Psychic Series Boxset: Books 1-3

by Lisa Freed

  “You’re not here for them,” I stuttered out.

  “I’m not,” he said simply.

  It was on my mind to ask then who, but he knew and held up a hand to halt my question. “That is also not for you to know. Safe travels, young psychic,” he said before taking the door from me and entering the restroom.

  The click of the door got my feet moving and I gave a look over at the mom who was now fast asleep with her small son curled up against her while the baby remained on her chest, its tiny mouth working a pacifier lazily.

  I felt so much lighter when I made my way back to my own seat. Lance was still asleep, and I carefully went over his legs so as not to disturb him. I put my earbuds in, closed my eyes, and drifted off myself.

  The flight went incredibly smoothly. Because Death was on it? Or just because the pilots were awesome? I didn’t know and didn’t spend any time dwelling on that. I was just happy that Lance behaved himself and didn’t puke on anyone. We disembarked, got my luggage, and I saw Death wheeling a black suitcase behind Jim. Yup, Jim was indeed on the same flight as me. Wild coincidence or meant to be?

  I told Lance I had to talk to someone then took off leaving him with my things. I’m trusting like that.

  “Jim!” I called out, waving my hands over my head to capture his attention, then I snapped them down to my sides. The memory of what happened last time I called out to Jim rose up and I felt like a jerk.

  Even worse, history repeated itself and Jim, upon seeing me walking toward him, let out a terrified yelp, threw his carry-on in my general direction- but missed- and took off at a run. I stopped and watched him dodge wheeled suitcases, large families, and once even leap over a service dog. For a heavy guy, he really could run!

  I shrugged and turned back around to find Lance staring at me with a thunderstruck look on his face. The almost nonstop sleep on the plane had done him a world of good and other than the rumpled clothing and thick stubble on his face, he looked more like the old Lance, not the new boozehound he had been in Greece.

  I walked over to Lance and soundlessly he handed over my carry-on, taking responsibility for the suitcase himself. We took the shuttle to the long-term parking lot where my SUV sat. I grimaced at the accumulated grime and bird doo that had collected on it while I had been away. If I hadn’t wanted to dump Lance at his house ASAP, I would have stopped at a car wash on my way home but despite his good behavior, I desperately wanted to be rid of him.

  On the two-hour drive back to Rehoboth, Lance was back to complaining.

  “Why didn’t you bring my phone?”

  “It was dead, and the screen is broken, it’s at your house.”

  “Can you believe I was mugged? Now I have to replace all my credit cards and get a replacement license.”

  “Umm…did you think you were just magically allowed on the plane with no identification? Victor gave me your wallet and passport, they’re in my purse.”

  Lance turned in the passenger seat, grabbing at my purse that I had slung behind my seat. He pulled it up and plopped it into his lap and started digging through it.

  “Hey!” I protested, he could have at least asked first.

  Lance retrieved his wallet and passport and went through his wallet, breathing an audible sigh of relief when he noted that all his cards were still in there.

  “You still might want to cancel those and get issued new ones,” I suggested, thinking of Victor having access to them for days. He had to have charged the plane ticket, probably the hotel room, and who knew what else.

  “You think?” Lance asked, leaning over to tuck his wallet in his right back pocket.

  “Don’t you?” I countered.

  “I’ll pull up my statements when I get home. Right after I get a nice, long hot shower. And McDonald’s! Could you stop at one? I never thought I would miss fast food, but I do.”

  “Sure, can you wait until we get back to Delaware or you wanna stop when we come across one?”

  “I can wait.”

  When we stopped for McDonald’s, he scarfed down two quarter-pounders with cheese, fries, and a large soda, belching loudly afterward. I settled for a filet-o-fish and a Coke. We also had a much-needed bathroom break. Before heading back to my truck, I got a large chocolate milkshake because I deserved it.

  I placed my shake in the cup holder and was putting on my safety belt when I saw that Lance had helped himself to my shake and was slurping it down. “Hey!” I snapped, grabbing it away from him. “If you want one, get your own.” I eyed how much he had sucked down and handed it back to him. “Here, it’s yours now. I’m getting a new one.”

