by Deborah Camp
She was seated at the table eating the delicious concoction when Levi emerged from the bedroom wing, darkly handsome in black slacks, black t-shirt, and black leather jacket. When he leaned close to kiss her cheek, the lemony-lime scent of his aftershave made her libido sit up and drool.
“I should have asked you to join us,” he whispered against her cheek.
“Have you decided on a title for it?”
“We’re going with Both Sides Now. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure. Levi, it’s your book. Your meeting.”
He straightened but remained standing beside her. “And you’re part of the book. You’re in it a lot because it concerns two cases we worked on together.”
“I read it and added my little insights here and there. That’s all I need to do. You can take it from here.”
“Once it’s out, we’ll be getting more requests for you to make appearances. Especially at book signings.”
She sighed. “And I’ve agreed to a few of them, but that’s it. You’re the one who likes the spotlight. Not me.” She glanced at him, driving home her point. “You wrote the book. Your name is on it. Not mine.”
“It’s dedicated to you. I should have asked you to the dinner meeting. I didn’t mean to exclude you.”
She reached for his hand and held it for a few moments as she met his gaze. “It’s no biggie. Go on. You don’t want to be late.” When she would have let go of him, he clutched her hand tighter and brought it up to his lips for a kiss.
“I’ll be back by ten. Then we’ll have dessert together.”
She smirked at that, figuring his dessert meant her. “I might be in bed by then.”
“Good. Dessert is always better in bed.”
She gave him a shove. “Get out of here, Wolfe.”
He chuckled as he strode through the living room and out the door.
She was watching a sit-com on television when that feeling stole through her – the feeling that she was slipping away, sliding into someone else. It wasn’t a comfortable sensation like scooting your feet into well-worn house slippers. It was more like finding yourself in a small vessel on a rolling ocean. Her stomach floated, gave a little heave, and then her throat tightened against the sickness. Inky streaks coated her eyes until all was dark. Then all was light and swirling colors that beat against her eyeballs with mallets.
A moan echoed in her head. The world righted itself and she realized that she was in a casino. Machines on either side of her clanged and whistled. Coins jangled in cups. A pretty girl holding a drink tray whisked past her. Trudy looked down at the colorful carpet that attempted to mute sound. A siren blared and someone shouted, “Woo-hooo!” The clatter of silver coins followed. She stared at the winner. A gray-haired woman in a flowered blouse and jeans, grinning like a possum.
“I won! I won!” the woman cackled, positioning a plastic bucket under the waterfall of quarters.
“Yeah, but how many quarters did you feed that thing before it spit those out?” a man asked, sidling up to her.
“I’m coming out ahead. Don’t you worry about it. I’m a winner, winner, chicken dinner!”
Trudy walked on, weaving around gaming tables and people, the noise wrapping around her like a constrictor. She hated big, noisy places like this. Particularly the smells of strong perfume, overpowering cologne, stale cigars, beer breath, suntan lotion, and semen. Yeah. She could smell sex in the air. It clung to some of the people she passed, most of whom couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Like monkeys in a zoo, she thought. On display, rubbing their privates, grinning like fools at each other. Disgusting.
She approached a large arch outlined in globe lights. On either side were signs, all lit up. She stopped in front of one, taking it all in.
Exclusive two-week engagement. The remarkable, astounding” Psychic to the Stars” CHASON BOLT! Tickets on sale now.
His smile was part mysterious and part seductive with his teeth so white they were almost neon. Blond hair parted and ruffled just enough to make him look rakish but still nicely groomed. A white suit, tailored to accentuate his wide shoulders, lean waist and hips, long legs. His shoes glinted with a fresh shine. The vermillion shirt was dressy but casual. He’d left three buttons undone to reveal his strong, tanned throat and a glimpse of golden chest hair. His light blue eyes had a small diamond of light in each pupil, beaming like twin suns in a daytime sky.
