Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1) (18 page)

He fell on the bed, and poured his grief into Aaron’s ear. When he asked about Jane, Evan shuddered. He kept expecting her, a minion of Dracula, to swoop into the bedroom and finish the torture.

“She must still be dead, because she hasn’t killed me yet.” Evan’s battered body didn’t want to move. He stifled his moan and checked the bathroom. “Malcolm’s the same, but his forehead’s not hot anymore. I don’t see any blue stuff soaked into the bandage.”

Thanks to the compassionate voice in his ear, Evan found the courage to walk down that hall. She lay on the floor exactly as he left her, except more beautiful than he remembered. Guess it could be worse. His torturer could be a hideous, bloodsucking he-alien.

“If Malcolm had her in the tub,” Aaron said, “he’d have reason. You could put Jane with him, so she’s on ice also.”

Rage burst through Evan. “You out of your mind? I don’t want to touch her. I need silver bullets, wooden stakes, something. And no way I’m putting her anywhere near Malcolm. You don’t understand. I’m glad she’s dead.”

“If she’s truly dead, she can no longer harm you or anyone. Is there somewhere else you could ice her down? We’re six hours away.”

“Yeah. I’ll take care of her now.” He closed his cell without even a grudging goodbye, and the guilt kicked back in. He’d taken his frustrations out on a stranger trying to help him.

I’m some lucky bastard
. First time in his life a nude woman holds him and she tortures him. He gets to carry her gorgeous body—only gross—she’s dead.

Her eyes were fixed, that anger gone. Malcolm had saved Evan without Jane getting a bruise. In all fairness, maybe Malcolm had died because Evan killed him, when he tasered Jane. But that battered body in the tub sure looked crushed to death—Evan was still a murderer, in common with her.

He left the corpse on the floor. In the laundry room, he plugged the drain in the utility sink. As it filled, he slunk back. Dead or living, he feared her. More remained to be done.

Evan couldn’t help it. One look at Malcolm, and he started bawling again. A hostage. How stupid could he get? He grabbed the rope and scissors.

Tying up a dead woman wasn’t easy. The hurt zapping through him, the cause of a man-angel’s demise, made Evan feel like he deserved even more pain. He bound her hands and tied her slender ankles. Funny how perfect breasts help distract from broken fingers. The yellow hair draped over his arm sparkled so prettily. She felt light for a super-warrior. That stabbing in his chest seemed less than when he’d carried Malcolm.

Evan settled Jane in the basin and prayed that the lack of rigor mortis didn’t mean she wasn’t really dead. He dumped two bags of ice over her, and made it to the kitchen sink before he did the heave-ho. Light faded from his vision, gray wrestled with black. His legs buckled, he slid to the floor, and he leaned against the counter while the vibrating started again. He struggled to stop crying and answered his cell.

Aaron got that “tell the truth or I’ll call a zillion cops” tone, and Evan admitted broken fingers. He fought his chuckle as he noted the swollen digits had turned blackish blue. If they jaundiced into yellow, he’d chop them off. Aaron told him to swallow triple dose of painkiller, wrap ice in a cloth around his hand, and call back from the bed.

He didn’t mention his ribs, back, or the darkness trying to swallow him. Aaron would have insisted on paramedics. He’d be damned if he couldn’t keep the only promise Malcolm had asked of him.

Evan took a handful of ice off Malcolm, not a worthless towel in sight, but there was a white sock in the drawer—good protection against zombie bitches. He collapsed on the bed and told Aaron everything but the torture. Aaron called back whenever they were cut off, assuring Evan he sped as fast as the plane would go.

Chapter Seventeen

Her foot heavy on the gas, Jaylynn gulped back her groan. What rotten luck. The only other driver on the road rubbernecked, and then went for the U-turn. Caream’s head rested on Jaylynn’s leg, and Damon slouched against the door. But horror of horrors, Bernice gawked from the driver seat of the car now behind them. Wouldn’t there be more than forty-eight hours notice if Jaylynn really were nuts? Maybe in this new reality, Bernice could be the nice old lady she pretended to be. That’d be worth losing marbles for.

