Dream Maker

by Charlotte Douglas

  Determination glinted in the brown depths of his eyes. She traced the sharp angle of his jaw with her palm. “I’ve caught my breath now. We’d better keep moving.”

  He pointed to a narrow earthen path that wound down the slope beside the stream, and she lunged ahead. Behind them, something heavy crashed through the underbrush, shattering the nocturnal quiet.

  “Stanwick?” she breathed.

  “Sounds like a bear,” Jared whispered. “But it’s headed away from us.”

  Adrenaline provided a burst of speed, and she darted forward along the trail, digging in her heels to avoid pitching down the incline. Jared followed close behind.

  Her legs ached from exertion, and her breath came in tortured gasps. Long hours hunched over a desk and computer had drained her stamina. When she thought her lungs would explode if she lifted another foot, light glimmered ahead. They’d reached Sweeney’s meadow at the bottom of the mountain.

  Jared gripped her arm and pulled her back into the shadows before she ventured into the open. “If Stanwick drove, he could be waiting for us.”

  He dropped to his knees and propped the bottom skein of barbed wire with a stick. “Crawl under, then follow me.”

  She rolled beneath the wire, crushing the sweet spring grass beneath her, filling the air with the scent of herbs and wild onion. Jared copied her movements, then wriggled forward on his hands and knees, ducking his head below the level of the tall grass.

  Tyler bit back a scream when the plaintive moo of a nearby cow startled her, but she kept crawling, close on Jared’s heels. The aromatic clover thinned, then disappeared in a muddy yard. They had reached the barn.

  Jared pushed to his feet, dragged her upright, and, still grasping her arm, sprinted toward the barn door. He slid back the massive door and yanked her into the cavernous darkness.

  Groping through the shadows, she located a bale of hay and tumbled onto it, winded and exhausted. “Why stop here? Why not go on to the house and wake up Sweeney?”

  Jared remained at the door, which was opened a crack to the moonlight. “I have to make certain Stanwick didn’t get here first.”

  “How can you tell?”

  His gaze swiveled, taking in the farmhouse and yard. “There’s no sign of another vehicle. Just Sweeney’s run-down old pickup.”

  Suddenly, blinding light flooded the barn from overhead fixtures, and Tyler blinked in the brightness. At the far end beneath the hayloft stood Pete Stanwick, his semiautomatic rifle trained on them.

  “What took you so long?” he asked.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jared cursed himself for a fool. He’d underestimated Stanwick—a fatal error. Inching slowly toward Tyler, he intended to shield her with his body, giving her a chance to run.

  “How did you find us?” he asked.

  The night-vision goggles attached to Stanwick’s belt answered his question, but Jared needed to keep his assailant talking while he formed a plan.

  Stanwick tapped the side of his nose with an index finger. “I’m a good detective.” His face clouded. “At least, I used to be.”

  “You sent the bomb to my house?” Jared demanded.

  Stanwick shook his head, as if in disbelief. “I can’t understand how you dodged that bullet. You don’t have a scratch.”

  “No thanks to you,” Tyler said.

  Stanwick considered her for a moment before turning back to Jared. His eyes gleamed with suspicion. “And you survived that car crash, too. You got some kind of pact with the devil, Slater, that keeps you whole?”

  “What have you done with the Sweeneys, and the deputy on the mountaintop?” Tyler asked.

  She leaned back on the hay bale and crossed her legs, and Jared admired her coolness. If she was as terrified as he, she didn’t show it.

  “I didn’t hurt them,” Stanwick said with a low growl. “Just tied ‘em up and gagged ‘em. It’s Slater I want.”

  Jared reached the hay bale and slid down beside Tyler, prepared to fling himself in front of her if Stanwick fired. “Why me?”

  Stanwick grimaced, and in the chill of the barn, sweat rolled down his face, streaking it with brown hair dye. “You know too damn much, Slater.”

  “I know all about you, Stanwick,” Jared agreed with a nod as he shifted his right arm behind him. He grasped the butt of his pistol, which was tucked in his belt at the small of his back. “Except why you killed Veronica Molinsky and Evelyn Granger.”

