by Mary Behre
He called out to her, “Hi, Juliana.”
She glanced over at him and smiled. A weak, grateful smile that warmed him in ways it shouldn’t have.
“Seth, please tell this nice gentleman I’ll go to the doctor later.”
Okay, he understood the fear of the police, but why the hospital? He could fight her or take a less combative approach. He opted for keeping her calm.
Turning to the EMT, Seth said, “It’s all right, Jeffers. I’ve got it from here. I’ll get her seen and make sure she doesn’t overdo it before she gets her stitches. Thank you for your help.”
In no time, EMT Jeffers had her signing a Refusal of Care form and cleaned up his mess. Seth helped Jules down from the ambulance.
They’d taken two steps when she jumped. “Wait!” She turned around and snatched her purse from the floor of the vehicle and tucked it securely under her arm. She turned back to him, smiling. “Thank you, Seth.”
“It’s my pleasure, Jules. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”
Seth ushered Jules to his car and held open her door for her. Catching his partner’s eye, he wondered at the expression on Jones’s face. Seth started to walk toward his partner but the man waved him on. Jones lifted his cell in the air and tapped on it. Moments later, Seth’s phone buzzed.
Glancing down, he read the text. Take care of her. Am finishing up here. She doesn’t want to file a report. Not much left to do. Hart has probably left TCC but will check and meet you back at the station.
Rather than waste his time tapping out a response, Seth just nodded. When Jones returned the gesture, Seth climbed into the driver’s seat next to Jules.
Although normally fair-skinned, she appeared paler than usual. Her lips flattened in a grimace of pain. Automatically he reached over and checked her white bandage, which had a large red stain growing on the outer side of her arm between her elbow and shoulder.
Despite guessing the response he’d receive, he asked, “Where to now?”
“I really need to go work,” Jules said, relief evident in her voice.
Her stomach rumbled.
He nearly grinned. He’d been hoping for a way to steer her in the direction of the hospital without technically resorting to kidnapping. Still, given the pinched look of pain she couldn’t quite keep off of her face, he’d have done it if he had to.
“Sounds like what you need is an early lunch.” Seth smiled. “I’ve got an idea. How about I take you someplace with friendly service and great food and give you a shot of what you really need after a morning like yours. We can talk about what happened along the way.”
Tears sprung to her eyes and she blinked repeatedly. Looking down at her hands, she said, “I can’t believe I’m shaking.”
“I can’t believe that’s all you’re doing, precious. You’re amazing.” He stroked a finger down her chilled cheek. When she gave him a noncommittal shrug, he added, “Jones told me what you did. Most people would be crying or screaming by now. Hell, you fought back.” His stomach shriveled. His hand shook. Still, he didn’t stop touching her. He needed to reassure himself she still sat there, next to him. “You’re incredibly brave.”
“Th-thank you.” She snapped her gaze to his. Her wide, emerald eyes swam, but not a single tear fell. Jules went quiet for a moment before clenching her jaw again. “You promise you’ll take me to work after we eat? If not, I’m getting out of this car and walking to the shop.”
Despite her flippant tone, he could see the fear in her eyes. Feel the fine tremors racking her body. She’d been terrified. And still she’d fought.
Pride, warm and vast, spread through him.
“April and Big Jim are counting on me.” Shying away from his touch, she twisted in the seat to face him. “I can’t let them down because of this.” She gestured to her injured arm. The stain on her bandage was darker than before. And larger.
Starting the engine, he chose his words carefully. “I promise you’ll get to work before the store opens.”
• • •
“WHAT IN THE hell have you done?” He balled his fist and punched Jack in his burned, puffy face twice before he reigned in his temper. Blood poured from the bastard’s nose and right eye. No less than he deserved.
Jack fell back against the piling, whimpering.
Panting, the smells of copper, salt, coffee, and fear hit his senses, ratcheting up his fury. He flexed his hands, itching to throw another punch.
