"Anyway-where was I? Oh yes…my mother, Isabella. I suspect it's not easy being the daughter of a beautiful mother."
"So…your mother wasn't? Beautiful, I mean."
"Oh, she was. From the photos I've seen of her, she was a very pretty woman. But I'm sure she went through awkward stages, and by the time she was in her teens, she had a definite self-image problem. Compared to Jeannette Izzy didn't feel pretty. She lacked the sparkle, the vivacious personality that made my grandmother light up a whole room-wherever she went, every eye would be on her. Poor Izzy…"
Wade glanced at her. then back at the street ahead, his smile wry. "I think I can guess the rest. She's ripe for the first guy that comes along who pays attention to her instead of her mother. He tells her she's pretty, and next thing you know, she's pregnant. And he, being the kind of guy who tells a woman whatever it takes to get her into bed. is long gone by the time you make your appearance." He paused, frowning. "Sad old story, but it sure as hell doesn't justify abandoning her kid."
"Ah." said Tierney softly, "but you're forgetting the worst part. The Gift."
Another quick glance. "She had it, too? Your mother?"
"No-that was the problem. She didn't. So, Izzy's cursed with a mother who's not only a great beauty, but a psychic on top of it. It must have been just awful for her. And then, when her own child started showing signs…"
"At three? Isn't that kind of young to be doing… whatever it is you do?"
"Oh, I was much younger than that, probably. I think by the time I was three she had gotten to the point where she'd had enough of it."
"And you haven't seen or heard from her since?"
Tierney shook her head. "I like to think she found someone…someone she could be happy with. I always imagine her that way-happy."
"You ever miss her? When you were a kid, I mean." His voice was unexpectedly gruff, and she looked at him for a long moment before she replied.
"I don't remember missing her. I was always closer to my grandmother, even before my mother left. That's what's so sad. And why I'm not angry with her for going. Why Jeannette and I…we've always blamed ourselves rather than her."
He didn't answer, and his profile was hard to read in the changing light of the streetlamps they passed. She wanted to know whether he understood…whether he judged. But she couldn't feel him. Knowing she shouldn't, she reached out to him with her mind…probing his shields. Just for a moment.
What she felt made her gasp.
He threw her a look and said. "What?"
She shook her head and said. "Nothing." And was glad of the dim light that would hide the flush she felt flooding her cheeks, her face. Her whole body.
"Miss Tee," he said softly, "don't do that." And then he melted her heart by adding, "Please."
She gazed straight ahead while the tears pooled-she dared not blink. "I don't think I can describe it," she whispered. "I've never felt anything like it before."
"Where did it come from-this thing you felt?" She didn't have to look at him to know he was frowning.
"I don't know," she said, lying.
"Your grandmother? My stalker? Have anything to do with our case?"
"No…" She turned to look over her shoulder, realizing they were on her street.
Wade turned sharply, pulled into an empty parking spot and stopped.
"We're going to tackle this logically." he said, shifting in the seat to face her. "Look, I doubt your grandmother just wandered around the apartment until she accidently happened to end up outside. Especially since you said it happened quickly. She must have thought she was going somewhere. In her mind she had a purpose, some reason she felt she needed to leave. Maybe she thought she was going…I don't know, grocery shopping? Is there someplace nearby she might have been accustomed to going before she got sick, someplace she'd go on foot, maybe?"
"Her hairdresser," Tierney said slowly, staring at him. "Her salon used to be just up the street-about four blocks from here. Jeannette had a standing appointment for a wash and set every Friday. For years."
Wade shrugged. "Today's Friday."
"Yes, but I don't see-she doesn't have any idea what day it is. Except-"
"Except… what?"
"Every once in a while she'll have a moment-it's kind of like a shaft of sunlight breaking through on a cloudy day. you know? A moment of lucidity. It never lasts very long, but…oh. Wade." The tears spilled over again and she wiped at them without much effect. "What if she did? The salon isn't even there anymore. I think it's a flower shop now. And that late it would have been closed anyway. Oh, poor Jennie…" She covered her mouth with her hand to smother a shuddering sob.