  Insanity glittered in Pete’s glazed eyes. “Why not? If my Mary had to die, why should anybody else live?”

  Jared eased the pistol from his belt at his back. “What about your son?”

  Stanwick’s expression softened. “Robby?”

  Jared nodded. “He’s worried about you. He told us so.”

  Graying stubble framed his wistful smile. “You saw my Robby?”

  “He’s a good-looking boy.” Tyler’s voice, calm and soothing, produced a visible effect as tears joined the sweat on Stanwick’s face. “He was studying for his exams. You must be very proud of him.”

  When Stanwick lifted the drooping muzzle of the rifle, Jared tensed, ready to spring.

  Pete studied the gun in his hands with a confused expression, and when he raised his head, his expression was that of a lost little boy. “Where is Robby? Is he here?”

  “Put the gun down, Pete.” Jared strained to keep his voice level while his body hummed on alert. “Don’t you want to see your son again?”

  “My son? I have a son?” His voice rang with amazement. He sank to his knees in the straw, grasping the barrel and lowering the gun butt onto the barn’s dirt floor. His grinning face and puzzled voice indicated he’d severed his final thread with reality. “Ah, Mary, darling, you gave me a son.”

  “Robby will be glad to see you,” Tyler assured him.

  Jared aimed his pistol at Pete and slipped off the safety. With measured steps, he crossed the floor and removed the rifle from Stanwick’s hands. “It’s over now, Pete.”

  Stanwick focused on Jared’s gun and queried in a childlike voice, “No more killing?”

  “No more killing,” Jared replied.

  “THE MAN’S CRAZY as a coot,” Sheriff Tillett observed, as his deputies ducked Stanwick’s head and loaded him, handcuffed and shackled, into the back seat of a cruiser. “He lost touch with the real world a long time ago.”

  Jared nodded. “Insanity’s the only explanation for three senseless killings.”

  Sadness underlined Tillett’s grin. “You ought to have my job. Sometimes I think the whole world’s crazy.”

  Tyler stepped off the front porch where she had watched with the Sweeneys as Stanwick was driven away, and linked her arm through Jared’s. “Thanks for talking to the cops in Florida. In fact, thanks for everything, Sheriff.”

  The big man leaned forward and examined her face in the dawn light. “That’s a good sign.”

  “What?” Tyler asked.

  Tillett jerked his thumb toward her forehead. “The worst must be over. No new head wounds.”

  Jared threw a protective arm around her shoulders. “Never again.”

  Tillett nodded toward his cruiser. “I’ll give you a ride up the mountain.”

  JARED HELPED TYLER from the back seat of the sheriff’s car, and when she stumbled with fatigue, he grabbed her elbow to steady her. She didn’t speak as they walked toward the front door.

  “Thanks for your help.” He paused at the entrance and shook Sheriff Tillett’s hand.

  “I should thank you. You did all the dirty work.” With a silent salute, Tillett returned to his car.

  Jared eased the door shut, flipped on a light against the dark interior, and followed Tyler up the loft stairs to the bedroom where bullet holes pockmarked the walls—the only remnant of Stanwick’s presence.

  Tyler sank onto the rumpled covers and was asleep when her head hit the pillow. Gently, Jared unlaced her sneakers and slipped off her socks. Blisters glowed on the backs of both her heels,
but she hadn’t complained once during the long descent of the mountainside.

  His heart constricted as he recalled how close he’d come to losing her. Only luck had prevented Stanwick from blowing them both away. He smoothed her hair away from her face, picking out entangled twigs and leaves, then tugged her jeans over her hips, exposing long graceful legs. With a tender pull, he hauled her sweater over her head, then drew the covers over her. He couldn’t tell if fatigue or passion caused his quivering.

  She rolled onto her side, moaning softly in her sleep.

  Staggering with exhaustion, he stripped down to his shorts and fell into bed beside her, circling her waist and drawing the warmth of her bare skin against him. Weariness battled his passion and won.

