Lucky's Woman

by Jones, Linda Winstead

  He’d tried to save Cherie from a sad and unsafe home life, and his thanks had been a twisting knife in the shoulder and a shrill scream for him to get away from her. The pain of the knife hadn’t been the worst of it. He’d loved her, and she hadn’t been able to get past the truth of his heritage—or the fact that he’d lied to her about it.

  Lucky felt a twisting in his gut. He’d loved his wife, but looking back…what he’d felt for her hadn’t been any stronger or more real than what he felt for Annie. In truth, it had been a pale version of what he felt for the woman in his arms. That was scary.

  His track record sucked.

  “I can’t say I’m sorry,” Annie said softly. “If you were still with her, you wouldn’t work for the Benning Agency, and you certainly wouldn’t be here. You also wouldn’t be happy. Sometimes you think if that…that incident hadn’t happened you’d still be married, and you’d have two or three kids and a dog, and you’d be happy, but that’s not true. She was wrong for you, and if you were still together, you’d both be miserable.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She smiled. “Everything that has happened to us has brought us to this point, so right now I can’t even complain about what happened to me in Nashville, or how Seth and my mother were horrified by what I can do. I can’t wish my abilities or my nightmares away, because they brought you to me.”

  He didn’t want Annie to make more of this relationship than she should, because wanting more than they could have would only make the end more difficult. No matter how he felt about her, it would have to end—eventually.

  “I know, I know.” She laid her head down once again. “Don’t remind me.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  He should be terrified that this woman could actually read his mind, but he wasn’t. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to get this close, and he wasn’t sure it was wise—even now.

  He’d tried so hard to save Cherie, and he’d failed. Since then he’d been trying to save every damsel in distress that crossed his path. Sometimes he succeeded, but some people simply didn’t want to be saved.

  At least he had learned not to make promises beyond the moment.

  “So, you dated that Jerry guy twice?”

  Once again, Annie lifted her head. She smiled widely. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “Yes, I am. Twice?”

  Annie sighed. “It was a totally female faux pas, I’m sad to confess. He’s so good-looking, I was hoping that on the first date he was just having a bad day. No one that handsome could really be that…dull.”

  “Say it, Annie. The guy’s dumb as a rock.”

  “Yeah, he’s a manbo.”

  “Manbo?”

  “Male bimbo, and don’t be so critical. You’ve dated women just like him, many of them more than twice.”

  It was true enough, so he let the subject drop. Annie laid her head down again. In the dark, her breathing grew deep and even. One of her fine legs slipped between his and rested there, fitting nicely. For a long while she didn’t move at all, but to breathe. He thought she was asleep when she whispered, “I don’t want to dream tonight.”

  He didn’t want her to. She’d done enough. In fact, she’d done too much. Annie shouldn’t be in danger because she had this inherited gift that had crashed down on her well-ordered life.

  “If you don’t sleep, you can’t dream.”

  “True enough.”

  Lucky rolled Annie onto her back, drew down the covers and kissed the soft, sweet flesh between her breasts. She closed her eyes and sighed, sexy and content. When he aroused her, her psychic ability faded dramatically. She’d told him that much, more than once. Maybe now was a safe time to wonder why it was that he felt so close to this woman. It was more than his usual protective instinct. More than a job. More than sex. And dammit, he couldn’t allow that to happen. He spread Annie’s thighs gently, and stroked. She opened for him…only for him.

  He kissed her soft belly and whispered against pale, silky skin, “Don’t worry about dreams tonight. We have better things to do than sleep.”

  Chapter 13

  Annie got her wish. She eventually slept, but she didn’t dream. At least, not that she remembered. She didn’t know if it was Lucky, exhaustion, or sheer stubbornness that won out over the psychic nightmares, but her sleep was peaceful.

  Not just for one night, but for two…and then three.

  During their waking hours, Lucky watched her like a hawk. He was vigilant, and that was stating it mildly. He didn’t question anyone when they went to town, and the displays of affection meant to draw in the killer were relegated to private moments when no one else could see. He declared their active investigation over and done, saying someone else could investigate their suspects, from a distance.

  They shopped when necessary, they ate in a couple of the local restaurants and Annie spent some time in her two stores, which was also necessary. Lucky continued to receive information from the other employees of his agency—those to whom he had handed the investigation. Sadie and Murphy were the most involved. They managed to eliminate some of the suspects and rule out some of the suspicious deaths they had suspected might be connected to the Huffs’. Some accidents and random crimes were just that.

  Sadie had told her old partner that it could take weeks—maybe even months—to investigate all the suspicious deaths they found. There was no guarantee that they could find a connection, even if they discovered similar murders. For all they knew, the killer had changed his name, his appearance…everything. This news put Lucky in a bad mood like Annie had never seen. He was worried about her, and in a way that made her wish she hadn’t told him about the vision of being stabbed.

  But oh, she would hate to face that prediction alone.

  Lucky paced in her great room. Now and then he stopped pacing to feed the fire, which warmed the cabin on this cold, autumn night. Winter was coming. She tried to imagine Lucky here when the first snow came, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t be angry about that, since he’d never promised her that he’d be here for longer than it took to solve this crime.

