Chapter Six
Nathan stared at the blank pages before him and tried to focus on the job at hand. He had closed one account and now needed to move on and get the new ad campaign started. He couldn’t concentrate. Visions of Samantha filled his thoughts every waking moment. Dreams of dead redheads and chasing shadows filled his nights.
A tap at his office door got his attention. Kathy Rose, the receptionist, stood in the doorway, her thin features pulled and drawn into a mask of fear.
“Excuse me, Nathan? But there are two policemen here to see you.”
Nathan’s stomach rose to his throat. “Uh, sure, okay.”
Kathy stepped aside and Adam Bays and his partner walked into the high-walled cubicle around her. Nathan felt his shoulders drop in relief, and then immediate panic welled up and he surged to his feet.
“Is it Samantha? Is—”
“No,” Adam said as he raised his hands and smiled slightly. “Sam is fine. We need to talk to you about the last drawing you brought over.”
“Oh, right,” Nathan acknowledged. “But you could have called. I would have come in.”
“I know, but we need you to come with us. There’s been another incident.”
“Am I under arrest?” Nathan asked, acutely aware of Kathy’s presence and others listening up and down the hall.
Adam shook his head. “No, but we need your help,” he said as he glanced around them and noted the number of Nathan’s co-workers gathering around them, “We’ve found another victim. I’d like you to see the scene fresh and firsthand. Maybe it will help you give us some more insight.”
It was only a matter of time before his involvement with a murder investigation became fodder for the office grapevine. He’d only hoped it could be avoided until the case was solved and the police had someone in custody. Now many would set the blame on him, it was only human nature. No matter what happened, his name would be forever linked to the deaths of random red-headed prostitutes in Savannah.
Adam waited patiently as his partner, whose name Nathan couldn’t recall for the life of him, quietly and firmly instructed their audience to move along. After he grabbed his briefcase and jacket, Nathan asked Kathy to let the boss know he’d likely be gone the rest of the day. She nodded mutely and watched with wide eyes as the three of them walked down the hall to the entrance.
“Nathan? What’s going on here?” They stopped just inside the double doors as Dave Miles hurried down the hall from his office. He stopped short when Adam Bays flashed his badge. “Is everything all right?”
“Everything is fine, Mr. Miles,” Nathan lied. “I’ve been helping Detective Bays with a case and he and his partner…” he fumbled as he looked to tall, burly detective.
“Detective Coleman,” the big, gruff man supplied.
“Yes, sorry—” Nathan apologized.
“Excuse me, Mr. Miles, is it?” Adam interrupted. “Mr. Quinn has been helping us on a case in which there’s been a new development. We need him to come with us for a while. I’m sorry to barge in on his workday like this, but it’s rather important.”
“Is he under arrest?” Miles asked, his tone hushed and mildly horrified.
Adam smiled and shook his head. “Of course not, he’s merely a potential witness. Now if you’ll excuse us?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the ad director muttered as he stepped aside. “Take all the time you need, Nathan,” he added, “Just, um, let us know if you need anything.”
Once they were downstairs, Nathan vaguely noticed the locals rushing for cover as the men ushered him to their unmarked sedan. It was rather worn and the doors creaked when they were opened.
“Is there a particular reason you needed to embarrass and scare the hell out of me like that?” Nathan asked before he ducked into the backseat. Adam only smiled.
“Old habits die hard,” he answered somewhat cryptically. “Don’t worry, I’ll smooth things over for you if I have to, but later. Now we really need to get to the crime scene.”
Once in the car, Adam’s partner started the engine and pulled smoothly out of the parking space. There was little traffic on the street since most of the neighborhood business came to life after dark and after any cops were long gone.
“Is it the same?” Nathan asked. “Like the drawing?”
“We think so,” Adam replied without looking at him. “But let’s wait until we get there to compare notes.”
