Identity--A Tale of Murder, Mystery and Romance

by H. D. Thomson

  “How much?” he asked.

  She shook her head, realizing she might be going about this all wrong. “Money has nothing to do with it.”

  “Then what?”

  “I need to think this through.”

  Desperate to widen the space between them, she walked over to the glass wall and watched the water bubble over the rock fountain and into the pool. The scene’s tranquility didn’t soothe but amplified the turmoil and uncertainty jumbling inside her head. Even after having a couple of days to think about it, she still hadn’t been able to figure out what the heck she was going to tell him.

  She cleared her throat and decided on honesty. “Your show,” she said, still staring at the fountain. “It’s not magic. Not really. At least not what the public believes.”

  Silence. Now she had his complete attention. Tension, thick and unmistakable, hummed in the air around them. She’d managed to shock him. Maybe even frighten him.

  “Come off it,” he finally protested. “That’s insane.”

  “Insane?” She turned on her heel and met his look of disdain, but she wasn’t fooled by the expression. “It’s called telekinesis to be exact.”

  “Really?”

  At his sarcasm, Skye tensed. “Would you like me to prove it?”

  “Hey, kids. How’s it going? Feel like some iced tea?”

  Both turned as Gordon, smiling and holding a tray with a pitcher of iced tea and glasses, stepped into the room. Maggie and Dozer, tongues lolling and tails wagging, stood on either side of him.

  Another pause of silence, loud and awkward, followed Gordon’s question. Then Bishop took the tray from his father, raised an eyebrow and said, “Skye here’s telling me that I have telekinesis of all things.”

  The older man’s smile dipped. “Oh, crap. I’ll come back another time.”

  Gordon and the dogs disappeared into the bowels of the house.

  “I think we scared him away,” Skye murmured.

  Bishop stared back with obvious displeasure before he placed the tray on a glass coffee table. “And I wonder why?”

  “So are you going to deny you have telekinesis?”

  “Telekinesis is fiction. It’s obvious you’ve been watching too many horror movies.”

  Hands balling into fists at her sides, thoroughly frustrated, Skye transferred her frustration to the garden shears lying on the tile floor next to some clay, potted flowers. Taking a deep, calming breath, she centered her mind, focused on the shears and willed them from the floor. The shears lifted into the air and arrowed toward the window, then hovered for a moment as a better idea came to Skye.

  She sent Bishop a nasty, little smile. “Need a haircut?”

  The shears jack-knifed from the window and hurtled toward Bishop. A cushion from one of the chairs rushed into the air. A soft whoosh. Two feet from Bishop, the pillow blocked a savage attack to his face. The shears stabbed the pillow. Metal tips pierced through to the other side. The cushion still impaled by the shears fell to the floor.

  “Are you trying to kill me!”

  Bishop closed the distance between them and grabbed her elbow. He hauled her against his chest until his face was inches from her own. His breath fanned her cheek, feathering the downy hairs along her temple.

  Skye glared at him. “Of course not. I had total control over those shears. If I’d wanted to kill you, believe me, I’d have done it days ago. And I wouldn’t have used a pair of garden shears. I was trying to prove a point. And I did. That move with the pillow was no magic. You did it all by yourself.”

  For several tense seconds, he held her there. She didn’t struggle, but stared back, chin hitched in the air, knowing the expression in her eyes dared him to try something. The heavy beat of his heart pounded against her breast, while the scent of coffee and sandalwood aftershave washed across her senses. Their lips were mere inches apart. For a wild second, she thought he was going to kiss her.

  Suddenly, Skye became aware of him as a man—all hard muscle, sinew and testosterone—and to her dismay desire tightened her breasts and curled in the pit of her stomach.

  He shoved her away. “What is it you want? Money? To be in my act? Well, it’s not going to happen.” He sliced a hand through the air and backed away. “You’re a fool if you blab this to anyone. No one’s going to believe you.”

