(Psychic Visions 01) Tuesday's Child (36 page)

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you."

"No. No. Don't feel that way." He reached across the table, his hand a protective cover over hers. He squeezed her hand. "It's just disturbing that you have to go through this all the time." His thumb stroked across the soft skin beside her thumb.

"Working in law enforcement, I'm exposed to every horrific human experience. I should be used to it... It still catches me sometimes."

Sam gently caught up his fingers in hers. "I know. It's the same for me. People can be vicious to each other."

His lips twisted in a wry grin. "That's often why relationships don't work for law enforcement officers. If we marry someone
not
in the same field, then the partner doesn't have the understanding of what we go through every day. And if we marry another officer, then there is no leaving the work behind. Living with this level of violence every day, slowly wears down the relationship until nothing can hold it together."

"How horrible."

Moses barked, startling her. An odd sound rustled outside the cabin. Frowning, she went to the front door and stared out the window to the one side. The blackness showed nothing untoward. She opened the door to let both dogs outside then followed them. Brandt was suddenly at her side.

"What did you hear?"

"I'm not sure. Something was moving out here."

"Wildlife?"

She shook her head. "No. The dogs wouldn't react like that."

In the distance, a faint rumbling sound could be heard. A vehicle.

"Can you hear the highway from here?"

"Occasionally. It depends on the weather." As her voice died away so too did the engine sound.

"It has to be on the highway."

"Unless someone drove part way and then walked the rest."

The two stared at each other, uneasiness hanging heavy on the evening air.

Sam stepped closer, linking her arm with his. "I forgot to say thank you for coming. I really don't want to be alone tonight."

Survival had meant being alone before. She didn't know what to do with Brandt. Having sex once was one thing – didn't other people easily toss sex off as a momentary passionate lapse? Twice well, didn't that constitute a relationship? She didn't do those. Or she hadn't done in a long time. And she was pretty sure, he didn't do them either. Better to clear the air and tell him, no matter how uncomfortable.

"I need to tell you that I don't do relationships." Oh wasn't that smooth, Sam. Good job, Sam? How to advertise your inexperience and total lack of social skills.

Brandt slowly turned around to stare at her. "Why not?"

Heat pooled in her tummy at the sensuous vibes emanating from him. Her cheeks warmed, but she stood her ground. "I'm no good at them," she said baldly.

"How would you know if you don't do them?" he asked in a reasonable tone of voice.

Sam stared at him, unsure of how to go on. "I tried."

"So that's it. You tried and failed so you're doomed to a life alone? Haven't we been around this block once before?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. Maybe." Sam shut up, too flustered to answer clearly.

"You don't know because you're too afraid to go on."

"So?" she challenged him.

"So live a little. Don't spend your life so afraid of trying and failing that you live alone. Take a chance and let someone in your world." He reached out and cupped her chin, raising her face to meet his gaze. "I want to be a part of your world. I thought I'd proved that already."

He was saying the words she'd yearned to hear all her life. Moisture collected at the corner of her eyes. It's all she could to not start bawling. In spite of herself, her bottom lip trembled.

His thumb smoothed even as it rubbed her lower lip, gently teasing it to a smile. Sam couldn't resist. She kissed his thumb as it made its next pass.

He stopped. "Dangerous."

Sam's lips twitched. His thumb moved again, this time much slower, more seductive in its sensual mission. The tantalizing movement slowed when it reached the middle swell, where it sat heavy and waiting. Sam raised her eyes to his.

His asked a question.

Sam hesitated. Did twice mean a commitment. Or given her lack of social skills and inexperience did twice mean still dating? Could she really walk away? Did she even want to? No. If at the end she was devastated, then so be it. At least she'd have enjoyed life...and him for a little while.

Closing her eyes, she let her body answer for her. Her lips parted slightly. Her tongue slipped out to caress his thumb. Sliding first to one side then to the other.

Brandt bent his head, his eyes absorbed with her every tiny movement.

From under half-closed lids, Sam watched his eyes deepen, darken. Sliding her tongue out further, she slowly curled it around the top of his thumb. Instinctively, she'd invited him inside. He didn't resist. His thumb gently caressed the inside of her lips. Sam closed her teeth on his skin, tugging his thumb ever so gently inside. She sucked it lightly, her eyes wide, watching him watch her.

His eyes became heavy-lidded, his breathing harsh and rasping. Sam's lips curled. She sucked harder.

His mouth opened, his tongue gently licking across his own lips. His nostrils flared.

The wait became unbearable. Sam closed her eyes to enjoy the simple sense of arousal. Nerve endings she'd tamped down surged to life, making her body tingle in places she didn't even know could respond.

His thumb dropped away.

Her eyes snapped open. Blinded by sensation, her whole being focused on his mouth as he lowered his head and replaced his thumb with his lips. Stunning, hot liquid engulfed her as Brandt kissed her slowly, leisurely, and very, very competently.

When he lifted his head long minutes later, Sam sagged against him.

Holding her close, his lips against her ears, he whispered, "Too much?"

She shook her head, and whispered, "Not enough."

He needed no encouragement: bending and lifting her in his arms, easily carrying her up the stairs to the single room upstairs. He lowered her feet to the floor. Lowering his head, he gave her a long, slow kiss. When he broke it off, she stretched on tiptoes to recapture his lips.

"Sam, I need to know – are you sure? I don't want just a moment. I want to see where this goes. To give it a try. To give us a try."

