Demon Crossings (3 page)

Grace stared at the ceiling, waking up slowly. A soft breeze drifted over her skin. The sheets smelled like sunshine and cut grass and the shifting curtains painted a pretty pattern on the wall next to her.

Nice place to get lost. Quiet. There was nothing scary about it in the light of day. Impossible to believe in black furred, glowing-eyed monsters on a morning like this one. It had to have been a deer. She’d been stressed out from the last case, exhausted, spooked by the dark and then disoriented by the head injury. Nothing more complicated than that.

Closing her eyes, she searched for the girl and got that instant jolt, still surprising in its clarity.

Her butt lifting off the seat as the truck hit a pothole. A strand of white-blond hair whipping across her face and catching in her mouth. Smiling, the man beside her said something Grace couldn’t hear and pulled the lap belt tighter.

For some reason sound never came through no matter how clear the vision. She picked up sight, touch and taste, even strong emotions but no sound. At best everything was muffled, like being underwater.

It had taken Grace a long time to figure out how to filter the information. How to stay aware and in control of her own body while a jumble of sensation flooded her mind. She’d learned to block out everything she couldn’t use. It kept her from feeling like a peeping Tom, from getting too emotionally involved with her subjects. It kept her sane.

When she was little, she’d lose herself sometimes, falling into a trancelike state for hours before she found her way out. Now, once she made a connection, she choked it back hard from that initial flood until it was just a rivulet of information. A few flashes. A sense of direction in relation to her physical body. She didn’t even have to concentrate much. She’d won that battle a long time ago. Her gift didn’t control her anymore. Grace clamped down on the link with Maia until it was barely there.

Maia and her dad were heading somewhere for breakfast, so close they might be passing Aiden’s farm at this very moment. Grace opened her eyes and swung her legs over the side of the bed, pushing her tangled hair from her face. Did she have time for a shower?

No. If she left now and drove into town, she might catch them still at the diner and find out if she could put her finger on what was bothering her about the case. Maia seemed awfully happy for a mentally unstable child kidnapped by her absentee father.

Grace popped her bag onto the hope chest at the foot of the bed and started rifling through it for something decent to wear. She’d only packed for one night and all she had was another skirt to change into. Five six in heels, with cheeks that would never completely lose their baby fat, she’d always looked on the young side. Certainly not like a bounty hunter or a private investigator, which was the point. No one ever saw her coming. When on a job fishing for information, she tried to encourage that in the way she dressed. Sun dresses, tank tops that showed off her cleavage, the short, flirty little skirt she held in her hands. Sometimes she thought everything about her was a lie.

Right now, getting ready to go downstairs and thank Aiden for his hospitality, she wished she’d brought something else. The clothes she normally wore at home—jeans and a loose T-shirt. Something that would leave her a little less exposed.

She sighed. Nothing for it. This was all she had. She changed quickly, went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She grimaced at the bandage on her forehead and the bruised look to her eyes but it couldn’t be helped. When she went back into the room to grab her stuff, a rhythmic noise pulled her to the window.

It looked like a Grant Wood painting with a high cloudless sky and those fields stretching forever, neat rows following the contours of the land in gentle dips and swells. She craned her neck to find the source of the next thunk and saw Aiden next to the outbuilding. Shirtless, his back was to her, and in a graceful swinging motion he reached down for a log, set it on end then hauled back his ax to bring it down hard. Sunlight glinted off the blade at the height of the arc. His whole body flexed with the movement. He reached for another piece of wood and repeated the circuit. Effortless. Powerful. All strong masculine grace and perfect coordination. Her breath caught in her throat.

She leaned her shoulder against the window frame to admire the view. Even from here she could see a light sheen of sweat covering his skin, highlighting the pull and glide of muscle beneath. She wondered what it would be like to be with that kind of man. Someone who rescued stranded motorists without taking advantage. Someone simple, straightforward and good, with no secrets to hide. Someone with a body like that.

