My Immortal (6 page)

“I believe I owe you a thank you.” Storm kissed the top of her head.
 

“What did you have in mind?” Stevie looked up and smiled. Her nose crinkled.

He wriggled his brows. “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”

Chapter Six

Stevie nestled into Storm as they drove across town. The glittering lights of the city sparkled on the black hood of Storm’s Chevy truck. She took a deep breath to admire the woodsy scent of a nearby barbeque joint. The spicy pepper smell whetted her appetite. She licked her lips and sighed. They should’ve met with Mrs. Davis at Pudgy’s BBQ instead of the diner.

Her hometown of New Haven wasn’t exactly rolling in high fashion. The shops along the main drag showed their age, although the owners tried their best to maintain the pleasant facades.

Many buildings still bore the names of the original builders in carved relief. Green and white striped awnings and giant boxes of fresh produce decorated the windows at the Dorgan Family Grocery. The original stencilled letters and a selection of neon wigs welcomed patrons into the Cut
Above
Beauty Salon.

The centrepiece of the town was the New Haven Empress Hotel. Four opaque oval windows peeked through ten white columns with Corinthian capitals that lined the front of the building. A wide strip of red all-weather carpeting led to the ornate bronze doors. Each time they passed the hotel, Stevie sent silent wishes that she could stay once in the elaborate building.

For all the lush history, the town also bore its share of rough spots. The downturn in the economy showed in the increasing number of crumbling ‘For Sale’ and ‘Out of Business’ signs. Plywood and duct tape covered the bevelled glass windows on the old Firelands Insurance building. Potholes marred the once grand avenue that led through town.

Stevie sighed. No matter how run-down and decrepit New Haven looked, she still loved it and called it home. She grew up here and would most likely die here as well, buried in the same cemetery where her grandparents rested.

Storm accelerated through the green light and cleared his throat. “What are you thinking about, Stevie?”

She blushed and turned her attention back to the man in the driver’s seat. “I wondered what it would be like to stay in the Empress Hotel,” she mumbled. “Expensive, I assume.”

“We’re supposed to meet at Trixie’s Diner at eight, but why don’t we plan to stay there when the Tripp case closes?” Storm drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the current song on the radio.

A combination of shock and elation slid through her. Storm never failed to surprise her. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Please do.” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his lap. “We deserve a vacation.”

Stevie massaged his thigh through the butter soft denim. “Why don’t you get the table and I’ll walk the deposit to the bank? I know they won’t get it until Monday morning, but I’d rather not have that much cash in hand.”

“I watch the news. Too many people would kill to get their hands on that much money. I’ll have you take it in the morning.”

“In New Haven?
They don’t even lock their doors.” She scrunched her nose. “The security lights are bright and I’ve got my gun. I know how to take care of myself. It won’t take me long to walk next door. I’ll be fine.”

Storm parked the truck and squeezed her hand. The tingle ricocheted through her body. “I don’t like it, because I have a bad feeling. I worry about your safety, but I trust you.”

“I’ll carry my mace in my pocket and my gun in my purse, so you can ignore the spooky feeling.” She kissed his cheek and lingered on the corner of his mouth. The taste of spearmint toothpaste and sheer Storm flicked on her tongue.

She broke away, only to notice how his heavy-lidded gaze caressed her body. She shivered and got out of the vehicle. If they stayed in the cab much longer, the deposit would be the least of her worries.

The walk to the bank was only a short distance and it felt like she floated on a cloud the entire way. Stevie grinned yet kept a cautious eye on her surroundings. Despite the low crime rate in New Haven, Storm’s hypersensitivity kicked her paranoia to a new high. She’d never had someone concerned for her safety before and that made her feel, well, grateful.

She licked her lips and slipped the thick envelope into the night deposit slot. In the space of twenty-four hours, she managed to jump the threshold into a freer existence. If this was love, she welcomed it with open arms. Storm’s unique style of lovemaking skittered around her brain, like a sensuous filmstrip. Her pussy warmed as she thought about him.

As she eased away from the building, a foreign sweet scent curled around her nose. The bakery wasn’t open this late, so the sweetness couldn’t be a new batch of doughnuts. When she turned, something cool pressed into her side. A hand clasped her wrist and jerked it behind her body. No matter how much she wanted to scream or run like hell, her police training kicked in. She clamped her teeth together.

“Walk and you’ll get away alive.”

Stevie swallowed hard, processing the situation. Her heart thundered and blood pounded through her veins. The husky voice stirred her curiosity and she attempted to turn to her attacker. She couldn’t reach her gun or her cell to call for help. She hoped Storm would notice her long absence and come looking for her. She blew a breath out through her mouth. If she screamed, she’d be dead. The voice sounded too darn familiar.

Gulping in a long draw of oxygen to calm her frayed nerves, she channelled her inner badass. “Put the gun away, then.”

“Don’t shit me, Stephanie.” The man kicked her left foot, sending a sliver of pain up her leg.

No one, save for her parents, called her by the name on her birth certificate. She ground her teeth together, thankful she chose simple ballet flats for the meeting.

Still, she wouldn’t give him the upper hand. She’d either be killed…or freed… She mentally shrugged. Either way, she wouldn’t be dealing with the gun-wielding idiot. Besides, it wasn’t in her to cooperate.
“So where to?
Or is that confidential, too?”

The man tightened his grip on her wrist. The leather gloves he wore creaked.
“Do as I say and look less conspicuous.
We’re a couple out on an evening stroll.”

“Yeah, because men lead their women around like cattle in this town.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Stevie complied and her mind raced. The jerk had covered his hands so there weren’t any prints. He smelled like chilli powder and something sweet.
Alcohol?
Or was it candy?

