Captive Heart

by Anna Windsor

  “Maybe I’m off.” Andy kept her arms folded and kept looking out the window. “Maybe we were just a grand example, a first volley.”

  “But you think it was more than that.” Jack could tell from the rigid lines of her stance that she had gone deep into her instincts, police-born or Sibyl-bred, he didn’t know, but he felt inclined to listen no matter what the source. “Is this all instinct, or did you see or sense something more specific?”

  “I felt like they were coming after me.” She let her arms relax, but she still didn’t look at him. “Before the attack, I picked up some kind of strange energy, but I also thought I heard something. Maybe it’s more like I heard it in my head, my mind. My name. Like those mobsters had been wound up and sent out with me as their goal—like Asmodai, remember? How the Legion created their demons, then gave them some sort of talisman to target people?”

  “And they’d go until they destroyed the target, or got destroyed.” Jack didn’t like what she was saying, but he had to give it credence. “It doesn’t hold totally, because they did retreat when overwhelming force arrived—but if you felt targeted, then we have to assume you were. Ever have any dealings with Seneca’s family?”

  Andy let out a little groan. “Not that I know of, but it’s possible I arrested somebody’s uncle’s cousin or girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever. Who knows? I’ve been doing this for a while.”

  This felt too fucking familiar. Somebody he cared about in the sights of a soulless, heartless bunch of mobsters. Jack’s head reached the pounding stage. He had to lean against his pillows for support, which pissed him off. “If they were targeting you specifically, that’s another good reason for you to stay in the background.”

  Until I’m out of this friggin’ bed. Until I can watch your six.

  She turned to face him again. “I was thinking exactly the opposite. If it’s me they want, then I’m the one who can draw them out. Only with a lot more firepower on my side this time.”

  “You. As bait.” Jack’s head got fuzzy, but he stayed upright and looked at her, even though her image seemed divided as he squinted against the burning ache in his head, his bruises, and the freshly healing holes in his neck and arm. “That’s not happening.”

  “What if I wait until you’re better?” Another smile, this one teasing, but Jack didn’t think any of this was funny.

  “We’re not negotiating here, Andy.”

  The smile went away, replaced by a stern, stubborn look he recognized all too quickly. “No, we aren’t.”

  Jack sat up straighter, clenching the sheets in both fists to fight back the misery in his body. A thousand orders and commands shot through his head, but just as fast his better sense told him each of those would just make her more determined to do something dangerous and get herself killed faster.

  He started to tell her no way, no how, that he’d order the entire OCU to stand guard over her, but when he got his mouth open, he said, “Please. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Andy’s face softened and she came toward him again, closer, until she pressed her hip against his bedrail and rested her fingertips against his shoulder. The contact soothed him, calmed him, eased the pain, but Jack kept his eyes locked on hers.

  “That’s mutual, you know.” She leaned down and kissed him again, even softer this time, her lips warm silk against his. She smelled so good, so fresh, driving back the stink of hospitals and illness and stuff Jack didn’t want to think about.

  Jack moved his lips to her ear. “Not while I’m like this. If you have to do this thing, wait for me. Let me be there with you.”

  She shifted against him, and her lips touched his ear. Her breath whispered across his awareness. “I can make that deal, if it’ll help you get better.”

  He relaxed, hearing the commitment. Not a promise, but good enough. “It helps.”

  “Fine. I’ll lie low and be careful until you’re full force again—not that I can’t take care of myself, but just because I feel like doing you a favor. It’s all the bruises. I always feel sorry for handsome men with a shitload of bruises.”

  Sweet God, if she didn’t stop using her nails on his face, his neck, he’d do something that ripped a bunch of stitches—and he probably wouldn’t care until he bled out on the antiseptic tile floor.

  “I’ve had worse.”

  She kissed him again. “About that date.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Andy’s eyes gleamed, no trace of work thoughts or doubts or anything other than total focus on him. “Ever had sex in a hospital bed?”