Psychic to the stars. What a crock. He’s found his niche in the egomaniacs. All he does is tell them what they want to hear. “Your career is on the upswing.” “You’re going to receive important news that will move you up into the stratosphere of stardom!” “Someone important is entering your life and will have a profound effect on your choices of roles.”
Then he pretends to connect with the dearly departed. “You lost someone close to you and that person is stepping forward. Is it your father? No, your brother? Someone like a brother to you! That’s it. Yes. He wants you to know that he’s all good and doesn’t blame anyone for his death. I get the feeling that he was in an accident of some sort or maybe he had a disease?”
That’s how it’s done. Throw out wild guesses until you see a reaction and hone in on it. People are so stupid that they’ll blurt out, “It’s my brother Paul!” Or “I bet it’s my grandfather! He died last spring.”
He’s paid millions of dollars to pander to the gullible.
Approaching the ticket counter, she examined the list of shows. The first three nights were already sold out.
“Interested in seeing the show?” the teller prodded. “He’s really good. Every night he will do readings for at least three major celebrities, plus he’ll do some psychic work with audience members.”
Backing away, she shook her head, then pivoted and walked toward the huge, open, gaming area with a bar in the center of it all.
He thinks he’s the center of it all with his big mouth. Filing police reports, going on the entertainment news programs, acting like he’s scared for his life. I can make it happen, Chason. I can make you so scared, you’ll cry real tears. Want me to? Well, here I am, big boy. You have my full attention now. Let’s see how you like it.
A group of slightly drunk guys wandered by, laughing too loudly, grinning at her, then veering toward the poker tables to lose more money, drink more booze, talk more smack. She gazed at the milling people, listened to the clamor of machines and the clink of coins. Las Vegas was certainly a fool’s paradise.
But your luck, dear Chason, is running out. Karma will rip out your throat and watch you choke on your blood. Because Karma’s a bitch, Bolt.
Something wet landed on her wrist and hand. She shook her arm and looked down to see what had spilled . . . the world tipped sideways and her stomach went with it. She blinked, startled, and a gray face with a white stripe between its eyes stared back at her. Mouse licked her cheek and nose.
Trudy pushed the Chihuahua away. “Stop, please.” She realized that she was lying sideways on the couch as if she’d toppled over, which is probably what had happened. Pushing herself upright again, she rubbed her temples to ease the throbbing ache between them. Where had she been just now? Vegas!
“Chason.” The name slipped from her lips.
Everything in her wanted to jump up and dash for the phone to call Chason Bolt, but she still felt woozy from the psychic jaunt, so she made herself sit still on the couch for another minute or two. The sit-com she’d been watching had ended. A different program, a crime drama, played on the TV now. She stared at the screen, unseeing, as she went back over the fragments of the psychic vision. Vegas. Chason. He was the target.
She glanced around for her cellphone and located it lying on the side table. She grabbed it, wondering how to get in touch with Chason. He’d called her once or twice, so his number should be stored in her phone. She keyed his name into the directory and a number flashed onto the screen. She pressed the call button and waited for a connection. One, two, three, four, five rings. Crap, it w
as going to voice –.
“Trudy Tucker! What a lovely surprise!”
She closed her eyes in relief. “Chason, I’m so glad you answered.”
“Of course. It’s always a pleasure to hear from you.”
“This isn’t a social call.”
“You sound out of breath. Are you all right?”
“I just had a vision of someone in a Las Vegas casino. He was looking at the signs advertising your show and he isn’t a fan of yours, Chason. Where are you now?”
“I’m in my hotel suite. In Planet Hollywood.”
“You’re already in Las Vegas.”
“Yes. My shows don’t begin until Thursday night, but I came in a couple of days early. Do you know who is following me?”
“No. I rarely get to see them. I’m inside their heads.” She stood and began pacing in front of the floor to ceiling windows, her eyes closed as she tried to concentrate.
“You think this person is in the casino?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it! Well, he was a few minutes ago. I’ve lost the connection, so I don’t know where he is right this second.”