Instead he listened to the echo of waves crash against the shore from where they hid, ensconced in shadows beneath the Seventeenth Street pier. A sharp contrast to the rage thundering a tattoo between his ears and Jack’s pathetic pleas for clemency. “Please, you said we needed to do something. You said—” His lisp grew more pronounced in his distress.
“I said, ‘Don’t be stupid!’” He grabbed Jack by the shoulders, shaking him until his head wobbled like a rag doll and thunked against the aged wooden column. “She can identify you, asshole! It’s been two hours and already every cop in this city is out looking for a thug in a blue jogging suit who speaks with a lisp. Thound like anyone you know?”
He shoved Jack against the splintered wood, not caring when a stream of blood trickled from behind his left ear where his head had struck the piling.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jack dropped to his knees in the sand like a supplicant begging forgiveness. “She didn’t even know what I really wanted. She thought I was after her purse. I can still do it. I can get it, please!”
“You can’t get it!” he said between clenched teeth. “That damned detective will be watching her now. He showed up on the scene before you even called to tell me what an utter fuck-up you truly are.”
Jack groveled nonsensically as waves splashed over him. Crouched in the sand as he was, the water doused his pants up to the hem of his sweatshirt.
The little pissant would roll and confess everything within minutes of being arrested. Hell, the wimp had cried like a baby torn from the breast when Aimee-Lynn died.
Only fear and the need to save his own worthless ass had kept him quiet. All that would change if Jack were arrested. Given that the coward had no place to hide, it wouldn’t be long before he was caught.
I’ve come too close to lose it all now.
He removed his gloves and shoved them into his pockets, then pushed up his sleeves.
Above, the pier creaked and groaned as shop owners opened their doors for the day’s business. Jack flinched, casting a fearful eye heavenward.
Little did he know, the true danger came from the ocean lapping at his knees.
• • •
JULES DUG A fingernail beneath the bandage and scratched lightly, careful to avoid both her stitches and the tender part of her body. Gah! Why was it a body felt great until the moment a bandage was put on?
A shot of what you really need.
It was a good thing Seth had stayed out of sight at the hospital. She’d been so furious that he’d tricked her into going there, she might have been tempted to give him a shot of something in his backside.
Still, she could only be so angry with him. He’d been right to make her go. The injury, which she hadn’t been able to see, was bad enough to warrant sixteen stitches. And a tetanus shot. Where her arm didn’t itch and throb from the assault, it ached from the shot. Thank heavens the nurse did it all in the same arm.
At least Seth had delivered on his promise of good food. Too bad Jules had needed to eat one-handed in the car on the way back to April’s Flowers.
She leaned over the workbench and looked into the showroom. Where had Seth gone? While she appreciated that he’d given her space once she’d arrived at work, she hadn’t seen him in thirty minutes. Had he left?
Jules shifted off the stool where she’d been trying to wrap roses one-handed, a near-impossible task. The moment she stood, her arm itched like she’d been bitten by a dozen mosquitoes.
Unable to stand it, she grabbed a six-inch floral stick from the workbench and
attempted to wedge it beneath the bandage to scratch the wretched itch. The danged stick snagged on the gauze. The green dowel protruded from the top of her bandage like a stem stripped of its leaves. She tugged and twisted, but the more she tried to remove the rod, the deeper it lodged.
“Can I help?” Seth’s amused voice floated in from the open doorway.
She turned her head to see his lips twitching. Amusement sparkled in his eyes. It would have been nice if she could have found the annoyance she had felt at being tricked; instead, her idiotic heart leapt at the sight of him.
I’m insane for reacting like this.
“I’ve got it,” she said, frowning at the dowel.
“Still mad at me for making you get stitches?” He chuckled.
“And the tetanus shot,” she reminded him. When he didn’t do more than stare at her, she gave him a mock frown that had him laughing. Her heart light at the sound, she admitted, “No. I’m not mad. You were . . . right.”
“Bet that was hard for you to admit.” He winked at her.
“You have no idea.” Her cheeks warmed.
