Desperate Choices
Authors: Kathy Ivan
Desperate Choices
By Kathy Ivan
When psychic Theresa Crawford’s former beau walks into her New Orleans New Age shop, she senses trouble. Big trouble. Max Lamoreaux hasn’t come to discuss their relationship—the private investigator is on a case, and he needs Theresa’s help.
Max’s godson is missing. The police have declared Tommy a runaway, but Max’s gut tells him otherwise. While he’s highly skeptical of Theresa’s abilities, her visions provide the only clue as to who’s taken Tommy. The longer Max works with Theresa, the harder it is to resist his desire for the sexy woman.
As they inch closer to finding Tommy, Max and Theresa also discover that time hasn’t diminished their powerful attraction. But Theresa harbors her own dark secrets from her past. Secrets that broke them up before—and could drive them apart again, unless Theresa can learn to trust Max with
everything
…
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A great big thank you to my editor, Gina Bernal. With her guidance and wonderful editing skills she made
Desperate Choices
a much better book. Thank you, thank you, Gina. To Angela James and the rest of the Carina Press team—it has truly been a pleasure to work with such a talented group of people.
To my critique partners Vicki Batman, Ann Jones-Rodriguez, Christine Keniston and Phyllis Middleton. Without you ladies, I know I’d never have finished the book.
To Jane Graves for reigniting my love of writing and helping me know I could do it.
To my sister, Mary Sullivan, for her unwavering belief that I could write a good story and would one day be published. Looks like you were right, Sis.
Lastly, this book is dedicated to my mother, Betty Sullivan. She instilled in me the joy of reading at an early age and a love of romance, no matter the genre. Although I lost her before she could see me become a published writer, I know she’s smiling, thrilled to see me take this leap into a world she loved. Miss you bunches, Mom.
She should have locked the door.
Theresa Crawford watched the man close the door behind him with a firm but solid click. Big trouble—she could sense it. Darkness radiated from him in waves.
“Hello, Max.” Her soft-spoken greeting broke the silence. She remained seated behind the table draped with various multicolored scarves, studying the man in front of her. Though she’d known him for over ten years, he was too complex to say she knew him well.
Without waiting for an invitation, Max Lamoreaux walked the few steps it took to reach her. Pulling out the chair opposite he sat, straddling it. His long lean frame filled the delicate white chair. His gaze locked with hers.
A familiar sense of anticipation flittered through her like butterfly wings. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention. Theresa felt like a frightened animal right before the fight or flight response kicks in. She wasn’t sure which she’d do. Given their history, probably fight.
As Max started to speak she held up her hand and indicated for him to wait. Rising from her chair she walked over to a browsing couple, the only customers in the store, and politely informed them the shop was closing early.
At the door, with deliberate measured movements, she turned the lock and flipped the sign hanging in the glass-paneled door to Closed.
Glancing back, she paused and inhaled a long steadying breath before exhaling slowly. Her palms slid down the front of her flowing skirt, wiping away the traces of nervous moisture. Max coming to her shop? Definitely not good.
Facing the table, she opened her psychic channels. Maybe she could get a glimpse of why he was here. Nothing. Max had amazing natural shields. Right now they were firmly in place, solid as steel and just as impenetrable.
Theresa sat and looked up to meet Max’s intent stare. She nodded, allowing him to proceed.
The tight press of his lips along with the deep crevice between his strong brows conveyed his discomfort and anger. An uncommon combination for him, she thought. He still hadn’t spoken, staring at her with those steely ice-gray eyes. That look sent rippling, sizzling sensations through her. Underneath it all, despite their past, there lurked a hunger which refused to be hidden.
Theresa broke eye contact with difficulty. She could get lost in the storm clouds of his stare. In fact she had, on more occasions than she cared to remember. Glancing down, she spotted the thick manila envelope he’d laid on the table.
Well, that explains it. He’s on a case.
“What do you want, Max?” Theresa noted her hesitancy and took a cleansing breath, focused on curbing the underlying nervousness in her tone.
“Same old Theresa, right to the point. As always.”
“Look, no small talk, Max. It never works for us. Just get to the point. What do you want?”
With a gentle shove, Max pushed the envelope across the table. She stared at him, waiting. This was his show. He was the one with the questions.
“Okay, we both know I’m not comfortable being here. I wouldn’t have come, but Remy insisted. You know how persuasive he can be when he thinks he’s right.”
Theresa’s brow quirked. Remy was Max’s brother and had been her best friend for more than ten years. Remy knew how much she hated using her gift, especially around Max. His skepticism had caused hurtful, angry words between them several times.
“You know I don’t believe in all this psychic mumbo-jumbo crap. But I’m at a complete dead end. I’m willing to try
anything
to get a new lead, a direction to take this case.”