  Every vessel, muscle, and nerve in Jack’s body answered her, and he couldn’t stop the wince and groan. Screw it. He had to sit up and get his arms around her, and right now.

  She backed off before he could carry through with that slightly suicidal plan, leaving one finger on his chest. “Somebody’s not ready to play, and guess what? It isn’t me.”

  He bit back a groan, mixed pain and frustration. “Somebody’s a tease, and guess what? It isn’t me.”

  The pressure from her finger—nothing and everything, just like the waves of heat he could sense passing through her body, passing through his own. “I’m not teasing you, Jack. As soon as you’re up for it, we’ve got unfinished business.”

  Jack wanted to tell her he was up for anything, and right now, but he knew he had started to lose the battle. Energy left him like it was leaking out of every bruise, and he couldn’t keep his eyes all the way open.

  Don’t sleep. His lids tried to lift. Didn’t make it all the way. She’ll leave. She’ll be gone, and you’ll dream.

  He didn’t know which of those things would feel worse.

  “Stay,” he muttered as he drifted off even though he didn’t want to.

  From somewhere close, Andy said, “I’ll be right here.”

  Andy …

  The voice didn’t sound natural. Wasps buzzing. Broken boat motors whining through peaceful waters.

  Andy …

  It sounded like—like a they. Like a lot of people saying her name all at the same time, only they were hissing it. Spitting it, somehow, like they hated her more than anything in the universe.

  Murderer …

  Andy squinted through the darkness. The water surrounding her felt too thick and dark, like she had chosen to wade through a pool of octopus ink. She tried to see, wanted to get a grip on her own feelings and instincts, but nothing felt clear. Nothing made sense.

  Show yourself, bitch!

  Andy whirled in the murk.

  A knife flashed toward her—

  Her eyes popped open even as she gripped her bedspread in the brownstone. Her breathing sounded like asthmatic wheezes as her lungs reached for water but found only air. She closed her eyes again and forced herself to relax. It took half her energy to make herself let go of the bedspread, but little by little she was able to breathe easy, then deep. Her buzzing, swimming head calmed, and the peaceful sand and coral tones of her bedroom came back into focus.

  “I’m just too tired,” she muttered to herself. Jack being shot, her time with him in the hospital on top of all her other responsibilities—and now an escalation in fighting between crime families that was running the NYPD ragged. Of course she was tired. That’s all it was. A dream reflecting her exhaustion.

  If she fell asleep, she’d probably have another one.

  No, thanks.

  Stretching to be sure she didn’t topple over when she stood, Andy got up and went to the bedroom’s front window. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, and she pulled them aside to get a better view of traffic and Central Park. In a spot two places down from the brownstone, an unmarked car with three OCU officers kept vigil on Jack’s orders. He took her seriously, about the attack in the alley feeling personal, and after that dream …

  Her eyes strayed over the park as she sensed elemental energies. Mostly flickers and streams, people with paranormal talents passing by as they enjoyed the summer day. Most of them h
ad no idea they had any special abilities, but some probably did. Maybe a few were Wiccans or Pagans or practitioners of other older faiths, like Vodoun, that tied people more closely to the rhythms and energies of the universe.

  A light, whispering touch of wind announced Dio before she walked into the room, and Andy welcomed the breeze as she came to stand next to her at the window.

  “Were you dreaming?” Dio asked, her voice unusually quiet.

  “Yes.”

  Dio kept her gaze straight ahead, not intruding. “I felt something, like an agitation. Maybe it was your dream, but Bela says the NYPD found four more dead mobsters—this time from another Russian crime family.”

  Andy’s muscles burned from sudden tension. “Were they torn apart?”

  “No.” Dio sounded as tired as Andy felt. “Shot in the head, old-school. OCU isn’t on this new case, but you know they’re all tied together.”

  “Christ. We have to do something to stop this before there’s a lot of collateral damage.” Andy couldn’t stop looking at her OCU bodyguards, feeling guilty about the manpower loss but increasingly relieved that they were close at hand. “In my dream, somebody was calling my name, like I thought I heard in the alley before the shooters showed up. And the time before that, with the projective trap, I heard the same thing.”