  “Maybe he’s moved on,” Lucky suggested as he paced. “We spooked him, and he left the area. That’s why you haven’t had any more dreams. The physical proximity you need for the visions to materialize just isn’t there anymore.”

  “In a way I wish you were right, but if that’s the case, then we failed. If he’s run, then he got away.”

  Lucky snapped his head around and glared at her. “As long as he’s nowhere near you, I don’t really care. Let someone else catch him. Neither of us is responsible for every bad guy in the world.”

  His anger touched her, because she understood the protective nature of that rage. Maybe Lucky was following his usual pattern of love ’em and leave ’em, but whether he’d admit it or not, he did care for her in a deeper way than he’d ever intended.

  “No,” she said, “but like it or not, I think we’re responsible for this one.”

  A subtle, disbelieving lift of Lucky’s eyebrows conveyed to her his feelings on that subject—as if she needed such a blatant hint to tell her what he was thinking.

  He had begun this case determined to prove her wrong in all ways. He’d intended to prove that she wasn’t psychic and the Huffs had died just as the sheriff said they’d died, in a tragic murder/suicide in which no third party was involved. When he’d finally realized that she and her dreams were for real, his intent had turned to catching a killer.

  Now, tonight, his sole objective was to protect her. There was little else on his mind.

  “I’m not going to leave,” she said as she watched him wear a path in her throw rug.

  Lucky stopped pacing and glared at her. “The least you could do is wait for me to suggest out loud that you move away until we catch the guy.”

  She gave him a soft smile. “Sorry.”

  “Moving away until the killer is caught
is the best solution.”

  “I have a business to run.”

  “You also have two very capable managers. The business will survive.”

  “This is my home. Why should I let some psycho make me run away?”

  “Maybe because he could kill you?” Lucky snapped. “Maybe because you felt him drive a knife into your back? I know you’re glad the dreams and visions have stopped, but what if he’s found a way to block you? What if he now has the ability to sneak up on you, because you can’t see what he’s thinking anymore?”

  “He always had the ability to sneak up on me. I’ve never seen everything, Lucky, especially not where my life is concerned. Almost all of my visions pertaining to the unknown relate to other people, not myself.”

  “Almost,” he said, throwing the word back at her.

  How had this man become such an important part of her life in such a short time? Love was supposed to take time. It was supposed to grow slowly, spreading deep roots that would not be easily shaken. A couple was supposed to take the time to get to know one another well before they felt this…love.

  Of course, she couldn’t possibly know Lucky any better than she did right now. She’d glimpsed the very heart of the man, and that glimpse only made her love him more.

  Lucky was still afraid of love, so it would be best to keep her romantic feelings to herself.

  “You never did tell me what Lucky is short for?”

  “Yes, I did. It’s not short for anything. My name is Lucky. Lucky Rawlins Santana.”

  “Rawlins?”

  “My mother’s maiden name.” He’d mentioned his mother a couple of times, and on both occasions she’d felt him shut down inside. He didn’t want her to see this part of his past, and she had done her best not to pry. Whatever had happened to his mother…it was dark, and Lucky carried that pain with him as surely as he carried the pain of his scar.

  Annie tried a dismissive smile. She didn’t want to push or pry. “No wonder you don’t go by your middle name.”

  He cocked his head and started at her. “You don’t see it, do you?”

  “It’s private. I’m trying not to see.”

  “I appreciate that,” he said in a lowered voice.

  “I can see that it hurts,” she said, wanting to be honest with him…always. Except where the love thing was concerned, of course.

  Lucky quit pacing. He sat beside her and draped his arm over her shoulder. It was a casual pose, but there was nothing casual about this man or their relationship. “Diane Rawlins came from a very prestigious and wealthy family. They lived in the best house in a small town in Mississippi, and her daddy owned most of the local businesses, as well as most of the town. She had three brothers, but Diane was the only Rawlins daughter, and she was the princess of the town. It was assumed that she’d marry the boy she dated in high school. They were perfectly suited. His family didn’t have as much money, but they were one of the families. You know, tracing ancestors back to the Civil War, throwing teas for all the right people, deciding who would and would not be accepted.” His voice took on a decided edge of bitterness.

  “But Diane had other ideas. She met Luis Santana, fell in love with him and eloped. By the time she found out that Luis had married her for her money, she was pregnant with me. The family made it clear that Luis Santana wasn’t getting a dime of the family fortune, which did not go over well with my papa.” His entire body stiffened. “He kicked my mother out of his house and told her to go home.” Lucky stared at the fire…not at Annie.

  Annie felt the anger and hurt in Lucky grow. No, it didn’t grow. It was too old to grow. What it did was seep out of the corners of his soul, a pain he usually kept well hidden. She wanted to tell him to stop, to put the pain back where it belonged, to hide it well once again. But she didn’t. She let him talk, uninterrupted.