Jaylynn came to a squealing stop in her store’s parking lot. “Come with me. Hurry. I don’t want that woman to see you.” She ran to her side door and almost rocketed out of her shoes. Color hovered behind her. She swallowed her surprise, opened the door, and pleaded into Damon’s scowl, “Wait inside. Don’t make a sound. I’ll get rid of her.”

Her human legs pumping as speedy as a slug, Jaylynn hurried to the sedan’s lowering window. “Hi, Bernice.” She leaned against the door, stopping the opinionated tyrant from opening it. “Store’s closed today. Sorry.”

“Who’s that man with you? The police are looking for a red-haired suspect.” Bernice pulled her thin lips into a tight line. “You do know the Maloney’s cabin burned to the ground this morning?”

“What man? I just popped out for aspirin. I was in a car accident. I need to lie down. See you later.”

“Everyone heard you went off the road. Probably under the influence of something, but that’s not why I stopped. That man in your car had bright red hair.”

“You’re seeing things.” Jaylynn snorted. “It’s too hot to stand out here like this. Bye.”

Bernice reached for her handbag. “The police are in Pine. There’s a patrol car by the coffee shop.” Of course, the gossip queen would have a cell phone.

“What do I have to do to make you understand I’m not hiding some felon?”

Penciled eyebrows rose. “Show me.”

“Fine. One minute. No longer.” Jaylynn yanked open the door and fought the urge to smack the smug look off the woman’s face. She turned, stomped for the house, and muttered as she went, “If you guys can hear me, hide.” Hopefully her suspicions of super-hearing were correct—or they’d disappeared like good little hallucinations, and she’d call the men in white to come rescue her from Bernice.

She waited by her door for the old biddy to catch up.

Bernice marched inside. She peered around the empty living room and headed for the bedroom.

Her colors, these supernatural beings, sure seemed real. Jaylynn couldn’t risk it. “For goodness sakes. Haven’t you seen enough?” She grabbed Bernice’s arm. “I want you to leave.” One yank, and Jaylynn managed to budge the heavy cow all of two inches.

“How dare you manhandle me? You could be helping an arsonist, even a murderer. I’m calling the police.” Bernice wrenched free, drew back her arm and swung.

Her palm froze less than an inch from Jaylynn’s face, her wrist clasped by a large hand reaching over the old lady’s shoulder. Another arm round Bernice’s ample chest immobilized her. Eyes bulging, she gulped like a gutted fish. Bernice’s wrist fell, and Damon’s hand slapped over her mouth. He arched his brows. “Kill or hit Bernice?”

His impatient grunt left no doubt in Jaylynn’s mind. At her word, he’d either snap Bernice’s neck or knock her out. Tough decision.

“God, no, don’t do either.” Jaylynn’s fingers fluttered her panic. “She’s just an old lady…who’s…biting you?” Bloody droplets glistened on Damon’s hand. “Bernice, stop that.”

“It’s pretty.” Damon didn’t move his hand. “Just-an-old-lady kills like Mom? Why’s her head already dead?”

No time to understand him, let alone answer. A small fist whirled around Damon. His bleeding hand snaked, and he halted Caream’s blow. “Jaylynn said not to hit Just-an-old-lady. Dead head will fall off.”

Damon’s bark had a pleasant outcome—Bernice fainted. Disgust all over his face, he picked up the stout woman and glared at Caream.

Jaylynn took a deep breath. What should she do now? Bash her head into a wall until she woke up? Hide Bernice’s body? Hesitate long enough for her colors to kill each other?

Caream grabbed and licked Damon’s injured hand. He held the three hundred pound sack of Bernice one-handed and whacked Caream to the floor. She hunched into a huddle and clasped her arms around her legs. Huge tangerine eyes peeked fearfully between Jaylynn and Damon as if she expected Jaylynn to go off on him. Not a clue what Godzilla would do next, Jaylynn didn’t dare move let alone speak.

Damon stomped to the couch and dumped Bernice. Anxiety continued to radiate from Caream, and Jaylynn wondered if Damon threatened her in a frequency Jaylynn couldn’t hear. He turned to Jaylynn and grumbled, very loud, “Damon sorry. Bernice broken? Fix her.”