Twenty minutes later they pulled up outside an old brick hotel. The place had seen better days some decades previously, but now was overgrown with weeds, cracked sidewalks and thick ivy that enveloped every stationary inch of the place. A few windows peeked out of the growth here and there, but obviously, none were in much use. Either the building was mostly empty or had been retrofitted with air conditioning sometime over the last century.
Yellow caution tape surrounded the structure, wrapped around thick old trees draped with Spanish Moss, and then stretched around ‘no parking’ signs and parking meters.
Coleman opened his door and Nathan slid out of the unmarked car. The strobing effect of the lights from surrounding police cars cast a chaotic, throbbing glow over silver moss. Nathan’s stomach clenched as he stepped up on the cracked sidewalk and ducked under the thin, yellow barricade. He could feel it from here: the fear, the hate, the violence. He swallowed back a surge of bile that rose up his throat, and continued toward the building, Detectives Bays and Coleman leading the way.
They passed a dirty man of indeterminate age sitting just inside the door of a parked ambulance. The smell of bile and sweat blew off him and made Nathan’s stomach surge in protest. As they neared the entrance of the building, he felt another wave of panic. It took every ounce of strength not to run in the other direction. Nathan didn’t know how the detectives and other officers could face such horrible sensory overload and not even blink.
Then he was in the door, staring down at a figure sprawled across the narrow entry. Nathan swallowed hard. She stared up at the ceiling, a look of pure terror frozen on her pink lips and in her wide blue eyes.
“Is this what you drew?” a voice asked from behind him. But he couldn’t respond. Those eyes…those lifeless, glassy eyes seemed so unreal and yet he’d seen them before—too many times before in his dreams.
“Nathan?” the voice demanded. “Is this the last woman you drew?”
He startled a bit and blinked. Then he shook his head. “I-I don’t know,” he admitted. “I never really see them. I try not to see them. They haunt me enough.”
A rustle of paper and someone thrust a piece of thick drawing paper in his line of vision. Nathan flinched.
“This is the drawing you gave me, Nathan,” Adam Bays told him. “Is what you see now the same as what is drawn here?”
Nathan looked at the picture, at the thick black lines of ink and the softer shading of details. He looked at the face in the picture—the wide eyes and mouth gaping in frozen fear. He looked back at the dead girl lying on the cold dirty floor.
“I’m not sure, but yes, I think they’re the same except…”
“Except?” Adam prompted.
“Except in my drawing there’s no color. I didn’t know what color her eyes were.”
Silence.
“Do you know this woman? Have you met her before? Seen her?”
Nathan shook his head. “No, I’ve never met her. I don’t know her.”
“Have you ever seen her?” Adam insisted.
Nathan frowned at the body lying so near their feet. He looked up into Adam’s eyes and wondered at what he saw there. The man wanted him to say something, but he didn’t have a clue what the hell it was.
“I’ve never seen her,” Nathan said firmly. “I don’t know her and I’ve never seen her until today.”
“You mean, until you drew her two nights ago.”
“I told you—I didn’t really see her then. The feeling comes over me and I have to draw, but I don’t see what I’ve drawn until it’s over. I didn’t really look at the face that time. I couldn’t bring myself to look, so no, I never really saw her before today.”
Adam studied him for a long moment and then nodded, apparently satisfied with what he had said. Then they were ushering him out of the building and back the way they’d come toward the car. The moss brushed his shoulders as he walked beneath the tree. Someone lifted the yellow tape higher so he didn’t have to duck so much as before. The breeze had shifted and the homeless man had been taken by the paramedics. The sweet scent of some plant teased his nose and then he was slipping back into the car. When the door shut behind him a wave of relief carried the last of the tension away and Nathan slumped against the vinyl seat.
Adam and Detective Coleman slid into their seats and he heard seatbelts click. Adam turned to look at him, his green eyes narrowed.
“You all right, Nathan?”
He could only lift his shoulders. “I guess.”
Adam watched him a moment longer as his partner started the engine. When he turned away they pulled back onto the road and left the horror behind them. Nathan had a feeling it had all been some kind of test. He wondered if he passed.