  “You don’t understand.” And he might never, not with the atmosphere and people surrounding him. Bishop thought in terms of material gain, of using a person to get ahead. Years ago, Skye’s mind might have worked that way, but her needs had grown far simpler. Survival. Love. Truth. “I don’t want anyone else to know, and I don’t want anything from you but answers.”

  “Answers to what?”

  “To why we have the same powers. And why we share a past.”

  “Past? That makes no sense. I’ve never met you before.”

  That wasn’t something she wanted to hear. “You must remember. Somewhere you must have a memory of me. Doesn’t the name Skye Hunter sound familiar to you?”

  He stared back, his face devoid of expression. “I’m sorry, no.”

  “But...”

  “Why are you so insistent that you know me?”

  She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly exhausted. All this time she’d hoped, prayed Bishop held the answers to the strange, inconsistent images from her past. “I was under hypnosis when repressed memories started surfacing. Your name came up during more than one session.”

  “That’s impossible. I would remember you.”

  “What about being in a hospital? Did you have an operation when you were a child?”

  He shook his head, his thick brow knitting into a frown. “Never. What does a hospital have to do with anything?”

  “I think you were in a hospital room. I heard you screaming.”

  “Did you see me?”

  “No.”

  An indefinable expression flickered in his eyes. Possible disbelief? Or fear? Skye swore it was fear, but the emotion disappeared too quickly, and he was far too adept at hiding his thoughts.

  He walked over to the coffee table and poured a glass of iced tea. “This person screaming has to be someone else.”

  “I’m not mistaken.” Frustration thickened her voice and warmed her skin, while the burn of tears bit against the back of her eyes. When he offered her the glass, she declined with a jerk of her head. “And I’m not making this up.”

  “I’m sure you’re not. What else came out when you were hypnotized?”

  The inflexible light in his eyes and stubborn thrust of his jaw did nothing to sooth Skye’s growing agitation. She didn’t dare mention the lizard-like creature. He’d consider her crazy if he didn’t already. “Nothing.”

  “That was it? Someone with the same name as me was inside a hospital room?”

  He’d done it again—given her the opportunity to tell him everything. Images filled her head of hate-filled yellow eyes and snapping incisors, while a cold reptilian claw against her naked shoulder snaked into her memory.

  And his reaction if she blurted it all out? He was barely tolerating her company right now. Add stories of lizards in hospitals, and he’d be calling the police and throwing her out within seconds.

  Skye might feel like she was losing this battle, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to show Bishop. The pressure against her eyes eased as she straightened her shoulders and inched her chin upward. Forget the tears. They’d only make her look weak. “Yes, that’s it.”

  Lips thinning, he rubbed a palm against the length of his glass. Then he shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong man. There’s hundreds if not thousands of men named David Bishop. It’s obvious you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”

  “No, I haven’t. You’re the only one with the same, inexplicable powers.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you there.” He set his glass back down on the table with a snap. From his rigid posture, he didn’t like what she was telling him. Simply because he didn’t like di
scussing his powers? Or because of another, darker reason?

  The sound of a shoe scraping against tile carried into the room.

  “Dad.”

  Gordon stepped from the hall and into the room. Skye tensed, unable to read beyond the man’s bland expression and guess as to how much he’d overheard.

  “Can we have some privacy?” Bishop asked. “Is that too much to ask?”

  “Sure,” Gordon muttered and disappeared again, but both dogs entered the room to sit by Bishop.

  When the sound of Gordon’s footsteps disappeared, Bishop sighed. “You’ll have to excuse my dad. He’s always been overprotective. It doesn’t seem to matter how old I’ve gotten or how long I’ve been on my own.”

  Exactly how overprotective? Enough to eavesdrop? Skye wondered exactly how far the man would go to guard his son. Maybe Gordon wasn’t the innocent-looking, mild-mannered, old man he appeared. Skye needed to file that thought away in case their paths crossed again.

  Absently, Bishop patted Maggie and Dozer’s golden heads while some of the tension left his face. “Where were we?”