This attraction didn’t make sense. They’d only known each other for a few days. Why was she so happy just to see him?
Okay, he was thoughtful. And sweet. He didn’t even press her to go to the station to file charges. He’d offered to take care of the paperwork for her. Cop or not, Seth truly was a gentleman.
And she was a freak with a stick stuck up her sleeve.
Blushing, she stared at the rod, then tugged again. It didn’t do more than make her arm burn. “Dang.”
“You sure I can’t help?” He moved closer to her but stopped when she shook her head. A moment of silence passed, then he asked, “Jules, would you be willing to meet with a sketch artist later today? I’ll go with you to the station.”
So much for Seth not pressuring her.
“I don’t see the point,” she said. “I told you and Dev what I saw. Can’t you tell her?”
“But you saw your mugger. We didn’t. You really need to be the one who talks to the artist.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Would you feel better if I had the sketch artist come here?”
“Can you do that?” Jules sighed, inadvertently inhaling his delicious masculine scent. Great, now her whole body sizzled with awareness of him.
“Yeah. I’ll arrange it,” Seth said.
But she focused on the way his lips moved.
As if noticing her stare, he gave her a cocky lopsided grin and licked his lips. It made her hungry for another taste of them. Oh yeah, he also kissed like a conquering warrior.
Her lips actually tingled at the remembered sensation of his mouth on hers. It had been hot and sweet and she wanted to do it all over again.
I’m a masochist.
Blushing, she gave him her back.
His feet slid across the tiled floor. Moments later, his breath feathered across her ear. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder to know he stood directly behind her. His heat radiated against her back and she struggled to remain upright. To not lean into all the warmth that seemed to beckon her closer.
“Let me help you, precious,” he whispered in husky tones. His arms wrapped around her waist and tugged her closer until her back was flush with his front. And oh my, he smelled even more delicious up close.
Gently, he turned her in his arms until they stood thigh to thigh, chest to chest. His eyes no longer twinkled with amusement. Instead they darkened with banked heat.
“Hold still,” he said in a tone so deep and gravelly it made her shiver. “One day you’re going to have to tell me why you’re so afraid of the police.”
“I’m not!”
“Shh . . .” He kissed the side of her head. “You are. I know it. I want to know why, but I can wait. I’m just glad you aren’t afraid of me.”
He was right. Jules wasn’t afraid of him. Anymore. “Not right now, okay?”
“Soon?”
“Soon,” she agreed.
One side of his mouth quirked up at the corner but otherwise he showed no reaction. “Don’t move.”
Carefully, he twisted the dowel between two fingers while he used his other hand to loosen the bandage. In seconds—several long she-couldn’t-remember-how-to-breathe seconds—she was free.
He dropped the stick on the workbench then pulled Jules into his arms. His touch was gentle, his movements measured and sure. And it made her heartbeat skip into triple digits.
“Thank you,” she whispered, then licked her lips.
“You’re welcome.” His eyes darkened even more but he didn’t make a move. Instead he said, “I’m working.”
“So am I.” She grinned at him. Rising up on her tiptoes, she tilted her face toward his.
He hesitated briefly, then lowered his head until their lips nearly touched. He didn’t kiss her right away. He smoothed his hands up and down her back, pulling her tighter against him. Yet he took care not to touch her injured arm.
This close, she could feel his arousal pressing against her lower belly through his slacks and she couldn’t resist sliding her body against his.
He groaned, licked his lips, and his hands moved a little less gently along her back. Seth might normally be in control, but at this moment, his control was slipping.
Her head swam with the heady sense of power. She wondered what he’d be like completely out of control. Last night she thought she’d experienced a taste of it. And like a narcotic, it made her crave more.
She wrapped one hand around his neck and pulled his mouth close enough to brush her lips against his. When he parted his lips on a moan of pleasure, she slipped her tongue inside and nearly moaned herself. He tasted of hazelnut coffee.
Her new favorite flavor.
