Psychic Storm: Ten Dangerously Sexy Tales of Psychic Witches, Vampires, Mediums, Empaths and Seers

by Deanna Chase

  Once at the cabin, the slow moving party made it inside. Brandt ordered the dog to lie down. Soldier, small growls from deep in his throat, grudgingly obeyed.

  Sam quickly checked out Soldier's wounds again. Brandt and Soldier glared at each other.

  "It's not too bad. Looks like he ripped a stitch or two and he's limping. That could just be his old injuries with the unexpected chase in the woods." Sam gave the dog a quick hug. "Poor boy."

  Brandt snorted. "Why's that?"

  "The vet thought he'd been abused. As far as Soldier's concerned, it's people who aren't to be trusted." Sam paused for a moment, sniffed the air, bent closer to Soldier's back then raised her head. "Did someone just shoot my dog?"

  7:18 pm

  Brandt sat on the porch steps, speaking with his mother.

  Sam studied him for a long moment, waiting for his call to end, before walking out to join him. "I just poured you a cup of tea." Sam handed the cup to Brandt. "How are the colonel and your mother?"

  He glanced at her in surprise. "No change."

  "So can we talk then?" At his confused look, she added, "Deputy Brooker. Remember?"

  "What? Oh, right. He's here. As I told you earlier, your Deputy Brooker came to see me today."

  "Oh, God." Sam sat down – hard. She didn't need to look in a mirror to know that all the color had leached from her face.

  "He's been in town for a couple of days already." Brandt sat opposite her. "I know it's easy to jump to conclusions, but we don't know any more than that yet."

  It was too much. Sam had hoped to hide her history, hoped that past events wouldn't have to be dragged into her future. "Damn it."

  "Keep in mind, he doesn't know where you live."

  Hope unfurled deep inside then she remembered what had just happened. She searched his face. "You're dreaming," she scoffed. "He was probably the one doing the shooting out there tonight." She added, "I have no illusions. He'd kill me any time he had a chance."

  Brandt studied her face.

  She stared calmly back. If there was one thing he needed to believe, it was that Brooker was slime, dangerous slime.

  "Alright, I can see you believe that. He said you stole something from his family. Information of some kind? Any idea what that's all about?" Brandt's supportive gaze gave her strength.

  She laughed, a broken sound that made him wince. "I didn't steal anything. Don't you see? The information he thinks I have is what I picked up from him. My psychic abilities told me a lot. That's what he's afraid of. That I know too much." Pain knotted at the base of her spine, shooting up through her temple. She shivered. "And he's right. I do."

  Brandt mulled this over.

  She stared blindly out the dark window. "Remember my car accident?"

  "The one where you were injured or the one where you saw Louise Enderby die?"

  "No, the first one – where I almost died. That was him. He caused my accident – he tried to kill me."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  8 pm

  Sam bent her head.

  Brandt stared at the delicate tendrils of hair curled around her neck. The rest hung in long locks down to her waist. Really? He mentally drew up the deputy's countenance and conceded that, yeah, just maybe it was possible. That guy had an agenda. One that had nothing to do with his supposed visit to Brandt's station.

  Staring at her bent head, he needed to ask, at least once. "Are you sure?"

  Lifting her head, Sam stared straight at him. Her eyes shone with tears. "I don't have any proof if that's what you mean. But I saw him."

  "You saw him?" Brandt leaned forward, to search her face. "Are you sure?"

  Sam got up and walked to where she could stare out the window, her hair dangling down her back. "After the crash, I couldn't move. The flames had just started to reach the windshield. The seatbelt buckle had locked, my leg was broken, and my collarbone had been dislocated."

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool glass. Tremors started at the base of her spine and moved up. "He walked up while I was wrestling with the straps." She paused, her breath coming out in shaky gusts. "I pounded on the window and screamed for help. He laughed at me." Sam swallowed. "There I was in total panic, thinking that help had arrived and he..." she turned to face Brandt, "And he pulled out his gun and pointed it at me through the window.

