Cass dragged her attention back to business to set the outer locks and alarms after Minerva and Greg left.
“My place is this way.” She led the way around to the back of the building, unlocked the lower door, and headed up the steps to the second floor.
“You live above the store?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is this the only access to your apartment?”
“No.” Nic followed her far too closely. In the narrow quarters of the stairs, she could smell the unique scent of him—a combination of spice and some undefined aroma that reminded her of deep forests—rich, strong, solid. She clamped her jaws against the sensations rampaging through her.
“There’s a fire escape off the kitchen and before you ask, the door is secured with a deadbolt lock and is steel-clad with double-glazed safety glass in the window. Greg and Steve approved all my security measures.”
She stopped at the landing trying desperately to shake off the feeling that she knew him—much more intimately than she should. When she inserted the key in the dead bolt lock, a section of the steel-clad door blurred. Cass moved so Nic couldn’t see. Minerva’s face appeared and she mouthed the word “safe.” Cass nodded and opened the lock.
*
Nic followed Cass, every nerve on edge. When Greg had called and told him a friend had security problems, he looked at it as an opportunity to experience life in Littleton. Greg wanted Nic to join him in a new security firm. Greg made a good investigator and cop, but he wanted something more and starting his own PI firm with Nic would fill that need.
Nic’s own firm did well, but he didn’t care for Philadelphia. Though he loved the activity and excitement of a big city, a person tended to get lost in the impersonality of it all. He preferred the ambience of a small town. After less than a year, he felt ready to move. Maybe a smaller town and joining Greg would fill whatever he seemed to be missing. And, at less than a two-hour drive from Philly, Littleton lay close enough so if his current clients still needed him, he or a contact could easily be there. He and Greg each had their own strengths and together, they would be a formidable team.
Although only thirty-five, Nic had spent his entire life moving from place to place, never staying anywhere long enough to put down roots. A product of the foster system and the military, he finally felt ready to settle down and this seemed as good a town as any. At least he had friends here. Friends who cared about him. Friends whom he worked well with. He glanced at Cassandra. Friends with very interesting contacts.
Coming face-to-face with Cassandra Richards surprised him. He didn’t like surprises. They meant a loss of control—something he swore would never happen to him ever again. Iraq had taught that lesson well. He’d learned early to depend only on himself. Trusting others only got you hurt. The military had taught him to trust the members of his unit, but others? Not willingly.
He studied the woman. She seemed familiar to him, as if he knew her. She had dark chestnut hair curling softly into a long braid down her back and gold eyes that reminded him of fine brandy—unique and mesmerizing. She had a slender build, but with gently rounded curves in all the right places and a cute nose a lot of city women would pay big bucks to have.
But she had a boyfriend. Why did that bother him so much?
He’d never been in this town—never met her before, but he knew her. Knew the way she chewed her lower lip when she felt nervous—like now—and knew she liked her tea unsweetened and hated eggs and her favorite color was green. He also knew how to touch her to bring her to fulfillment. But when he looked at her, a sense of deep despair nearly overwhelmed him, as if his heart had been ripped from his chest. He knew she was the reason, but had no clue why.
He followed her up the steps, watching her back the whole way, enjoying the way her hips swayed, enhanced by the long skirt she wore. He also knew how shapely her legs looked under that skirt. He shook his head, trying to concentrate on tamping down his raging libido. He’d known her all of thirty minutes and all he could think about was bedding her. He focused on something else, like what the hell was taking her so long to unlock the damned door? Finally, she opened it.
“Wait here,” Nic said as he pushed past her into the apartment. “Until I’m sure it’s safe.”
He reached for his gun, stopping when he remembered he’d left it locked in his glove compartment. Wandering around the town, looking at houses and apartments, he hadn’t been expecting any trouble. He’d forgotten the first rule of the security business—always expect trouble. Nic reached into a nearby holder and grabbed an umbrella, brandishing it like a sword. At Cass’ raised eyebrow, he shrugged. Any weapon was better than none.
He moved into a large, old-fashioned living room decorated for comfort rather than style. A cream knit afghan draped over a large, navy blue sofa between two end tables stacked high with books and magazines. A matching armchair and a wooden rocking chair sat in opposite corners, next to the two long windows. A low coffee table centered in front of the sofa sat atop a bright braided rug covering the wide-plank wood floor. No nooks or alcoves where someone could hide. Good.
Along one wall stood a conglomeration of assemble-it-yourself shelves and a TV cabinet filled with a small television, stereo, DVD player and more books. Several large leafy plants sat in front of the windows. The homey decor fit her.
The room invited you to kick off your shoes, grab a drink, and relax. He thought all she needed would be a cat to make the place complete. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a large gray-striped tabby sauntered in, stopping when it spied him. They held a short stare-down contest, then the cat rubbed against his legs and purred when he reached down to rub its ears.
“I’m impressed. Wunjo usually doesn’t care for men.” Cass joined him, a second umbrella in her hand.
“I told you to wait.”
“This is my home. I’m not going to sit back and let someone intimidate me.”
