Guarding Jeannie tp-5

by Beverly Barton

  "Reeves is obsessed with destroying Jeannie. He's convinced himself and his followers that she really is a witch."

  "Tell Ms. Alverson that we'll get Reeves. We've set up roadblocks and are doing an all-out search." Lieutenant Painter glanced down at Jeannie, lying in Sam's arms. "She's for real, isn't she? I mean she actually can take away other people's pain."

  "Yeah," Sam said. "She's for real."

  He walked away, carrying Jeannie to her car. He opened the door, reclined the seat and laid her down, then closed the door. He got inside, started the engine and drove out into the street. The noonday sun heated the road, creating a shimmering glare. Reaching inside his coat pocket, Sam pulled out his sunglasses and put them on.

  She's for real, isn't she? He heard Lieutenant Painter's question echoing in his mind on the drive to Julian's rented cottage. Oh, yeah, Jeannie Alverson was most definitely for real. A real angel of mercy. A real empath who considered it her sacred duty to relieve the suffering of others. A real healer of the human heart.

  When they reached the cottage, Sam carried her straight inside to bed. After undressing her, he sat down on the bed and scooted up to rest his back on the headboard, then closed his eyes.

  Reeves was out there somewhere, a hunted animal. He would be even more dangerous than before. Now he had nothing to lose. Sam knew what he had to do if the law didn't apprehend Reeves soon.

  Reeves had finally crossed the line from mental instability to insanity. Sam had seen it in his eyes. He'd seen that look before, in the eyes of other men, men who had completely lost their hold on reality.

  Jeannie moaned in her sleep and turned over, her hands searching. Sam slumped down in the bed, took her in his arms and held her close. Cuddling against him, she returned to a restful sleep. Sam trembled as he held her, the reality of how close he'd come to losing her finally hitting him. He clung to her, stroking her back, dotting tiny kisses over her forehead and cheeks. An ache formed in the pit of his stomach and spread upward, lodging in his throat. Emotions so vast, so forceful that they threatened his sanity consumed him.

  Guarding Jeannie was his first priority. Nothing was more important than keeping her safe. Take care of me, now, Sam. Take care of me, now, Sam. Her words replayed over and over in his mind. She had taken care of each one of the forty-five students at the Howell School, depleting her energy, putting her own physical and mental health in jeopardy. And then she had turned to him, trusting him completely, never doubting that she was safe in his hands.

  He would take care of her, protect her at all costs, but the one thing from which he could not protect her was her own compassionate heart.

  Laying her hand on his chest, she wrapped herself around his big body. Sam drew in a deep breath. How had this happened? How the hell had he allowed himself to become captured by a sweet innocent, by an angel whose tender mercy ruled her life? How could such purity be so sensual, such spirituality be so human, such etherealness be so totally erotic?

  Six years ago, when he washed ashore on Le Bijou Bleu, Jeannie had done far more than save his life—she had taken possession of his soul. He had never been able to forget her. The sound of her voice. The feel of her comforting hands. The look in her gentle brown eyes.

  He had tried to stop thinking about her, willed himself not to remember the powerful connection that existed between them, but deep inside he'd always known that he could not escape the inevitable. Even his niece Elizabeth, when he stayed with her to recuperate from the nearly fatal gunshot wounds, had sensed he was running away from more than his guilt and remorse over Brock's and Connie's deaths. And Elizabeth, who possessed strong psychic powers, had predicted that Sam would return to Biloxi, and to the woman who had saved his life.

  He had not allowed Elizabeth to tell him any more of what she'd seen in his future. He hadn't wanted to know, and he still didn't want to know. He felt unworthy, undeserving of being loved by Jeannie. Didn't she know the kind of man he was, the type of life he'd lived? Of course she knew. She even knew he'd been responsible for the death of his unborn child. And yet she loved him.

  * * *

  Jeannie slept the day away, waking with a ravenous appetite for both food and Sam. He made slow, tender love to her, and she blossomed under his loving care, seeming to gain strength from their physical joining. Later he prepared hearty salads, serving them with wine and bread. They ate in the garden again, isolated from the world, nestled in their own tiny piece of paradise. After dinner, she asked him about the morning's events, and he told her everything he knew.

