Through His Eyes (Mind's Eye Book 1)

by Deborah Camp

  He looked down at their joined hands and he gave a little shake of his head. “There are things that I can’t . . . I don’t want to talk about,” he said in a near whisper.

  “I understand.” She stood up, facing him.

  “I doubt that.” He trailed the fingers of his other hand through her hair and his smile was so sad that it chipped away at her heart. “I didn’t go to reform school. Not the kind you’re thinking of. But I did go to . . . I guess you’d call them faith-based schools for wayward children where I was supposed to be put on the righteous path. And I didn’t have pleasant experiences in them. And that’s all I want to say about it.”

  He had been abused, she thought, and it wrenched her heart. His childhood had been the exact opposite of hers. She had been treasured and he had been . . . what? Misunderstood? Outcast? Resisting the urge to wrap her arms around him in a vain attempt to protect him from his own memories, she brought his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “I’ll leave you alone. I’m sorry for dredging that up. If you need anything . . .”

  He slipped his arms around her. “I’ve liked being fussed over by you, but your time of playing Nurse Trudy has come to an end. I’m all well.”

  Her breathing quickened as a quivering sensation in her belly spread slowly through her. God he was barely touching her, but she was trembling and lightheaded already!

  “Levi . . .” she whispered, suddenly wanting his mouth on hers.

  “Yes?” His lips touched hers and then pulled back.

  “Levi,” she said again, her voice pleading.

  “Tell me what you want, Trudy.” He brought his hands up to touch her face and his fingers slid from her chin and then moved slowly, softly to her throat, his gaze following their progress. “Tell me.”

  “You,” she breathed, and his mouth came down hard on hers. She groaned and nipped his lower lip.

  He drove his fingers through her hair and tilted her head so that his lips could find better purchase and then his tongue had sex with hers – carnal, hot, tongue sex. She closed her hands around his wrists and felt her knees tremble as desire wound through her. Her body bowed into his, needing to mate, needing to melt into his.

  Tearing his mouth from hers, he stared into her eyes as he gathered in a huge, shuddering breath. “Christ, Trudy! I lose my fucking head around you.” His eyes darkened to blue/black. “You make me crazy and oh, baby, you can kiss.”

  Her? Not her! Him! She couldn’t speak. Her heart throbbed in her throat.

  His phone buzzed again and he flung it a withering glare. Trudy wiggled from his embrace and found her voice.

  “Answer it. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. If it’s Sissy again, tell her I’m only borrowing you for a week or two and I promise not to damage the goods. Oh, and you can have the rest of the coffee and muffins.”

  “I’d rather spread you out on that bed and get a taste of you again.”

  The phone kept buzzing and Trudy sidestepped him and gave his tight butt a sharp whack with the flat of her hand as she darted to the door. She flung it open and looked over her shoulder at him. His grin was all salacious and sensual and his eyes were all hunger and tempered desire.

  “Witchy, witchy woman,” he said, rubbing his rump. He made a grab for her, but she let out a little shriek and dodged him. Laughing under her breath, she bolted out of the cabin and sauntered to the RV, letting her hips sway. She knew he was watching her.

  ###

  “So you’re sure your tummy is okay now?” Trudy asked, peering into Levi’s face as he held open the door to the police station for her.

  He sent her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

  She preceded him inside the police headquarters and through the security measures. Wearing their “Visitor” lanyards, they went up to the second floor where they stopped in front of the reception desk. The middle-aged woman who had greeted them the last time had been replaced by a young Latino who could barely take her eyes off Levi. Trudy couldn’t blame her.

  Levi was right, she mused. He was fine. Looking exceptionally handsome in a light weight, black pin-striped jacket over a dove gray shirt, he exuded masculinity.

  “Hello, Mr. Wolfe,” the Latin hottie purred. “How may I help you?”

  Trudy smiled when she caught the girl’s eye. Yeah, I know, she thought. He’s gorgeous. And what’s more, he kisses like he invented it!

  “Good afternoon. Detective Sinclair is expecting us.”

