Cold Touch (46 page)

on, I’m only going to lift what I’ve bought and paid for myself.”

He understood and smiled at her, bending to kiss her temple. “You’re sure?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” she said, meaning it. “Whether you and I have a

future together or not—and please don’t be terrified by me saying this, but I

hope we do—I’ve realized I want one for myself. Even if I spend my days

alone, I need to spend them in my own head, with my own problems, my own

fears, my own dreams. Good and bad.”

He moved his mouth down to her cheek, kissing her again. Then farther, to

her mouth. Right before he brushed his lips against hers, he murmured, “We

have a future, Liv.”

A bright one, she hoped.

A bright, beautiful shiny one fil ed with love.

And life. So much life.

Arriving home after the first day at her new job, Olivia walked into the kitchen

to start dinner, already anticipating making a nice roast, perfect for a fal

evening. Okay, so it was Georgia, and it was stil seventy-five degrees

outside, but she’d take what she could get when it came to autumn, her

favorite season.

She was tired, and her feet hurt—who knew showing people works of art in

a gal ery would involve standing every single minute of the day?—but that was

okay. Maybe it wasn’t as chal enging or exciting as the job she’d given up,

maybe she wasn’t making a huge difference in the lives of other people, and

maybe she kind of hated modern art, but a job was a job.

The difference in her private life made it completely worthwhile.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happier. Gabe had moved

in with her a month ago, final y acknowledging that living in a house that she

owned didn’t mean he was sponging off her. Considering she’d been

unemployed and he’d been footing the bil s, the opposite had been true.

It had been wonderful. She slept beside him every night, drank coffee with

him in the morning, made crazywild love so often she was never entirely sure

when the next orgasm was going to strike.

She was madly in love with him, and he felt the same way toward her. And

life, oh, life was so very good.

There had been dark days, certainly, and sometimes when she looked at

him, she knew he was thinking of his lost friend. His new partner seemed like

a good guy, but she knew Gabe wouldn’t let his guard down, wouldn’t let him

get too close. It had hurt too damn much the last time.

She sighed. “He misses you, Ty.”

“Hey, you can’t miss what won’t leave.”

Olivia dropped the roast she’d just pul ed out of the refrigerator. It landed on

the floor with a wet splat, but she didn’t even notice as she spun around, her

heart beating crazily as she realized someone was in her house.

Then she saw who it was. “Would you stop doing that?” she said, letting out

a shaky laugh. “Damn it, Ty. I thought we agreed you wouldn’t just pop up like

Casper and say stuff to scare me.”

Tyler Wal ace, who’d appeared to her for the first time two weeks ago, when

he had simply showed up in her car as she’d been driving to a job interview,

gave her a sheepish look. “Sorry, I haven’t got the hang of this myself yet.” He

looked at the floor. “You gonna pick that up before the cat eats himself into a

case of food poisoning?”

Dex, as if hearing himself being talked about, hissed toward the empty

corner where Ty stood. She sometimes wondered if Dex could see Ty, too. If

so, they were the only two creatures on the face of the earth who could.

Bending down, she scratched the cat’s head, then picked up the unfortunate

hunk of lumpy raw meat.

Glancing at the clock, she said, “Gabe’s going to be home soon.”

Ty smiled, looking a little winsome, sad that he could see his friend, reach

out and touch him, but that Gabe never knew he was there.

Wel , he knew, he just couldn’t see or hear him. Not keeping secrets had

been one of the first promises they’d made to each other. So she’d told Gabe

that very first night after Ty had come back into her life.

At first a little freaked out about it, he’d come to accept it, knowing that Ty’s

decision to stay here hadn’t had anything to do with revenge or anger about

his murder and that he wasn’t trying to draw Olivia back into a world of pain,

vengeance and brutal, ugly death.

Ty had just been lonely. He’d told her that the only member of his family

who’d died before him was his grandfather, who had been a cranky, boring

miser when he was alive and was equal y as cranky, boring and miserly now

that he was dead. “Granny was right,” he’d said. “That man makes Scrooge

McDuck look like the patron saint of charity.”

He wasn’t here al the time, but Ty came often enough to keep her on her

toes.

Huh. To think three months ago she’d lived here alone, spent her days and

nights by herself, with only her cat to talk to. Now she had two men around:

one, her love and future husband and, hopeful y, someday the father of her

children; the other, his dead best friend.

It was weird, but somehow they were making it work.

“So how was your first day on the job?”

Olivia rol ed her eyes.

“You know, Liv,” Ty said, moving past her to sniff the wine she’d just poured,

“you do have another option.”

“I don’t do that anymore. Remember?” And she couldn’t be happier about it.

“I mean, if one ghost was enough to get Julia Harrington started in the

psychic detective business, wouldn’t two make it even better?”

She gaped. “Two? Meaning you? You want to go work for Julia?”

He shook his head. “Nah, she can’t see me. You’re the only one who can.”

He wagged his eyebrows up and down, looking so cute and flirtatious, like he

always had when he was alive.

“Come on, you know you want to.”

Go back to work for eXtreme Investigations? Yes, some days she did want

to. She missed her friends, missed working with them to solve a cold case

that had baffled people for years.

She didn’t miss what had once been the hardest part of her job, but she

definitely missed the rest.

Could it work?
Could she real y go to Julia and say, “Me and my ghost want

to come hang out with you guys?”

“It’s crazy.”

“Aww, don’t even start arguing with me about this,” he told her. “I’ve been

told I’m so stubborn, I could argue with a wal . . . and win.”