Nic frowned, but, other than tying her down, what could he do? He admired her nerve. After seeing that file, most people would be scared. She’d shaken off her fear and armed herself.
With her at his back, he crept down the hall and searched the two small bedrooms, kitchen, and bathroom. He went through, opening doors, looking under beds and other furniture, anywhere someone might hide. Stacks of books lay everywhere but other than that, the rooms looked neat and well kept.
He didn’t see anything out of place. He spent time checking her windows and doors and making sure of the security. The street below flowed with heavy late afternoon traffic and people strolling the sidewalks. The town invited walking, exploring the quaint shops and enjoying the general ambience. Everything he’d seen so far told him this would be a good place to settle.
When he turned from the living room windows, he saw four pictures hanging on the wall. One showed a sizeable cabin in the middle of a clearing surrounded by towering hemlocks. A second looked like more of the forest but with a barn—possibly behind the cabin? A third pictured the store downstairs and a building he didn’t recognize. The last, again wooded, but with a narrow waterfall tumbling from a high cliff. He could swear he almost saw smoke rising from the cabin chimney and water flowing. As he turned from the pictures, he thought he caught a flash of movement in the trees. Nic shook his head. “Next thing you know, I’ll be looking for Harry Potter.”
Cass had stayed in the one bedroom that looked lived-in, so he returned there. She’d turned off the overhead light, leaving just a small bedside lamp burning. “There’s nobody here.”
Her allure captured him. Without thinking, he crossed the short distance and drew her into an embrace. His mouth claimed hers, not in a kiss of greeting, but of a couple who knew each other so well, they knew how to entice the other. Her mouth opened willingly to him, her tongue teasing his as her hands grasped his neck, then pulled back from him as if burned, moving to put the bed between them. He had to admit, he felt a little singed himself.
*
Cass s
tared at him. One part of her couldn’t believe her actions. She didn’t even know this man. And she had a boyfriend—sort of.
Steve. She had to think of Steve. This couldn’t happen.
She’d followed Nic initially to see what he’d do, already aware he’d find her apartment empty and safe. Wunjo wouldn’t let anyone in without letting her or Minerva know. She hadn’t expected this…need to touch him. To hold him. To be with him.
“What just happened?” she asked.
He ran his hand over his head. “Damned if I know. Get your things.” He left the room as if Hades himself chased him.
She touched her swollen lips. “Maybe he is.”
She pulled out a small suitcase and quickly packed a few things. A night or two with Greg and Dori wouldn’t kill her, but she did it more for their sakes than hers. She refused to let this stalker chase her from her own home for longer than a couple of nights.
As she packed, Wunjo wandered in and jumped up on the bed. “Meow?”
“Yes, I have to go away for a few days.” Cass scratched him behind the ears. “Do you want to come along? Or go on your own?”
“Meow.” He shook off her hand and pranced away from her.
“Fine. I’ll leave some food and water out for you. Just be careful, okay? And stay away from that white alley cat. She’s no good for you.”
Wunjo sneezed at her then jumped off the bed. Cass shook her head and grinned. She had no clue how the cat got in and out. She didn’t have a pet door anywhere and didn’t believe in letting animals wander outside without owners, but Wunjo defied normal laws. He came and went as he pleased no matter what she did to discourage him.
She tucked her tarot cards and rune stones into an inside pocket of the bag and dug through her jewelry box for the crystals she needed for protection.
Cass carefully selected several other items and packed them in a box she’d constructed specifically for them. She closed her suitcase and carried it out, prepared for Nic’s derision and disdain at her beliefs.
Nic stood in the living room staring out one of the two tall windows fronting the street. He turned as Cass entered the room. “Is that everything?”
“Not quite.” She retrieved her box. If he preferred to ignore the kiss, so would she. Pretending it hadn’t happened was probably best for them both.
He glanced at the box. While not as large as the suitcase, even with a strap, the bulk still took both hands to manage easily. “I’ll carry your suitcase.”
“I can handle both. You don’t need to do me any favors.”
“I’m not. We can both move faster if you’re not weighed down by two bulky cases.” He picked up her satchel. “Shall we?”
His deference caught her off guard. Steve would have said something about her being incapable of handling the weight. But then, Steve had never kissed her like Nic did, leaving her heart pounding and her body wanting more. “Gee, you’re not going to offer to carry both? Maybe my weak female arms can’t handle any of this.”
Nic snorted and opened the door. “You work in a store that gets heavy shipments and I saw a set of free weights under your bed and exercise equipment in the closet. Neither had dust on them and looked well-used. One thing I don’t think you are is weak.”
Cass pursed her lips, surprised at his words. “You’re observant.”
“I get paid to be. Where’s your car?”
“Small parking lot out back. Yours?”
“At Greg’s. Do you want me to drive?”
“No.” Cass locked her door behind them and followed him down the stairs. A short time later, they pulled into the driveway at Dori and Greg’s. Cass noted a black pickup truck parked in front of the house. While not new, it looked to be in good condition, unlike her old truck. A conglomeration of mismatched parts, hers would never win any awards for style, but it ran well and got her where she wanted to go—most of the time. “Your truck?”