* * ‡ * *
Nathan glanced around the dark, crowded bar and grimaced. This had to be the worse dive he’d been in since he left New York. Music blared from overhead speakers while a ménage of dancers writhed as one on the dance floor. He tried not to look at the group too closely, sure that at least a few of them were actually having sex as the rest gyrated around them.
God, he couldn’t believe he told Samantha his idea or that she agreed to go with him. He kept kicking himself for that. How could have brought her to such a seedy, dangerous place? The only thing worse would be taking his mom to a strip club.
He hadn’t heard from Adam Bays since they had dropped him off at his apartment after their excursion in the day. Nathan assumed he had passed since he wasn’t in jail and soon after received a call from Samantha. If Adam had any lingering doubts about his innocence, he surely would have warned his only sister to stay the hell away.
Samantha had told him she was feeling better and wanted to try out his idea of going to the last place a victim had been seen. She thought that maybe between the two of them and their so-called gifts, something would click and they’d be able to identify the killer. At that point, Nathan was so thrilled that he was still a free man and that she had called him that he would have agreed to anything. He had missed the lovely redhead. Her absence, even for a day, had been glaring.
“Are you okay?” she yelled near his ear.
He looked at her and tried to smile. “Yeah, fine.”
“What?” she yelled, leaning closer. He took a deep breath, savoring the fresh smell of lavender that lingered in her hair. But she was starting to smell like smoke. Despite the no-smoking laws, this place apparently let anything go. He glanced at the dance floor and cringed. Anything and everything.
“This isn’t working,” he bellowed near her ear. “Let’s go. I can't even think.”
Samantha nodded and took another swig of her beer before following him toward the door. He kept a tight grip on her left hand, certain that if he let go they’d be separated until morning.
It was useless asking questions. Even if anyone had seen who Angie Lloyd left the bar with, it had been over a month since she was killed. He doubted the bartenders and waitresses paid that much attention to their clientele. He doubted they could see them clearly in this lighting.
It had all been supposition that the poor girl was even there that night. It was her routine, her favorite pick-up spot. But that didn’t mean she had been there. She could have disappeared anywhere.
They burst through the front doors and onto the sidewalk. Nathan took a deep breath of fresh cold air. Samantha stopped beside him and laughed.
“I think I’ve lost my hearing,” she said as she wiggled a finger in one ear.
“It’ll come back soon.”
“What?” She laughed then wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I know…but we smell like smoke now. What happened to the no-smoking laws, anyway?”
He shrugged. “I suppose if no one complains, they don’t get enforced. Such a high-class establishment obviously runs by its own rules.”
“Well, how about we call it a night and get something to eat?”
He smiled at her. God, she was beautiful. He couldn't get enough of her. Like a randy teenager, he could feel the heat thrumming through his veins. On impulse, he tugged her close against him. She didn’t resist, but leaned against him.
“How about someplace very private?” he suggested, fighting to sound calm.
“I think that can be arranged,” she replied, breathless. “Take me home.”
“You cook?”
“I make a mean omelet.”
He wanted to scoop her up and run, but he decided to play it cool. They walked down the street to where he parked the car, eyes only for each other. From the corner of his peripheral vision, he noticed a shadow separate from a doorway and move toward them. He started to speak but didn’t get a word out before a man grabbed Samantha from behind, jerking her backward and off her feet. Her hand wrenched from Nathan’s, he watched her expression melt into surreal horror as the shadowed figure grabbed him around the throat and thrust a gun beneath his chin.
“Move and die,” the man warned.
“Look what I found,” the one holding her said. “Now why would a pretty thing like you be hanging ‘round a chink?”
“Chink?” Nathan choked out the word.
“Shut up!” the man shouted and pressed Nathan’s head back with the gun barrel. “Keep your mouth closed or I will put a bullet in your brain.”
“Just take our money and let us go,” Samantha coaxed.
“Oh, but I think I want more than money,” the man holding her whispered near her ear. He slid a hand up to cup her breast and Nathan jerked against his captor’s hold.