She had to hand it to him. Ty had gotten better at the Southern speak since

he’d died. She wondered if there were a lot of dead Georgians hanging

around on whom he’d been practicing.

“Let’s do it, whaddya say? It’l be fun.”

Her pulse picked up a little, excitement making her thoughts churn.

Maybe it real y was possible to have the best of both worlds: some

semblance of her old job and her new life free from the personal darkness

she’d had to endure to do that job.

“What would Gabe think?” she said.

“What would Gabe think about what?”

This time she dropped the head of lettuce she’d been about to wash for

salad, not even having realized that Gabe had come home much less that

he’d walked into the kitchen. “Damn it, I’m going to make the two of you start

wearing bel s on your col ars.”

“Every time a bel rings, an angel gets its wings,” Ty said, solemnly. Then he

snorted. “Just kiddin’. What the heck would I know about angels?”

She rol ed her eyes. “Your friend is a dork,” she told Gabe.

Smiling faintly, Gabe murmured, “Hi, partner.”

Ty lifted a hand, reached out and placed it on Gabe’s shoulder, whispering,

“It’s good to see you.”

Gabe stayed very stil , his head cocked, as if he’d caught a faint whisper on

the air, though she knew he would say he’d imagined it.

But who knew? Who could possibly say what strange things could happen

at any time. Maybe Ty would appear to Gabe someday, or maybe he’d decide

to head to that station she’d heard about, hop on a train and see what came

next.

No one real y knew, did they?

“So, what would I think about what?” Gabe asked as he came around the

island to kiss her lightly on the lips.

She turned into his arms, cupping his face in her hands, looking up at him

with every ounce of emotion she felt for this sexy, warm, tender, amazing man.

The wel of it ran deep, overflowing, fil ing her completely. And it was the same

for him, she knew beyond any doubt.

One more thing she knew: Gabe was going to hate the idea of her going

back to work for Julia Harrington. At least at first.

But he’d come around.

She was never going back to that awful, dark place where she’d lived for

twelve years. Would never use her deadly ability again. Would never break her

promise to him that she was finished with that part of her life.

Once she reminded him of that, she’d make him realize that he and their life

together meant more to her than anything, and she wouldn’t risk it if he truly

didn’t want her to.

Then she’d remind him that both his girlfriend and his late partner were

ganging up against him.

Oh, yeah. He’d definitely come around.

Did you miss the first book in the thril ing Extrasensory Agents series?

Read on for an excerpt from

COLD SIGHT

by Leslie Parrish

Available now from Signet Eclipse.

Thursday, 5:45 a.m.

Until last night, nobody had ever read Vonnie Jackson a bedtime story.

Though she’d lived for seventeen years, she couldn’t remember a single

fairy tale, one whispered nightienight or a soft kiss on the cheek before being

tucked in. Her mother had always been wel into her first bottle, her second

joint, or her third john of the evening long before Vonnie fel asleep. Bedtime

usual y meant hiding under the bed or burrowing beneath a pile of dirty clothes

in the closet, praying Mama didn’t pass out, leaving one of her customers to

go prowling around in their tiny apartment.

They definitely hadn’t wanted to read to her. Nobody had.

So to final y hear innocent childhood tales from a psychotic monster who

intended to kil her was almost as unfair as her ending up in this nightmare to

begin with.

“Are you listening to me?” His pitch rose, her captor’s voice growing almost

mischievous as he added, “Did you fal asleep, little Yvonne?” But that

mischief was laced with so much evil that it almost seemed to be a living,

breathing thing, as real as the stained, scratchy mattress on which she lay or

the metal chains holding her down upon it.

Most times, such as now, the man who’d kidnapped her spoke in a thick,

falsetto whisper, his tone happily wicked, like a jol y elf who’d taken up

slaughter for the sheer pleasure of it. Every once in a while, though, he got

angry and dropped the act. Once or twice, when he’d said a word or two in his

normal thick, deep voice, she’d felt a hint of familiarity flit across her mind, as

if she’d heard him before, recently. She could never focus on it, though; never

place the memory.

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she just recognized the twisted, ful -of-rage

quality that made men such as him tick. She’d seen that kind al her life. She’d

just never landed in the hands of a homicidal one. Until now.

“Sweet little girl. So weary, aren’t you? I suppose you fel asleep, hmm?”

She shook her head. Even that slight movement sent knives of pain

stabbing through her skul and into her brain. Whether that was from the drugs

he’d been shoving down her throat or from the punches to the face, she

couldn’t say. Probably both. The pil s he’d given her hadn’t made the pain go

away. Instead they’d intensified it, brought her senses higher until every word

was a thundering cry, every hint of light in her eyes as blinding as the sun. And

every cruel touch agonizing.

The first beating had hurt. The subsequent ones had nearly sent her out of

her mind. Only the solid, steel core of determination deep inside her—which

had kept her going despite so many obstacles throughout her life—had kept

her from giving in to the urge to beg him to just kil her and put her out of her

misery.

“You must want to go to sleep, though.”

“No,” she whispered. “Go on. Don’t stop. I like it.”

Oh, no, she didn’t want to fal asleep, as welcome as it might have been.

Because it was while she slept, helpless against sheer exhaustion, lul ed by

his singsong bedtime stories or unable to fight the effects of the drugs, that he

came in and
did
things to her. She’d awakened once to find him taking

pictures of her, naked and posed on the cot. Though his face had been

masked—one of those creepy, maniacal y smiling “king” masks from the fast-

food commercials—he’d rechained her and scurried out as soon as he

realized she was ful y conscious. As if he didn’t have the bal s to risk letting

her get a good look at him.