Sam didn't want to talk, but Brandt reached up to hold her face in his warm hands as he dropped soothing kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her closed eyelids, and even the corners of her mouth – but never on her lips. "Are you sure?" he murmured insistently.

Sam moaned as his teasing lips moved to her ear and down the smooth line of her neck. Shivers ran down her spine. She melted deeper against him.

"Sam." He lips tickled on their upward path. She smiled. Her tongue slid against his lips, darting inside to stroke his tongue. Brandt took her mouth in a deep drugging kiss. He finally broke off the kiss, breathing in deep sharp rasps. "Sam, answer me," he ordered.

Sam forced her heavy eyelids open to stare at him in confusion.

"Say yes."

With her gaze fixed on his, she whispered the promise they both needed to hear. "Yes."

11:00 pm

Brandt studied his surroundings. The bare bedroom fascinated him. What an insight into her personal life. All walls and the painted ceiling were bare, not even a poster to break up the bleakness. There were no dressers, closets, or storage of any kind. He could only imagine how her life had been up until now.

Her bed held cheap army surplus blankets with even more stacked on the floor. He glanced at the odd stack of blankets. His face grew grim as understanding crashed in on him. They were spares in case what happened to the one on the couch, happened again.

His cell phone rang. His heart sank. Gently, disengaging himself from Sam's arms, he hurried to find the phone before she woke up.

"Hello." His cell phone showed it was just past eleven. Moonlight cast a pale shadow on the bedroom floor.

"Brandt. We've got trouble."

Brandt listened, glaring into the night. "What the hell? Not again. Who. Did. This?"

"I don't know. I have called the station, but no one is talking. If it takes a court order, I will find out. The ring incident was minor compared to this. You need to warn Samantha."

"Oh I will. Don't worry about that. I get first dibs on the asshole that did this."

"Don't go jumping to conclusions," warned the captain.

"I'm not. Go ahead. Get all the proof you need – then he's mine." Brandt's mind fired on all cylinders. "They actually gave her name? How irresponsible is that?"

"They say it never occurred to them that she might be in danger. Many psychics need publicity to stay in business. I don't think they understand what they've done. But don't worry. You look after Sam, and I'll sort this out."

His voice brooked no argument.

"Fine. You get the first shot. Sort it out...or I will." Brandt hung up.

11:05 pm

"Oh Shit!"

Dillon leaned forward to stare at the television newscaster, his handful of chips frozen in midair. Sam's face filled the screen. Dillon chest constricted. He hadn't done this. He hadn't given the media a picture of her. Oh, crap. He dumped the chips into the bowl and rubbed his hands through his hair. It wouldn't matter if he'd done this or not. If anyone found out what he had done, he'd be blamed regardless. He was so fired.

He'd talked to the reporter, but had only mentioned a psychic being part of the investigation. How could they have put the rest together? He hadn't given them any details. He sure as hell wouldn't have given them her name.

They had to have a name to get a picture. Or the reverse. That's it! Someone could have seen and recognized her at the station. Then it would have been easy to have followed up on her.

Not that it mattered. Once the others knew he'd talked to the media a little bit, no one would believe he hadn't given them everything. Everyone would assume the worst. Given his behavior to date, he couldn't blame them.

The woman's face stayed on the screen so long Dillon wanted to throw something.

What was he going to do?

There was no doubt about one thing. If Brandt and Sam were right about a killer taking out women in the area, there was no doubt which woman would be his next victim.

He needed to save his neck. Shit. There was only one way.

He reached for the phone.

11:06 pm

"What the hell!" Beer spewed out of his mouth. He leaned forward to hear the newscaster's voice clearer. "A fucking psychic."

The small apartment closed in on him for a long moment. The picture on the screen wavered before focusing in tightly again. Whoever she was, she looked like hell. The picture was grainy and old, the woman hardly identifiable.

He leaned back, unsure what to think. After a minute, he started to laugh. A slow rolling-barrel laugh pealed across the small room. "Oh God, that is too funny. Fucking incompetent cops. They can't solve anything. Their heads are stuck so far up their asses they had to bring in a goddamned psychic."

With his beer safely down on the long pine coffee table, he laughed and laughed. This was so perfect.

Abruptly the laughter died in his throat. He glared at the picture still on the screen, committing her features to memory.

She'd better not sense him. He'd fucking kill her.

11:15 pm

B
randt gazed down at the sleeping angel beside him. God, help him, he was just as much to blame for this mess. There were so many things he could have done. He could have talked to the station himself about who supplied the picture of the ring. He could have put the fear of God into Dillon and Kevin – let them know he was suspicious of them. Most of all, he should have beat the shit out of that asshole deputy from her past. He closed his eyes and groaned. Guilt squeezed his heart. Stupid.

He'd never knowingly do anything to hurt her. Ever. But just as bad...he'd promised to keep her involvement private and he'd failed.

His arm tightened around the tiny woman that had broken into the locked places in his heart. Lowering his head, he dropped tiny caresses to the side of her face tucked into his shoulder. Unbelievable. He cared so much and just the thought of anything happening to her made his arms squeeze tightly.

With a muffled protest, Sam, still asleep, shifted slightly out of his grasp. "Sorry, sweetheart." Brandt shifted to give her more space.

His phone rang again. Casting a worried look at Sam, Brandt slid upward to sit against the wall, cell phone in hand.