“Get your hands off her,” he growled.
“You want to make me?”
“Get down on your knees and beg, slant-eyes. Or are you too damn yellow to do anything about it?”
The men laughed as if they’d just heard the cleverest joke ever told. The stale whiskey on their breath made Nathan want to gag. His gaze met Samantha’s and he wondered at the determination he saw there. Somehow, he knew what she was thinking, what she was silently willing him to do. They could wait for help, but it may never come, and it seemed both men were determined to hurt them. He couldn’t let them defile Samantha any further.
He offered a quick prayer for help, and then winked at her. Her eyes widened slightly and he dropped to his knees. The shift in balance threw his attacker forward, loosening his hold.
“What the f—”
A moment later, Nathan had the other man on the ground, flat on his stomach with one arm bent behind his back. He looked up in time to see Samantha kick her prostrate attacker hard in the groin. Nathan cringed at the sickening sound even as pride filled him. She was a damn good warrior, his red-haired beauty.
“Don’t ever touch me again you bastard,” she snarled as she reeled back to kick the man in the ribs.
She turned to Nathan, her chest rising and falling, cheeks flushed. He could only smile and shake his head.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Sure am. You want to call the cops, or should I?”
She grinned and shook her head. “You have your hands full. I’ll do it.”
A moment later she had dialed emergency assistance on her cell and reported the incident. “There’s a car in the area,” she said as she ended the call. “They should be here soon.”
“Good, these two smell worse than a sewer.” He looked up as a police car pulled up, blue and red lights strobed across the buildings. “Nice service.”
After statements were taken, another car arrived along with an ambulance as the throng of spectators thickened. Too bad they hadn’t arrived earlier to help.
“Good thing you and your boyfriend know self-defense,” the cop taking Samantha’s statement commented. He smiled slightly that she didn't correct the man. Boyfriend…it sounded so high-school. But he liked it. “These two match the description of three other muggings this month.”
“Did they hurt anyone?” she asked.
He shrugged and glanced back at his clipboard. “If it’s the same men then yes, they did. Put one man and his girlfriend in the hospital.”
“Wow, I guess we were really lucky,” she said.
The patrolman paused in his writing and looked up. “Are you related to Detective Adam Bays, by any chance?”
Samantha’s gut tightened. “Yes, he’s my brother.”
The man’s eyebrows rose to his receding hairline. “Ah, okay, maybe you should be the one to call him then, ma’am.”
“Can’t we just keep this between us?”
He laughed. “I can’t promise a thing, Miss Bays. I don’t make it a habit of telling the homicide detectives about my cases, but you know how gossip spreads in the precinct. It would probably go better if you let him know what happened here tonight before he finds out from someone else.”
Nathan cringed. Adam was going to kill him once he heard where he’d taken the man’s little sister. Maybe he would understand, though. Maybe he would be rational about the whole thing when he learned how they had managed to fight back and help put away two dangerous thieves.
He sighed. Yeah, and maybe his mom would stop meddling in his life. Not a chance in hell.
“You okay?” Samantha’s smooth voice brought his thoughts back.
Nathan forced a smile. “Fine, just a little sore. I haven’t used my training in a lot of years.”
“Karate?”
“Tae Kwon Do, Dad insisted I take it to toughen me up during middle school.”
She grimaced. “Sounds fun.”
“No, really, it’s one of the best things I’ve ever done. I loved it, even thought about teaching after I got my third-degree black belt. But art is my passion. I’m not much of a businessman—don’t think I could run my own dojo.”
Her expression softened as she moved toward him. When she lightly grasped his biceps with both hands, his temperature spiked. “You were wonderful, Nathan. Thank you.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Bullshit, honey. You handled yourself like a pro. I’d never buy the damsel in distress routine from you, now. I have a feeling you could have saved both our butts if you needed to.”
She grinned. “Well, I am still glad you took that bastard down.” Her smile faltered. “I was so scared…” She cleared her throat and he pulled her close, her head pressed to his chest.