  Brandt swore. Then swore again. "Bastard."

  "That he is." She stared at him, a tiny smile on her face. "Thanks for believing me. That helps a lot."

  He snorted. "So what happened? Did he actually shoot you?"

  Sam shook her head. "No, or I wouldn't be here. He just walked away. As he drove off, another man – a retired firefighter – arrived. He shattered the glass on the driver's door, unlocked it, cut my seatbelt strap, and dragged me free." She walked over to Brandt and sat down again. "So yeah, to answer your question – I am sure."

  He watched her shorts ride higher on her thighs, wishing she'd sit closer. His senses were awash in 'what ifs.' With a shudder, he stared off in the distance. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Did you tell anyone?"

  "No." She snorted. "Who would I tell? He was the police."

  Right. Brandt groaned and leaned back. "God. What a mess." He ran his fingers through his hair. "The bottom line is that this asshole is here now, and he's searching for you."

  "Right. Hence my question – did bullets score Soldier's shoulder?"

  "Christ." He stared at her, seeing past the old fears and tough memories. She was a fighter, but against a stacked deck, she'd run – until now. There'd be no running now. She wasn't alone any more.

  "Let me make some phone calls, see if we've got anything on him yet. One of my team is running his background."

  Sam frowned.

  "That means we can track him down and have another talk with him. Adam did confirm that Brooker drives a 2004 Dodge truck – a black one."

  She shuddered. "So it could have been him on the highway." After a moment of contemplation, she shrugged. "Not that it matters, he's not going to admit to anything. Why would he? You'd need proof, like bullets or casing from tonight to match to his gun."

  "True, but if you recognized his black truck..." he said, waiting and watching for her comprehension to kick in. Her eyes opened wide as understanding filtered in.

  She frowned. "Yes, only how would he know what vehicle I'm driving?"

  "The same way we can find out about his truck, run your name through DMV to find out what vehicle is registered under your name." He glanced at her truck outside the window. That thing should have been deep-sixed a long time ago. Surely, it wouldn't pass a safety inspection?

  "But he couldn't have known that it was me on the road until he came right up to me."

  Brandt considered that. "It's not out of the realm of possibility, that's exactly what did happen. And then he took advantage of an unexpected opportunity."

  Sam wrinkled her face. "That's horrible." She grimaced. "At least, he doesn't know where I live." She chewed on her lower lip, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. "Then again, it wouldn't be that hard with his connections, would it?"

  Brandt tried not to watch as her breast plumped out against her skin. "As much as I hate to even suggest it, it's possible that he could have followed you, or even me."

  Sam's eyes opened wide. "That's a horrible thought." She tilted her head, carefully considering him. "He couldn't have followed me, I haven't been anywhere today."

  "No. Are you sure you lost the black truck yesterday?"

  Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh, God."

  He leaned forward gently patting her on the knee. "Don't panic. We're working on it. As soon as we have more information, I'll bring him in for a second and more informative talk." Excusing himself, Brandt headed outside to make the phone calls that would put things in motion. This needed to be dealt with now. As did something else. Just as he was about to walk out onto the porch, he called out, "Oh, yeah. I'll also be sleeping here tonight."

>   8:22 pm

  "You want what?" God, the last thing Sam wanted to remember were other victims. She shook her head, hair flying widely about. No. No way.

  "Please. It might help."

  She stared at him. He didn't know what he asked. He couldn't. He'd gone outside to make his phone calls after dropping his first bomb. Then he'd come inside and had dropped a second one. The last remnants of her control fractured, splintering apart. He'd asked for details on other visions. She shook her head. This isn't how she'd imagined the evening.

  "I suppose this could be difficult for you."

  She half laughed, half cried. "You think?" she said, her voice rising. "You have no idea!" She spun away from him, her whole body shaking.

