The door opened quietly a few minutes later. Abby emerged wearing his T–shirt. It was much too big for her. The hem fell to her thighs. She looked sexy as hell in the shadows. An elemental thrill of possessiveness swept through him. He drank some more of the whiskey.
“Are you asleep?” she asked softly.
“Getting there.”
“I told you to take the bed.”
“I don’t follow orders well.”
“You don’t have to be grouchy about it,” she said. “I was just trying to make sure you’ll get the rest you need.”
“I’ll sleep fine right here.” Eventually.
“Are you drinking something?”
“Yeah.” He opened the second bottle. “Helps take the edge off the afterburn buzz.”
“You got into the minibar?”
“Uh–huh.” He swallowed some of the brandy.
“I could use a glass of wine myself.”
“Help yourself. There are a couple of small bottles of wine in the bar.”
She crossed the room, opened the minibar and studied the assortment. Then she glanced at the printed card that detailed the prices of the items in the bar.
“Geez, look at the prices,” she said.
“Go for it.” He saluted her with the miniature whiskey bottle. “Live large. I’m paying for the room, remember?”
“Okay, thanks.”
She chose the little bottle of white wine, untwisted the cap and sat down on the edge of the bed.
They drank in silence for a while. He saw no reason to try to engage in conversation. It would only make things more complicated.
“How are you feeling?” Abby asked.
“Coming down. Finally.” It was the truth, he realized. The alcohol and time were working. He would sleep soon.
“Before you crash, I just want to say thank you again. This is the second time you’ve saved me from someone who wanted to kidnap me.”
He closed his eyes. “I’ve told you before, I’m just doing my job. But in fairness, I don’t think Gideon Barrett would have grabbed you against your will. He just wanted to get me out of the way for a while so that he could talk you into accepting his offer. And he would have made you one hell of an offer, trust me.”
“Looked a lot like an attempted kidnapping to me. It’s sort of scary knowing that people want to kidnap you.”
“I know,” he said, gentler this time. She had good reason to be afraid, he thought. “You’re handling it well. Lot of folks in your position would be basket cases by now.”
“If I’m dealing with it well, it’s because I’ve got you watching my back. So thanks, anyway.”
He opened his eyes. “Even if I do have my own agenda?”
She smiled. “Everyone has an agenda. I can deal with that, so long as a person is honest about it. You’ve been up front about yours from the beginning. Well, almost from the beginning.”
The last thing he wanted was her gratitude.
“Finish your wine, turn out the light and go to sleep, Abby,” he said.
“Okay.”
She set the empty bottle on the nightstand, switched off the lamp and got into bed.
Sam contemplated the little brandy bottle and decided not to finish it. Too much alcohol might prolong the recovery phase of the crash. He set the bottle on the table beside the chair, leaned back and watched the shadows on the ceiling for a while. He thought about the array of people who were trying to grab Abby and the lab book.
“I’m missing something,” he said after a while.
“What?” Abby asked from the shadows.
“Don’t know. Can’t think clearly tonight. But in the morning, I need to go back to the beginning of this case and look at everything from a different angle.”
“You mean back to that first blackmail note?”
“No, back to what happened in Vaughn’s library.”
“You think that’s where it all started?”
“The answer is there, somewhere.”
“Maybe our chat with Grady Hastings tomorrow will give us a lead.”
“I’ve never interviewed a crazy psychic,” Sam said. “Should be interesting.”
The deep sleep crept over him.
37
The woman walked down the endless basement hallway. He knew she was going to open the lab door, knew the killer was waiting for her on the other side.
He tried to go after her, but he was trapped in the shadows. He tried to call to her, desperate to warn her, but he could not get her name out.
At the door she paused, her hand on the knob. She looked back at him. For the first time, he saw her face. Not Cassidy.
“Abby.”
“SAM, YOU’RE DREAMING. WAKE UP. IT’S ALL RIGHT. I’M HERE.”
Energy shivered in the atmosphere, summoning him from the nightmare. He came awake on a surge of adrenaline and psi, aware of the warmth of Abby’s hand on his bare arm, aware of her comforting energy.
He opened his eyes and saw her bending over him. Her anxious concern was a palpable force in the atmosphere. He had probably scared the hell out of her. Bodyguards weren’t supposed to sleep on the job in the first place, and they definitely were not supposed to suffer from nightmares. There were rules about that kind of stuff somewhere.