A hard sigh and he stepped back from Jaylynn’s approach. How could he be so dense? His curled lip, the glower would make a sane person pee their pants.

She straightened Bernice’s legs. The pulse in the old lady’s neck beat steady. “It’s okay. She’s just unconscious, but we’re in such trouble. She’ll freak out if we revive her.”

Caream hopped to her feet. She scanned the room, shivered at the sunlit blue and green décor, and inched to Damon’s side. He yanked her close and pressed her face into his shirt. He lifted a bright carroty tendril. “What’s this?”

“It’s called hair.”

“Bernice has dead hair. Just-an-old-lady belongs in closet.” His tones sharpened with anger. “Arson? Murderer? Drugs? Damon doesn’t understand.” He forced Caream off his arm, thumped her head, and she hit the floor. He stomped to push the front door closed. Thin cracks, a lovely spider web pattern, shot through the wooden frame. Glaring at the floor, he began pacing the little living room.

Jaylynn tugged Caream up. She stroked her soft hair as Damon had done and received a heart-stopping smile. “Where’d you get those clothes?” she asked. “Why are you dressed like this?”

“Ya-man said need clothes. Damon put him in the closet. Damon left Caream! Damon came back. He made Caream put on clothes.”

“Put Caream in closet—now,” Damon snapped.

“I’ll grab some things,” Jaylynn spoke as fast as she could. “We need to leave before Bernice comes around. Maybe you’d like to cool off, Damon? A shower…I’ll show you.”

Jaylynn’s heart regained its beat. He’d unclenched his fists. Another good sign—in the five minutes they’d been there, only the front door had been damaged unless an annoying, elderly woman counted. “I’ll answer your questions soon. It’ll get better, I promise.” She headed for the bedroom. Damon elbowed Caream aside as he strode for the adjoining bathroom.

“Don’t touch.” Caream rushed around Damon. She opened the stall, turned on the shower and scampered out of his way.

Damon hopped in. He bent to let the water pour over him, the cracked sunglasses still on, his shirt molded to his chest. Why hadn’t he undressed? An intense urge to lift that shirt, run her fingers down his chest, and unzip those jeans had Jaylynn pocketing drool as she headed for her dresser.

No time to indulge in electric red fantasies. She had an exotic orange doll to dress, who’d howl if the colors were wrong. Good thing she had another black shirt and dress pants. It seemed she didn’t own anything orange. Jaylynn flipped her bedspread from blue to black side up, and turned.

Caream, minus silk chemise, leather pants and sunglasses, poked Damon in the back. Without looking down at her, he shifted to share the water. There couldn’t be a romance novel written that’d do justice to the pair. Droplets trailed off breasts a starlet would kill for, and ran down Caream’s slender stomach into curls of darker hair, shades of sweet sorbet.

Damon wore the same jeans as when he moved in front of Jaylynn’s car the first time, his ripped shirt covered the bullet in his shoulder. A shudder ran through him, and Caream moved to hug him. His large hand came down on top of her head. He shoved her into the wall and stepped from the shower.

Bright hair plastered to his face, Damon tossed the sunglasses on the bed and fastened his gaze, a breathtaking kaleidoscope of crimson, on Jaylynn. She swallowed hard and envied the droplets, which clung to his lean body and then fell and sparkled so prettily. Her heart fluttered like a deranged hummingbird. Not easy to concentrate on his grumble, when she melted into a pool of hormones in front of him.

“Water is good. Jaylynn is not. Afraid? Again? Damon sorry. Jaylynn wants something. Damon hide demon eyes?”

Oh sweet Lord, he can hear her whacked heartbeat? Smell her lust? “Oh, no, don’t be sorry. I’m not afraid of your eyes. They’re lovely, but different and you need to hide them. Police are searching everywhere for you. That fire could have killed many people.”

She took a deep breath. “I’ll take you to my ex-husband’s in Albuquerque. He isn’t home, and it’s out of this state.”

