Turn to Darkness (Offspring 5.6) Page 12

  “I’m going home for lunch,” Jessie said, leaning behind the counter and pulling out an enormous dark purple bag. She glanced his way, their gazes locking in the reflection for a second. She paused for just as long before turning away and leaving.

  The trick was to leave right behind her without looking as though he was following. He reached for the tag on the brass cymbal, noticing the calluses on his hands.

  “I know your type,” a man right behind him said.

  Lachlan turned to face Glen, surprised to see a smile and not an accusation.

  “Lives for the music, stays up all night playing the songs in his head. That was me, before the wife and kids and shop.” He gestured to the place in general.

  “You’ve pegged me, dreaming on my lunch break.” Lachlan glanced at his watch. “Which, unfortunately, is over.”

  He knew she’d gone to the right, and spotted her as she turned the corner at the end of the block. Lucky break, that. He jogged down the sidewalk, slowing as he took the same corner. She got into a big SUV, and hearing the locks snick as he passed by, he again fought the urge to look at her. He got into his truck, which did looked damned good, though he still saw all the things that needed to be done yet.

  Lachlan didn’t take the time to revel in the purr of the engine, the only real pleasure he allowed himself. He was too busy watching the rear of Jessie’s black Yukon as he followed her into an apartment complex some ten minutes later. He parked several spaces away and observed her jump down from the vehicle and take the stairs two at a time. She disappeared into unit 14B on the second floor.

  Lachlan knew he would find the answers in her apartment. He tried to astral-project to her apartment but once again failed. Had the projection been a tease? His imagination? The thought tightened his chest. The picture of Jessie triggered the projection last time, but now that he was near her, he couldn’t get it to work. He’d have to break in the old-fashioned way. He had done it before, every time his dad locked himself out of his lab, sometimes leaving not only his key in there but the backups as well.

  Jessie remained inside long enough to eat lunch and then reemerged. He could understand why Magnus was smitten with her. Her hips moved eloquently as she walked to her vehicle. Interestingly, she scanned the parking lot, not paranoid exactly, but wary. When she drove off, Lachlan remained.

  He carried a toolbox and appeared to be looking for an address. After knocking on her door, he identified himself as the handyman she’d called and pretended to converse with her through the door.

  “The dispatcher said you can’t get the door to open . . . Okay, no worries, I’ll get you out of there.”

  He worked on the lock with the pick kit. When he opened the door, he continued the “conversation” as though she stood right there inviting him in to work on the knob.

  The apartment was small and sparse, with generic furniture. Coupons littered the two-seater kitchen table’s surface, each cut in a neat square and stacked in categories like food and household items. Several magazines lay on the counter, one open to a recipe for buttermilk biscuits. The one on top had the address square cut away. A To Do list had several bullet-point items scribbled all over it.

  In the small living area, a sewing kit sat by the recliner, lid open to reveal spools of thread and a red heart-shaped pincushion. Juxtaposing the domestic ambience, a stack of well-read love novels on the end table sported covers with couples in provocative poses. So she liked the steamy stuff, eh?

  Even further from the norm, a gymnast’s mat filled a corner, a punching bag hanging above it. Several DVDs on karate were stacked by the television. Bars and a fine steel mesh reinforced the windows.

  Ah, now he was getting somewhere. Someone had drawn a cross on the wall, four lines and a small circle in the middle. He looked around more closely. At the bottom of the stack of novels he found a hard-bound notebook, ragged with use. Sketches of demonic beings filled the pages, each identified as creatures like werewolves and shapeshifters. Many had X’s through them. He took pictures of a few pages with his cell phone, then one of the cross.

  He took a few steps into the only bedroom. Not a lot of personal effects here either. A framed picture, fuzzy blanket, a small stuffed penguin on the made bed that looked like it had seen years in the clutches of a child. The sight of it stabbed him in the chest for some reason. He saw no other signs of a child living here, so it had to be hers. He took a picture of that, too.