Aiden turned his head as if he’d heard a sound. She withdrew out of his line of sight. She should go. Nothing about her belonged in a place like this.

She watched him toss the split wood on top of a stacked pile. Grabbing his shirt from the ground, he swiped his face with it before pulling it on. He didn’t bother to button it though and when he started for the house, the loose edges fanned back as he walked.

He was a means to an end, she reminded herself. Work now. Vacation later. Find the girl. Go home. Stick to the plan.

His shirt was buttoned by the time she made it downstairs to the kitchen. It clung to his damp skin and she tried not to stare. It seemed wrong to lust after a good Samaritan, especially since he’d given her no sign that he would welcome that kind of interest.

He glanced at her bags, the look on his face inscrutable. “Heading out then? Do you need directions?”

“You’re not going to make me wait for the doctor to sign my release form?”

“Alan—Dr. Greene called a little while ago. Jill went into labor last night after all so he won’t be stopping by this morning. He said you should be okay so long as you promise to make an appointment with your regular doctor as soon as you get home. You know you weren’t captive here, right?”

She grinned. “Yeah, I got that. I’m not used to people trying to take care of me. Sorry if I was a difficult patient.”

“You weren’t.” He stepped past her, reaching over her head to take a coffee cup from the cabinet to her left. Close enough to touch. He turned his head and their eyes met briefly. An awareness there made her breath catch. “How’s your head?”

She touched the bandage, feeling awkward. “Good. Much better…thank you.”

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”

He handed her the mug and reached for another. “If you’re not up for travel today, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to. Unless…you were headed into Madison for a meeting, is that right?”

He had been listening last night. “I’m not expected until tomorrow but I should be going and you’ve already done so much.”

“No trouble.” He poured coffee and set the pot back on the burner. “What kind of work do you do exactly? I found your gun last night when I got the car.”

“In the water?”

“I cleaned it.” He tilted his head toward the hall. “It’s on the table by the door.”

His eyes were full of questions she couldn’t answer, at least not honestly. And she didn’t like to lie when she could avoid it. “I always bring it when I’m travelling alone.”

If he noticed that she didn’t answer the question about her line of work, he decided not to press the issue. “I guess you never know what you might stumble across.”

“Like monsters and aliens?” She winced, remembering how she’d clung to him, babbling about lights in the woods. God, he must think she was crazy. “I guess I owe you an apology for that too. I’m not used to driving in the dark, let alone on these back roads. My imagination got a little carried away.”

“That’s actually not a road, you know. It’s more of an extension of my driveway, cutting through the center of my land. I only use it for the farm equipment and horses.”

“I was trespassing?”

“Yep.”

Crazy
and
stupid. “Sorry. I had no idea.”

He shrugged it off and crossed the kitchen. “I’m just happy I was outside and heard you.”

“Thanks.”
For saving me, for not prying, for proving there are still some good and honest men left in the world.
Aiden couldn’t possibly be involved in Maia’s disappearance. Even if he knew the girl, he couldn’t know that her father had kidnapped her. Not him.

He nodded and opened the fridge, pulling out the kind of glass container she associated with milkmen and horse drawn carriages. He offered it to her after pouring a drop into his cup.

“Is that from a cow?” His eyes glinted and she rolled hers. Crazy and too stupid to be wandering around. Twenty bucks said there were no bullets in her gun when she left the house. “I mean…is it, you know, fresh from a cow?”

“It’s from a dairy nearby. Organic but they pasteurize.” He smiled. “It’s safe. And that wasn’t a stupid question. Sometimes I have goat milk.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Good God. Why?”

“Jill brings it over. Dr. Greene’s wife. There’s a health reason but I never remember what it is.”

She held out her mug. He poured some for her then turned to put it away. He truly was a pleasure to watch, every motion neat and economical, graceful almost. He wasn’t much taller than she was which surprised her. Last night, he’d seemed larger than life.