“No worries,” he whispered as he stroked her back. “We’re fine. We got through it and put the bad guys down. We make a pretty good team, I think.”
A small sigh escaped her as she wrapped her arms around his middle. Nathan closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the feel of her body pressed to his. It was so natural, as if they'd done this a million times before. He smiled. Maybe they had—in her dreams.
“You have some great moves,” she said, her sultry tone making his blood pressure soar. “I’ll teach you some of mine if you teach me yours.”
He chuckled. “I’m most willing to share. But you’d better call Adam first.”
She stiffened. “I don’t think—”
“Yes, you have to. Maybe that way he’ll leave enough of me for my folks to bury.”
“He’s not going to blame you for what happened tonight.”
“Why not? I do,” Nathan admitted. “Coming down here was my lame idea, not yours. Once your brother finds out you were almost mugged and—”
“He’ll get over it,” she said. “Besides, I’m the one who insisted on going with you.”
“And I should have refused.”
She pulled back and looked up into his eyes. “I won’t let you take the blame for what almost happened. Events like this are exactly why I took those self-defense classes. I’m just glad I remembered what to do. If anything, Adam should be proud of me for fighting back. He won’t take it out on you. I promise. I won't let him.”
He wished he could believe her, but he knew deep inside that Adam Bays was going to be one pissed off cop. Though he’d never had a sister of his own, Nathan understood the dynamics of such a relationship—particularly in a close family like Samantha’s. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to know the oldest of the Bays children would give his life for his only sister, or maybe take the life of the moron who endangered her.
As they walked arm in arm back to his car, Nathan glanced down at her profile and smiled to himself. Damn. She was so beautiful, like a porcelain doll in blue jeans and pearls. He longed to drag his fingers through her long, silky hair, to taste her lips once and for all.
She tucked herself into the front seat of his car and smiled up at him. Nathan couldn’t stop the parade of images that ran through is mind. He smiled softly as he rounded the car and let himself in the driver’s side. Even one night with Samantha would be worth any and all consequences. No matter how painful.
* * ‡ * *
Something changed as they drove through the streets of Savannah. His excitement began to fade and morph until it became more like a nervous tremor. Lust dissolved until a mere edge of longing remained. He began to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. Then the light turned red and he almost had to slam on the brakes.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He shot a strained smile at her. “Sure. Fine.”
Still, the tension grew tighter and tighter until she felt as if the very air would snap. The light turned green and he stepped on the gas pedal, sending the tires into a screeching rush of rubber against asphalt. The sound seemed to jerk him back to the present for he lifted his foot and smiled ruefully.
“Sorry,” he said to no one in particular. She wondered if he even remembered she was there and what they were doing.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He frowned. “I’m taking you home so we can be alone.” He glanced at her and then back at the road. “Did you change your mind?”
“No…” she hesitated. “But I thought maybe you had. You seem a little distracted suddenly.”
“Oh…” his finger-tapping slowed, “No, I’m sorry. I guess the adrenaline is fading but I’m still keyed-up after our excitement.”
“I understand.” But she didn’t. He was lying now and she could tell. There was something else going on here. Something he wasn’t willing to share. She decided not to push the matter. He would tell her when he was ready. Until then, she’d be patient.
They pulled up in front of the tall iron gates that enclosed her home. He parked and cut the motor, then turned to look at her.
“Do you still want me to come in?” he asked softly. “Or have you come to your senses and changed your mind?”
She could see his face clearly, but the deep shadows of night hid the emotions in his eyes. She let her senses reach out to him again as she tried to figure out what was going through his mind. How she wished she could read thoughts as well as feelings.
“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” she admitted finally. “I’m not sure I’m ready for anything serious, but I don’t want you to leave. Not yet. I like being with you.”
His mouth turned up at one corner and her belly fluttered. She looked away, common sense battling with her own need. She barely registered her surroundings as he got out of the car, shut the door and walked around to her side. Her insides felt like they had been replaced with quivering jelly. Her palms began to sweat. Then he held her door open and gazed down at her, a soft smile of invitation on his lips.