He took his feet down off the ottoman and sat forward, scrubbing his face with his hands. He willed himself to full wakefulness.
“Abby,” he said again.
“I’m here.”
She was safe. She was not caught in the endless loop of the damned lab dream.
Automatically, he raised his para-senses and was relieved to discover that they responded instantly. He did not know how much time had passed, but it was clear that he had recovered from the heavy exhaustion that followed a hard burn. He glanced at his watch. The black crystal numbers glowed. He had slept for nearly three hours.
“Sorry,” he said. His voice sounded rough, as if he had dragged it out of the fog of the nightmare. “Must have been dreaming.”
“Yes. You called my name.”
He tried to think. “It was the recurring dream I told you about tonight. But it was different this time. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I was already awake.”
He got to his feet. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.” She stepped back, out of his way. “Well, actually, I didn’t try. I was a little worried after you fell asleep. You seemed feverish, so I decided to stay up until it looked like you were through the burn and sleeping normally.”
First he had to deal with her gratitude. Now she was treating him as if he was an invalid. This relationship was going downhill fast.
“Just the afterburn fever,” he said, trying to sound cool and in control, like a man who could handle his job. “I’m not ill. You’ve been through a burn. You know how it is.”
“I know how it feels, but I’ve never been close to anyone else who is going through it, so I didn’t know what it looked like. I didn’t realize that it had some of the symptoms of a high fever.”
“Aura heat.”
“Yes, but you were giving off a lot of energy,” she said. “I have to tell you it was a little unnerving. I was afraid that flash-bang gizmo might have caused some sort of delayed psychic stress.”
“I told you, I’m all right.” Great. Now he was snapping at her again. “You don’t have to play nurse.”
“I was just looking out for you while you slept off the burn.” She was starting to sound annoyed. “I didn’t mean to offend your macho self-image. Do you always wake up in a bad mood like this?”
“No. But everything seems to be different with you.”
“Keep in mind that I had a bad day, too, and unlike you, I haven’t had any sleep yet. I am in no mood for sarcasm.”
He took a few beats to ponder that. “Does it strike you that we seem to be arguing over nothing again?”
“Yes, it does.” She folded her arms. “Any idea why that is happening?”
/>
“Sure. I want to have sex with you, but every time I turn around tonight, you’re either thanking me or trying to take care of me. So I provoke an argument because it makes you mad. See, I’d rather have you mad at me than pointing out the fact that I’m a decrepit bodyguard.”
There was stunned silence for a few seconds. Abby finally got her mouth closed.
“Good grief,” she said. “That is…very insightful.”
“For a man, you mean?”
“For anyone. I’m impressed.”
She started to giggle. She covered her mouth with her hands and turned toward the window. The giggles turned into muffled laughter.
“Now you’re laughing at me,” he said, resigned. “You know, you can be hard on a man’s ego.”
She sobered, dropped her hands and turned back to face him. Her eyes sparkled with the tears generated by her laughter.
“Good thing yours isn’t too fragile,” she said.
“Every man has his limits.”
“So does every woman. You were only half right, you know.”
“Yeah?”
She smiled ruefully. “The arguments aren’t all your fault. I may be pushing things a bit, too.”
“Why?”
“For the same reason,” she said.
He went still. “Yeah?”
“I want to sleep with you, but part of me thinks that is a very bad idea.”
“Why?”
“Because something weird seems to happen when you and I make…” She broke off and coughed discreetly. “When you and I have sex.”
“Define weird.”
She spread her hands. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like something to do with our auras. It’s as if my wavelengths are somehow resonating with yours. It’s a very intimate sensation. Probably just my imagination at work. But I’ve been wondering…”
“Wondering what?”
She sighed. “If you must know, I’m wondering if it’s some aspect of the psychic stress I experienced when I broke the code on that book in Mrs. Vaughn’s library. Maybe some energy from the dreamstate is affecting my normal senses or something.”
“Ah,” he said. He smiled.
She frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re wondering if having sex with me is making you crazy,” he said. He was grinning now. “It’s an intriguing question. One that will require a lot more research and experimentation.”
“You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. That resonance thing going on with our auras? I feel it, too.”
She brightened. “You do?”