  Brandt winced. "I'm sorry. If it's that hard then we won't discuss this. I didn't mean to upset you." He walked over, one arm outstretched to touch her gently, hesitantly before dropping it down to his side. "I thought it might help to give the victims a voice." This time, he placed an arm around her shoulders.

  She stiffened, but didn't move away. In truth, she wanted to snuggle in deeper, only couldn't trust her emotions. "All victims or just those from this same killer?" She reached up gently to massage the nape of her neck. She hated her immediate defensiveness. There was no reason not to. After all, she'd wanted to be able to make a difference. Although, it might be a lot easier if she had a chance to talk to Stefan first. Maybe he knew how to help her through the process without the damage she knew would happen. She needed to ask him at the first opportunity.

  Surprise lit up his voice. "I didn't know you could choose." He mulled over the concept. "If given a choice, and if there is the possibility of this killer having other victims, then that's where I'd like to start." He paused for a moment. "Although, if you have information on other cases, that would be a help too. We have an incredible load of unsolved cases."

  "I don't know. I suppose I can try," she said. Her voice so soft and so sad, he thought his heart would break. "It might be easier on me if we do this after I work with Stefan a few times. Maybe he'll have a few techniques so I can protect myself." Sam watched the puzzlement wash over his face.

  "Protect yourself? I don't understand."

  He wasn't going to like her answer. "During recall, a lot of the same energy returns. I tend to slip between the visions and this reality."

  "Whoa! Come again?"

  A wry smile played around her lips. "Sometimes, the same method the person died from will manifest again – although to a much lesser degree," She rushed to add this last bit because she saw the horror starting to overtake his face.

  "So you're liable to start bleeding again?" He shook his head. "Uh, uh. No way are we going there."

  Sam couldn't help it. She laughed aloud. "The bleeding can be the easy symptoms."

  He glanced at her in disbelief.

  "Don't forget, one woman burned alive in a car accident."

  "But we don't know that it wasn't an accident."

  "No, you don't know. I do. Not only that, I know it was the same killer. I don't understand how or why, just that there was some connection."

  Brandt shook his head as he pulled a small notebook out. "You're certain that these are all victims of the same killer?"

  "Sure enough that you should do a search and link everyone they knew and every activity they participated in. The killer is there somewhere in the mess. Personally, I'd add Louise Enderby in there. She's the exception that could show you the rule."

  Sam wondered as Brandt spent the next five minutes writing down something in a notebook. Then she realized she had something that might help, while not hurting her. "I'll be right back." She strode into her bedroom. They were here somewhere in one of the boxes. She rummaged through the first, and then the second stacked box before finding what she was searching for at the bottom. Sorting the books out, she grabbed up the one she wanted.

  Brandt was on his cell phone when she returned. Not wanting to bother him, she refilled their cups with hot tea then sat down to wait.

  "Right. Graph it out. I know it's far-fetched, but we haven't got anything else to go on so let's give this a try." He glanced over at her and smiled. "Let's pull all the data and cross reference with these other cases. If the information isn't there then let's get it." Brandt jotted down several notes in his notepad. "No. I'll come in early tomorrow. We can map out what we have then."

  The conversation carried on a little longer and Sam blanked out. She flicked through the book in her hand, wincing at the notes. Very graphic and way too painful to read again, she wondered at her compulsion to write all this in the first place.

  "What have you got there?"

  Surprised, Sam looked up. "What?"

  He folded and put away the phone. "So what's that you've got?"

  "Here." She took a deep breath. Then as if making a decision, she handed the cheap, worn book over to him.

  Brandt accepted it, glancing from her to the book and back again. "What is it?"

  "My journal. It will have some dates and some details."

  Brandt flicked through the lined pages, daunted by the sheer outpouring of her soul. "Is this about your visions?" He stopped, read a note, then turned the page. "How far back does this go?"

  "It's close to being the first half of this year."

  "This year?" Shock threaded through his voice.