Wade was already pulling back onto the street. '"We'll find her," he said gruffly. "Hang in there, sweetheart."
She nodded, sniffed, and wasn't surprised when Wade handed her his handkerchief. She'd understood the endearment, too, understood it was just his nature to comfort and protect. She wondered if it was something he'd been born with, or if he'd learned from the person-whoever it was- who'd comforted and protected him as a child… the one in his dreams.
"There-that's it. That's where her hairdresser used to be." Tierney sat up and twisted around to look as they cruised past the florist's shop that had once been a beauty salon. Then, as she sank back in disappointment. "I don't see her. It was too much to hope for, I suppose. Oh. poor Gran." Her voice broke and she finished in a whisper. "She must have been so confused."
Wade was cruising slowly, now, while they both scanned the shadows in doorways and between parked cars for anything that might have been a huddled human form. A block or so farther on he turned right and they found themselves in a residential neighborhood surrounding a city park. He slowed the car to a crawl.
"That park up there. Did you check it out?"
She nodded and replied in a choked voice. "Several times."
"Once more won't hurt." He pulled the car into a vacant space beside a fire hydrant and stopped. They both got out and hurried across the street at a half run.
"It's late." Wade said. "She's probably tired. I'm thinking she's curled up sound asleep somewhere."
"We could probably cover more ground if we split up." Tierney said. Her voice sounded small and scared.
He didn't reply, just reached for her hand and wrapped his around it. Gave it a gentle squeeze. He could feel her look at him, but he didn't look back at her. His chest already felt a couple of sizes too small for what was going on inside him.
A man passed them, walking a dog-a terrier of some kind-moving quickly and purposefully. He acknowledged them with a brief nod. Wade could hear the whap and bop of balls from the lighted tennis courts nearby, and whoops and jeers from some kids shooting hoops out of sight beyond the restrooms. A nice night, he thought, watching moths swirl and dance in the mercury lights. Peaceful…wholesome…safe.
A nice night to be out walking, holding hands with a beautiful woman.
Somewhere in this night a confused old woman is wandering…lost. And a killer might be stalking his next victim.
The hand nestled in his jerked suddenly. Gripped hard, then tugged free.
"There she is." It was half gasp and half sob. And Tierney was running across the grass. Dropping to her knees beside a park bench where a huddled figure sat muttering to herself and rocking…rocking…rocking.
When Wade got there moments later. Jeannette lifted her smudged and tear-streaked face, wiped a hand across one cheek and smiled at him-her radiant and youthful smile.
"I know you," she crowed in delight. Then she turned to her granddaughter with a look of heartrending bewilderment. "I do…don't I? I think…I must…"
"Yes, of course you do." Tierney said tenderly. "Come, love-let's go home now."
It was after midnight when Wade heard a door somewhere down the short hallway close softly. At the sound of light footsteps he picked up the remote, turned down the volume on the TV and shifted on the couch to watch Tierney as she came into the living room.
She joined him on the couch, one leg tucked under her so she was facing him. He could see she'd been crying, although she did her best to hide it with a look of surprise and a smile.
"You didn't have to stay."
He ignored that. "How is she?"
"Sleeping. She was worn out, poor thing." She raked her fingers through her curls, looked around for distraction and settled for "What're you watching?".
He shrugged. "All-night poker."
She cut her eyes at him. "Couldn't find anything more exciting?"
"What, you don't think we've had enough excitement for one night?"
Then he added. "Actually, this is pretty exciting. They're down to the final three and one guy just went 'all in.'"
She laughed, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed at it with a furious gesture. "I don't know what's the matter with me. I haven't cried before. Not over this."
"Maybe you needed to."
She clapped a hand over her eyes, but below it her mouth looked blurred and vulnerable. He saw her lips quiver in spite of her valiant efforts to control them. "I've lost her, Wade." she whispered. "The Jeannette Doyle I love so much-my grandmother…my gran-she's just… gone."