  “He certainly is,” the girl said, her sloe-eyed gaze sambaing slowly over Levi’s face and body. “You know the way to his desk?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Levi reached back and grasped Trudy’s hand. He sent her a quick smile before setting off with her to Sinclair’s desk.

  The moment Tom Sinclair noticed their clasped hands his face grew ruddy and his gaze snapped accusingly to Trudy. Feeling uneasy, Trudy pulled her hand from Levi’s as unobtrusively as possible and held it out to Tom.

  “Good to see you again,” she said. Tom waited a beat, cut his eyes at Levi and then shook her hand.

  “Hi, Trudy. You look great – as usual.” His brown eyes moved swiftly and appreciatively over her mint green sundress that left her arms and a lot of her back bare.

  “Thanks, Tom.” From the corner of her eye, she could see Levi’s cool regard. She instantly regretted taking her hand from his and then resented him for making her feel that way. “Do you have those personal items Levi asked for?” she asked, needing to get on firm footing again.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Tom tore his gaze from his appreciative perusal of her legs and turned back to his desk. “They’re right here. You can’t take any of this stuff out of the building. You understand that, don’t you, Wolfe?”

  “Yes, I understand.” He sounded terse.

  Trudy looked closer at him and when his gaze met hers, she realized that he was agitated and on the verge of being royally ticked off.

  He glanced around. “Is there an interrogation room we can use? Somewhere quiet and private?”

  “Yeah, sure.” The detective gathered three plastic baggies and motioned for them to follow him. “Come on.”

  Levi stared at Trudy and she gave him a quizzical look that asked, What’s wrong now? He lowered his brows and bobbed his head, signaling her to follow Sinclair as he took up the rear.

  Sinclair stopped in front of a metal door. “You can use this room,” he said, switching a sign that read open to occupied.

  “Thank you.” Levi took the evidence bags from him. He looked from Sinclair to Trudy, then back to Sinclair. “Does someone have to be in there with me or can I do this alone?”

  Trudy hitched up her chin, knowing she had just been dismissed and felt Tom eye her warily.

  “Uh . . . I guess it’s okay,” Tom said.

  Refusing to succumb to his foul mood, Trudy fixed a smile to her lips. “Good luck, Mr. Wolfe.”

  His smile was as disingenuous as hers. “Why thank you, Miss Tucker, but luck has very little to do with it.” His gaze flicked to the detective. “This shouldn’t take long. Just try not to interrupt me. Thanks.” And then he stepped inside the small room and shut the door with finality.

  Tom issued a low whistle. “He’s a double feature and tub of popcorn, isn’t he? Is he always like that?”

  She laughed softly at the description. “Yes, most of the time, he is.” She motioned to a few chairs sitting against the wall. “May I wait here for him?”

  “Sure! You want a cup of coffee or a soda?”

  “No, thank you.” She sat in one of the straight-backed, metal chairs. “Please, don’t let me keep you from your work.”

  “This is my work.” Tom sat beside her. “I have to wait until he comes out of that room and collect those evidence bags from him.”

  “Oh.”

  “So, what’s he doing in there with them?”

  She furrowed her brow. Good question. “He’s touching each item and trying to summon the spirit of its owner so that he can
ask her some questions.”

  “In other words, he’s trying to talk to dead people,” Tom drawled with a smirk.

  Trudy stiffened and knew that if he said that in that way to Levi’s face he would be lucky to keep his front teeth. Especially in the mood Levi was in right now! She drew in a deep breath and told herself to be professional and not bite the nice policeman’s head off. “That’s right. He’s playing a hunch and he’s hoping that he can confirm it by contacting the victims again.”

  “So, you’ve seen him in action, have you?”

  “I have.” She turned her serious gaze on Tom and was glad when he pulled the collar of his shirt from his wide neck as if he was suddenly uncomfortable. “He’s the genuine article. No bullshitting. No grandstanding. No hocus-pocus. What he tells you, you can believe.”

