Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (113 page)

Lights shone through the trees into
the living room.

"Here he is. I'll see you in a couple
of hours." He walked to the door and opened it. "Get some sleep.
Remember, the cops are on his ass and should have him in handcuffs
within hours."

Sam frowned. "He's pretty smart for
that."

"Not this time."

David, an older man,, walked in,
smiling at her. "Good news, huh?"

"Yeah. But I'll feel better when he's
behind bars." With one last glance at Sam, he said, "I won't be
long, but it's important to get to the hospital as soon as
possible. We need every bit of evidence we can to nail this
bastard. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."

Sam nodded, giving him the
reassurance he needed to leave. She couldn't quite believe that
this was almost over. This worry had been with her for so long. It
didn't seem possible that the end was near.

She smiled at David. "Thanks for
coming. I'm heading to bed. Maybe I'll be able to sleep for the
first time in weeks."

David tipped his cap. "Go rest easy.
We'll get this guy."

Sam nodded, as expected, and walked
to her room. She didn't have the same level of confidence. She knew
this asshole had evaded cops for decades. A car chase was small
change for him. He'd taken out a guard and injured two nurses
tonight alone.

Who knew what other
damage he could inflict this night?

***

2 am

Brandt drove fast, carefully. The
long, twisting dirt road didn't offer much opportunity for
speeding. He hated to leave Sam. Reaching for his cell phone, he
called Captain Johansen for the latest.

"I don't have an update. I'll get one
and call you back. Where are you?"

"Almost twenty minutes out from the
hospital." Brandt hung up, turned on his sirens, and slammed his
foot down on the pedal. His stomach churned with nerves. Leaving
Sam was the last thing he wanted to do. They'd better have this
bastard locked up by the time this night was over.

His cell phone rang.

"Hello." Brandt glanced in his rear
view mirror. Other than a semi that he'd passed a few miles ago,
the highway was deserted.

"Brandt, turn around," yelled the
captain. "The cops pulled the car over. A stupid assed kid had been
paid a hundred bucks to drive the car north as far and as fast as
he could. The cops tracked the car. It was stolen
yesterday."

"Shit!" Brandt hit the brakes. His
tires squealed loudly as the vehicle spun sideways before coming to
a violent, rocking stop across the highway. He turned the wheel and
hit the gas. "Call David and warn him. I'm on my way."

If Brandt thought he drove fast on
the way into town, he burned rubber heading to Sam.

A diversion. A fucking diversion to
leave Sam open – and defenseless.

Christ.

He tried calling Sam's cell phone. No
answer. Shit! She hadn't turned the damn thing on. He called David.
No answer.

Oh, God, please let him
be in time.

***

2:24 am

Sam curled up in bed. She couldn't
help feeling terrible about the guard and nurses. She didn't even
know how the victim had fared in that confrontation. Hopefully,
everyone would survive. Sam really wanted a happy ending to all of
this. With the blankets pulled up to her chin, she found herself
listening for the phone downstairs announcing the good news.
Uneasy, without explanation, Sam found herself giving extra thanks
for her bodyguard downstairs. Brandt...well, he'd be home whenever
he was done.

Home. That had such a nice cozy ring
to it. Maybe when this mess was over... After twenty minutes of not
being able to stop her mind from circling uselessly, she
compromised and took a, herbal sleep aid. It wouldn't knock her out
the same as a sleeping pill.

Brandt. A warm contentedness filled
her mind. An irritating pinch on her arm made her frown, but then
his hands slid over the smooth surface of her hips. Mmmm. Heat
flushed through her veins, awaking nerve endings she'd forcibly
capped for the last few days.

Moving sensuously under his soothing
caresses, Sam moaned in joy. She reached for him, but let him turn
her hands aside as his caresses explored the soft valley of her
abdomen. He was purely delicious. He was also too good at what he
did. Lost in the sensations of building lust and the unique
experience of enjoying her lover's attention, Sam slid deeper under
his spell. Placing her hand over his, sliding her fingers gently
through and over his, Sam explored his strong muscled hands before
sliding slowly up his wrists. They felt different.

He still had clothes on.

With a slight moue, she tugged at the
sleeve that interfered with her exploration. Gently, he grabbed her
hands and raised them over her head, holding her in place. She
murmured in delight and tried to tug. It didn't work.

He bent his head and nuzzled the
plump side of her breast through her pajama top.

Sam moaned and twisted under him. Her
stomach roiled, at odds with the rest of the sensations happily
flickering though her body. She frowned in confusion.

His mouth fondled the pouting nipple
under the cotton material.

"Please," she pleaded.

Silence.

A tiny bit of doubt crept under Sam's
guard. It seemed so real. But so were her visions. A weird fog
rolled through her mind. Shit. Realization was slow to come. Brandt
was gone. This was another vision. No. Surely not. Sleepiness mixed
with the images overlapping in her mind – all in bright
Technicolor.

Heat flashed over her skin at the
memories of her previous lovemaking with Brandt. Overlapping were
sensations on her skin even now. Hands moved to cup her breasts and
squeeze gently. She sighed. But her mind wouldn't relax. Caught in
limbo between worlds, she struggled to stay real in another woman's
dream. Wanting it to be Brandt, yet knowing the killer had taken
another victim.

His mouth tugged and teased,
tantalizing her nipple, bringing her back to a sensual high, all
the while her mind operating in the background, struggling to
remember Stefan's lessons.

Teeth clamped lightly on the end of
the sensitive nipple.

Then bit down hard.

The woman screamed. Sam
screamed.