  “We weren’t anywhere.” She swallowed, determined to keep the disappointment from her voice as she watched Bishop stroke both dogs. Could a man with two trusting and gentle dogs who obviously adored him be so dangerous? She didn’t think so, but she’d been wrong before when it came to judging people. She didn’t have to look further than her ex-husband. “I think it would be best if I left. We’re not getting anywhere.”

  She turned to go, but at the doorway, David caught her elbow. Arching a brow, she flicked a glance at his large hand. He started to say something, but instead shook his head and let her go.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.”

  She muttered, “Fine.”

  Leaving seemed the best option, but she’d have insisted on staying if she’d thought she could get more answers. Heck, she hadn’t learned a thing today, and she was more confused than ever.

  Without a word, Bishop opened the door and she stepped over the threshold and into the stifling summer heat. Sensing his gaze on her, she didn’t glance over a shoulder to check but walked to her truck and slipped inside. When she turned the ignition, the engine stuttered, caught and shuddered as if about to die.

  Please, no. She twisted damp hands around the steering wheel. She couldn’t have this heap break down here of all places. This beautiful, immaculate neighborhood amplified her short-comings as a mother and provider and screamed at how low her life had sunk.

  After she pressed on the gas and shifted into drive, the truck stuttered forward, then after a loud cough rumbled into life. With a prayer of thanks under her breath, she turned onto the street.

  Once out of the neighborhood, though, Skye didn’t relax. She was no closer to finding the truth than yesterday. And for the first time, she didn’t have a plan.

  Bishop said he didn’t remember her or anything to do with her, but he was lying. She couldn’t prove her suspicions. He’d covered the lies well behind a cool, remote façade. For the briefest moment, though, she swore she’d seen fear in his eyes.

  Exactly what was he afraid of? And why?

  ~~*~~

  “So are you going to follow her?”

  In the living room, his dad stepped up beside him as David watched Skye get in her car and drive off. David didn’t look over but continued to stare outside as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of antacid tablets.

  “Not this time.”

  “Good.” His dad nodded toward the window. “She’s trouble.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

  “Again. That’s something I already know.” David pulled two tablets from the tube and stuffed them into his mouth. He ground both between his teeth and swallowed.

  “Hmmm, she reminds me a lot of your mother. That woman had me tied up in so many knots that I didn’t know whether I was coming or going.”

  “But you loved her.”

  “And you know where that got me. Oh, well. No doubt, she’s happy with her current husband.” His dad folded his arms, rocked back on his heels and grunted. “Well, we all know you’re not going to take my advice—never have when it’s important. So when are you going to see her next?”

  “I...” David couldn’t keep away from Skye if he wanted. The woman and mystery around her both fascinated and repelled him. Of course, there was this undeniable attraction. He hadn’t wanted a woman with this much intensity in years. Why not act on it? Hell, by using sex, he might get the real truth out of her. He’d been told he was good at getting a woman to come long and hard. He sighed. “Soon. Real soon. But next time there won’t be a pair of garden shears nearby.”

  “I’m not going to even ask what that’s about.”

  Gordon walked from the room. David shoved the remaining tube of antacids back in his pocket and stared out the front window for several minutes, unable to shake off Skye’s meeting. He still didn’t believe her. She wanted something. She’d been holding back, not telling him everything. He’d seen the hunted look in her eyes for the briefest of moments.

  He’d also done some holding back. She’d asked if he remembered her, and he’d skated around the truth. Even today, her name continued to fill him with dread. He didn’t know why other than it related to his past. But he’d be damned if he was going to delve into a history that could ruin his future.

  Skye didn’t know it yet, but David had every intention of uncovering her secrets. He’d worked too hard to get where he was to have her do or say something to pull his life down around him.

  He knew exactly what to use against her.

  Sex.

  God knows, she was attracted to him. He’d seen the heat in her eyes. Damn. He was going to enjoy every minute of getting those secrets from her lips.

  Chapter 8

  “I thought I might find you here,” a deep, scratchy baritone voice whispered against the back of Skye’s neck and sent a shiver racing across her skin.

