Man of Her Dreams

by Debra Webb

  “Madam Talia sent me.”

  Darby drew up short, gasping for the oxygen currently evacuating her lungs.

  “Shhh!” the woman warned.

  Darby reclaimed her composure and moved farther into the deep shadows. “Who are you?” Fear should have skittered up her spine, but it didn’t.

  “I work for Madam Talia. She sent me here to give you a message.”

  Darby almost laughed. How could Madam Talia have known that she would take this route? She hadn’t even known.

  “What kind of message?” Darby’s eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and she could see that it was, indeed, the receptionist from Madam Talia’s place of business. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  The woman smiled. She was much shorter than Darby and a bit on the heavy side. Forty-five or fifty, maybe. Her smile warmed her usual, business-like expression.

  “Madam Talia knows many things, Ms. Shepard,” she reminded.

  Darby nodded. She definitely couldn’t deny the assertion. She sensed that Madam Talia was a very powerful woman. The only question in her mind was the source of that power.

  “She wanted me to warn you that your life is in grave danger.”

  If she’d said most anything else, Darby wouldn’t have been surprised. But this…the nightmares were over. Lester was in jail awaiting trial or arraignment…whatever.

  “How? From who? I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “Lester is in jail. He can’t hurt me—”

  The woman manacled her arm. “Listen to her!” she whispered harshly. “She never makes a mistake.”

  For the first time since she heard her name called, she felt a prick of fear. “Surely she gave you some idea of how my life was in danger.”

  This didn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t she sense the danger herself? The only change in her life was the whole business with helping those kids and putting Lester behind bars. Well, she amended, there was a new job and Aidan. Surely he meant her no harm. He’d certainly had the perfect opportunity last night to hurt her if that were his intent.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” she murmured aloud before the woman could answer her question.

  “Madam Talia said to tell you that the threat comes from the men in the white coats. She said you would understand.”

  Ice-cold terror slid through Darby’s veins. “You’re certain that’s what she said?”

  The woman nodded gravely.

  “Thank you,” Darby managed, the words brittle. “Thank Madam Talia. I…” Her voice betrayed her, quavering with fear. “I have to go.”

  She turned away, her movements stiff, awkward.

  “Better lock your door,” the woman called after her.

  Darby stalled just beyond the mouth of the alley, her feet mired in the sidewalk that suddenly turned to swampy quicksand.

  One, two, I’m coming for you. Three, four, better lock your door.

  Time lapsed into slow motion. Silence coagulated around her. Darby turned, the movement seeming to take an eternity. Her gaze went back to the dark alley and the woman who’d delivered the warning.

  She was gone.

  Darby blinked, and time and place zoomed back into vivid focus. She spun slowly around amid the chaos that was constant, an everyday part of New Orleans life. The chaos that had been strangely missing only moments ago when she had been alone in an alley with the woman Madam Talia had sent. The sunlight reached through the trees and warmed her face. The music from the boom box blasted her eardrums. The guys loitering on the corner of the last block danced, blatantly sexual moves to the erotic beat. And the couple in the doorway was lost in a passionate kiss.

  The threat comes from the men in the white coats.

  They knew she was here.

  The realization shook her like the propulsion from a rocket during takeoff.

  In that instant, a new awareness settled deep into her bones.

  They were coming for her.

  WHEN SHE’D REACHED the gate to the courtyard behind her apartment, Darby paused to catch her breath. She glanced warily, first right and then left. The side street was empty. No one had followed her and yet every step of the way she’d felt as if someone was right on her heels.

  Maybe the warning had merely made her paranoid. Whatever the case, she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense that more than one set of eyes watched her.

  She rested her forehead against the wrought-iron gate and released a heavy breath. She hated this feeling. Hated when things spun out of control. It hadn’t happened often in her life…well, at least during the parts that she remembered clearly.

  When she’d first come to live with the people she would eventually learn to love and call Mom and Dad, she’d felt completely out of control. That time in junior high when she’d let the visions overtake her life. Then again when she’d lost her parents in that boating accident. Those were the only times she could remember this gut-wrenching sense of dread…of imminent disaster.

  She slid her keycard in the lock and entered the courtyard. The fear was the worst part. She hated being afraid. Though she’d always worried that the men in the white coats would come for her if she wasn’t careful, she’d never really been afraid. She’d convinced herself that it was all a bad dream. Leftover anxieties from whatever life she’d lived before.

  But now it felt entirely too real.

  Madam Talia wouldn’t have warned her otherwise. The woman hadn’t garnered her impeccable reputation by tossing around groundless accusations and empty warnings. Darby had to face the fact that her past was after her. Instinct and plain old common sense told her that it had something to do with her name and face being splashed all over the papers.

  Somehow, her so-called heroism had alerted whomever the men in the white coats represented. The way she saw it, she had two options here. She could sit back and wait for them to come, or she could start digging and see what she found.

  When facing an enemy of any sort, it was always best to be prepared.

  “Am I too late to offer to take you out to lunch?”