  "Don't ever run away by yourself again, the way you did this morning," he said. "I died a thousand deaths when I saw you drive off and knew I couldn't stop you."

  "How did you figure out where I'd gone? And how did you know Reeves was at the school?"

  "I knew something Marta had said must have triggered your actions." Tilting his head to one side, Sam rested his cheek against the top of her head. "When I phoned the school and spoke to Marta, I could tell something was wrong. She was acting strange. I put two and two together and figured Reeves was involved."

  "I know it was foolish of me to go alone to the school." She covered his hands, which lay across her stomach, with her own. Would Sam ever have forgiven her, or himself, if Reeves had killed her and, in doing so, destroyed their unborn child? "I couldn't let Maynard Reeves hurt the students. I did what I had to do. Please understand."

  "I understand." He hugged her, encompassing her in his embrace, wishing he could absorb her into himself and keep her safe. "You don't have the capacity to put your needs before those of others. You give and give and give, no matter what the cost is to you."

  "You would do the same." Tilting her face, she reached up and kissed him, wanting him to look inside himself and see the truth.

  "Not me," he said. "I'm not as strong as you are, angel. I don't have your guts. Besides, the powers that be knew I was the last person on earth who should have the ability to heal the suffering of others. I don't even know how to love."

  "That's where you're wrong. You have a great capacity to love. But before you can use that wellspring of goodness inside you, you must come to terms with all the negative feelings keeping that love trapped."

  "Oh, Jeannie you don't know me."

  "I know you better than you know yourself," she said. "I'm a part of your soul, as you are mine."

  He had no response to her statement. Intense emotion gripped him, holding him captive. Jeannie saw the best in him, sensing a goodness he could not see. Dear God, was he worthy of the trust she placed in him? Could he be the man she thought he was, the man she expected him to be? Or would he let her down?

  * * *

  When Lieutenant Painter arrived at eight-thirty that night, he found Sam and Jeannie watching the weather channel on television. The depression that had begun near the Cape Verde Islands, off the coast of Africa, had moved into the Caribbean and was building up speed and intensity. A tropical storm with high winds and heavy rain was expected to hit the islands southeast of the Gulf by early morning.

  "Come on in." Sam opened the door and led the lieutenant into the living room. "Jeannie's concerned about the tropical storm headed our way. She has a close friend living on one of the islands in the gulf."

  "Yeah, I hear they think this thing has a good chance of turning into a full-fledged hurricane before she hits the coast." Painter nodded at Jeannie when she glanced up from the television and smiled at him.

  "Give me just a moment, Lieutenant," Jeannie said. "I'd like to hear the rest of this report from the National Hurricane Center. I've already contacted my friend to make sure he's aware of the storm headed his way, but I want to stay updated on what's happening."

  "Sure. I can wait," Painter said.

  When the report ended several minutes later, Jeannie switched off the set and turned to the police officer. "Thank you for being so patient. Sam has told me that you arrested Danette Suddath and the other woman."

  "Nora Dill. Ye
s, we arrested them. But members of the Righteous Light Church posted bond for them, and they're out on bail until their trials."

  "Missy hasn't been given to her mother, has she?"

  "No." Sam walked over and stood behind Jeannie's chair, placing his hand on her shoulder.

  "Social services will place Missy in a foster home until after her mother's trial," Lieutenant Painter said. "And she'll remain in one if—or should I say when—Danette Suddath is found guilty and sent to prison."

  "Y'all haven't found Maynard Reeves, have you?" Jeannie reached up, placing her hand atop Sam's on her shoulder.

  "I swear, Ms. Alverson, it's as if the man vanished off the face of the earth." Shrugging, Lieutenant Painter shook his head. "The best we can figure it, he must have left Biloxi by boat. Since his church is headquartered in New Orleans, the authorities there have been alerted. The feds have pretty well taken over this case, but we're working with them."

  "Too bad someone in his organization isn't willing to turn him in," Sam said. "It amazes me how gullible some people are."

