Authors: Kate Allenton
“Nice.”
“I try.” Amber slid past Sophie and pushed the flower arrangement, on the cherry coffee table, out of her way. She let the books, she’d carried in, slide out of her hands before tossing the bag attached to her wrist onto the floor. The name Mystic was embossed on the outside of the bag. “I brought you
presents.”
“I see that.” Sophie picked up one of the books. The word clairvoyance in the title told her enough.
“You want me to read…all these?”
Rising, Amber strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a soda out of the fridge. She opened it and
sipped. “How else are you going to learn? It’s not like we have any psychic teachers in the area.”
“I take it you’ve checked?” Sophie tried to hide her smile.
“Of course I did. We used to have several, but now the only one I can find is an old retired woman who doesn’t do readings or teach anymore,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You’re assuming what they told me is actually real and that I want to learn this stuff.” Sophie
tossed the book back onto the table.
“Why wouldn’t you? Have you started to take that liquid stuff the charm lady gave you?”
Sophie kicked off her shoes and plopped down in the recliner to get comfortable with her legs
folded up beneath her. “No, and why would I want to learn? I mean think about it… Dead people are
bothering you all day. Wouldn’t that freak you out?”
“But just think of all of the good you can do and the people you can help.” Amber started pacing
around the room as she chewed her bottom lip. Sophie could see the wheels turning in Amber’s head as she moved back and forth, creating a path from one end of Sophie’s tiny living room to the other. She was making Sophie dizzy and tired from just watching her.
“Would you sit down already?”
Amber abruptly stopped. She tilted her head with a quizzical look on her face. “Why are you
dressed so early?” she asked as if the realization had just dawned on her.
“I started my new job today.”
Amber’s mouth parted. “New job? How come I didn’t know anything about this?” She glanced at
her watch. “Wait…if you started a new job today, what are you doing home already?”
Amber plopped down on the couch and sipped her drink, her interest in Sophie’s potential abilities momentarily forgotten.
“I’m just working temporarily for my brother, doing some filing.”
“And why are you home?”
“I sort of fainted.”
Amber propped her elbows on her knees and leaned forward. “Whoa…back up. You fainted from
filing? At least tell me you met a hot cop in uniform and you got his digits before you hit the ground.”
Amber sipped her soda
“I didn’t fall. Hot, aggravating, male chauvinist cop caught me and then tattled to my brother.”
Amber spit out her drink and wiped the droplets from her chin. “Leave it to you to use hot cop and tattled in the same sentence, and can we rewind and go back to the part that he was hot?”
“No rewinding. Focus, Amber, hot cop told on me.” Sophie went on to explain in detail what
transpired the night before with the headache, the filing room, and even the cop she was working with.
Her door flew open again, making her pause. “Doesn’t anyone knock anymore?”
“I would if you’d lock your door, Soph,” Eileen replied, walking in with a covered dish. The sweet smell of brownies filled the air. The heavenly aroma enticed Sophie out of her chair on autopilot, relieving Eileen of the dish in her hands.
“I promised you brownies, and I never go back on my word.” Eileen walked off toward the kitchen
and returned with a soda from the fridge, catching both Sophie and Amber red-handed as they were
stuffing the chocolate brownies into their mouths.
Eileen chuckled. “I stopped by the office and Max told me what happened. From the looks of it, the color is starting to return to your cheeks, so you must be feeling better.”
“She fainted. Hot cop told on her,” Amber mumbled around the brownie in her mouth.
“Hot cop?”
Sophie waved her hand, dismissing that portion. “Yes, I fainted.”
“So what happened?”
Sophie explained what had made her faint, the hallucination while unconscious, and then being
sent home. When she finished, Amber had a brownie paused in mid-air toward her mouth and Eileen’s
brows were dipped in confusion.
“You said the woman was burning something?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“That’s kind of an odd thing to do.”
“There are a lot of odd people in the world.” Sophie glanced at Amber. “We should know. We met
several on our trip.”