Her spine arched and she tried to
curve away from the pain. Her hands were held above her head,
keeping her captive. Her eyes opened. Then closed again in
despair.

Oh God.
It
was
him. She was
caught in another vision.

Sam struggled to separate the vision
from the reality.

Oh, God. Oh, God. The poor woman. Sam
knew she could do nothing, but endure. Locked inside her mental
labyrinth, Sam felt the victim's pain and horror, as she finally
understood.

She twisted and struggled, hearing
the words. "Please don't hurt me." Were they from the victim or
her? Sam didn't know. It didn't matter. Both of them wanted this to
be over. They wanted to be saved. And they both knew it wasn't
going to happen.

Low masculine laughter filled the
room.

"Please," pleaded the same voice.
"Let me go."

Her arms were wrenched above her head
and held in a punishing grip. The attacker pressed down hard on the
wrist bones. Pain squeezed through injured nerve endings, ripping
scorch lines throughout her body.

Sam, desperate to separate herself
from the woman's pain, tried to seek the blackness of the etheric
world. This torture was just beginning. Sam didn't want to be here
and most definitely not this early on. She normally came in at the
end, those precious few minutes to help the victims cross the line
to death.

She was part of this experience to
help the victims and if she could, to help the police find justice
for the victims. She wasn't here to suffer. Her mind waffled then
raced in different directions from what had to be drugs, sliding
insidiously through the victim's veins. She wanted out. Stefan had
given her some tips to try, what were they? Right. Grounding
herself by following the line of her skeleton down to her feet and
imagining them coming from the center of the earth. Except, she
hadn't expected to do this under these circumstances. Concentrating
was almost impossible. The woman's terror, her pain dominated. Sam
struggled to free herself of the dark sucking energy.

"Samantha."

Sam's mind froze. Then her heart
slammed into her chest.

Who called her?

Her eyelids flickered and she was
suddenly more afraid than she'd ever been in her life. Never had a
vision called her name. She wrinkled her nose. A fetid odor filled
her head. Something awful wafted through the air. A metallic bloody
smell. God, she didn't want to open her eyes and see what she knew
would be there.

"Look at me, Samantha."

She forced her eyes wide.

And found herself in her own bedroom,
staring up at the same whitewashed ceiling. She was home. Oh God.
She was not alone.

This time, she was the
victim.

***

2:29 am

Stefan slammed into awareness.
Shoving his bedding back, he came to a standing position before
he'd even realized what had happened. He couldn't see where he was,
his bedroom was seeped in darkness. His curtains were open – still
no light shone in.

Looking around, his hand went to his
throat. Jesus. Sam. She was in danger. He reached for his phone. No
answer. Shit. He called Brandt. It was busy. Fuck.

Pushing into a sitting position, he
crossed his legs and sent himself deep into a trance. He had to
find Sam. Soon. She needed help. Evil was wrapping her up in the
dangerous torrent. He had to make her aware...and fast.

He tried to block out the unwanted
thought, then realized it was stopping his gifts. Better to
acknowledge the possibility so he wouldn't be crippled by the fear.
He knew that before this night was over she'd be fighting for her
life

Or...even worse, he'd be
helping her cross over to the other side – to her death.

***

2:39 am

No!

She tried to struggle. Panic dimmed
her sight as she realized there'd be no waking up this time.
There'd be no last minute rescue for her. It was her turn to
die.

It wasn't supposed to happen this
way. Where the hell was Brandt? Even as she panicked, vestiges of
old resentment rose to the surface. Why was there no one there to
rescue her? Wait. David. Her security guard. Oh no, the poor
man.

I'm here.

Stefan.

Call Brandt!

He knows. He's on his
way. Keep fighting.

I'm trying.

Fight harder.

Stefan's
voice started to fade.
No. Wait. Remember
your lessons
.
Disconnect.

Her mind cried out for him. There was
no answer.

She glared at the asshole that had
hurt so many people. She'd never even seen him before. This time he
had no mask. Why? As she tried to focus in on the details of his
face, his features zoomed out, leaving her with a faint impression
of dark wide-set eyes with heavy brows and thick cheekbones and
prominent nose – his eyes black empty holes. His face look oddly
colored, out of proportion.

Drugs. Of course, he'd given her
drugs. Different ones this time. Her mind tried to puzzle through
the convoluted maze of thoughts, then quickly frazzled out. It
didn't matter anymore.

"What kind of useless psychic are
you? You couldn't even see this coming." His mouth twisted into a
malevolent mockery of a smile.

"What did you do to my bodyguard?"
She spat the words at him. She twisted in vain.

He reared backwards. "Must have been
a cop. Just as useless as the rest of them." He shifted slightly
for a better look at her face. With a big smirk, he added, "You
were supposed to be a bigger challenge, being a psychic and all."
Coarse laughter filled the room, grating on her ears and sending
terror running through her soul. "I was looking forward to this."
He stared around in disgust. "Nothing to it. Or you. God, what a
loser. Look at this place. It's a dump."

Evil glistened from his eyes, sourced
deep in his soul. It would be a bad day for those who'd crossed
him. Like her.

She, remembering Stefan's lessons,
searched for lightness inside her center of being. His blackness
was overwhelming. The light sustained her. If she let the blackness
gain control, it would be over. If it were her time to die like all
the others, then she'd rather go kicking and screaming – and taking
a piece of him with her.

She reached out in her mind's eye.
She could barely sense the bodyguard. He was still alive. The dogs'
energy was outside her bedroom door. She could almost hear them
whining. The bastard had shut it, locking them out. No sign of
Brandt or Stefan.