“I’ll find your husband,” he offered. “And try to bring him to you. If I can’t, I’ll bring back to you exactly what he’d like you to know. But time is of the essence. The longer Dena—my sister—is in that place, the weaker she becomes.”
Again the image. A poor woman, curled up on the cold concrete floor, hoping to ward off blows—or worse. That could be any woman, even Anabel. She had to try to save her. Just like that, she decided.
“If I help you find your sister,” she said, pretending she still didn’t know, “you say you’ll make sure David comes to me.”
“Yes.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “But not just find. Save my sister. And not if, but when.”
“Fine.” She cleared her throat. “I promise you, when I commit to something, I go all out. I will devote every spare second I have—when I’m not working, that is.” These days, unlike the job she’d had as an executive secretary when she was married to David, she worked as a cook in the back of the diner, which suited her perfectly. It was easier spending her time interacting with food rather than people.
He continued watching her, his hazel eyes both intelligent and insolent. “I’ll need your word.”
Of course he did. She decided not to tell him that her word wasn’t worth anything around this town. “Then I give you my word. I will do whatever I’m permitted to do.”
Gliding closer, in that disconcerting way of all ghosts, he held out his hand. It looked remarkably solid. Even though she knew it wasn’t. For a second, she pictured how such sensual fingers would feel on her skin.
Seriously. She gave herself a mental shake. What on earth had gotten into her?
“Tyler Rogers,” he said, the velvet murmur of his voice filling her with longing.
Damn.
“You do know I won’t be able to shake that,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice how breathless she sounded.
For half a second, he appeared abashed. And then he grinned, an irresistible, devastating grin that made her knees go weak and her entire body tingle. “You’re right,” he said, lowering his hand.
“I’ll do some checking,” they both said at the same time. Anabel found herself smiling, something she didn’t do very often. It felt good. And wrong. Again she wondered if she’d finally lost what was left of her mind.
“I’ll make sure no other ghosts bother you,” he told her, apparently not noticing her inner struggle.
As distractions went, his statement was pretty good. Intrigued, she tilted her head. “How will you do that?”
“Simple. I’ll ask my spirit guide to put a circle of protection around you.”
“What?” she started to ask. But he was gone. Just like a candle flame snuffed out by a gust of wind.
Alone again, she sighed. Maybe she’d dreamed all this up. It was entirely possible the eighteen months of celibacy since David’s death had made her come completely unhinged.
Except for one thing. Why would she even think about serial killers and sisters in need of rescue?
Whichever Tyler Rogers turned out to be, a genuine ghost or a figment of her lonely imagination, she’d do what she could to find out information on his sister. Dena, he’d said. Surely it wouldn’t be too difficult to find someone named Dena Rogers in a town the size of Leaning Tree.
That night, when she turned out the light, she went to sleep in blissful silence. No ghostly specters haunted her, not in her house or in her dreams.
* * *
The next morning, she opened her eyes and sat up in bed, feeling completely rested and refreshed. Outside, bright sunshine hinted at the heat to come, but since it was only seven in the morning, she knew it would still be comfortable outside.
In the time since David had died, she’d gradually changed her bedroom, adding little feminine touches here and there. David had hated flowers, though Anabel loved them. A new comforter—floral—and some artwork that she loved had made the room totally hers. She’d told herself she might as well like it, since she’d be spending the rest of her life alone.
Stretching, she thought of her ghostly visitor. Today was her day off. Originally she’d planned to spend it puttering in her garden and hanging out with her cat, Leroy. He was big and fluffy and black and the laziest cat she’d ever known. She loved him so much it hurt.
Instead she guessed she’d better get busy seeing what she could find out about missing girls from Leaning Tree and the surrounding area.
“Good morning,” a sexy male voice said behind her, making her jump. “I trust you slept well.”
Gasping, she spun around so fast she nearly fell. “Rule number one. You can’t just pop in and out of here whenever you feel like it.”
Boldly handsome, he stood between her bed and her window. The sunlight made copper highlights in his brown hair.
“Why not?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “It’s what I do.”
“Well, stop it. And rule number two, no reading my mind.” She stomped off toward her bathroom, shooting him a warning look. “And stay out here until after I’ve showered and dressed.”
Once she’d closed the door, she looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced. She’d braided her long hair before bed, to keep it from tangling. That, combined with the oversize (and to be honest, ratty) T-shirt she slept in, made her look a little witchy. Since half the people in Leaning Tree thought she was a witch, she guessed it didn’t matter.
Shaking her head at her weird and out-of-place vanity, she turned the shower on hot, pulled off her T-shirt and jumped in.
Though she normally rushed through her morning preparations, since she usually had to be at the diner to cook for the breakfast crowd, this morning she took her time and enjoyed the peace and quiet. No ghostly images swirled in the steamy mirror as she blow-dried her hair. No voices cried out their muted torment while she dressed. She hadn’t realized how much she appreciated the silence until now. Maybe she wasn’t going crazy after all.