  "None of his followers will betray him." Jeannie patted Sam's hand. "People want to believe in something, in a higher power, and that's why they can sometimes be brainwashed by a charismatic leader like Reverend Reeves. He feeds on their fears and prejudices, teaching them hatred and intolerance."

  "I want you to know, Ms. Alverson that we've posted a man at the hospital to guard Dr. Howell, and one at the school to make sure the children are safe. And even though you're well taken care of—" Rufus Painter glanced at Sam "—we're sending a patrol around the block here every hour."

  Jeannie clasped Lieutenant Painter's hand. "Thank you for all you've done."

  Painter grinned; it was a lopsided, boyish grin. "Yes, ma'am. You're entirely welcome. Just wish we could have done more."

  "I believe we have some business to take care of, don't we, Lieutenant?" Jeannie asked.

  Hushing, Painter cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am, we do. I've got someone outside ready to take your statement concerning the events at the Howell School this morning."

  "Are you sure you're up to this?" Sam moved around to the side of her chair, placing his hand on her arm.

  "Yes," she said. "I have to do all that I can to help remove Maynard Reeves from society, to put him away where he can't harm anyone."

  After the police left, Jeannie tuned in the weather channel for an update on the tropical storm, then contacted Manton again before she and Sam went to bed.

  As they lay together, the room dark and quiet except for the moonlight filtering through the curtains and the hum of traffic a few blocks away on the highway, Sam held Jeannie in his arms.

  "Stop worrying," Sam said. "You told me Manton has weathered storms, and even a few hurricanes, on Le Bijou Bleu."

  "I know. But I can't help worrying." Jeannie kissed Sam's naked shoulder. "He's assured me the storm shelter is stocked with the basic necessities to last several days."

  "Manton will be all right. The man has a sixth sense about things. If the storm hits the island, he'll wait it out in the storm shelter."

  "Sam?" She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked down into his blue-gray eyes.

  "What is it, angel?" He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, from shoulder to wrist.

  "I have an uneasy feeling I can't explain. I'm afraid, Sam. I'm so very, very afraid."

  He enclosed her in the strength and safety of his arms, lowering her head to the pillow and kissing her eyelids closed. "Julian suffered a heart attack, the students and staff of the Howell School were held captive, a tropical storm is probably going to hit Le Bijou Bleu while Manton's there alone, and Maynard Reeves is out there somewhere plotting your destruction. I'd say something would be wrong with you if you weren't feeling uneasy and if you weren't scared half out of your mind."

  "No, it's more than the obvious things."

  With her eyes still closed, she snuggled against Sam, absorbing the warmth and force of his big, powerful body. She had noticed that for weeks now she had been able not only to connect with Sam's thoughts and feelings, but also, in a limited sense, to draw strength from him. She knew he was totally unaware when it happened, that he had no idea the link between them grew stronger, more intricate and complicated, with each contact. Mental. Physical. Emotional. Spiritual.

  "Everything is going to be all right," Sam said. "Julian will be home in a few days. The children and teachers at the school are safe now. Manton and Le Bijou Bleu will weather the storm. The authorities will capture Maynard Reeves. And I'll take good care of you."

  When his lips touched hers, she responded wholeheartedly. When his body covered hers, she arched upward, encouraging his possession. And when he thrust into her moist heat, she welcomed him, clasping him tightly. They mated in a fast, furious frenzy, sharing their pleasure, then fell into a deep, sated sleep.

  * * *

  Jeannie woke early. The morning sky was red, warning of bad weather. She got out of bed, slipped into her robe and set her cane on the floor.

  "Come back to bed, angel. It's still early." Sam patted her pillow.

  "I want to check the weather and contact Manton before the storm hits and blocks our communication."

  "All right," Sam said. "You check the weather and get in touch with Manton, and I'll put on some coffee. Or would you rather have tea?"

  "Coffee will be fine."

  Sam slipped into a pair of trousers and headed for the bathroom.

  A few minutes later, on his way to the kitchen, he paused in the doorway to the living room. The weather forecaster was predicting that hurricane-force winds would sweep the Gulf Coast by nightfall.

  "Get in touch with Manton," Sam said. "Make sure he's all tight, and that he's prepared to take shelter."

  "I wish I could shake this uneasy feeling."