“Wrong words are lies? Jaylynn lies to Bernice and Damon. Not good.” He stepped back and crossed his arms. “Damon won’t break Jaylynn again. Try not to touch Jaylynn. Stop being afraid. Police won’t take anyone. Damon will stop.”

Guilt filled his expression, along with such bitterness. Nothing Jaylynn said would convince this being she’d labeled a demon, that her fear was justified—especially if it wasn’t. Had he said something about confronting police? Her brain froze after he’d said he wouldn’t touch her. Well, no cops to worry about right now, and she’d show him exactly what she thought about the other declaration.

Damon flinched back. The wall closed in behind him, and he looked at her with such wary surprise as she flung her arms around his waist. Jesus, you’d think he’d never been held before.

She hugged him, absorbed the glistening water from his shirt to hers, and nestled under his chin while a deep breath of heaven filled her lungs. Sweet ripe strawberries, meadow of burgundy clover, plump cherries, she couldn’t begin to describe his scent. Encircled by electricity, she loved his arms moving around her, sheltering her. Did he understand how her fear walked hand in hand with desire? She arched her back and raised her chin—unbelievable. Oh yes, he understood. Curiosity, relief, and contentment darkened his gaze.

Jaylynn let go of his waist, and smoothed wet hair from his face. “It takes time to learn to trust. I’ll try harder. Now, I’d like you to wait…” Oh damn, his ripped shirt. How could she forget? “That bullet can’t stay in your shoulder. We need medical help. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Yes. But Damon strong.” He released her, fists clenched, and paced away. “Fire kills psych hospital. Damon knows how to find hospital. Albuquerque? Ex-husband? Mom? Teach.”

Jesus Christ. Burn down a hospital, and what had some unfortunate mother done? Even more important, what had she just done? He’d halted in front of her, and those eyes almost turned black. His intense stare left her clinging shirt and flickered on Caream in the open shower. Droplets glistened on exquisite breasts, in full, rounded shades of tangerine.

God. Jaylynn thought she’d met her share of oblivious males before. Damon’s gaze penetrated her breasts, her nipples made taut by water and the press of his chest, and then he stared at the color scorching her face. Puzzled sparks of irritation flashed in his eyes, and she forced herself to breathe.

“Damon, you must listen. No more fires, and forget even talking to the police. Caream needs to put on these clothes.” Jaylynn went to her closet, and set a pair of black sandals on the bed. So what? A gorgeous hunk from outer space stood confused in her bedroom. He must know that she was in over her head, flustered like a schoolgirl. “I’ll get some learning discs you can listen to in the car. Be right back.”

She fled, fanning out her wet shirt and hurried to open her store. Bottled water, English language discs, and off to loot the cash register. She relocked the door and hit speed dial. “Hey Mary, I decided to go to that conference in San Fran.”

“Like a ride?”

“No, thanks. I’ll park at the airport. I do need help. Had a run in with Bernice. She insisted I was with some guy wanted for that fire.”

“Yikes. Details, girl. Who is he?”

“Doesn’t exist. I’m not with any human male. Text me if you need a hit man for Bernice. Believe it or not, I know someone. Sorry, I’m running late. Thanks. Later.”

She disconnected and smiled at a wet Caream. Jaylynn’s clothes hung on the petite girl, but she looked considerably more respectable. Damon fidgeted beside her.

“Light still here. Move now?” His hair even more tangled than before, crimson droplets reluctantly gave up their cling and hit the floor.

“Yes, before Bernice comes around. I have to do something with her.”

Caream looked at the brown cabinet by the door. “Caream put her in closet.”

“Oh God, no. In her car would be best. Wait a minute. I’m almost ready.” She ran to her bedroom, turned off the shower, smashed Caream’s stolen clothes into a drawer, and threw the only other black apparel she owned into an overnight bag. She grabbed a burgundy and a black throw and raced back.

By the door, Damon held Bernice, her white hair away from his chest. Caream reached up and hid his angry eyes with the mangled sunglasses.

Her stomach in knots, Jaylynn locked her damaged door behind them and made it two feet. Damon’s abrupt gesture commanded that she wait. A male thing? A redhead with control issues? Or, most likely, he’d heard the car that passed well before she could.