  "I have one I'm currently working on." She shrugged, unable to stop the self-conscious feeling. "I feel compelled to write down every detail I can remember after a vision. It's my way of letting the victims speak." She crossed her arms across her chest. "The thing is, I've never told anyone about these journals."

  "Ever?

  "No."

  He bent forward, placing one hand on her knee. "Thank you."

  A shaky sigh escaped. She nodded, a tiny smile on her lips. "You're welcome."

  Brandt squeezed her knee gently, then sat up again. "So this is everything written here?" He slapped the book on this thigh, studying her face.

  Soberly, Sam nodded. "Of those visions. I have more upstairs – at least twenty more."

  9:05 pm

  Brandt could feel the blood leach from his face. One of them? She had twenty more journals? Holy Shit. What kind of life had she had?

  "A terrible one."

  Brandt's head shot up in shock. His mind spun out of control. Did she just do that? Please, no.

  "No I can't read minds. Your face on the other hand..." She grinned at his sour grimace.

  He stared at the gold mine in his hand. He couldn't figure out what to focus on. She'd just handed him an incredible gift. Sure, he'd have to find proof, depending on her information, but she could give him a direction to start digging. Some of these cases might not even be in the files. Some could have been ruled accidental. Some could have been solved by now. Some killers could literally have gotten away with murder.

  Sam's hesitant voice broke through his heavy thoughts. "I might be able to help in other ways."

  He glanced at her in surprise. "You already have," he said lifting up the journal. "Can I take this?"

  She cringed. "I don't really want the information shared with the rest of your team. Maybe read it over and see if there is anything useful. Take notes or photocopy the pages. I would like the original back."

  "Absolutely. Photocopying is a good idea. And don't worry, I won't let Kevin or anyone else get their hands on this." Brandt knew the value of what he held. He wasn't planning on letting anyone else in on it until he could find the proof to match with the information. He flicked through the journal, stopping to read a page, wincing at the pain and the horror that dripped from the pages. Sam had come up behind to read over his shoulder, her long blond hair falling over his shoulder.

  His nostrils flared as her fresh womanly scent sank in. He glanced up, still caught by her feelings so transparent, her torment so real, before just focusing on her now. How quickly she'd slipped under his guard. This gentle woman had experienced so much pain alre
ady. He wanted to make her feel better, to make the pain go away. Setting the book aside, he stood up and stepped up next to her.

  She stilled, her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

  Brandt grinned and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. Sliding his arms around her, Brandt tugged her into a gentle hug. When she relaxed against him, he rested his cheek on the top of her head and smiled.

  He hesitated. Should he even broach the subject? Still, if this wasn't a good time, when would there ever be a better one? "You know you're never far from my mind, don't you?"

  Sam tried to pull back slightly, when he wouldn't release her she contented herself with tilting her head up instead.

  "Really?" Her voice came out as a gentle whisper, full of wonder and enchantment. Brandt immediately fell under her spell.

  "Really." He stared down at her porcelain skin, the huge eyes that said so much, yet nothing at all, and those lips. He hadn't noticed them the first couple of times he'd seen her, now they were all he could think about – so red and full, so very inviting, so very ready to be loved.

  He couldn't help himself. He bent and claimed them for his own.

  9:15 pm

  Overwhelmed by his words, Sam was blindsided by the touch of his lips. They coaxed, yet entranced. She'd never been kissed in such a way before. She wondered if she'd ever truly been kissed. She craved his touch. She wanted so much more. That there couldn't be a forever, didn't matter. She needed this, right now, right here...with him.

  Letting herself slide under the spell he wove so magically, her hands slid up to either side of his face, and she kissed him back.

  Her lips twitched at his startled pause. Excitement surged through her as he turned the tables on her and deepened the kiss.

  A moan escaped. Oh, Lord. Her legs had turned to jelly – she'd never felt so weak. He tightened his arms, supporting her against him. He lifted his head.