  Tom’s gaze moved from her steady stare to his clasped hands in his lap. “Okay. Yeah. That’s good. So, are you with him now?”

  “I told you, Tom. I’m concentrating on this case.”

  “So, you’re not with him?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, although she knew exactly what he meant. “You know that I’m working with Levi on this case.”

  “Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “But he’s sort of anal about you. It’s obvious that he thinks of you as more than just a co-worker.”

  “Anal about me?” she repeated and tried not to think of that in a sexual context. “I think you’re reading more into it than there is.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s pretty much told me to keep my hands off you.”

  “What?” she turned her head sharply to examine his sheepish grin. “When did he say that?”

  “This morning. He called me about wanting to set up a meeting and said that he hoped I behaved like a gentleman around you.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “I told him that I didn’t need advice on how to treat ladies from the likes of him. And he said that you belonged to him.”

  “He did not!” Trudy felt her mouth hang open and she forced her teeth to click shut. “I can’t believe he would say such an audacious thing!”

  “But you just told me that what he says I can believe,” Tom said, almost slyly.

  Trudy breathed in and out a couple of times before she trusted her voice again. “About work. About his psychic impressions. You can trust him about those – implicitly. But, like many men, he has a tendency to overstate when it comes to personal matters.” She arched a brow. “My dad calls it ‘pissing contests.’”

  Tom laughed. “Yeah, I suppose he could have been doing that. You’re a looker, Trudy, and I’m sure this isn’t the first time a couple of men have wrestled over you.”

  Smiling, she didn’t meet his gaze because it was the first time this sort of thing had happened to her. She had witnessed it happening to girlfriends and even to her sister a couple of times, but never to her. It was aggravating and . . . thrilling.

  “How long have you two been working together?”

  “Only a short time. This is our first case together.”

  “I hope you can tap into the serial killer’s head again if he decides to attack another woman.”

  “Is there any doubt that he won’t kill again? Of course, he’s going to go after another woman. It’s just a matter of who and when.”

  Tom’s expression was suddenly weary. He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. This case is getting to me. I thought for sure we’d find this creep in no time.” He stared at his clasped hands hanging in the space between his spread knees. “I’ll be so damn glad when we catch him.”

  “Me, too.” She rested a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “I know the police are getting a bad rap from the media about this. I don’t know what else they think you can do to catch this guy. I mean, you’re throwing everything you’ve got at it. He’s going to mess up and you’ll nail him.”

  That’s when Levi chose to throw open the door. His gaze fell on her hand resting on Tom’s shoulder and his eyes frosted over. Trudy’s hand slid off of Tom as he stood up, his weary expression changing to expectant.

  “Did you get new information? Trudy says you’re playing a hunch.”

  Levi gave the evidence bags to Tom, but kept his gaze on Trudy. She felt the blood drain from her face and resented him for making her feel as is she’d wronged him somehow.

  Levi drew in a deep breath and jerked his gaze away from her to confront Sinclair. “I’m fairly certain now that each of the victims was in the company of a woman shortly before she died.”

  “Oh, yeah? This Zelda woman, you think?”

  “Yes. They’d made a new woman friend. They liked her and they invited her to their place for drinks or dinner.”

  “A lesbian thing?” Tom asked, earning Levi’s wince of irritation.

  “No.” Levi drew in a slow breath and Trudy knew he was clamping down on his – pissyness. “Nothing sexual. Just girlfriends.”

  “You think Zelda is working with the killer?”

  “I think it’s too big of a coincidence that they all had made a new friend and invited her to their apartment or home and ended up dead. The girlfriend is not always called Zelda. Barbie Allen and Debra Williams met a woman called Zara. Jane and Shelly met Zelda. They both fit the description of the one we had before, so it’s definitely the same woman.”

  “Those names aren’t that common. I’ll run a check to see if any women with those first names have been arrested for anything in Key West.” Tom jotted the information into a notebook he’d pulled from his back trouser pocket. “Anything else?”