“If you’re going crazy, so am I. But unlike you, I’m not worried about it.”
“You’ve experienced that kind of thing before during sex?” she asked, hopeful now.
“No.” He smiled and moved closer to her. “Maybe that’s why it feels so good. Personally, I’ve gotta tell you that I’m not going to lose any sleep over this.”
“But what do you think is going on?” she asked. “The para-physics involved, I mean. It certainly isn’t normal.”
“You want the truth? I don’t give a damn about the para-physics.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
He put his hands around her shoulders. Beneath the fabric of the black T–shirt, she felt sleek and warm and soft and like all that was feminine. Her scent clouded his senses, intoxicating and compelling. He tightened his grip on her and drew her to him. She did not resist.
Her lips were slightly parted. He jacked up his talent a little and saw that her eyes burned with a little psi-light. He could sense the heat in her aura, too. Sexual energy was so hot that it burned across the spectrum from the normal range into the paranormal. It was the raw energy of life. And he had never felt more alive than he did right now.
“Abby,” he said.
“You’re the scientist here,” she said. “I guess if you’re not worried, I should stop worrying, too.”
“I like your logic.”
He plunged his fingers into the storm of her hair and captured her mouth.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a feminine heat that ignited a wildfire within him. It was all he could do to hold on to his control.
He wrenched his mouth free from Abby’s and kissed her throat. Her hands moved down from his neck and slipped up under his T–shirt. Her palms felt good on his chest, soft and very warm.
“You feel feverish again,” she said.
“No kidding. You’re running a fever, too.”
“Feels good.”
“Yes,” he said. “It does.”
She pushed the T–shirt upward. He yanked the garment off over his head and tossed it aside. She kissed his shoulder, her mouth warm and damp on the phoenix tattoo. He took a step back and got rid of his pants and briefs. When he turned to her, she was smiling at him. He could already sense the intimate resonance pattern of their auras.
“Yes,” he said. “Damn right, it feels good.”
He tugged off the T–shirt she wore, scooped her up into his arms and fell with her onto the bed. He rolled onto his back, dragging her down across his chest. She made love to him there in the darkness, raining spicy wet kisses from his throat to his belly, and then she ventured lower. He groaned when her fingers closed around him. When she took him into her mouth, he sucked in a sharp breath and sank his hands into the thick, tangled curls of her hair.
She used her tongue on him, and he thought he would go mad. When she pressed gently against the ultra-sensitive place directly behind his testicles, he knew he had reached his limit.
“My turn,” he breathed.
He eased her onto her back and came down on top of her. She was as damp as he was, slick with perspiration. He kissed her firm, dainty breasts until she was arching against him and clutching at him. Satisfied, he worked his way slowly down her body, savoring the taste and scent of her.
When he reached the tight little furnace between her legs, she cried out and dug her nails into his shoulders. He sensed the gathering tension in her and stoked the fires until she was fierce and breathless. He gripped her sweet ass in both hands and anchored her so that she could not escape his mouth.
She came undone in a storm of energy that dazzled all of his senses.
“Sam. Sam.”
“Right here,” he breathed.
He shifted position, holding his weight on his elbows. He captured her face between his hands and plunged his tongue into her mouth at the same time that he thrust deep into her still-clenching passage. The convulsions of her release pulled him over the edge within seconds.
He gave himself up to the rushing freedom of the climax with a hoarse, muffled groan of satisfaction that seemed to echo forever.
A long time later, Abby became aware of the weight of Sam’s thigh on top of hers. His arm was flung across her breasts. She turned her head on the pillow and saw that his eyes were closed. He looked to be sound asleep. Cautiously, she tried to edge out from under his sprawling weight. He tightened his arm around her, trapping her, but he did not open his eyes.
“You’re awake,” she accused.
“I am now.” Reluctantly, he rolled onto his back. “You know, we should do this more often.”
“What? Meet weird guys in parking garages who try to whack you with psychic flash-bang gadgets so that they can kidnap me?”
“Must you always focus on the negative? I was referring to the hot sex.”
She smiled. “Oh, that.”
He folded his arms behind his head. “Yeah, that.”
She turned onto her stomach and levered herself up on her elbows. “How was it different tonight?”
“The sex?” He gazed up at the ceiling. “Let me count the ways…”
“Not the sex. The dream.”