  A key slid into the lock at the front door. Lachlan stepped out of view, watching as she dashed into the kitchen and grabbed some papers on the counter. The vision flashed through his mind again, this woman standing over his brother’s body, and he reacted. He crossed the few feet, catching her eye with the movement, but he already had his arms around her waist before she could get in a kick. She pitched all her weight forward, throwing him off balance enough that she wriggled free. She spun, with a roundhouse kick to his side. Pain exploded, making him grunt. He regained his balance, finding her bouncing on her feet, fists raised, ready to attack.

  Both fear and anger blazed in eyes a rich blend of green and chocolate. No sign of that sweetness now. A ruse, as he’d expected. She jabbed, and when he backed up, kicked. He grabbed her foot and sent her stumbling backward. She twisted, slamming sideways into him using karate moves she no doubt practiced on that mat. She was strong, and it hurt. It also felt good in a strange way.

  He grabbed her arms, clamping them against her sides. She swiveled, shoving him against the wall and, with that split second of freedom, made to run toward the door. He grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back, intending to pin her against him. She twisted her ankle and pushed his foot enough to send him to the floor, her along with him. They crashed, both taking the brunt of the fall. His arms locked around her.

  They ended up with her on top, her back plastered to his front. As she struggled to free herself, her ass ground against his pelvis. Of all damned things, the movement shot heat through him. This was a fight, not sex. But he was thinking about sex, which was crazy.

  She brought her elbow down, but he blocked before she could dig the point into his side. He was too breathless to talk, too focused on winning. She shoved her hip sideways and kicked his leg, shooting pain up the length of it. This time she was able to roll to the side and gain her footing, jumping to her feet. He was right behind her and grabbed her again.

  He shoved her against the wall, hearing her breath whoosh out of her. Didn’t matter; she made to ram her knee into his groin. She was a fighter, and a practiced one at that. She hadn’t hesitated to fight him. He used his body to hold her to the wall, grabbing her flailing arms and anchoring them at her head level. Their heavy breathing was synchronized, and with each breath, their bodies pressed tighter together. Her breasts, soft and round, nipples hardened, sent heat pulsing through him.

  Bloody fine time for that.

  She wriggled again, aiming a deadly look at him. The look didn’t kill him, but it heightened the heat. He had the insane urge to grind into her but held himself in check. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d numbed himself to anything sensual, any desire, and here he felt it with this potentially homicidal woman.

  She tried one last time to jerk up her knee, and his pelvis mashed even harder against her. Good God, he felt an erection, the first one since—

  “I won’t be an easy rape, you son of a bitch,” she spat out at him, still breathless. “Is this what Russell’s doing now, sending crazed rapists after me?”

  Rape? Of course, his wayward cock. “I’m not going to rape you. I want to know why you’re going to kill my brother, Magnus.”

  She blinked in confusion. “Magnus? Kill him? Are you crazy? I have no intentions of killing him.”

  “I am a little crazy, actually. I saw a vision of the future, you standing over his body.” No need to go into any more than that.

  “You saw a vision. As in a crystal ball type vision?”

  “Don’t look at me like I’m the st
range one. You’re obviously into some weird stuff. What’s the symbol mean?” He nodded toward the sort of cross. “Are you a devil worshiper?”

  Her laugh was hoarse. “No.”

  “Why didn’t you scream for help, even when you thought I was a rapist? What are you hiding?”

  Something happened. One moment they were there, him pressing her against the wall, and the next all he saw was a black blur and then he was thrown across the room. He hit the wall and slid to the floor. He blinked, stumbling to his feet even though every muscle in his body screamed in pain.

  She stood where she’d been, eyes wide and mouth trembling. “Get out of here. I would never hurt Magnus. Just get out of here.”

  The energy in the room had changed, sparking and electric. She was scared of whatever had happened.

  Lachlan rubbed his shoulder. “What did you do to me?”

