeared from sight.
McBride holstered his gun and turned away from the window. He had already taken a couple of steps toward the door when he noticed the smell.
Pepper spray, sharp and burning in his nostrils.
For the first time, he saw the dark lump on the floor. He fished a pen from his pocket and lifted the object. The acrid pepper odor intensified.
It was a black knit ski mask.
Acid spewed into McBride’s stomach. He dropped the mask and ran to the door. “Lily!”
The sound echoed down the empty corridor.
“Lily!” He peered through the gloom at the spatters of blood, trying to follow their trail. They weaved down the hall in widely spaced droplets. Whoever had been bleeding had ducked into each room, as if searching for something.
Or someone.
McBride followed the trail around a corner to the men’s bathroom. Several drops of blood marred the tile floor in front of the door, as if the injured person had stood there for several seconds. The next drop of blood was about five feet down the hall.
The trail of blood ended at the door of the cafeteria. The glass window set in the door was broken. McBride found a torn fragment of black fabric on one of the jagged shards of glass still in the window.