  “She tried to go home but they wouldn’t let her. She worked minimum wage jobs, taking anything she could get in order to put food on the table. No one would give her half a chance to make amends, to…start over. Maybe if she hadn’t been pregnant with me things would’ve been different, but she was, and people couldn’t, or wouldn’t, forget.

  “Eventually she left this small town and moved to New Orleans. I was born. My father went to prison a few months later.”

  Annie knew this was a story Lucky didn’t tell often, and still…it was a very real part of him. It wasn’t fair that something he’d had no part in, something that had happened before he’d been born, had affected his life in this way. She let her fingers stroke his arm, very gently. Lucky spent his life taking care of people. Did he ever let anyone take care of him?

  “I have some memories of my mother,” he said. “She did her best, and I can still remember how she laughed sometimes. She was pretty, very pretty, and after a while in New Orleans…she ended up working as an exotic dancer.” He glanced at Annie quickly. “She was a stripper. When I was nine, my mother got involved with one of the men who frequented the club where she worked. A few months later, he killed her.”

  “Oh, Lucky. I’m so sorry.” Annie didn’t see what had happened to Diane Santana, but she did feel a small boy’s confusion and anger and heartbreak when his mother didn’t come home.

  “They sent me home to live with my grandparents, who were none too happy to have a mixed breed son of a hired killer and a stripper in their fine home. They made up a story about where my mother had been, so as not to damage their own reputations. As for my father, well, they just didn’t mention him at all.

  “But people knew, and they never let me forget. I tried so hard to be the perfect kid, and it got me beat up, laughed at and eventually stabbed by the woman I married right after I turned nineteen. Cherie’s family lived out in the country. They weren’t exactly connected to the people in town who knew everything, in spite of the tale my grandparents tried to spin.” He had never considered, until this moment, that maybe that was why he’d been drawn to her in the first place. That and her obvious need to be rescued. “She didn’t know about my father when we eloped, but enough people did know the truth and it wasn’t long before someone made the effort to tell her exactly who she’d married. I guess when we eloped I should’ve just kept on running. But I didn’t.” He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “There you have it, the story of my life.”

  Annie laid a hand on Lucky’s whisker-rough cheek and made him look at her. “That’s not the story of your life,” she said softly. “The story of your life began after you left that town. It began when you became a soldier, when you became a cop, when you went to work for the major, when you dedicated yourself to helping people. Your life began when you…”

  When you walked into this cabin. She couldn’t very well say that without telling Lucky that she loved him, and he wasn’t ready to hear it.

  “Your life begins anew every day.”

  “That’s New Age crap,” he said brusquely.

  “It’s the truth, but only if you let it be.”

  His answer was a kiss. Not a sweet one, but a deep kiss that stole her breath and very neatly changed the subject. They kissed, and held one another close, and soon he placed his hand between their bodies and slipped it between her legs, where he rubbed gently…but not too gently.

  When Annie had a chance to take a deep breath, she said, “Sex isn’t the answer to everything.”

  His response was a husky “Why not?”

  What had he been thinking? He didn’t tell anyone about his parents or his awkward growing up years in hickville Mississippi. Somehow Annie had gotten under his skin, and that was bad. Very bad. The only way to handle the knowledge that he was getting too close was to back off.

  Lucky had never been known for his subtlety, and this situation was no different. When she left his bed on Sunday morning, Annie knew that whatever they’d had was over. He could tell the moment he saw the expression on her face, as she walked into the kitchen where he was making coffee, that anything of their relationship that went beyond
business was finished.

  It was one of the benefits of sleeping with a psychic. He was able to bypass the awkward explanations that came with the end.

  If she was a really good psychic she’d known all along this wouldn’t last, so she shouldn’t even be surprised. She looked a little surprised, though, and even a little hurt.

  It would be almost funny if things weren’t so awkward. When he’d come here he hadn’t believed it was possible that she—or anyone else—had psychic abilities. Now he was relying on those abilities to save him from painful explanations.

  The fact that their relationship was over didn’t mean he was going to lie down on the job. He was just as determined to find the man who’d invaded her dreams and lock him up so he could never hurt Annie—or anyone else, for that matter. Right now Annie was his responsibility, so keeping her safe was the number one priority.

  Annie poured a cup of coffee and sat at the kitchen table. She crossed her legs, which were bare and very fine, beneath the long, oversized Drama Queen T-shirt. Lucky waited for an argument, but no argument came. He was supposed to be relieved that Annie knew without a messy scene that the relationship was over, but instead he felt as if things were incomplete. It had never been about anything but sex, anyway, so maybe she was as relieved as he was.

  If she pressed for explanations or excuses, he could always argue that she insisted that he made her visions abate, and they needed every advantage they could get at the moment. If he made the visions stop, then he had no choice but to back off.

  When Annie finished her coffee she set the cup in the sink and headed for the door. She had a morning ritual. Coffee. Shower. Some off-the-wall outfit with lots of color and maybe some bling, and then to work—either here or at one of her stores. Since it was Sunday, she wouldn’t be going to either of the stores, but she wouldn’t waste the day. Within the hour she’d be working on a design or a detailed froufrou purse.