  After a quick trip through the drive-through for a replacement shake for me, we were back on the road and headed home. I was so thankful it was after Labor Day and there was no influx of beachgoers. I don’t think I could deal with traffic jams this close to home.

  I had been planning to just drop Lance off at his house and go on my merry way, but he didn’t have any house keys on him. Yes, I could have just given him the spare key I had and beeped my horn as I sped away, but it seemed I owed it to him and myself to finish this properly. I had set out to fetch and return him from Greece and I did it.

  His house smelled like the inside of a trash truck and we both ran around opening windows. With a hand over my nose and mouth, I apologized, “I’m so sorry, I should have taken out the trash, but I forgot in my rush to get to the airport.”

  “How did so much trash accumulate?” he gasped out, his blue eyes wide as he stood near the sink looking at the cascading pile of it coming out of the can and piled on the floor. He grabbed thick purple rubber gloves from under the sink and a large black trash bag which he began to stuff the overflowing garbage into. “I think there’s some Lysol spray in the hallway bathroom.”

  I found it on the shelf above the toilet and began to spray it as I went. The bagged trash along with the empty can went outside and that, coupled with the air freshener, made breathing much easier. Lance headed upstairs to his bedroom and I followed behind, mentally preparing myself for the upcoming freak-out.

  He actually took it quite well, shaking his head a lot and muttering about vandals and Pam. It was only after all his messages popped up after he had charged his phone for a few minutes that Lance started to lose it. First, his face turned red, then the swear words started pouring out. Finally, he was ranting and raving, full on waving his arms while he paced the meager distance the phone’s charging cable allowed.

  “Lance, I’m sure once you explain what happened your boss will understand,” I tried to calm him down.

  He wheeled on me, his eyes practically bugging out of his head, as his nostrils flared with each deep intake and exhale. “Understand?! Understand what?! That I went out of the country with zero notice and dropped a major case! Give me your phone! I have calls to make. I gotta start doing damage control.” He tossed his own phone down.

  I winced but then remembered the screen was already shattered so he needed to replace it anyway. “Sorry, Lance, you’re on your own. Best of luck!” I left to the sounds of him screaming behind me as I charged down the steps, out the door, and up into my truck.

  Pulling into my garage, a weariness tugged at me. I grabbed my carry-on out of the trunk but decided to leave my suitcase for tomorrow. The house was dark when I entered it and I didn’t hear the usual frantic nails digging into the hardwood that Daisy had perfected when someone came into the house.

  I dumped my bag onto the kitchen floor and then went room by room, turning on the lights and searching for my cats. Though I didn’t find the cats, I did take notice of how clean the place was, thank goodness for my house cleaner, Helen! I doubted John had done his part. Finally, I found Agnes on my bed with Maverick and Daisy staring moodily at me from under it.

  After a few kissy noises, both cats came over to sniff at me then bump me with their heads. Maverick and Daisy were foster failures on my part, I simply couldn’t part with them and had added them to my household.
Agnes, my gorgeous five-year-old tortoiseshell, tolerated the cow cat siblings but usually did her own thing.

  Sitting crossed legged on the floor, I snuggled Daisy in my lap while Maverick rubbed up against me, purring his little heart out. “I missed you too, buddy,” I said scratching him under the chin like he loved. After Daisy jumped out off me, Maverick chased after her so I stretched out on the bed, my face close to the circular bundle of sweet-smelling fur that was my beloved Agnes. She licked at my fingers then tucked her head back into her tail.

  I put my hand on her back and felt her begin to vibrate. “I’m happy too,” I told her, though my words were drawn out by a long yawn that I didn’t even attempt to stifle. It felt so good to be home!

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  A cat using my back as a springboard woke me up. It was pitch black so I hadn’t slept straight through the evening until the next morning. But maybe I should have, I thought stretching my achy body and rubbing at my gritty feeling eyes.