Theresa noted the almost undetectable tremor in his voice, a true indicator of the frustration he must be feeling. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingertips before speaking. “I’m well aware of your feelings about psychics, Max, so don’t embellish. Give me the facts.”
Max’s presence overpowered the compact space. He exuded a powerful masculine aura, making everything around him seem insignificant. He’d always done that whenever he entered a room. She felt an instinctive pull toward him, as powerful today as the day she’d met him. Some things never changed. Looking at him stirred up feelings and memories hard to push aside. He’d always been able to twist her inside-out with a hint of his smile.
Just stop it. Now’s not the time.
“A week ago I got a call from an old college buddy, David Saunders, in a panic because his son was missing. He never came home after work.”
Oh, no.
Her entire body tensed at the mention of a missing child, her fingers clenching into fists as every muscle in her body contracted in an instinctive effort at self-preservation.
Not again. I can’t work on another missing child case.
“How old is he?” she asked quietly, striving to speak over her rising panic.
“Tommy turned seventeen a couple of weeks ago.” There was a hint of warmth in Max’s tone, his affection for the boy evident. “Of course, David called the police immediately. The NOPD started an investigation, and I’ve been monitoring the situation. Yesterday, the police classified the case as a runaway.”
He folded his arms and leaned forward, resting both forearms along the backrest of the chair. “There hasn’t been a ransom demand. His motorcycle hasn’t been seen.”
Springing up from the chair, Max paced, a habit he’d had for as long as she’d known him. Theresa watched his backward and forward momentum. She knew he did some of his best thinking when he walked. He moved like a coiled panther, all lean muscle and leashed power. She followed his movements, all the while listening as he recited facts.
This felt off somehow. Max wasn’t verbose at the best of times, yet now he seemed almost…talkative.
“He’s a good kid who’s had a rough time. David moved out a few months ago, and Tommy’s had some problems at school. Grades dropping, skipping a few classes. David said he and his wife fought with Tommy the morning he went missing. Tommy blew up at them before he left. Then he never came home. No calls. Nothing.”
Max stopped in front of her. His eyes locked with hers. Theresa looked away, closing her eyes to block out the pain she read on his face.
“David swears Tommy wouldn’t run away. I believe him. For God’s sake, he’s my godson. He’s a responsible, well-adjusted teenager. The cops said they’ll leave it an open case for now, but they’re without leads, too.”
Eyes closed, Theresa listened quietly, taking in the information. More, though, she heard the emotions his voice carried. His conviction Tommy hadn’t run away. One thing was clear: Max was scared.
“The parents contacted the National Hotline for Missing Children?” Theresa opened her eyes, meeting his. “What about his friends? Could somebody be helping him hide out—trying to frighten his parents?” At the skeptical look on Max’s face, she changed tactics.
“Right, not hiding out. So, you’re sure somebody’s got him? What exactly do you think I can tell you?”
Max pointed to the envelope in front of Theresa. “We know what time he left his job and the route he takes home every night. The police scoured every inch of road, from the video store to his house. There was a cell phone on the ground a few miles outside New Orleans. It was his. Right now it’s the only clue we’ve got.”
He paused and ran a hand through his tousled black hair. “A buddy at the police department got me the phone from the evidence locker. Totally unethical and against every rule, but he owed me. I’ve got it for the next 24 hours, then it has to go back.”
Max picked up the envelope and upended its contents. A black-and-chrome phone tumbled onto the table, clattering to rest on the colorful scarves.
Theresa didn’t reach for it. She backed away, her spine pressed against her chair. She stared at the object sitting innocuously on the scarf-covered tabletop, her body frozen.
Max squatted beside her, resting his hand on her knee. Frustration and pain filled his voice. She couldn’t drag her eyes from his face. His eyes swirled with emotion. Pain. Grief. Worry.
“Okay, Ms. Psychic. Remy’s so damn sure you can help. Work your magic. Perform your voodoo or whatever the hell you do. Where is he and how on God’s earth do we get him back?”
***
Behind the wheel of the car, Max angled his head and watched Theresa. She sat silent and unmoving, just as she had since they’d left her shop. His gaze slid slowly along the length of her, and he definitely liked what he saw. He never paid much attention to her when she and Remy first began hanging out together. She’d been way too young. He’d rarely been home then, staying in Shreveport while attending LSU.
Max didn’t really understand Theresa and Remy’s friendship. They were so diametrically different, yet their friendship endured all these years.
Theresa had spent a lot of time at their house, all the holidays, birthdays, even family reunions. She was practically a member of the family, at least to everybody but him. He’d never had the remotest familial thought about her. When he looked at her, she set him aflame.