  “Get out.”

  Or she’d do it again? No, she hadn’t exactly said it as a threat. Still, it was a threat nonetheless. He glanced at the symbol and then at her. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Now her whole body shook, as though she might explode. She took deep breaths, making her chest rise and fall.

  He walked out, watching her the whole time. He had astral-projected into many different places and time periods, into battles and even one of the Holocaust camps. He had never felt this kind of energy.

  She was dangerous. He got into his truck and drove directly to Magnus’s new flat.

  JESSIE STOOD IN her apartment for a long time, letting the trembles rumble through her body. Everything that had just happened washed across her mind, pulsing like a strobe. Fear of dying, of being raped, and then the bizarreness of the man’s accusation. He had triggered her Darkness, which scared her as much as anything else.

  She took a deep breath and looked around for the papers she’d come back for. They were all over the floor. It hurt to bend down and grab them, and she winced. Wince all you want now, because you can’t when you get back to work.

  She walked outside, pausing on the landing to make sure the man was gone. No sign of him. She hadn’t screamed. Couldn’t scream. The last thing she needed was having the police dig too deeply into her life. She walked to her Yukon, taking calming breaths.

  Her phone was beeping, signifying that someone had triggered her security alarm. She might have known the jerk was waiting for her if she’d taken her phone with her. She was tempted to click on the link, but there wasn’t enough time. A cluster of charms hung from her rearview mirror: an angel, rabbit’s foot, horseshoe, four-leaf clover encased in plastic, and a Star of David, and they dangled back and forth as she maneuvered through traffic.

  A quick fix of her face, a brush through her hair, and she looked as normal as she had when she left.

  Glen looked up when she walked in. “Must have been a hectic lunch break,” he said with a smile.

  Damn, not exactly as normal. “Had to fit in a lot of errands.”

  “If you need a couple of minutes to defrazzle, go ahead and take them. I know you’ve got a busy weekend.”

  Glen and his wife Toni were great bosses, and even better people. The Tripps ran the store together. She was their only employee, running the storefront, handling calls and paperwork. She was good with numbers. They were stable, dependable, and impersonal. She liked working in small businesses where her employers wouldn’t be bothered as much by her erratic work history. That also meant settling for menial jobs that didn’t pay much.

  Toni and the two grade-school Tripps came rushing in at mid-afternoon, as they did every weekday.

  “Hey, Jessie!” the girls called as they gushed with enviable energy and innocence, dropping their backpacks on the floor. “Carnival’s tomorrow!”

  Toni rolled her eyes as she picked up the packs, as she did every day, and set them behind the curved desk where Jessie worked.

  “Yep! You gonna ride the scary rides?” Jessie asked, bending down to their level.

  “Will you ride with us?”

  “Sure.”

  Both girls giggled and exchanged looks. “We might throw up, though,” they said in unison, more like twins than girls who were two years apart.

  “Ewww!” Jessie said, pinching her nose. “Then definitely do not ride the scary rides. I’d be tossing my cookies right along with you.”

  The girls commenced to making barfing noises until Toni shushed them. She set them on their homework just off the main desk. Jessie watched them asking their mom for help and felt a lump in her chest even as she smiled. When she was their age, she’d had a mom and dad, too. Thank God they didn’t know how tenuous life can be, how all that matters can be ripped away in minutes.

  Five other children came in for guitar lessons, and Jessie entertained them until class started. For a few minutes no one was in the front room. Glen was in the repair shop in back and no customers wandered in. Her head still felt light, as though she hadn’t eaten for hours. She logged into the security software and clicked on the link for her system. It recorded any activity once it was triggered.

  Her throat tightened at the sight of the man—Magnus’s brother—walking into her apartment. He wasn’t even creeping or sneaking, just walked in like he owned the place. Bastard. He looked around, taking pictures of a couple of pages in her notebook, walking to the doorway of her bedroom but not walking in.