  "You'll feel better after you've been in touch with Manton."

  "I hope so."

  Sam filled the coffee machine with bottled water, then spooned the gourmet blend into the filter. His stomach growled, reminding him his dinner salad had been a light repast for a man of his size. Omelets, he thought, ham-and-cheese omelets.

  He was turning an enormous omelet over in the skillet when Jeannie came into the kitchen. Smiling, he looked up from his chore. Pale-faced, wide-eyed, she walked over to him and gripped his arm. She swallowed, then bit down on her lower lip.

  "What's wrong?" He turned off the stove and grabbed Jeannie's shoulders.

  "I can't get a response from Manton. I've been trying for the last ten minutes."

  "Maybe the storm has already hit Le Bijou Bleu."

  "No, it's not possible. The storm couldn't possibly hit the island before late this afternoon." Tears gathered in her eyes. She squeezed his arm. "Something's wrong. Bad wrong. Manton would not have left the house this morning. He would have brought the dogs and cats inside last night."

  "We'll keep trying to contact him."

  "If I don't get a response soon, I'm going to the island."

  "No, you're not." Sam jerked her into his arms; her cane hit the floor with a resounding thump. "There's a damn hurricane headed this way!"

  "Something has happened to Manton. Don't you understand? I have to go to him."

  "If anyone goes, I'll go," Sam said. "I'll have Lieutenant Painter send an officer over here to guard you until J.T. or Hawk can fly in from Atlanta. I'll go to Le Bijou Bleu and make sure Manton is all right."

  "No. If he's hurt, he'll need me."

  "Dammit, Jeannie, you are not going to Le Bijou Bleu, and that's all there is to it!"

  Three hours later, Jeannie docked the cruiser, and Sam lifted her onto the pier. Dark storm clouds swirled overhead. An angry wind gusted around them, blowing windrows of sand along the beach. Faint, almost indiscernible raindrops fell from the sky.

  Sam carried her up the steps to the top of the hill. The wind whistled through the trees, whipping the branches.

  "Stop!" Jeannie raised her voice
to fight the howl of the wind. "Manton won't answer me!"

  "What?" Sam shouted, knowing damn well they couldn't stay out here in the violent wind much longer.

  "I've called to him repeatedly since we docked, and he isn't responding."

  Sam lowered his head, putting his mouth near her ear. "Hasn't there ever been a time when you couldn't connect telepathically with him?"

  "Never. Not since the first time our minds linked, when I was nine years old." She clutched Sam's shoulder. "He's hurt. I know he's hurt. He'd have to be unconscious not to hear me, not to be able to answer."

  "Calm down, angel. We'll find Manton and take care of him. Whatever's wrong, you'll fix it until we can get him back to Biloxi."

  Sam rushed toward the house as heavy drops of rain began falling. They were both drenched by the time he stepped up on the veranda. The front door stood wide open. Sam carried Jeannie inside. An eerie quiet filled the rooms, though the fury of the rain and wind blasted the outside of the house, making the walls tremble.

  Not one dog welcomed them; not one cat slinked about their legs. Where the hell was Manton? Sam wondered. What could have happened to him? Had he taken ill? Had there been an accident?

  Sam set Jeannie down on the sofa in the living room. "I'll go get you a cane. You search downstairs, and I'll search upstairs."

  Jeannie nodded her agreement and waited patiently for Sam's return. He brought her cane and helped her to her feet, then cupped her face in his hands.

  "Stay in touch with me, angel." He looked deep into her gentle brown eyes.

  I love you, Sam Dundee.

  Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. My sweet Jeannie. He kissed her on the mouth, quickly, then turned around and walked up the front staircase. Jeannie began her search in the dining room, then moved into the kitchen.

  Manton. Please answer me.

  She checked the downstairs twice, thoroughly searching every nook and cranny. She spoke to Sam telepathically, letting him know that she hadn't found Manton. He told her that he'd found nothing upstairs. No sign of Manton or his animals.

  Was it possible Manton had gone down into the basement? she wondered. Had he already moved into the storm shelter when something had happened to him? Or could he have gone outside, be somewhere out there now, injured and alone?