  Aidan was propped against the wall outside her apartment door when she reached her floor. Her smile was automatic. How could she not smile with a guy like that looking at her as if she were everything he’d ever wanted? For lunch and otherwise.

  The connection was immediate and intense. This couldn’t be mere chemistry. It was far too strong. She shivered with acute awareness.

  “No,” she replied. “You’re definitely not too late.” She gestured to her door. “Would you like to come in? I need to check my messages and let Wiz out.”

  Taking his time, he surveyed her from head to toe. His gaze was like a slow, gentle caress. “I can’t believe such a beautiful lady would go shopping and come back empty-handed. Didn’t they have anything you desired?”

  She clamped down on her lower lip a moment to stop its silly quivering. Lord, maybe lunch wasn’t such a good idea. Some wanton female side she hadn’t known existed took over whenever he was near. “I didn’t go shopping,” she confessed. “I had a job interview.”

  His expression turned to one of understanding. “I see.”

  Before she could think what to say next he took the key from her hand and slid it into the slot and opened her door. “I’ll just be across the hall. Let me know when you’re ready to go.” He offered the keycard back to her.

  “It’s okay.” She accepted the keycard and dropped it into her purse. She had to stop running so hot and cold, had to find some neutral spot. “Come on in. I won’t be long.” She cooed a greeting to Wiz and promised him a trip outside.

  Whether the distraction her neighbor posed was smart right now or not, she needed to keep her mind off that warning, away from the fear. She had to think, prepare some game plan. There had to be a way to dig into her past and find the answers she needed.

  She thought about the self-hypnosis she’d studied, wondered if that might work. She might need help for that. Could she still call upon Sandra?
Her gaze settled on her handsome neighbor. Did she dare trust him with that kind of personal information?

  He was busy studying a picture a parent of one of her students had taken of her last Christmas. In the photo, she was surrounded by her students, all dressed as angels for the Christmas play. She’d brought a few mementoes with her to make the place feel more like home. Sadness welled in her chest. She did so miss the children. It would take a while for her to fit in at the new job, but she would never forget the wonderful memories she’d made at her old school.

  Pushing the sentimental thoughts away, she dropped her purse on the sofa and depressed the Play button for the telephone answering machine on the table by the sofa. Maybe Mary Ellen had called from Hawaii to check on how the tour had gone.

  There was only one message.

  The male voice echoed in the room. “Ms. Shepard, this is Detective Willis. I’ve been trying to contact you all morning. I’ve called several times and there has been no answer. One of my men has been by your apartment as well. The landlord allowed him inside to ensure that you weren’t injured and in need of assistance.”

  Darby took an unsteady step back from the machine as if the words threatened her somehow. She sensed the danger. Aidan was suddenly at her side but she couldn’t find her voice—couldn’t say anything. She could only stare into his eyes and listen as Detective Willis continued.

  “The moment you get this message, assuming one of my men doesn’t find you first, please call me. It’s imperative. Jerry Lester has escaped. You may be in danger. Please call me, Ms. Shepard.”

  A beep sounded and the tape machine shut off.

  For a full minute, Darby just stood there, staring at it, not certain what she should do next. Lester was out; he knew what she’d done.

  He knew who she was.

  The pounding on her door broke the tension. She jerked at the sound.

  Before she could react, Aidan had gone to the door and peered through the peephole. “It’s a police officer,” he told her quietly.

  She crossed to the door and he stepped aside, moved to the other side of the room, giving her space. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and opened it.

  “Ms. Shepard, I’m Officer Dennehy. Detective Willis asked me to keep an eye on your apartment. I just wanted you to know that me and my partner will be right outside the building if you need us.”

  She nodded. “I just got home,” she said brokenly.

  “We know, ma’am. Please keep your door locked and you’ll need to call Detective Willis. We’ve already let him know you’re here.”

  She nodded again. “Thank you.”

  Aidan remained silent while Darby did as the officer instructed. She closed and locked the door, then made the call to Willis.

  This was an unforeseen complication. Center would need to be made aware before the news hit the general public. O’Riley did not like being blindsided. The killer’s escape guaranteed more media coverage and increased the likelihood of Galen’s discovering Eve’s existence.

  He’d watched her all morning, had noted the covert meeting with the woman in the alley. Her warning had been whispered, but even whispered and from a half a block away—if he focused—his auditory senses picked up enough of the conversation to piece together the threat.

  Men in white coats.

  Aidan had an uneasy feeling that meant only one thing—Center. It was the first indication he’d had that Darby remembered anything, but that in itself was not enough to form an accurate conclusion. He needed more intel.

  She moved to the French doors and stared toward the courtyard. Her inner turmoil reached out to him. She felt frightened on one level but furious on another. Oddly, he didn’t think the escaped killer worried her as much as the warning the woman in the alley had issued.

  He supposed the danger she knew and understood felt far less threatening than the one she didn’t.

