Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (110 page)

"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 half smiled. 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.

Then he pulled his thumb
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."

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
Bill's 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.

Chapter 24

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.

"Hello."

Captain Johansen's next words had
Brandt hopping out of bed to the far side of the room. He stopped
in front of the window. "What?" he hissed.

Brandt
shook his head at the next piece of information. "He what? What the
hell was he thinking? Yet, he says he
didn't
give them her picture and
name?" Brandt, remembering Sam was still asleep, took several deep
breaths. "Do you believe him?"

Brandt, tucking the phone against his
shoulder, quickly pulled on his briefs and pants. Trying not to
wake Sam, he walked downstairs and into the kitchen.