  The windows in the brownstone were bulletproof and elementally treated, so neither of them felt like they had to step out of view. Dio checked for the OCU car, seeming to take as much comfort in its presence as Andy did, and nodded. “At least we’ve got backup right here, even if we don’t really need it. That dream just makes everything twice as weird.”

  Andy’s gaze drifted back to the walkers inside the park, and outside on the sidewalk, too. Here and there, elemental energy made itself known, almost like a flash of color. Andy wondered how many of them did know about themselves, and how many remained blissfully unaware of the worlds within the world, the existence of truly paranormal beings.

  “I used to be one of those people out there,” Andy said, sounding sadder than she intended. “Clueless. Able to live without worrying about nightmare shit nobody should ever have to deal with on a regular basis.”

  Dio picked up her meaning immediately. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up human with no knowledge of Sibyls and powers and the creatures we have to fight, then have to get used to it all in just a few years.”

  “It’s been a hell of a ride. And now something’s after me.”

  Dio’s knuckles paled as her fingers dug into the windowsill. “You’re sure of it.”

  “Yes. I’m positive. The voice I’m hearing is faint and whispery, but it’s real and saying my name. The two attacks were targeted at me.”

  “Then we should go after the Coven right fucking now—we should risk tracking them with our projective energy.” Dio’s fist banged against the windowsill. “If we could take them out, we could probably stop the mob infighting before a whole bunch of civilians get caught in the crossfire.”

  “I promised Jack I’d wait until he was strong enough to go with us. And Bela will never agree to us tracking anything, not after what happened with those coins.” Andy sighed. “I’m not around enough to help her stop worrying.”

  “You’re still doing it, you know.” Dio’s knuckles turned even whiter as wind moved faster in the room, blowing Andy’s hair across her face and shoulders. “Stretching yourself so thin it’s not healthy. All you’ve done this week is spend time with Jack at the hospital, stare at mug shots to help you with that sketch of Frank the mobster, and run back and forth between here and Motherhouse Kérkira to check on Elana and the adepts.”

  “I’ve played a lot of battle with Neala and Ethan—and I’ve slept a little.” Andy didn’t feel defensive because she was too surprised at Dio expressing concern outright like this. Still, she had to do what she had to do—be a fighter, a Mother, a godmother, and still enough of a cop to make herself happy.

  “A few hours, maybe. With bad dreams. We’re on patrol in a few hours, and you’re exhausted.”

  Andy thought about arguing with her, but instead she pushed away from the window and flopped on her bed. She stared at her blank, boring ceiling and wondered if it was possible to clone herself.

  “I know you can’t help the fact you’ve been scarce lately.” Dio’s voice sounded atypically warm, almost friendly, which let Andy know that Dio’s concern for her fatigue ran deep.

  She sat up on the edge of the bed a little too quickly, and a head rush almost sent her toppling onto the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  Dio steadied Andy with a hand to the shoulder. “And you say that a lot.”

  Andy bit her tongue so she wouldn’t say it again. Damn, but now that she had her full attention on Dio, she realized Dio looked like hell. Her blond hair, usually so neat and carefully combed, fell in disarray around her thin shoulders, and her eyes seemed unusually dull. Black circles beneath them made her look like she had on a mask.

  I wonder what other details I miss, all day every day. And I probably don’t look so hot, either. I think I’ve had on these same jeans for three days, never mind this stupid yellow blouse. With coffee stains.

  Dio saw Andy studying her face and let out a breath. “I had another dream, too.”

  Wind stirred through the room, weak and cool, nothing like the quick, forceful bursts Dio usually gave off as a matter of course. The air around her smelled like rain, but salty. Almost like tears.

  Andy got a little more worried. “Have you told Bela and Camille?”

  “Why? Nothing’s different. Same as last time but more vivid, like everything I’m seeing has gotten more possible.” Dio didn’t say probable, but the worry in her exhausted gray eyes made Andy wonder. Before she could ask any more questions, Dio cut her off. “Jack got to go home, right?”