Every damn time there was a get-together, she’d been included. Until about a year ago. Things started to change then. He stopped seeing her as Remy’s best friend. Instead he saw a sexy, vibrant, eye-catching woman. A woman he wanted in a primitive, gut-wrenching and wholly masculine way. His body ached with wanting her. He’d been avoiding her like the plague ever since. A relationship was a complication he couldn’t afford in his life right now.
“Pull over here.” Her voice drew his attention back to the road. He angled the car over to the side of the pavement. Coasting to a stop, he swiveled to face the passenger side, watching Theresa closely.
“Why here?” he asked in a deceptively quiet voice, careful to betray nothing. An amazing coincidence. She’d told him to stop at the exact location the police discovered Tommy’s cell phone.
Just a lucky guess. Doesn’t mean a damn thing.
Opening the passenger door, Theresa stepped from the car. Max got out and walked around the front to join her where she stood. He watched her take several steps forward and then backtrack. Her eyelids were shuttered, as if by closing them, she could obscure her surroundings.
For a few tense moments, he watched and waited. In a whispered tone, she finally spoke. “Give me the cell phone.”
Quiet resolve and determination filled her face. Reaching through the passenger-side window, he plucked the manila envelope from the front seat and handed it to her. Then he stood back and watched.
***
Theresa slowly opened the clasp on the envelope, her movements tentative, a slight trembling in her fingers. She didn’t want to be involved in this case. She had a bad feeling about this, a really bad feeling. Mentally bracing herself as she reached inside, she grasped the cell phone. She lifted it and held it in her right hand, her fingers sliding around the metal and plastic. It felt cool to her touch. Switching her grip to both hands now, the envelope drifted unnoticed to the grass.
Images began to form. Slowly at first, they gained substance as she allowed the psychic energy to wash over her. It happened like that sometimes. Some visions came in a great flash, immediate and precise in detail, crystal clear and sharp. Other things were vague, fuzzy, out of focus.
The closest she’d ever come to describing it was a near-sighted person without their glasses, nearly blind. With tremendous concentration, she could sometimes get images to slowly and steadily come into focus.
Even though it was late afternoon, in her mind’s eye it was twilight. The dusky time between day and night where everything fades to shades of gray, black and white. She extended her extrasensory flow, hearing nothing except the normal sounds of nature. Crickets chirped, mosquitoes buzzed, an occasional bird lifted in flight. The normal sounds of a Louisiana evening.
Things began coalescing into definition. She stood alongside a motorbike. The motor wasn’t running.
She let her psychic senses run free. In the distance, she heard an engine. Its growl grew louder as it approached. A vehicle pulled to the side of the road a short distance ahead of where she stood beside the bike.
“Theresa,” Max interrupted. Never opening her eyes, she raised her finger to her mouth, motioning for quiet.
She concentrated on the vehicle, but as hard as she tried, it wouldn’t come into a clear image. She could only determine it was a light color and large.
Focus,
she whispered in her mind.
Go deeper. Bring it into focus.
A sudden jolt broke her concentration. Her neck snapped back, jarring her from the vision and back into reality. Theresa stared up at Max’s face inches from hers, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath. His grasp on her shoulders felt firm yet insistent.
“Theresa.” A hint of anxiety filled Max’s normally placid voice. “Theresa. Snap out of it.”
“What’s wrong, Max?”
“What’s wrong? You were standing there, barely breathing, shaking like a leaf, and you ask me ‘What’s wrong?’” Max’s hold on her eased and she watched him run a hand across his eyes. “What the hell just happened?”
The vision vanished, faded away like mist evaporating. Nothing left but the daylight surrounding her and Max. She handed him the phone and managed to stagger a couple of steps, resting her hip against the hood of the car.
Her body trembled, exhaustion enveloping her like a heavy cloak. This was one of the reasons she hated this kind of reading. It wiped her out, leaving her emotionally and physically drained.
“There’s not a lot I can tell you, Max. I saw the bike at the side of the road. Right there.” She pointed. “It wasn’t running. I couldn’t tell why not. I didn’t get the impression there was anything mechanically wrong, but…”
She took a few steps away from the car and glanced toward the woods. They were dense, thick and mysterious, yet no sense of danger emanated from them. Sunlight poured through the few leaves, wiping away all trace of the twilight hues from her vision.
“Another vehicle pulled over there.” She gestured toward the road again, indicating an area about twenty feet beyond where his car was parked. “It was large, light in color. Maybe white or a light yellow or tan, I couldn’t tell. It stopped. I sensed a brief moment of fear, but just as quickly it was gone. Tommy felt relief. He didn’t seem afraid. He seemed thankful, maybe even happy.”