  The video quality wasn’t good enough to see fine details. She realized she’d hoped to see his face again. He had dark, thick hair that fell past his shoulders and brown eyes with an exotic slant to them. He was good-looking, yeah, even though she felt pretty stupid thinking of him that way when he’d broken into her home and manhandled her.

  Where have I seen him before? Oh, yeah, here! Right before she’d dashed home for lunch. He was stalking her! Her gaze went to the collection of signed pictures on the back wall. She remembered thinking he looked like one of those rockers from the eighties that Glen was so into, like Kip from Winger. The jerk probably followed her home.

  Her attention went back to the monitor. She knew the moment the intruder heard her unlock the door; he ducked inside her bedroom doorway and waited for her. Even though she knew what would happen, watching it was odd, surreal, and scary. She didn’t have this security system the last time she’d gotten a surprise visit.

  She watched their fight. I fought pretty damned good. Not good enough, though.

  He pinned her with his body, and she could feel all that muscle and hardness again, crushing her. Especially that hardness, which had thrown her, because she’d thought for sure he was connected to Russell, and the man’s erection signified a different threat.

  But he wasn’t there for that. Thank you, God.

  She glanced around to make sure no one had come in; she was engrossed enough to have missed it. Then she turned back to the screen. As her fear and anger had heightened, a smoky aura formed around her. But . . . there was something around him, too; not smoky, but a blurry form.

  What the heck?

  She paused the frame. Even studying him she couldn’t make it out. That nothing else had the same blur meant it was attached to him. Either he also had Darkness, or he was some other kind of weird. No matter, he was bad news.

  Her abilities had taken the man off-guard. If he, or Magnus, were working with Russell, they would have been prepared. She would be dead. The supposed brother claimed he’d had a vision of her killing Magnus. That was all he seemed concerned about, wanting to know why.

  When she continued the video, it hit her: she would see her Darkness for the first time. She steeled herself as she watched the black mass that threw him across the room. Me, but not me. It just took over; I had no control over it. She shivered and closed the program. What if the whole seeing-a-vision thing was true? Darkness could kill. Could she?

  She picked up her cell phone and called Magnus. Please let me go to voice mail.

  Relief when his deep voice said, “ ’Lo, this is Magnus’s phone. I hate that I missed
your call. Don’t make me hunt through the call log. Leave a message.” Both men had a Scottish brogue to their voices. Magnus had told her he was born in the U.S. but got the brogue from his Scottish mother.

  “Hi, it’s Jessie,” she said. “You’re off the hook for tonight. I don’t need any help with the carnival, and . . . I can’t see you socially anymore. My life is too complicated in ways I can’t explain. Take care of yourself.”

  Her mouth stretched into a frown. It wasn’t like they’d done more than chat at the store, have a cup of coffee, and meet for lunch once. He’d kissed her cheek when he walked her back to the music store and said goodbye. She’d had the sense that he wanted to kiss her on the mouth, though, as his lips had lingered against her skin for a few moments. He probably would have, if the sensible part of her hadn’t made her turn at the last second. She’d wanted the kiss, because she wanted to feel like the women in the romance novels she devoured, just for a little while . . .

  You knew better. Why bother starting a flirtation when you’re going to have to back away if it goes any further? Russell’s going to find you eventually. You’re either going to die or run again. No place for a man in that mess of a life.

  Yeah . . . complicated. With a sigh, she deleted Magnus’s number from her contacts list.

  About the Author

  Since she was a kid, JAIME RUSH devoured books on unexplained mysteries and psychic phenomena. She knew she would be published, marry a fabulous guy, and win a Toyota Supra. Missing the romance, relationship drama, and action of her favorite television shows—The X-Files, Roswell, and Highlander—she created her own mix in the Offspring series.

  Jaime loves to hear from readers (unless they’re deranged or don’t have something nice to say). You can reach her at PO Box 10622, Naples, Florida 34101, or through her website at www.jaimerush.com.