  “Yes. He’s back at the townhouse.” Andy felt a twinge as she said this, because she hadn’t let herself see him since he got released.

  Dio’s pretty face twisted into a confused frown. “Not to be rude, but why aren’t you with him?”

  Andy stared at Dio, unable to believe she had shifted her attitude about Jack, and especially about Andy dating Jack.

  “I’m sorry I acted like an ass about all that before. I just—it’s more change.” Color crept into Dio’s cheeks, then vanished as fast as it came. “It’s me, and us maybe, I don’t know. Losing you somehow.”

  The look Dio gave Andy was so open and guileless Andy almost went speechless. It took her a few seconds to recover her balance and understand what Dio needed to hear. “You’re not losing me. You’ll never lose me. And I haven’t seen Jack because I didn’t want to wear myself out and make myself totally useless to all of you. I’ve had to spend time on Kérkira and with the kids and on patrol and stuff.” Andy tried to sound casual even though that didn’t match her emotions about staying away from Jack. “Plus I thought it wouldn’t be a good idea. He needs a few days to rest.”

  And I need a few more days to screw my head on straight about him.

  All the hours of talking in the hospital, trading military stories and work tales, and going over strategies on their current case had made everything between them seem … normal. Calmer. More real. Somehow that bothered her more than the strangeness of suddenly liking the man, of finding him attractive instead of the most annoying person on earth. At least when stuff felt strange, she could hold back.

  Now things seemed more complicated.

  Dio eased down to the bed beside Andy, looking small and too thin against the rumpled spread as she pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. “You have a date scheduled, right?”

  Andy shifted to face Dio, feeling her stretched-out jeans twist on her hips. “I’m taking him out next week.”

  Dio gestured toward Andy’s closet. “Are you wearing that dress I want to steal? The dark green one with the killer neckline?”

  Andy smiled at Dio, knowing that any dress of hers wou
ld hang like an oversized T-shirt on Dio’s slender frame. “Plan on it, yep.”

  Dio’s smile seemed relaxed enough, but a little sad. “He doesn’t stand a chance.” She blinked at Andy, and more air stirred in the room, a little warmer this time. “You’re wondering what we all think of this. Of you and Jack.”

  Andy’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

  “Bela and Camille think it’s funny.” Dio swirled her fingers toward the ceiling theatrically, like she was revealing some deep, dark secret to the heavens. “Weird, but fitting.”

  “Weird. Fitting.” Andy thought she could live with that. She agreed with it, in fact. “And you?”

  Dio lowered her hand and once more hugged her own knees. The air in the room moved faster, heating with each lap around the tiny space. “Am I that important?”

  “Yes. You’re practically my roommate.” Andy felt her hair stir against her face and neck. And I feel like I’m letting you down. Like you need healing more than anybody, and I don’t know how to help you.

  Dio waited a few seconds, and the breeze in the room, confused and frenetic, told Andy how hard she was thinking about her answer. “Honestly, I don’t know what I think. Before Jack showed up at Kérkira to ask you to come home, you still seemed pretty much hung up on Sal. You haven’t even gone on a date since Sal died, and now, boom, you’re with this other guy. A guy you hated a few months ago.”

  The bald assessment made Andy go tense inside. She found herself straining through Dio’s words to make sure she caught all the meaning, all the intentions. “I didn’t really know Jack back then.”

  “I’m not sure any of us did.” Dio’s breezes calmed as she spoke. “But I think he wanted it that way. Maybe that’s part of what’s worrying me. What else is he hiding? What else do we not know about Jack?”

  “Good point, and good questions.” Andy searched her instincts and came up with nothing concrete, but a sense that yeah, Jack was probably holding a few things back.

  But who wouldn’t be?

  They weren’t sixteen-year-old virgins. Both of them had pasts, had secrets, had parts of themselves they hadn’t shared with anyone, or didn’t plan to share unless circumstances—and the other person—happened to be just exactly right.