  Bishop.

  He stepped up to the crowded roulette table beside her. Tall, rugged looking and oh-so-dangerous to her self-control. Heck, one look from him and she was feeling as if she’d lost a couple of IQ points.

  Three days after meeting him at his home, Skye sat at one of several roulette tables at The Pharaoh. Tonight, she needed cash—desperately. Other than selling her body or robbing a convenience store, the only other means to get it fast was at a casino. So far, she’d managed to get enough money to last for a good month.

  “You know, I could turn you in,” he said by her ear this time, which sent another little shiver along her flesh. “Mary Ann.”

  Tension cut across her back and shoulders, and she almost forgot to breathe.

  Impossible. She’d been so careful. How could he possibly know?

  “Shocked I learned your alias?”

  “I rarely get shocked,” Skye managed in a smooth, controlled voice. Her stomach twisted and threatened to empty its contents. “How did you find out?”

  “I thought it was time to pull in a favor I have with someone in security.”

  She continued to stare at the players setting their bets for the next game and forced herself to remember her identifications appeared perfectly legal. No one could prove she was anyone but Mary Ann Summers. “And what do you plan on doing?”

  “Not a damn thing.”

  At the unexpected surrender in his voice, tension oozed from her muscles and her breathing returned to something almost normal. “And why’s that?”

  Shifting in the leather chair, she turned to him then and wished she hadn’t. Those incredible deep brown eyes of his bored into her and made her wonder if he could read her thoughts.

  “If I turned you in, I wouldn’t get a chance to really uncover what the hell is going on.” He lifted a brow and nodded toward the roulette wheel. “Running a little low on cash?”

  “That’s between me and my walle
t.” This time Skye sent him a cool smile.

  She wasn’t about to admit she needed the money to get her truck back from the garage. To her horror, the transmission had gone out and left her scrambling for additional funds. Driving around in a taxi in this city added up fast, not to mention the added expenses of a hotel room and food—just plain everyday necessities.

  Thinking of her financial crisis sent her heart thumping, but she ruthlessly forced herself to calm down. She needed to look at the big picture. Money was the least of her problems.

  “Is this your day job?” Bishop asked.

  “It is now.” She never thought to get herself a normal job, knowing that it wasn’t an option—too many risks with people becoming a fixture in her life. Coworkers and friends asked questions and expected answers from the people in their lives.

  Some might consider her no better than a thief, and Skye was fine with that. Frankly, she’d do far worse than steal when it came to ensuring her son’s well-being.

  “Mind me asking what you did before playing roulette?”

  “I mind, but if you promise not to ask any more questions, I’ll tell you.”

  He arched a brow and smiled. “How about I keep my curiosity to myself as long as we’re at this roulette wheel?”

  She laughed, shook her head, and found herself relaxing under his amused gaze. The man had far too much charm. Enough magnetism to get her into trouble if she didn’t watch herself. “You never give an inch, do you? Well, if you must know, I was an accounting clerk.”

  “Really? I never would have guessed. You look too exotic for the office.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I think I’ll take that as a compliment. Otherwise, I’ll suspect you were thinking more in the lines of a hooker.”

  Bishop laughed. “God, no. You’ve got far too much style to be mistaken for a hooker. A high-class call girl—now that might be something I could see.” The humor dropped from his voice, and something dark and smoky curled around his words. “You’ve got the damn legs for it. I wouldn’t hesitate to pay.”

  Sudden raw, sexual awareness heated her skin and quickened her breathing. From the intensity in David’s expression and tension animating from his large body, she suspected he felt the same. Her heart stumbled over a beat. A warm flush crept up her neck and into her face as the scent of sandalwood and male drifted toward her. With a brown suede, stiletto heeled shoe dangling from the toes of one foot, she shifted and crossed a bare leg over another. The short hem of her form-hugging dress rode up her thighs, and she tugged the chocolate material down. Never had she felt so conscious of being a woman.