Someone she knew always smelled of candy—fruity candy. Her brain refused to process that information. She glanced around. They were now a block from Trixie’s between the bakery and The China Gourmet restaurant. Dammit, if she didn’t smell sickly sweet strawberry candy.

The man shoved Stevie against a brick wall in the alley next to the Chinese eatery. The hard surface bit into her skin and abraded her back through the short sleeve cotton tunic she wore. He stood only inches from her and glared at her from the protection of a black ski mask. His gloved hands cut into her bare forearms.

“Listen and this will end peacefully,” he snapped.

She nodded and focused on his brown eyes.
Eyes the colour of bitter dark chocolate.
What was with this guy and why did he look familiar?

“I know about you and Storm, but do you really know him?” He paused to catch a breath and continued, “I didn’t think so. You aren’t the same. Let me save you from him. He wants to drain you, but I’ll cherish you.”

Stevie dug her teeth into her bottom lip to bite back the scream building in her throat. Not the same? What did he mean by that? She’d seen every delicious inch of Storm’s body and knew him better than her own family. He wouldn’t hurt her. But the guy holding her at gunpoint; why trust him? And where had his gun disappeared to?

She snuck a glance at his body to hunt for a bulge that might be the weapon.
“Why the need to protect me?
I don’t know you.”

He growled. “He’s not the right man for you. You want a white picket fence with babies. He’ll never give it to you. He’s not your kind.”

“And you will give that to me? Let me see who you are, because I can’t believe a coward or a liar.” That sounded harsh, but she got her point across. “Better yet, just let me go.”

The man growled again. “Nice try, sweet cheeks. No dice. You had the chance and threw it away when you went to the academy. I wanted to protect you and you refused.”

This time she got a glimpse of straight white teeth, the kind that takes lots of money and time to perfect. She wriggled in his grasp and he held her tighter. Her circulation began to break down. Tingles shot up her arms. The scent of yeast from the bakery mixed with the salty soy and the strawberries made her nauseous. Despite the queasy feeling, she processed his statement. The only person who had objected to her becoming an officer was her father and this jerk sounded nothing like her father.

“Focus on your job catching cheats and run like hell away from Storm Richardson. He’s a monster who doesn’t deserve a woman like you. Go home to the man who needs you.” With that, he kicked her feet out from under her body and took off in a dead run.

Pebbles dug into her palms as Stevie scrambled on the ground, getting into position to aim her gun. She could still fire, but she lost her clear shot when her attacker ducked behind a parked car.
Dammit.
She stood and wiped the dirt and rocks from her T-shirt. Her heart beat out of control and not just from the adrenaline. Who was the lunatic who grabbed her and pinned her in a freaking alley? What did he mean? Storm wasn’t a monster. He was a superior lover and gentle human being. She loved him. Was that the problem?

The bit about the white picket fence and kids stuck in her mind. She’d never planned on kids, not with the danger of her job. What man at home wanted her? Not her father. He had kicked her out the day she’d opted to become a police officer.

She forced her feet to move and walked back to the diner. Behind the glass, she saw Storm in an animated conversation with a middle-aged woman sporting tight auburn curls.

Stevie sat on the front bumper of Storm’s black truck and took deep breaths to calm her ragged nerves. She should go tell him what happened. Hell, she should be on the phone with the police. Somehow, her body wouldn’t agree with her mind and move. She closed her eyes, raked her fingers through her hair and retied her ponytail. Her head throbbed. When had her structured life gotten so out of control?

About the same time she let her guard down and slept with Storm.

Was he the connection?

According to the crazy with the gun, yes.
Her common sense said no. Storm made her life better. She shook her head. “He’s worth the trouble,” she mumbled.

Storm’s arms suddenly enfolded her.
“Stevie?
Honey, what are you doing out here? I thought you were going to deposit the…”

Any reserved bravery went right out the window at that moment and she wept. He held her tighter and murmured to her.

“Baby, where the fuck is that son of a bitch?”

She shook her head again and shoved him away. They couldn’t talk in public, even if he somehow knew what had happened. This needed sorting out in private.

“Did you leave Mrs. Davis alone at the table? We should get back to her.”

“Fuck it,” he snapped. Storm paced back and forth with one hand in his hair and one on his hip. His words came out clipped. “How did he get to you?”

Stevie stared at him with moist eyes. Was this the monster version of Storm her attacker mentioned? She didn’t think so. “Storm, we can’t ignore the job.”

He pulled her tight against his body and rubbed her back. “She’s gone and we tail her husband next week. But that doesn’t matter. Something happened to you and that’s more important, dammit.”

She clutched his shirt and took a deep breath. “Take me home, Storm. Take me home.”

* * * *

Storm ignored the speed limit signs until he reached the outskirts of New Haven. The playful banter they normally shared while meeting a prospective client disappeared the moment Stevie had shown up battered and distant.

Dirt marred her cheek and the knee of her favourite jeans sported a tear. He smelled the dried blood on her skin and forced the craving down to the pit of his stomach. Stevie curled against him for the trip to the house and remained silent.

For a moment, he saw the bastard with the gun. For a split second, he went through the ordeal with her.
And now?
Shut out again.

His mind reeled. Stevie shared everything—her trouble with her younger sister, her father’s drinking problem, the search for her new condo, even what she bought at the store.

Now that he needed her to open up to him, she’d closed down completely. He should shove into her mind and read everything, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. The baby powder scent of her apprehension mixed with her natural flowery perfume. He smelled something more, but he couldn’t think fast enough to process the information.
Cherries?
Kiwi?
What the hell was it?