  He admired her beauty once more as the sun kissed her cheek, brought out the gold highlights in her long brown hair. Even dressed in a conservative jumper that fell just shy of her ankles, she appealed to him on a physical level. The slit in the jumper had revealed a satiny length of thigh with each step she’d taken as she’d walked this morning. A simple white blouse, sleeveless and scoop-necked, hugged her upper torso beneath the pale green jumper. The delicate sandals on her feet looked immensely feminine, but it was the pink toenails that disturbed him the most.

  “Are you all right?” he asked softly as he approached her.

  She trusted him; he’d felt her responding to him from the beginning. Last night had proven his assessment. He thought of the way his mind had so easily touched hers. He could taste her even now. He thought again of the way her skin smelled…the softness of it. He wanted to touch her now…not like last night. For real this time.

  Not yet…it was too soon.

  She’d been brought up amid humans who reveled in fantasy but faltered in reality. She could, in effect, enjoy the fantasy without fear of repercussion. And yet she had no idea just how real this fantasy was.

  “I’m okay.”

  He moved closer still. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he promised, knowing an explanation would be in order. But it was time he moved this operation to the next level.

  That gaze, the color of glittering sand after the tide rolled back from the shore, collided with his. “Thank you for offering, but I couldn’t drag you into this.”

  He couldn’t resist. He had to touch her. He reached up slowly, so as not to frighten her, and pushed aside a lock of silky hair from her cheek.

  “I’m already a part of it.”

  Confusion claimed her expression. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

  He took her small hand in his, closed his fingers around its softness. The energy that hummed between them pumped up a notch. She felt it; her pulse reacted. Her heart began to pound.

  “I’m with the FBI,” he explained, laying out the cover Center had provided. “I was sent here because the Bureau suspected Lester might be connected to older unsolved cases from other states. I’ve been monitoring the local investigation and we now know Lester’s case is not related.”

  She moved her head from side to side in denial. “Are you saying you moved in next door to me on purpose? That you’ve been watching me?”

  He hesitated a moment, hoping to lessen the impact of the single word, but it wasn’t going to work. “Yes.”

  She drew her hand from his and turned away, but not before he saw the wetness shining in her eyes.

  “But,” he reached for her again, his fingers closing over her arm and pulling her gently back around to face him, “my job has nothing to do with this other connection between us.”

  She refused to look directly at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” she countered angrily. “What other connection?”

  “This one.” He drew her nearer and then he kissed her. It was what he wanted to do…what he needed to do.

  She resisted at first but when his fingers threaded into her hair and pulled her closer still, she relented. Her mouth softened under his, her lips parted in invitation. He deepened the kiss, tasting her, wanting more, until every cell in his body detonated with need. She melted against him. Whimpered softly. He kissed her harder, allowing the rush of sensations to take control for just a few seconds.

  He pulled back, his respiration uneven as if he’d run for miles. He licked his lips, loving the taste of her.

  “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he murmured. “Trust me.”

  And she did.

  She didn’t have to say the words. He read her surrender in her eyes…felt it in the beat of her heart.

  They were fully connected.

  Again.

  Chapter Seven

  Château Garden Apartments

  New Orleans

  He stood in the darkest shadows of the courtyard. She was there…on the third floor. The French doors of her balcony overlooked this very courtyard.


  Security was a joke. The police officers staking out her apartment were obviously asleep on the job. He’d gotten in with scarcely any effort and he’d been out of this part of the business for a very long time. But he had to see for himself…could trust no one else’s judgment. Not even his closest adviser’s.

  He’d seen her. She was as beautiful as he had known she would be. He’d expected nothing less. If her gift proved to be as brilliant as her physical beauty, then she was truly magnificent. Discovering the depth of her abilities would require that he get closer…much closer.

  But the Enforcer was in place already. He’d expected as much and yet it infuriated him. She was his creation. His masterpiece, just as the male no doubt was.

  Center would send her other half—that he knew with certainty. The two had been designed to complement each other. Even now, he imagined that the bond drew them on every level. She would not fully comprehend what was happening, but the Enforcer would know.

  Eve represented the only female created. She was immensely special. But O’Riley and Archer had deemed her a failure. A big mistake. He had been too careful, too meticulous, in his work. He had taken certain steps to ensure her perfection.

  Fury whipped through him when he considered that Archer had ruined everything. The Enforcers were not created to suffer the same weaknesses as other humans. He had intended that they rise above those fragilities. But the Collective had overruled him, forced the change.

  He had walked away, turned his back on all of it.

  Years of bitterness had pushed him to retaliate—to fight for what was rightfully his. Despite all his efforts, his creations were still credited to others. His every attempt to regain what had been taken from him had failed.

  He would not fail this time.

  Nothing could stop him.

  The male, Aidan, appeared on her balcony. He surveyed the courtyard, searching for the disruption he sensed in the fabric of the darkness. He listened for the slightest sound, his hearing so keen when he chose to listen closely that even a whispered sigh across the courtyard would be heard. He sniffed the air, every instinct warning of his enemy’s presence.