“He could be anywhere, then.”
“He’s there. In Vegas and he knows that you’re there – or that you will be in a day or two. You have adequate security there, right? Someone is in the suite with you or stationed outside your door?”
“Uh, yes, normally.”
She stopped pacing. “What do you mean ‘normally’? Do you have security or not?”
“I do, but not tonight. The thing is . . .” He chuckled. “This is awkward, but I’m having a guest join me for a couple of days and I didn’t want to make it more intimidating for her by having security guards watching my every move.”
“You’re putting her in danger right along with yourself.”
“You’re right, of course. I can make a call and get my security team back on this.” He sighed. “If you’re sure.”
She stared at the night sky, aggravation making her blood pound between her temples. That he would question her ability at a time like this! She snapped her teeth together and spoke through them. “Listen, I’m not jerking you around here, Chason. I was there with him. In his head. A few minutes ago, he wanted to rip out your throat and watch you bleed.”
His gulp sounded over the phone. “Okay. I’ll call for security. Thank you for calling me, Trudy.”
“That’s what we agreed to do for each other when we were in Eureka Springs, if you recall. To keep each other informed on this matter. You must have forgotten, huh?”
“Oh, that.”
“Yes, that.”
“I was talking to a reporter and that close call of mine just slipped out. I was still shaken up by it, you see, and before I knew it, I’d mentioned it.”
“And then somehow you ended up in a TV studio in front of a camera. Yeah, right.”
His chuckle mocked her. “Once I’d said something, I couldn’t back out, could I? Besides, that cowboy sheriff in Eureka Springs isn’t going to get down to the bottom of anything except a beer bottle. This lunatic needs to be caught and arrested. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, but I think you’re wrong about Sheriff Rocknell. He’s not a boozy hillbilly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not working with the Arkansas state police on this now.”
“Right. They stepped in after my TV appearance. They’ve taken statements from me already.”
“Wait.” She squeezed her eyes shut as she grasped that last bit of information. “So, a state police officer has spoken with you?”
“Yes.” He sounded surprised “They haven’t contacted you yet?”
“No.”
“Well, they will. I suppose they’re working their way down their list of people they feel are important to this investigation. They’ve questioned Sunshine and Perchance, too. I think they’ve talked to Perchance more than once.”
Interesting. She made a mental note to call Quintara to see if the state police had contacted her.
“The officer who appears to be in charge of it is Lt. Gloria Moore. I’ll give her a call as soon as I hang up with you and let her know about this vision of yours and that I’m doubling my security.”
“You do that, Chason. And be careful.”
“Oh, I plan on it. Thank you again, Trudy. Your gift has now gifted me and I’m eternally grateful. I’m in your debt.”
She felt like she might gag. Instead, she mumbled a sign-off and jabbed at the button to end the call.
“You’re worried about Bolt enough to call him? Or did he call you?”
Trudy released a startled shriek. She dropped the phone, her hands moving to cover her leaping heart. “Levi! You scared the crap out of me. I didn’t hear . . .” She shook her head and swallowed, feeling as if her heart had tried to lodge in her throat.
Levi stood just inside the den with his hands shoved into his trouser pockets. He looked at her, one brow arched, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“God. What a night.” Collapsing onto the sofa, she rested her head in her hands. “Yes. That was Chason Bolt on the phone.”
“Why?”
His softly spoken question brought her attention fully back to him. She didn’t care for his tone or the tense set of his jaw. She didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking or wondering about or why he seemed on the edge of anger. At the mention of Chason Bolt, he was a bull, pawing the ground, ready to charge. She was fed up with him making her feel as if she’d done something wrong. Her anger flared like a Roman candle.
“Because he’s my lover, Levi. I can’t go a day without speaking to him.” She glared at him and then fell back on the couch. “Jeesh, I hate it when you talk to me like that!”
“Like what?” he snapped. “All I did was ask why you were talking to that bastard.”