  Hours later, a warm breeze tickled his nose, awakening him from a sound sleep. He opened his eyes to sunlight streaming into the room. Tyler had folded back the plywood-covered outer doors and stood on the balcony, barefoot, clad only in her blouse and underwear, gazing out over the valley.

  He flung back the covers and went to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close against him. “Feeling better?”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Except for the aching muscles in my legs.”

  Happiness, an emotion he’d seldom experienced since his surgery, consumed him. In the sparkling air, cleared of its usual smoky haze, the valley stretched before him, picture-perfect, and with Tyler in his arms, he could think of nothing else necessary to make his life complete.

  She turned to him, lifting her face to study him with anxious eyes. “Are you all right?”

  He pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. “If I were any more all right, I couldn’t stand it.”

  “No more dreams?”

  “Only erotic ones,” he said with a grin.

  She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “Rappelling down the mountain, playing you-Tarzan, meJane, terrified me, but I think you actually enjoyed it.”

  She would never know how afraid he had been for her safety. From now on, he vowed silently, he would allow nothing ever to terrify her again.

  He clasped her to him. “I know an old jungle remedy for aching muscles.”

  Before she could protest, he swung her over his shoulder and carried her into the bathroom, and her crystal laughter tickled his ear.

  Balancing her on his shoulder, while she beat her fists on his back in mock protest, he turned on the hot water and adjusted the pulsating shower head before sliding her to her feet.

  Her gaze locked with his while he unfastened the buttons of her blouse and pushed aside the fabric. She caught her breath with a hiss of delight and her eyes glowed with pleasure when he cupped her breasts, teasing the peaks with his thumbs.

  He stripped off his shorts, then hooked his thumbs in her wispy panties and tugged them to the floor. As she stepped out of them, she shrugged the blouse from her shoulders.

  His throat ached with joy. “You’re beautiful.”

  She arched a feathery eyebrow above a teasing smile. “And you lured me here under false pretenses.”

  He threw back his head and pounded his chest in his best ape-man imitation. “Tarzan no lie.”

  He lifted her off her feet again and deposited her on the bench in the tiled shower stall. After adjusting the spray against her legs, he knelt and massaged her calves while the warm water pounded them.

  She leaned back against the tile, a rapturous smile on her lips and water beading the silken smoothness of her skin, as he kneaded her muscles. “That’s heavenly,” she uttered with a soft moan.

  Her pleasure filled him with delight. When he raised his hands to her thighs, she leaned toward him, and he buried his face between her breasts, pressing his lips to her heart as the pulsating water poured over them.

  Her hands trailed over the muscles of his back and grazed his neck and shoulders, fueling the fire deep in his groin. He lifted his head and her eyes mirrored his passion. Then he stood, rigid with desire, pulled her to him and lifted her hips over him.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper within her. Her lips melded with his, hot with longing, as she tightened her body around him. Awash in sensation, he clung to her with violent tenderness. Rapture erupted in waves and the pulsing water echoed the rhythms of his heart, buffeting their entwined bodies like a shower of stars.

  Still cradling her, he sank to the bench as ecstasy receded, to be replaced by a lingering contentment. “I love you, Tyler.”

  She pushed his streaming hair from his eyes and fixed him with an expression that pierced him with desperate joy. “Love is forever, Jared.”

  “And a day.” He claimed another kiss.

  JARED WATCHED FROM the kitchen while Tyler arranged place settings on the table in front of the fire. Her black hair glistened in the soft light, and her cheeks, still tinged from lovemaking, glowed pink. His heart constricted with happiness, followed by a chill of fear. He’d come too close to losing her and their chance for a life together. Now that he’d committed himself to love, he must live with the risk such love entailed. Events of the past two years had taught him that nothing in life was guaranteed. Wondering where his somber thoughts had come from, he shook them off and carried the lasagna to the table.

  Tyler inhaled the steam rising from the casserole, and her face crinkled in the smile he cherished. “That’s why I fell in love with you,” she said. “Who can resist a man who cooks?”

  He settled at the table and reached across to grasp her hand. “Then you won’t have any trouble saying yes to my request.”