She slid out of the car and stood beside him. The world seemed to change in that moment. Sight and sounds around them faded into a blur of nonsense as she stared into his obsidian eyes. She swallowed, suddenly afraid and excited all at once. It was an uncomfortable sensation.
“We won’t do anything you’re not ready for,” he assured as he took her hand in his. “I just don’t want to leave you. I…I need to be near you for a while longer.”
He lifted his other hand and touched the hair that hung over her shoulder. He stared at it as he ran his fingers through the strands in a gentle caress. Breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t move—didn’t dare speak as he gazed at her with such hunger it made her ache.
“Beautiful…” he murmured, then looked into her eyes. “We’ve only just met. Why do I feel so connected to you, Samantha?”
She shook her head slightly, afraid any movement, any sound would break the spell between them. “I don’t know. But I feel the same way.”
They walked towards the gate, arm in arm. Down the garden path they lingered for a moment beneath a towering oak. He smelled of leather and ink and some fresh, manly scent that underscored the rest. She let it wash over her, fill her as she stared up into his dark almond eyes. Then he pulled her close and kissed her. Their first true kiss outside the realm of dreams. His lips were soft, gentle…the sweetest touch between new lovers. Then something ignited between them and he became more demanding. His hands spanned her back and anchored her body to his.
His tongue traced the seam of her lips, demanding entrance, which she quickly granted. She sank into him, liquid and supple within his warmth. All thought suspended by the taste and touch of the man who had captured her. Captivity could be a wonderful thing.
He wanted her. She could feel it in the press of his erection on her belly. He needed her. She knew, in that moment, that she needed him even more.
Then he pulled back, both breathing heavily. The darkness beneath the oak hid their passion from the world…but it also hid his expression from her. Her own emotions were too confused, too chaotic for her to decipher his, so she didn’t even try. He took her by the hand and led her the length of the garden path and to her front door. He continued to touch and caress her as she fought to unlock the door, hands shaking.
Once the key fit and the bolts slid open, he followed her into the dim hallway, shutting the door behind them. Then he reached for her again and pulled her into his arms. With the lack of light, every sensual touch, every kiss filled her. Engulfed her, until touch and taste were all she had left.
Then he pulled away. She stood, eyes closed, and felt her body sway. His hands on her shoulders were all that kept her from falling.
“Wait…” he panted. “I’m sorry…We need to slow this down.”
She blinked as she tried to focus on the words. Then her vision seemed to clear. The fire burning in her body shot straight to her face. She took a step backward.
“Yes, you’re right. Slow is better. We don’t want to…to mess things up.” She took another step back and found her knees would hold her after all. Barely. She cleared her throat. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Sounds good. But just water or a soda—I need to keep my head clear.”
“Okay,” she reached around the doorway on his left and flicked on the light switch. Three small lamps blazed to life, setting the room in a comfortable glow. “Here’s the living room, if you want to make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back. I just need to change first and then I'll grab a couple of sodas from the fridge.”
“No problem,” he said. “Take your time.”
“You can put on some music if you’d like,” she offered as she backed away, suddenly ill at ease like teenager with her first crush. When he turned to enter the other room, she all but ran down the hall and up the stairs.
God, what was she doing? If he hadn’t pulled away, she would have let him take her right there in the hall. Her face warmed.
Damn. She was in deep trouble with this man. Deep, deep trouble.
* * ‡ * *
He wandered around the living room for a few minutes, unable to sit or stand still with the energy that coursed through his blood. It had been only hours since his last drawing, but he felt that need again--the urgent desire to pick up a pencil and let his hand move unbidden over paper.
He hated the feeling. It was too damn overpowering, like an addiction from which he’d never escape. How could he? Drawing was his career…his life’s blood. Writer’s needed to write…musicians needed to play…and he had to draw. Every waking moment was filled with it. Even during the monotonous meetings at the design firm, he’d find himself doodling across the legal pad. The backs of envelopes and paper napkins; from receipts to train schedules, nothing was safe from his artistic Tourette’s. Nothing.