She laughed in the face of his subterfuge. “Right. That’s all you did.” She narrowed her eyes, mirroring his. “I called him because I had a vision. The murderer is in Las Vegas at Planet Hollywood and he’s out to get Chason.”
He glanced away from her and she could feel him collect his cool again and tamp down his hot temper. “Bolt has security. He’ll be fine.”
“He didn’t, but he will.”
His gaze swept back to her. “He doesn’t have security guards? Not even through the casino?”
“He did, but he decided to do without them for a couple of days while he entertains a lady guest. But he’s changed his mind about that now.”
“Idiot.” He walked to the windows and looked up at the stars. “How’d you know how to reach him?”
“He’s called me before, so I had his number stored in my phone.” She looked at his proud stance and his wavy reflection in the window pane. “Of course, since he’s my lover, I have his phone number memorized.” She smirked at the way he closed his eyes and bowed his head. She figured he was counting to ten. “How was your evening with your ex-lover?”
He whirled around and his face contorted with bitter anger. “You know, this isn’t funny.”
“No.” She pushed up from the couch. “It’s not. Whatever your issue is with Chason Bolt, leave me out of it, okay? I’ve made my position clear.” She ticked off her points, finger by finger. “I don’t want him, I’m not sexually aroused by him, I don’t think he’s that interesting, I don’t want to work with him, and I am married and took a vow of fidelity, not that I needed to because you’re the only man I want making love to me.” She ran out of breath before she ran out of reasons and fingers.
Turning away from him, she charged out of the den and made her way to the bedroom, then into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and began stripping off her clothes. God, that man made her crazy! The way he swaggered in and insinuated with his damn facial expressions, physicality, and softly spoken words that she had done something hideous! Well, it simply infuriated her!
She stepped into the shower and heard three taps on the bathroom door. “Not now, Levi!” she shouted, then shut the glass door
and adjusted the different water nozzles and temperature. Standing under the triple rain-can showerheads, she closed her eyes and her mind to the tumult around her. Chanting soothing words to herself, she imagined each of her tense muscles untying, loosening, relaxing. She’d almost achieved peace when she heard the shower door open, making her tense all over again, but she kept her eyes closed, refusing to acknowledge her interloper. She could feel him, though. She could feel the heat of his body even before his hands spanned her waist and he pulled her back against him.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Levi whispered, then kissed the curving shell of her ear. “I’m an ass.”
“I know. Now leave. I want to shower.”
His arms came around her as if she hadn’t spoken and his mouth sucked gently on her ear lobe.
“Levi, I mean it.” She shoved at his arms to break his hold, but weakened as his teeth grazed the side of her neck and nipped her shoulder. “This isn’t the answer to everything.”
“But it’s always fun,” he murmured, making her roll her eyes at him. “I am sorry, my beautiful Tru. You’ve had a rough night and I haven’t helped. Let me make it up to you, baby.”
His arms loosened and he stepped back to kneel behind her. His mouth skimmed down her spine. He smoothed his hands over her backside and lower, slipping his fingers over her folds, parting them, and pushing two fingers inside her.
She tipped back her head as his fingers moved in and out of her, building speed, creating an urgency in her body for release. Flattening her hands against the tiled wall, she let her head droop as passion washed over her in fiery streams. Her body quaked when he curled his fingers and massaged her G-spot. The man was a scholar in the seduction of a woman’s body. While she rued his number of lovers, she was grateful to be the recipient of his sexual thesis. Her climax clamped down on her, driving all thought from her mind, drowning her in a whirlpool of pleasure. When she came up for air, he was in front of her, bending to take her left nipple into his mouth while his fingers tweaked the right one. She came up on her toes and thrust her hands into his wet hair, holding him in place as the buds tightened to the point of pain. Releasing a long moan, she flung back her head and let the shower spray pelt her face, the corners of her eyes, and her parted lips. He let her nipple slip from his mouth and rubbed the abrasive stubble on his chin and cheeks against the softness of her breasts. It stung. It pleased. It made her wet.