  Slowly making my way downstairs, I noticed the lights that I had turned on earlier were off. I followed the glow of the TV into the only room in the house that appeared to be inhabited and found John on the couch eating a sub with all three cats perched around him, even the guilty one that had awakened me.

  Pausing, I soaked up the domestic scene in front of me. My kitties loved John…aww.

  Then I saw him offering a white sliver of something to Daisy and my maternal instinct kicked in. I ran over and snatched the onion out of his hand. “What are you thinking?! They can’t have onions!”

  My loud voice scattered the cats who took off in three different directions, puffed tails high in the air.

  John finished chewing and then calmly asked, “Why not?”

  I grabbed one of the napkins littering his lap, putting the stinky onion in it and doubling it open. “It’s dangerous for them. I forget why, my brain is still mush from jet lag.”

  “T, you know I would never do anything to hurt the furry buggers.” John’s blue eyes were filled with remorse.

  “I know you wouldn’t, John. You took awesome care of them, didn’t throw any wild parties, and my house is still standing. I’m just tired, so I overreacted.” I tossed the smelly napkin down on the coffee table.

  “Well sit down. I got you a sub too.”

  Before I could protest, John put his sub down on the table and went into the kitchen. Maverick came out of nowhere and followed closely behind him. The mooch! I thought, sinking into the soft cushions of the sofa.

  John returned with a wrapped sub on a plate and a can of soda which he plunked into my lap before settling on the couch next to me.

  “Thank you so much!” I enthused while unwrapping the Italian sub from Wawa, my favorite. I took a bite, closing my eyes in enjoyment. John even remembered the light mayo.

  His eyes flickered between me and the TV which was on some movie I didn’t recognize. John waited until I had inhaled half my sub before speaking again.

  “So, did you save Lance?”

  I shot him a quick look and then spoke after swallowing my overlarge mouthful of sub. “Kinda. I got him back from Greece, but Victor is still on the loose.”

  John’s brow scrunched down, creating a few wrinkles in his high, unlined forehead. “But he’s a ghost, of course, he’s on the loose.”

  I really didn’t feel like going into the whole Victor/Lance mess with him right now. Maybe another time, so I was brief. “It’s complicated.”

  “Are you sure you’re not making it overly so?” John pressed a bemused smile on his face. “Running off to Greece, calling at odd times, and for what? Lance is an adult, he doesn’t need a babysitter or a nursemaid.”

  I wanted to argue. There was so much John didn’t understand. Lance was an adult, but Victor had taken him over. Victor didn’t care if he caused Lance to lose his job, his health, or his sanity.

  Vaguely, I heard a cell phone going off somewhere, I looked about in confusion.

  John got up off the couch and walked to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “It’s yours, I’ll get it.”

  He returned with the still buzzing phone and handed it over.

  It was Mateo.

  “Hello,” I answered while putting my plate with the last few inches of my sub down.

  “Teresa, you had a problem-free flight?” Mateo’s smooth voice filled my ears.

  Briefly, I reflected back on my encounter with Death and that unfortunate bit with Jim. “Here in one piece,” I responded, a smile tugging at my lips.

  “I located Andre’s house, I’ve been on stakeout a few times. No sign of Victor as that drug dealer, but he might have switched bodies.”

  “Yeah, nothing we can do about that. Thank you again for all that you’re doing.” I could feel John’s eyes on me and turned my shoulder slightly. “I’ll call you in a few days. If anything happens on your end call no matter the time.”

  “Of course, Teresa…I, that is…well, goodbye.” Mateo disconnected and left me wondering what he had been wanting to say.

  Before I had even set the phone down, John, in an overly casual voice, asked, “Who was that?”

  When I moved to face him, I saw an accusatory gleam in his eyes that had me squirming. “A fellow psychic,” I replied, picking my sub back up.

  “From Greece?”

  “Yes,” I said around a mouthful of bread and meat.

  “And how did you meet?”

  “John, lay off! You’re sounding like a dad.” I wiped my messy fingers with a napkin, balled it up, and tossed it down on my empty plate.