Finally, she emerged to find Tyler reclining on her sofa, long, muscular legs spread out in front of him. Today she saw he again wore a soldier’s combat uniform, camouflaged desert colors, and boots. She froze, flashing back to the last time she’d seen David, wearing the exact same thing as she’d taken him to the airport to make the long flight back to Afghanistan.
“Are you okay?” Peering closely at her, her ghostly visitor seemed a bit more solid than he had the day before.
“Don’t you know?” she asked crossly, turning away so she wouldn’t have to look at him.
“You asked me not to read your mind.”
“Oh. Right.” Crossing into the kitchen, she made herself a cup of coffee. “Thank you. And also thanks for the protection-circle thing or whatever you said. It worked. I didn’t have a single ghost last night.”
The fragrant smell of coffee made her mouth water. She poured herself a cup, adding a spoonful of powdered creamer and a packet of sweetener.
When she turned, she caught him eyeing her mug with a wistful expression.
“I miss that,” he rumbled. “Among other things.”
Heat flashed through her, so intense she nearly staggered. Not good, especially if Tyler could intuitively guess how she felt.
Deciding to let that comment go, she scowled at him. “Why are you here?”
One dark eyebrow arched. Sexy, again. “You didn’t really think I’d retreat into the ether and wait for you to summon me, did you? We’re working together on this.”
She shrugged, pretending not to care. “Fine. I’m going to do some research on the internet first. I need to find any news stories about missing girls. I also want to do a search for Dena Rogers.”
“Plus, I can tell you where she works and lives,” he offered. “We might even go there.”
“Of course.” Rummaging in the refrigerator, she grabbed the r
oll of bagels, sprayed each side with vegetable oil, popped them in the toaster and, when they were done, spread a generous dollop of peanut butter on each one.
Tyler watched, his hazel eyes glittering, as she retrieved her breakfast and sat down to eat it.
“What?” she finally asked. “Have you never seen anyone cook breakfast before?”
“Cook?” he snorted. “I don’t call that cooking.”
She rolled her eyes in response. Since her mouth was full, she didn’t deign to reply. Protein and carbs, and tasty too. When she’d finished, she got up, rinsed the plate off and placed it in the dishwasher. Taking a deep sip of her coffee, she padded to the room she used as an office and booted up her ancient desktop. She sensed Tyler right behind her, her awareness of him a prickling along her spine.
“You don’t have a laptop?” Tyler asked, the astonished tone in his voice making it clear he thought she lived in the Dark Ages. The mischievous look in his eyes filled her with unwanted longing. To cover, she shook her head.
“Ghosts don’t get to be picky,” she pointed out, sitting back in her chair while she waited for the computer to finish booting up. If she didn’t look at him, maybe she could manage to avoid all these unwanted feelings. “And yes, I had a laptop. David took it with him to Afghanistan. It never made it back, so I’m guessing someone from his unit kept it.”
Finishing her coffee, she got up to make another cup, walking right past his still surprisingly solid form, her heart pounding, without him commenting.
When she returned, she checked on her computer, which appeared to be ready, and clicked on the icon for Google Chrome.
“Doesn’t that drive you crazy?” he asked. “Computers aren’t that expensive anymore. I’d think it’d be worth it to spring for a new one.”
“Maybe.” Concentrating on the screen, she searched for the local newspaper. “But not today.” Once she had the paper up, she searched the archives, using keywords missing and lost and even runaway.
“I’ll be—”
Suddenly, he materialized right next to her, practically on top of her, making her jump and bump her knee on the bottom of her desk. “What?” he asked. “Let me see.”
“Don’t. Do. That.” Rubbing at her knee, she glared at him, though he didn’t even notice as he was busy reading the on-screen text.
“There are more missing women,” he breathed. “Four, including Dena. And they’re all from different towns in Ulster County.”
Immediately, she began reading too. “Your sister’s the only one from Leaning Tree.” Hitting the print icon, she eyed him. “But it doesn’t appear the police are even considering them to be linked in any way.”
“That’s where you come in.” He stretched, causing the material of his shirt to expand over his muscular arms. Suddenly, she realized he’d changed and no longer wore the camo. Instead he had on civilian clothes, a tight black T-shirt and faded, well-worn jeans, though he still wore his combat boots.
For a ghost, he looked virile as hell. Tantalizing. Captivating.
No. This had to stop. Time to shut this ridiculous and unwanted attraction down. She no longer thought about sex, or at least she tried not to. Her mate was gone and she didn’t want anyone else. Ever.
Chapter 2
Now that Anabel had settled the matter, she felt better. Straightening her shoulders, she knew she was strong enough to resist Tyler Rogers’s ghostly allure.
“Let’s go talk to the police,” he said, flickering in and out, his form alternating between solid and ethereal. She figured this was probably due to the enthusiasm vibrating in his husky voice.
Maybe she’d do better if she treated him like a brother. At least that way, his nearness would no longer be so overwhelming.
“You know, for a ghost, you sure look concrete sometimes,” she commented, clicking her computer to sleep before getting up from her chair.