Turning his hips, he leaned back against the counter, took a sip of his coffee and watched her over the rim of his cup. His gray eyes were startlingly pale against his tanned skin. She was suddenly painfully aware of how awful she must look. Her hair pulled back from her face and that bandage covering most of her forehead. She’d used makeup to cover the bruising under her eyes but she imagined she still looked like animated road kill. Which was probably why he’d positioned himself as far away from her as he could get in the small kitchen. His polite reserve made her a little uncomfortable. Men usually found her charming. At least, they found the cleavage, short skirt and heels combination charming. Aiden’s eyes hadn’t left her face and it was throwing her off. She cleared her throat.

“Can I pay you? For the tow or the room or the doctor? I should leave my information so he can bill me.”

“I won’t take your money and neither will Alan.”

“But…he’s a doctor.”

Aiden’s mouth twisted with wry humor. “He’s also a friend.”

“I’m not his friend. Or yours,” she said then flushed. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean. You’re making this a bigger deal than it needs to be. I was happy to help. It was the right thing to do. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Not anyone.”

“Anyone around here would have.”

She didn’t believe that either but thought he might. He was so serious. Quaint and sweetly old-fashioned like the kitchen they were standing in. Grace couldn’t help teasing him. She wanted to crack his shell, to see some sign that he recognized she was a woman. So she cocked her head to one side and gave him the smile that never failed her. “And you always do the right thing, Aiden?”

The mug paused halfway to his lips and he lowered it without taking a drink. “Not always.”

The way he said it made her shiver in all the wrong places and she realized her mistake. Aiden hadn’t been keeping his distance because he wasn’t interested. He’d kept his distance from some outmoded standard of decency. Like last night when he’d tried to find her another place to stay so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable alone with a strange man. And she’d sent him a clear invitation that she was interested in much more. When she looked at his face, she saw desire there, leashed. He let her see that—his desire and his control—and waited for her to make a decision on whether to take it further.

She was tempted. God,
he
was tempting, standing an arm’s length away in his worn jeans, with his sweat-darkened hair, craggy face and intense eyes. Too intense. She drew back and looked away. He didn’t seem offended, just lifted his coffee cup and took another sip and the moment was gone. So quick she might have imagined it.

“But you do,” he said, with a touch of regret.

She smiled. “I’m not much of a rule-breaker.”

“Sometimes it’s worth it to break a few rules.”

“Sometimes rules are there to keep people from getting hurt.”

He nodded and set his mug in the sink. “Well, I checked the car over again this morning and it should be fine. You might want to stop before it gets dark though. One of the headlights is busted. Do you want me to write down the directions to the highway? It’s not hard.”

“No,” she told him, already regretting that she hadn’t taken him up on his unspoken offer. It was for the best, right? He was still a stranger. “I was thinking about stopping for a quick bite to eat before I headed out. Is there a diner somewhere close?”

“Sure. What you want to do is turn right out of the driveway—”

He started to turn away and before she could think it through, she blurted out, “Why don’t you come with me?” She hefted her purse higher on her shoulder, uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her. She hadn’t changed her mind if that was what he was asking with that lift to his eyebrows, but she wasn’t quite ready to say good-bye. That’s all. “I could buy you breakfast…you know, as a thank you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“It’s never much fun eating alone, especially in a strange place. Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, softening the edges of his hard face and making him look years younger. Her stomach flipped.

“Let me jump in the shower quick. I’ll be down in ten.”

He moved past her and she could smell coffee, wood dust and sweat. It shouldn’t have made her want to catch his arm and spin him around, press her nose to his skin, lick his neck. Her hand tightened on her purse strap before she could do any of those things, and she stepped back to let him pass, her hips hitting the edge of the counter.

“Help yourself to whatever you need,” he called out and she blew out a pent breath when she heard his feet hit the stairs.

Shoot.
She hadn’t planned on having to wait for him when she’d made that impulsive offer. She should have known he’d need a shower. Losing herself in that mental image, she poured another cup of coffee, smiling at the rich scent curling up from the mug and the image of a naked, soapy Aiden behind steamed glass.