He backed her up until her hips met the workbench. While her left arm had ached and throbbed only moments before, it didn’t hurt as much now. She slid her uninjured arm down his body and wrapped it around Seth’s waist. His hardness rubbing against her through their clothes heightened her excitement.
He shifted and his warm, large hands gently clasped her face, angling her head for the best access. He attempted to take over the kiss. But with every thrust of his tongue, she parried. The give-and-take of their kiss, the need to experience every nuance, every delicious moment, left her breathless. She turned her face to suck in air. Seth slid his mouth from her face to her neck and suckled gently. Shivers of electricity bolted through her.
“You taste so damn sweet. I could lick you all over,” Seth said against her neck. His hands trailed from her face to her shoulders and down her back. Almost before he’d whispered the words, he’d sent the fantasy winging into her mind.
Sexy and erotic, she wanted to revel in it. Heck, she wanted to strip him naked and experience it live.
As quickly as the images flashed in, they disappeared. Like a movie reel snapping at the theater, the fantasy zapped out of existence.
Then everything happened at once. Seth’s cell phone started ringing, the room temperature dropped, and Aimee-Lynn started shrieking incoherently.
Jules’s eyes flew open. The angry spirit hovered behind Seth. A crimson aura pulsed around her.
Hissing in pain from Aimee-Lynn’s wail slicing through her skull, Jules pulled back.
“Juliana, did I hurt you?” Seth examined her bandaged arm.
“It’s okay, I just need a minute,” Jules said, then gestured to Seth’s ringing phone. “Do you need to get that?”
She could barely hear herself speak over the ghostly cries shredding her eardrums.
Jerking the phone from his belt, Seth glanced at it and frowned. “Yeah, I do. Will you be all right?”
“Yep,” she replied.
He kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.”
She was pretty sure that was what he’d said just before Seth strode out the back door, but Jules hadn’t actually heard him. The spirit’s cries blocked out all other sounds.
Jules hurried from t
he back room to the front and gasped. Aimee-Lynn’s murky red aura bled all over the showroom.
“Aimee-Lynn!” Jules focused her thoughts on reaching the angry ghost. “Calm down, I can’t understand you.”
Jules sent out the mental push repeatedly, but Aimee-Lynn didn’t appear to hear her. The shrieking continued, then the ghost gestured wildly.
At first, Jules thought Aimee-Lynn was trying to communicate with her. It took a moment for realization to sink in.
Aimee-Lynn appeared to be communicating with another ghost. One that Jules could barely make out. The second specter was little more than the silhouette of a man lying spread-eagle on the ground in the middle of the room. He jerked and shook as if he were being attacked by some unseen force. He slid violently left and right as if unseen beasts had latched on to his limbs and were playing tug-of-war.
Death-Bearers.
Terror sluiced through Jules. The Death-Bearers were the beasts that chased after evil souls and dragged them into hell. She’d learned about them after she’d seen them drag off her father’s business partner when she’d been nine years old. And she’d had nightmares for weeks afterward.
Aimee-Lynn’s wails reached near-glass-shattering decibels and the temperature in the room dropped about fifteen degrees.
Unmitigated rage and anguish hit Jules in the midsection like a punch.
The man’s silhouetted figure stopped jerking and he was dragged past Jules. A Death-Bearer glided close enough that her nose burned from the stench of sulfur. Its wicked presence had the hair on her forearms standing on end.
Jules wrapped her good arm around herself and fought to erect her mental shields. Her castle. She visualized the cold granite walls, high turrets, deep moat, and heavy drawbridge. And in front of the castle in a suit of gleaming armor stood Seth, sword drawn and ready to fight.
The cold menace dissolved at the same time the male silhouette vanished.
The room fell silent so fast, Jules’s ears popped. Instantly, the red aura washed away, replaced by the vivid greens, oranges, yellows, and blues of the plants and flowers in the showroom.
“He was my friend,” Aimee-Lynn said in a small voice. The spirit stared off in the direction the ghostly man had been dragged before he vanished. She appeared to be talking to herself. “He didn’t deserve that.”