Eileen leaned back making herself comfortable, and crossed her legs while sipping her soda.
“Maybe we should have you checked out because of the hallucination.” She shrugged. “Maybe you saw
her picture and just imagined the whole thing when you blacked out.”
“That’s just her abilities,” Amber replied as though she had all the answers. She leaned forward; her look turned serious. “You told me about the headaches. Have the rest of the symptoms started too?”
Sophie twisted her legs so they dangled over the side of the recliner. “No voices in my head…and I don’t remember the rest of what the psychic said. To be honest, I didn’t think it was important.”
Eileen picked up one of the books on the table and flipped it over, reading the back. “Is that what all of this is about?”
“Study material. Better to be safe than sorry.”
“Maybe I should tell your brother and see what he thinks.”
“No.” Both Sophie and Amber replied at the same time.
“I don’t have anything to tell. No voices, just the woman when I fainted. I’m sure I hit my head and it was just a dream. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been.
An hour later, after convincing Eileen she wasn’t losing her mind, Sophie ushered both of the
women out of her house. She spent the afternoon doing a deep clean of her apartment and rearranging her closet. An evening of reading was in her plans, along with an early night. Nothing more than
catching up on her hot new book and some much-needed z’s to make her slight headache go away. She
swallowed more aspirin and changed into a pair of her stretchy boy shorts and a tank top. She’d just snuggled into her comforter, with her latest book, when she heard the doorbell ring.
Amber is not getting the brownies.
Sophie slid out of her bed and rounded the corner into the foyer when the pounding on her door began.
Sophie peeked into the peephole. Jack was standing on her porch with a scowl etched on his face.
She sighed and pulled the door open.
“What took….” He paused in mid-sentence while his eyes slowly scanned down her body.
She snapped her fingers. “Eyes up here, stud.”
He shook his head. “Where are your clothes?”
“Where are your manners?” she retorted. “This is my house and I’m wearing clothes.”
She walked back into her house and left him to follow.
“Shouldn’t you go put on a robe? At least cover up?”
“Why? I’m sure you’ve seen women in less. What do you want, Jack?”
He shut the door behind him and followed her into the living room. His eyes scanned the small area and she watched silently, wondering what his opinion would be. Not that it mattered. She noticed the second his gaze landed on the books sitting on her table. The fine lines around his eyes crinkled.
“You believe in that junk?” he asked while pointing to the books.
She shrugged. “If I said yes, would you go away?”
“No.” He continued to move around her living room, stopping at the pictures on her bookshelf.
“Why are you here, Jack?”
“I was worried about my partner.”
Sophie tossed her head back and laughed, “Oh please….my brother sent you, didn’t he? I forgot to
text him and you were sent to make a house call.”
He turned back to face her, giving her a glimpse of a smile. “It’s called self-preservation, Sophie. I’m not uploading all of those cases by myself.”
“Ah yes, you need me. Why didn’t you just say so?”
“I don’t need anyone.”
“Of course you don’t.” She moved to the door and pulled it open, keeping her hand on the knob.
“Thanks for stopping by. You can tell Max that I’m fine and I’ll be in tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you’re keeping me from my hot date.”
“Your what!” His gaze shot to the hallway, where her bedroom door was closed. “You have a guy in
here?”
“That’s none of your business.” She winked. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip. “Have a good
night, Love.”
He stepped up to her, his muscular body surrounding hers at the door. He leaned even closer until
her back was pressed up against the wall, his breath warm against her cheek, and his lips mere inches from her ear. He trailed his finger lightly down her arm. “Get some rest, Soph. You’re going to need it while working with me.”
He winked and then stepped back. “Sweet dreams.”
Jack chuckled as he plodded out the door. She flicked her wrist, letting the door slam.
“And lock your damn door,” she heard him say from the other side.
“Bite me,” she hollered back while flicking the bolt before returning to her room. She was now fully awake and slightly pissed off, her headache momentarily forgotten.