He fought the urge and glanced around the room for a diversion. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with both hard and paper back volumes. A rather dated stereo system sat on one shelf, nestled between a myriad of reading material like an expensive bookend. He noticed a CD rack on the shelf below and he examined the disk titles, trying to decide what would best set the mood between them. If he could even figure out what that mood should be.
He smiled. She had a very eclectic range of music from Broadway show tunes to country, several collections of Chopin, Bach and modern jazz. His grin broadened when he realized she must have every Michael Buble CD ever made. He slipped one out of its case and into the system, then hit the play button. He promptly turned the volume down to a more comfortable level. She liked her music eclectic and loud, apparently.
A brief glance at the books surrounding him showed she had a much more streamlined taste when it came to literature. While much of it was modern, even the shelf of classics showed the beautiful Samantha's penchant for romance. He frowned. He’d never read a romance novel, but if the cover models were any indication, it wouldn’t be easy for the average man to live up to the female fantasies contained within.
“Here we are…”
He turned at the sound of her voice and promptly had his breath taken away. She stood before him, two glasses of something golden colored in her hands. Her body was wrapped in a black silk robe. A slight bit of lace accented her cleavage where the thin garment gaped open. His hand shook as he reached for the glass. He turned from her and took a long drink of the fizzy liquid.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He nodded and sat on the wide gray sofa, placing the glass on a low wood table that spanned the length. “I, yes, I’m fine. Sit down for a minute. Let’s talk.”
She frowned slightly and he wondered where on earth they had gotten their signals so crossed? He thought they had decided to take this slow; to get to know each other before leaping into bed. But that outfit… He glanced at her and away again as the blood began to thrum through his veins and head south.
No, this was not a “getting to know you” outfit, it was a “jumping your bones” getup.
He swallowed another gulp of ginger-ale and almost choked. It went down hard and fast. So was he if he didn’t set things straight between them. Now.
“Sam, you know I want you,” he began. “But we can’t let our desires get the best of us. Not now. There’s too much at stake here—too many other people in the way, and these drawings. The murders...” He looked at her then and lost what little train of thought he had.
She stared at him for a silent minute. “What are you talking about?”
He frowned. “It’s just that I thought we were clear on this…despite the electric kisses and the obvious attraction between us.”
“Um…yes. I understand that.” She used the same voice his mother did whenever she thought he was being a bit thick-headed. It didn’t sit well under the circumstances. As a matter of fact, he found it extremely irritating.
“Then why the outfit?” he demanded as he waved a hand at the black silk.
Her frown deepened. “My outfit?” She glanced down, her expression sincerely confused. “Just what am I supposed to wear to bed? I told you I was going to change into something comfortable and this happens to be it. I thought we’d have a drink, talk a little—maybe kiss a little more—and then you’d go home.”
“We’re not going to bed together,” he insisted rather loudly as he rose to his feet.
She stood beside him, hands on hips, chest out, eyes glittering. He swallowed.
“Yes, Nathan, I understand that we are not going to have sex tonight. There, is that clear enough for both of us?”
“Then what the hell are you wearing that for?”
“This is what I normally sleep in, alone,” she stressed the last word. “I’m sorry, but my sackcloth is at the cleaners, and I haven't worn flannel since I was a toddler.”
He narrowed his gaze. “You cannot possibly expect me to believe that you wear that kind of sexy stuff every night.”
“You are a freaking nut; do you know that?” She shook her head, eyes blazing with such anger that he was momentarily amazed bolts of lightning didn’t shoot from their depths. She turned then and stomped to the front door, jerking it wide open. Cool air drifted in and slapped him out of his haze.
“Maybe you should just leave now,” she said. “I think we’re both very tired and have had a long, emotional day. This is only going to get worse if you stay any longer.”