His throat felt swollen and scratchy, so his voice came out harsher than he intended. "Look, you've lost a loved one. Why are you trying so hard not to grieve?"
She didn't reply, only drew a shuddering breath and added the other hand to the one already covering her eyes.
He saw there was no use fighting it. So he reached for her, then leaned back against the corner of the couch and pulled her toward him. When he had her nicely tucked in against his chest and was fairly sure she wasn't going anywhere, he picked up the remote and muted the TV. Then he settled down to hold her and stroke her hair while she sobbed like a heartbroken child.
Little by little the sobs quieted…became fitful shudders and hiccupping gulps, desperate sniffs and poignant whimpers…and finally the slightly stuffy but even breathing that meant she'd fallen asleep. Wade tucked in his chin and looked down at her to make sure, then settled her more comfortably and stared at the silently flickering TV screen.
The beginning of awareness came suddenly to Tierney, and with it a state of confused paralysis. She lay absolutely still and tried to take stock.
Where am I? Why is the pillow moving? What's that sound? What time is it?
She identified the sound first. Snoring. Gran snored sometimes, but this wasn't Gran.
Ah-she remembered. This was Wade. She was on the couch, lying cradled in Wade's arms. He'd held her, she recalled, while she cried. She must have cried herself to sleep. He was snoring softly now, and since her head was pillowed on his chest, each deep breath moved it up and down. She opened her eyes but still didn't know what time it was. There was an old black-and-white rerun of a Cassius Clay boxing match playing on the muted TV.
She lifted her head, held her breath and attempted to extricate herself from Wade's embrace without waking him. She should have known better than to try.
Naturally, as soon as her body began to stir, so did his. His arms tightened around her and his body shifted in subtle ways that somehow made it all the easier for hers to conform to the shape of his. She felt his hands move on her back, glide downward in a slow but purposeful way as if they knew exactly where they were going.
I should wake him… can't let him do this. He's only doing this because he's asleep, mostly…doesn 't really know what he's doing…he'll be embarrassed when he realizes…
But it feels so good. It's been a long time since anyone's touched me like this.
She began to respond. Knew she shouldn't…but, oh…it just seemed impossible not to. Her body moved of its own accord, sinuously, catlike, to the rhythm of his stroking. The cadence of her breathing quickened. She slid her hand down his side and felt his do the same on hers.
She knew she had no intention of stopping.
He drew a deep, shuddering breath. An awakening breath, as his hard, bristly chin nudged her forehead. Asked…urged…demanded.
Blindly obedient, she lifted her face as he asked-searching. Felt his body tense and tighten under her as he raised his head…then a breath-stopping surge of passion as two hungry mouths found each other. The passion rolled over her like a sea wave…engulfed her. It came from inside her and from outside, too-from him.
Just that-she felt no other emotions, just lust. And her own equaled his.
I need this so much…
It was like a drug she'd been craving. A drug she'd been denied for too long.
He eased one knee between her legs and slowly raised it, putting pressure on the nerve-rich places between, and at the same time his hands skimmed upward and found their way under her blouse. His rough hands on her bare skin felt so good she whimpered, a pitifully grateful sound.
His searching fingers found the fastening of her bra and unhooked it. and she obligingly raised her torso and lifted her arms so he could pull both blouse and bra over her head. Like a prisoner released from bondage, she gave a throaty little chuckle of pleasure. He answered with a whisper of approving laughter. His fingers spread wide across her rib cage, then slipped to her sides, thumbs stroking the undersides of her breasts as with strong hands and hard-muscled thigh he lifted her up so that her bared breasts were his for the taking.
And take them he did…each nipple, already sensitized to the point of pain, he first nipped and tongued to intolerable hardness, then sucked deep in a way that tugged and tormented places deep, deep inside her body. She put her head back, wanting to scream, helpless with desire, caught between his imprisoning thigh and his tormenting mouth.
Did she want him to stop, or fear that he would?