What an ass.
Two could play his game. The thought had crossed her mind when her head started pounding
again. She lay down on the bed, sliding her eyes shut. This time there were no visions of a woman in a white dress dancing in the field. This time, her dreams consisted of Jack. His hands, his lips, and the sweet nothings he whispered into her ears while exploring her body.
****
little scraps of material hugged her body like a second skin, giving him a glimpse of the soft curves beneath. He adjusted himself before turning on the ignition. He watched as one of the house lights flicked off. His mind went into overdrive while thinking about what was happening in the dark.
He shook his head, sent a text to the chief, and threw the car into gear, leaving before he really got himself into trouble. Any other woman he would have made a pass at, any other woman and he would
have had her in bed in five seconds flat. Any other woman and neither the books on her coffee table nor the family pictures on the shelf would have stopped him from taking her right there in the living room.
His gaze had thankfully landed on the picture she had displayed of the chief and herself, effectively snapping him out of the stupor her attire had left him in, remembering his job at the last minute. There was no way in hell, no matter how her crystal clear blue eyes begged or how soft her curves looked; he was wrecking his career over a woman, least of all that one.
Nothing that a cold shower couldn’t fix. His mind started running down the laundry list of women
he knew, which ones might be up for a little late-night visit to take the edge off while working with the little blonde.
His phone vibrated and he hit the car speaker. “Love.”
“Hey, Jack, I know you’re benched, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. Word on the street is your man is on the move.” Marshall informed him.
The Ghost had struck again. He was the only man ever to get the drop on Jack and put him out of
commission two years ago. Jack should have died that day after being blindsided with a blow to the head by the maniac. He’d woken in an empty hospital room with no recollection of how he’d figured out where the next killing would occur. The Ghost was Jack’s unofficial case; the one that he’d see solved before he ever thought of retiring.
“Can you meet me at the range in ten?”
“Yep, I’m on my way.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jack glanced at the clock on his dashboard as he got out of the car. He walked into the private shooting range, gave a courtesy nod to Sam, the old guy behind the counter, and
bypassed the display cases. He grabbed a pair of headphones off the wall and walked into the range area. Marshall stood with his back to the door, protective ear plugs in, and his Glock pointed down range. He squeezed off a shot before unloading the rest of the clip in quick succession. He knocked off the headset and turned around to find Jack. “You’re late.”
Marshall flipped the switch on the wall, sending the automated arm holding the target back in their direction. It shimmied to a stop, the holey paper waving in the air. Every shot had struck dead center of the chest with the exception of one through the middle of the head. “Nice shooting, Tex.”
“Trying out the new equipment for work and thought I’d get in some practice while I was here. It’s one of the perks of being the boss.” He grinned before laying the weapon on the counter and tossing the headset next to it.
“I’ve got new information for your case. Looks like he’s struck again.” Marshall gestured to the
counter behind him where a briefcase was laying on top. He unlocked the mechanism and flicked the
case open. He pulled out the file sitting on top of one of Marshall’s newest antique gun collectables.
“That can’t be….”
Marshall grinned. “Yes, it can.”
The twin steel-mounted saddle pistols looked even better in person. The auction brochure boasted
the pair would be up for grabs. The George Washington-owned-and-documented pistols were
legendary, and owners everywhere salivated to get the two guns into their personal collections. The going price was astronomical. “I bet you paid a pretty penny for the pair.”
“Two million of them pretty pennies.” He shrugged as if it was just a drop in the bucket. “Are you ready to sell me your sword yet?”
The sword was the only heirloom left to Jack by his great-grandfather and passed down through the
generations, the presentation sword when President Grant had become General in Chief of the United States Army. The only documents that came with it were pictures of the sword being presented to Grant and the documents that proclaimed Grant had given Jack’s granddaddy the sword for saving his life. It was one of Jack’s most prized possessions, and the only thing that Marshall couldn’t acquire with