Confusion skittered beneath his anger. The cooling breeze seemed to pull the fight out of him in slow increments until he realized just how irrational he was acting. God. What the hell was wrong with him? He cleared his throat.
“You really wear that to bed? All the time?”
She sighed. “Yes. I like pretty things. I like silk and lace. I wear them for me. Not anyone else—not for any man's approval.”
He nodded slowly, dumbly. “I just made a complete ass of myself. Again.”
“Yes. Yes, you did.”
Nathan sighed and thrust both hands through his hair. “Samantha, I—”
“If I had planned to seduce you,” she interjected. “I would have left the robe upstairs. Better yet, I would have just come down here in a towel or stark naked, although I think the latter is a bit gauche.”
He looked at her and their gazes locked. She was still angry, but no longer seething. Maybe, just maybe he hadn't screwed up everything.
“Shit, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me,” he admitted as he dropped onto the sofa. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I can’t think. I can’t sleep and I can barely work. Everything is so screwed up.” He dropped his head into his hands. “It’s like I’m on a ride at the fair, and it keeps going faster and faster. I really feel like I’m losing it. I told you I drew another one—the night we met, after I went home. I couldn’t stop it, any of it. And then Adam came by my office this morning…they found her. The girl I drew. He took me to the crime scene,” the memories flashed through his mind, “It was horrible, Sam. I’ve never seen anyone like that—not in reality.”
He heard the door click shut and felt the sofa shift as she sat beside him. “Your visions—they really control you, don’t they?”
“Yes,” he glanced at her, “It’s getting worse. I can’t stop them. I can’t control myself when they come—I used to be able to do that. I used to push them away or at least remain aware of what was happening. This scares the hell out of me. One moment I’m perfectly fine, and then I wake up hours later with this horrible headache and the image of a dead woman staring up at me. I guess it's starting to affect everything I do, even the way I think. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want to control the visions?” she asked. “The drawing episodes?”
“Of course, I do.”
“All right then—I told you I can help, and I will.” She reached out and took his hands in her own. “But you must understand that it won’t be easy, Nathan. This gift of yours is powerful. That kind of power is difficult to harness and direct, especially since you’ve been blocking it for so many years. It’s kind of like a dam being pummeled by a swelling river for years and years. One day, it weakens beyond the dam’s control and the cement starts to crack.”
“You think ignoring it has made it harder?”
“I know it has. It would have been much easier if someone had been able to teach you to control it when you were a child.” She rubbed the backs of his hands with her thumbs and a tingling sensation moved up and down his arms.
“Think of your gift as being the river,” she told him, “It’s a living thing full of energy, and power…full of life. But when you denied it or dammed it up, the only time it could escape was in small trickles and spurts. Time, stress…maybe the anger of this killer, I don’t know what, exactly, but something has cracked the dam you built up. Maybe the power of your gift has just become too strong to block.
“You’re connected to this killer, somehow. These murders may be what triggered your gift. You connected with the killer, and his actions are beating at the dam. I think it's only going to get more out of control if we don't do something about it.”
“Connected? Do you think I actually know him?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? You aren’t drawing muggings or random, unconnected events. You’re drawing a series of murders committed by the same man. Why? Why you? Why haven’t any of the other chosen in Savannah had visions or impressions of this particular killer?”
“God, Sam, that isn’t the most comforting thought. You’re saying I could know this lunatic.” He swallowed. “What the hell am I supposed to do with that knowledge? How do I act? Who do I trust?”
She laid her hand against his cheek and smiled softly. “You trust me and Adam and Liam. You trust yourself, Nathan. You have a wonderful talent. Let me help you harness it. Let me teach you to be the one in control. We’ll win, I promise you that.”
The warmth of her skin washed over him. He turned his head and gently kissed her palm. When he looked into her eyes, all the fears he harbored were laid out before her. He didn’t care. He did trust. He had since the moment they met.
“How can you be so sure we’ll win?” he asked.
“We’re the good guys,” she said with a smile. “We always win.”