  “Yeah, well, since yours never acted like one you need someone that will.” John’s gaze was fierce, his normally smiling mouth pinched into a thin, hard line.

  “Seriously, Mateo is fine. He helped me in Greece.”

  “It doesn’t strike you as odd that a psychic located you and wanted to help you track a wayward guy down?” he countered.

  “No, it doesn’t. He was interested in meeting someone else with abilities.” I looked John dead in the eye. “And so was I. He offered to help after the fact.”

  “Ahh…T!” John got up and began to pace. Several times it looked like he was on the verge of saying something else then he would stop and resume pacing.

  After a few pointless trips around the living room, John plopped back down on the couch, a hand rubbing tiredly at his face. “Look, you’re beautiful, rich, and super trusting. You just met some guy, who claimed to be a psychic, and you let him hang around with you.”

  “He really is a psychic!” I interject. “I know.”

  “How? Tell me how, T. He could have looked you up or something.”

  I covered his hand with my own, giving it a gentle squeeze. “John, listen to yourself. Who else knows? Besides you, Megan and…who else?”

  “Lance,” John answered promptly.

  I laughed. “Lance is clueless.”

  John removed his hand from under mine. “You never told him?”

  “No!” I stated, shaking my head at the same time.

  “But I thought you read his fortune at the firefighter’s carnival...”

  I cut him off, “Yeah, and he thinks it was all an act.”

  “Really?” He sat back against the cushions. “Okay, so maybe this Greek guy...”

  “Mateo,” I supplied.

  “This Mateo is the real deal. But still, you have to be more careful. You were in a foreign country, alone.”

  John does have a point, I thought with a trace of unease, thinking back to the deserted beach Mateo and I had gone to. But that had been my decision, he had taken us to a heavily populated one first. It had only been after I had wanted a more secluded beach to have better luck at sea glass hunting that we had gone to the other one.

  “Okay, maybe I am too trusting,” I allowed, “but I’m fine.”

  Hard pounding on the door sounded over the movie on TV, startling both John and me, though I think I jumped more than he did.

  “T
, you wait here,” John said standing and turning on the lights as he went.

  I got off the sofa and stood, straining my ears at first. Then loud voices filled the house. John and Lance!

  Running into the hall, I saw Lance shoving at John’s chest. John had a good two inches on the older man but was more lanky muscle and Lance seemed to have anger on his side as he was able to force John back away from the door.

  “Lance, what are you doing?” I snapped, pulling his arm away from John.

  With a scowl, Lance shook free of my grip. “Who the hell is he?”

  “John,” I answered, feeling puzzled and still slightly out of it. “What do you want?”

  “Oh, John is it? I see you replaced me pretty quickly.” He checked John over, who was dressed in a ratty dull blue T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts. A sneer twisted Lance’s mouth as he spat out, “And not an upgrade either.”

  “Lance, don’t even go there. Are you forgetting Pam already?”

  Lance’s spiteful sneer died but I pushed on. “Besides, we broke up, if I have a new boyfriend, it’s none of your business. Not that John is my boyfriend.” I don’t know why I added that and cast a quick glance over to John to find him now scowling at me too.

  “Again, why are you here?”

  He gave John another look, “Look, can we talk somewhere in private?”

  I sighed then looked at John who threw up his hands.

  “Whatever,” he said before stomping back into the living room.

  Biting my lip, my eyes followed John. Only after he was out of sight did I nod toward Lance and lead him into the kitchen where we took seats at the table. “Well?”

  Lance rubbed hands over his freshly shaved face bringing my attention to the deep violet bags hanging under his eyes. “Pam didn’t get me to go to Greece,” he croaked out.

  “So?”

  “So, why did I take off like that? No notice, left my cell phone at home, trash all over my kitchen. My bedroom looks like a tornado hit it, yet I had no luggage with me…” He trailed off and looked at me helplessly.

  “How should I know?” I countered, silently cursing Victor once again for putting me in this position.