“Yeah.”
“Greg said you’re moving here? May I ask from where?”
“Philadelphia.”
“You’re ex-military?” She shook her head at her own stupidity. No surprise there. Greg had told her as much.
“Former military. There is no ‘ex’ to a Marine.” He took her bag out of the back, handed her the box, and led the way into the house. He didn’t ring the bell, but walked right in, like an old friend would. Cass chewed her lip in puzzlement. In all the years she’d know him, she didn’t remember Greg ever mentioning someone named Nic. But then, he didn’t talk about his time in the military much.
“Dori? We’re here,” Nic called.
Dori came out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Cass envied her homey looks and easy style. Dori, the ultimate domestic goddess, could probably give Martha Stewart a run for her money if she ever decided to go pro. She had a cap of dark curls and dark eyes. Two inches shorter and heavier than Cass, they looked nothing alike. They also had absolutely nothing in common, but had hit it off immediately upon meeting in elementary school, a friendship that lasted longer than many marriages. It probably helped that Dori’s guardian, her grandmother Alma, was a good friend of Minerva’s and Minerva served as Dori’s godmother. They often got together for dinners, holidays, and even vacations.
“Hope you’re both hungry,” Dori said. “Pasta with sautéed mushrooms, asparagus and prosciutto—ready in ten minutes. Cass, you can put your stuff in the spare bedroom.”
“Where’s Nic sleeping?” Cass asked. Greg and Dori’s place comprised half of a duplex, a small ranch without a lot of extra room. They had three bedrooms, but one had been converted into an office for Greg.
“Downtown at the Inn. We couldn’t convince him to stay here,” Dori said.
“I didn’t want to be a bother.”
“Too late. Cass, you get settled, then come on out. Nic, Greg says you toss a mean salad.”
Cass unpacked her few things and laid her travel altar out on the nightstand. She grasped her necklace. “Spirits who watch over me, please protect me from this malice that follows me.”
She suppressed a shudder as she passed by the window. Gathering her courage, she pushed aside the curtain and stared out at the night. A figure stood in the empty field behind the house in the shadows of a tree so she couldn’t see him clearly. But somehow she knew he’d been her strange customer from earlier.
* * * *
William followed Cassandra and the new man to a small house and stood outside. She watched him. He could feel her. They had a connection. She belonged to him. He’d had her before in another lifetime and he’d have her again. He closed his eyes and imagined her with him, touching her, using her.
In all his life, he’d never met another like her. She was like a drug, empowering and wonderful. Her defiance enhanced the sensations. In his mind, William touched her body again, feeling her heart beating faster as she fought him. He could sense the power in her, untrained and raw. She needed someone to take her in hand and teach her. Why the old witch hadn’t, he didn’t know, but he thanked her. He would gladly accept the task of teaching his chosen one. He would take her body first, then train her mind and teach her to use her power for both their benefits. Under his guidance, she would kill the others and absorb their energies.
Then he would bestow the ultimate honor on her and sacrifice her as he’d done before. But this time would be so much better. This time, with his training, she would welcome her death. Welcome him as he brought the knife down. Smile as he carved out her beating heart. She would give herself to him in all ways and blend her powers with his, making him unstoppable. He increased his concentration on her, sending waves of his passion to her, smiling when she continued to fight. Theirs would be a glorious union.
First, the witch. Then the Protector. Then her. With her under his control, the others would willingly follow. He moved his hands as though stroking her, stoking his own smoldering fire. The excitement threatened to overwhelm him. With effort, he calmed himself. He grasped his signet an
d willed the shadows to disguise him. He staggered as he slipped away. His energy was low. He needed to recharge, and soon.
William returned to the hotel room. The other woman lay there, lounging on the bed, like a wanton slut. He didn’t even remember her name. No matter. She was there for one purpose. He grabbed her hair and captured her mouth. She fought, but without strength or determination. He knew what she enjoyed. And her passions would feed him for a time. He ripped her clothes from her. She gasped, then tore at his. He slapped and bit her into whimpering submission. Willingly, she spread herself for him, begging him for release. He pounded into her, using her to sate his bodily needs, but she was no more to him than a means to an end. With every thrust, he saw his beloved Cassandra’s face. She would be his. Of that, he had no doubt.
Chapter 4
As Cass watched the man, she sensed hands on her—touching, caressing, stroking her most private parts. Hurting her. Shackles on her wrists. Chains at her ankles. Invading her body and her mind. Raw red marks appeared on her wrists, burns at her ankles. The sensations grew until she wanted to scream. She dropped the curtains, fighting the images in her mind.
“Go away. I do not want you!” She grasped her pendant and imagined a bubble of protection surrounding her. The impression of touching stopped but the waves of sick passion didn’t. Cass opened the curtain once more and stared at him, sending her hatred to him. Then he disappeared. He didn’t move, didn’t walk away. He just disappeared.
“Cass?”
She jumped as Dori knocked at the door frame.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ve been calling you for five minutes. Are you okay?”
“I guess I had my mind on other things.”
“Greg told me what happened. You have a right to be a little spooked.”
The Emerald Key Page 3