  “More Tarzan games?” Her eyes glinted with humor.

  He shook his head. “This is serious.”

  “I think I know.” Her expression sobered and the light left her eyes. “Now that Stanwick’s caught, you’re firing me for good.”

  “In a manner of speaking.” He struggled to keep a straight face.

  She lifted her chin in a show of courage. “When do you want me to leave?”

  He scooted around the table and drew her to him. “Never.”

  “But-”

  “I’m firing you as my research assistant.” He tilted her face toward his. “But I’m offering a permanent position instead.”

  “Permanent?”

  He nodded. “Permanent, as in forever. I want you to marry me.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I love you, Jared.”

  Uncertainty stabbed him. “Is that a yes?”

  Her arms tightened around his neck. “That is most definitely a yes.”

  “We’ll take out a license tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no.” Her eyes widened with dismay.

  He clutched his heart in mock distress. “Don’t do this to me, Tyler. You haven’t changed your mind already, have you?”

  “It’s Gran.”

  “Will she object?” He’d been so estranged from his family, he’d forgotten about Tyler’s.

  “No, but I did make her a promise.” Her expression wavered, and he couldn’t read it.

  “Please,” he said with a groan, “you’re not going to make me wait a year, or something equally excruciating?”

  The corners of her mouth lifted in a wry smile. “Excruciating? Depends on how you feel about big weddings.”

  “Make the wedding as big or as small as you like,” he answered with a delighted grin. “Just make it quick. The sooner I can have you all to myself, the better.”

  “We can leave first thing in the morning to break the news to Gran.”

  He frowned, remembering the makeshift repairs he’d made to the house. “I should meet with the contractor tomorrow to arrange for these windows to be replaced. That will give you a day to accustom her to the idea, and I’ll join you day after tomorrow to meet her.”

  She grinned. “And to begin plans.”

  He nodded and gave a comical grimace. “A big wedding. Jeez, the things I do for love.”

  She traced his lips with her fingertips. “Yes, like sav
ing my life.”

  Remembering her brushes with death, he fought against the huskiness in his throat. “We should eat. The lasagna’s getting cold.”

  She nodded and accepted the heaping plate he handed her, but she didn’t touch her food. “Something bothers me about Stanwick.”

  “What do you mean?” He dished out lasagna for himself.

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. Seeing him on his knees, all lost and confused, I felt sorry for him.”

  He dropped the serving spoon with a clang. “Tyler, the man tried to kill you.”

  “But he doesn’t seem like a killer.”

  “The man’s crazy. Besides, how many killers have you known?” He grinned and dug into his meal.

  She blushed. “You’re right, but I can’t get him out of my mind.”

  “Believe me,” he said with irony, “I know exactly how you feel. But he’s haunted my dreams too long, and from now on, I intend to forget him.”

  She lifted her wineglass to his. “It’s a deal. No more talk of Stanwick.”

  WHEN HE CLIMBED INTO BED that night, even Tyler’s soft curves pressed against him like a nesting spoon couldn’t erase Pete Stanwick from his mind. Something jiggled in the back of his consciousness, like a name he knew but couldn’t remember. He squeezed his eyes shut and slowed his breathing, hoping that with Stanwick’s murderous odyssey ended, their psychic connection had been broken and his own dreams would be normal once more.

  He wasn’t that lucky.

  The vision gripped him, drawing him into the familiarity of the killer’s mind, again drenching him in hate and vengeance. Through the killer’s eyes, Jared observed the passing interstate, cutting through the North Carolina piedmont.

  The killer drove, tailing a small compact car. The first vehicle turned into a rest area and the killer followed. Bitterness and murderous fever throbbed in the killer’s mind, choking Jared with its intensity. He struggled to awaken, but he couldn’t break his link with the killer’s sick brain.

  The killer parked and observed as a woman left the compact car at the other end of the deserted area and headed toward the rest rooms. He opened his door and hurried to the empty men’s room. Inside, he withdrew a revolver from beneath his coat, flipped open the cylinder, and counted six rounds. More than enough to finish her off.