“Thanks,” he said, flashing that devastating smile that sent a bolt of heat straight to her stomach—and elsewhere.
Brother, she reminded herself. “Come on.” Snatching up her car keys, she headed for the garage. “And whatever you do, don’t speak to me while I’m talking to the police. Everyone around here already thinks I’m crazy. If I start answering you back, it’ll just make it worse.”
She didn’t look to see if he followed as she opened the garage door and got in her car. The little red Fiat had been a gift from David the first year they were married. She loved everything about it, from the tan leather-trimmed seats to the upgraded radio.
“This?” Tyler said, the disbelief in his voice making her smile. “You expect me to ride in this? There’s not enough room.”
“You’ll manage,” she replied. “If not, then I guess you can wait here.” As she slid behind the wheel, he materialized in the passenger seat, legs folded almost up to his chest. She nearly laughed out loud.
Instead she masked her amusement with irritation. “Quit doing that too,” she ordered. “When you’re with me, you don’t need to act so ghostly.”
“Ghostly?” His rich laugh struck a chord low in her belly. “I am a ghost. That’s what we do. But for your sake, I promise to try and pretend I’m human.”
She shuddered at the word. “You never were just human, I can tell. Before you died, you were Pack. Like me.”
Regarding her curiously as she backed out of her driveway, he finally nodded. “How did you know? I’m told the dead no longer have the aura.”
Anabel couldn’t keep from snorting out loud. “Maybe not to each other. But you do to me. I can see it just as clearly as the aura from any living shifter.”
And then she turned up the radio to discourage further discussion.
The winding, tree-lined roads were beautiful in summer and in autumn. Right now, with the leaves beginning to turn, she felt as if she lived in a postcard. She knew other people who’d lived here all of their lives as she had became so used to the natural beauty that they rarely even noticed it. Not Anabel. She appreciated and marveled at her surroundings every day.
As she drove to downtown Leaning Tree, she tried to think how to best approach this. Turning the radio down slightly, she glanced at him. “Any ideas on what I should say? I mean, I can’t just walk into the police station and demand information on the search for the missing girls. That would make them really suspicious.”
“I see what you mean,” he replied, frowning. “You’d become an immediate suspect, especially since you believe everyone considers you off your rocker anyway.”
His words stung. “Hey,” she protested. “It’s fine for me to say stuff like that. Not so much for you.”
Again the deep-throated laugh. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head in mock chagrin. “I should have understood.”
Shocked, she realized he was teasing her. No one had joked with her in any way since David died. Probably because everyone at first felt bad for her and then later, after her breakdown, most folks acted afraid of her.
This used to hurt and baffle her, before she’d given in and decided to embrace her own semiscary weirdness. She’d started dressing in black after David was killed anyway. With a little embellishment using Stevie Nicks for inspiration, she’d taken black to a whole new level. And the funny thing was, she loved wearing one of her flowing outfits and seeing the way everyone eyed her. She thought she looked pretty. Who cared if everyone else disagreed?
Another sideways look at her ghostly companion, steeling herself against his masculine beauty, confirmed her suspicion.
“For someone who’s worried about his sister, you’re a bit of a jokester, aren’t you?”
Just like that, his half smile vanished, replaced by a steely expression. Instantly, she regretted her comment.
“Are you always so serious?” he asked, faint mockery in his voice.
/> She decided to answer honestly. “Yes. Especially when dealing with something like this. I don’t find serial killers or women being held prisoner amusing.”
“Neither do I,” he shot back. “But I have found making a joke or two can help relieve some of the pressure.”
Since she didn’t have a response for that, she kept quiet.
“I do have a question.” Clearing his throat, he eyed her. “Exactly how powerful are you?”
So intent had she been on focusing on thinking of him like a brother, the question didn’t immediately register. She blinked, frowning, as she met his gaze. “I’m sorry—what?”
“How much power do you have?”
“That’s what I thought you said. I don’t understand what you mean. If you’re talking about firepower, yes, I do own a gun. I’ve even taken classes to learn how to handle it. For my own protection, of course.”
Now he frowned. “I’m not talking about a weapon, though that may come in handy, and I think you know it. I’m asking about your powers. You know, your magic. How strong is it?”
“Magic?” Then she remembered she was talking to a ghost. “Tyler, the only magic I possess is the ability to see and hear spirits. Most times it’s more like a curse than magic.”
His gaze slid over her, the assessing look in his eyes saying he wasn’t sure if she was serious. And then he grimaced and shook his head. “I understand. Good one. You’ve proved your point. I shouldn’t have accused you of being too serious.”
“But—”
He waved away her protests. “You almost had me fooled for a moment. You must be a very powerful witch indeed, if you’re trying to hide it.”
More oddness. A powerful witch, huh? Maybe he thought she dressed like this because she had magic. Or something. Who knew? Every second she spent with him kept getting weirder and weirder. “I’m just a regular person who happens to see ghosts.” And had already had one mental breakdown. She fervently hoped this wasn’t another. “I thought you ghostly beings knew everything.”
Shades of the Wolf Page 2