Dimly, she felt his hands probing, seeking a way under the waistband of her jeans. Trembling now, she lifted herself higher to allow him better access, and almost sobbed with relief when she felt the buttons and zipper give way to his impatient fingers. Brain-fogged by passion already, she didn't give a thought to the strength and skill it took for him to roll them both onto their sides, remembering to shift so as not to tumble them off the couch while he tugged her jeans and underpants down past her hips. Quickly, she kicked them off, then reached greedily for his belt.
She knew there was no longer any question of anyone being half asleep-there could be no excuse on that account. Both were fully aware, completely and purposefully engaged. But for some reason, neither spoke. She didn't look into his eyes, either. She opened hers only to watch her hands as they struggled to dispose of the barrier of his clothes.
Meanwhile, his hands, not being handicapped by such obstacles, were having their way with her. Stroking her buttocks, the cleft between, the backs of her thighs, finding every swelling, aching, nerve-abundant spot, some she'd never dreamed could hold so much sensation, so much pleasure.
Thus distracted, she wasn't sure how she got his shirt open but somehow did. With a joyful little gasp she went exploring now. herself, using lips and tongue and teeth and fingertips…senses of smell, taste and touch, learning his body's unique scents, flavors, textures…crispness of hair, salty-slick glazing of sweat over smooth warm skin, the giving hardness of muscle beneath…the intriguing anomalies of hardened nipples and ropy scars.
Intriguing for a moment, but…not enough. She needed more.
The need was assuaged, but only partly, when his mouth took hers again. Lost in his mouth, all but overwhelmed with the kiss, still she whimpered deep in her throat with the frustration of trying to get his belt unbuckled and his pants removed-hard to do without separating from him. And she couldn't bear to be separated from him, even for that long.
Impossible…
Without any words being spoken, somehow he seemed to know. Without breaking the kiss, he slipped his hands between their bodies, unzipped his pants and jerked them down-not all the way, just far enough. Swiftly, then, he pulled her legs apart and twisted his body so she was once again on top of him. and she chuckled with pleas
ure at the feel of him, smooth and hot and hard against her belly.
Then…he drew her knees up along his sides, stroked his hands inward over the backs of her thighs and gripped her firmly. And held her wide open to him and pushed into her.
She cried out-couldn't help it. It had been a long time for her. When he hesitated she kissed him hungrily, whimpering not with pain but with the urgency of her need, wordlessly begging him not to stop. And once again he seemed to know what she needed without a word being spoken.
Murmuring assurances, he held her hips tightly and raised her just enough so he could withdraw-only a little-and before she could reach for another breath to protest, brought her down again. This time he ignored her body's resistance, brought her hips hard against his and thrust deep. Lifted her again…then set himself so deeply inside her she cried out again and arched her back, gasping for breath.
No misreading her this time. He didn't withdraw even a tiny bit, but half raised his upper body, wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in the hollow of her throat, absorbing her thrusts as she drove herself against him again and again, urging him deeper inside her than seemed possible. And she was aching inside but oblivious to everything except a terrible, all-consuming passion. Passion unlike anything she'd ever felt before.
Then… as she felt the building heat and pressure of his climax, her passion became panic. He tried to soothe her with his wordless growls and murmurs of reassurance, even as his body hardened and his muscles contracted beneath her hands and between her legs. And as he uttered a deep-throated groan and emptied himself into her, she sobbed with the pain of intolerable frustration, because her own release remained just out of reach.
But instead of collapsing into an inert heap, as men in her admittedly limited experience customarily did at such moments. Wade lifted his head from the cushions, gathered her hair in one hand and brought her mouth to his, slowly and deliberately reclaimed it, nibbling and biting her swollen, sensitized lips while he carefully rolled her onto her back. Then, leaning down to her he released her hair but deepened the kiss, as with his hands he pulled her legs wide apart…held her hips firmly to keep her still while with his thumbs he gently stroked and teased her most sensitive places.
Danger Signals Page 10