  “No. But I’ll go over everything again and I’ll e-mail you if I recall anything more from the victims. Thanks for your cooperation, Detective.”

  “Sure thing, Wolfe.”

  Levi looked from Tom to Trudy. “If you’re finished here, can we go?”

  Trudy wanted to yell at him in utter frustration. Why was he making such a huge deal over nothing? He was being such a Neanderthal! And he had no right! “We came here for you, Mr. Wolfe,” she reminded him coolly. “If you’re finished, then we should be on our way and let Detective Sinclair get back to work.”

  He gave a curt nod, then held out his hand to Tom. They shook. Trudy smiled at Tom.

  “See you later,” she said and turned on her heel to follow Levi out of the detective division, past the smiling, hungry-eyed receptionist, down the stairs, and out onto the sidewalk. He didn’t hold her hand this time.

  She stopped beside him as he slipped on his tortoise-shell sunglasses. Okay, so he was mad, she fumed. Well, she was none too pleased herself!

  “Are you hungry?” he asked, quietly, almost politely.

  She eyed him warily. “Look, I know you’re seething, so let’s have it out and get it over with. I have a few bones to pick with you, too.”

  “I don’t want to have a scene right now, Trudy,” he rejoined, still quietly. “I just had a draining psychic session and I want to sit down somewhere, have something to eat, and a good, stiff drink. Does that work for you?”

  She stared at him, feeling totally out to sea, then shrugged. “Works for me.”

  “Good.” He set off for the car with her almost having to trot to keep up with him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sprawled in a chair, his jacket draped over the back of it, his shirtsleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, his tie’s knot loosened, and the collar button unfastened, Levi glanced around the patio of the Key West café. He drank some of the whiskey straight he’d ordered as he and Trudy waited for their nachos supreme to arrive. She sipped from her soft drink, her gaze flicking to him every so often.

  Infuriating woman.

  He wanted to throttle her one second and fuck her the next. Taking in a deep breath, he told himself to chill out as he came down off the fit of jealousy he’d experienced while watching her with Sinclair. Why the hell did he feel so possessive? It was nuts. But he couldn’t shake it. The more he was around her, the more h
e couldn’t bear the thought of another man touching her.

  Christ! They hadn’t even spent one full night together and she had him by the balls! Which was another bone of contention. Why didn’t she want to stay and snuggle after they’d had sex? Every other woman he’d ever been with wanted to, but not Trudy. Oh, hell no. She had to jump and run as soon as he pulled out of her. And why should he care, anyway?

  But he did. It rankled him. It festered in him. It had become a prime mission – to make her spend the whole night with him.

  Observing her through the veil of his lashes, he felt that odd softening around his heart when he recalled her telling him at the museum that she saw him – saw past his face and saw him. He believed her. When she looked at him, he felt a connection like no other. And being inside her had felt so right. Judging by the brush-off she’d given him every time, she obviously didn’t feel the same. How many orgasms did the woman require before she enjoyed herself enough to hang around for an entire night for a repeat in the morning?

  “When did Quintara ask you to join the Roundtable?”

  He jerked when she spoke – he’d been that deep into his own thoughts of her. He ran his fingers up and down the condensation on the drink glass and considered what she’d just asked him. Was she joking? He looked at her. Nope. She was serious. “Join? I’ve never joined. There was no Roundtable when I first met Quintara. In fact, it was my suggestion that she begin the Psychic Roundtable.”

  She blinked, obviously stupefied. “How did I not know this? I just assumed . . . well, that’s the problem, isn’t it? I’ve assumed too much and I actually know very little about you.” She sent him an apologetic smile. “So, tell me about it, please.”

  He nodded, accepting her apology. She had assumed a hell of a lot about him and he suspected he had Quintara and the Psychic Roundtable participants to thank for that. He knew he was the source of gossip among them because Quintara had told him. Of course, he was used to people assuming they knew him when they didn’t, but he wanted to get closer to Trudy. He was drawn to her and had been since the moment he’d first laid eyes on her heart-shaped, heart-stopping face.