After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (19 page)

“What are your plans today?” he asked.

“I want to paint the killer’s face.” She
had
to paint it. No longer would she resist.

Even thinking about him caused a flicker of rage to erupt
inside her. If he had—or would—hurt the girl in the painting, then he had hurt
other women, and would doubtless hurt many more. He had to be stopped.

“Okay. All right. I’ll give you a few hours, but then we’re
taking Lana’s advice and heading to Tulsa. We’ll take your painting, whatever
shape it’s in, and let them have a look, tell them what’s been going on. I want
to hear what they have to say.”

“O-okay.” Maybe they could explain the blackouts, too.
Because…no matter how wonderful it was to know she wasn’t alone in her
suffering, it was bizarre that both she and Levi were experiencing them, that
they’d started at the same time. “You don’t have to work?”

Guilt filled his eyes, quickly masked. “Not today. Why don’t
you get started? I’ll make that call about Lana, gather a few things from my
apartment and come back. I don’t want you alone today.”

“Okay,” she repeated, peering down at the note. Why had Lana
taken off without some kind of a confrontation? Running wasn’t like her. In
fact, Lana had never backed down from a challenge, any challenge. And where had
she gone? Like Harper, she was without any family. They only had each other. Now
she was out there, alone, scared.

Strong hands cupped her face. “Harper. Look at me.”

A tear trekked down her cheek as she obeyed.

“Everything’s going to be all right,” he said gently. He wiped
the tear away with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t like the uncertainty. I don’t like that every time I
get a question answered, a thousand more pop up. And I
hate
being afraid.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I won’t let anything happen to
you, either. You have my word.” He didn’t wait for her reply, didn’t ask
permission, but lowered his head the rest of the way and claimed her mouth.

Without any hesitation, she wound her arms around him, holding
on tight, allowing him to consume her bit by bit. Glad for him, glad for this,
shocked by her need to touch and be touched, but more so by her lack of panic.
This was real, and this was necessary. This was everything she hadn’t known
she’d needed. If any man could protect a woman from harm—from unseen forces,
even—it was this one. He knew his power, his authority, and he wasn’t afraid to
wield it.

When he pulled away, lines of tension branched from his eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and stomped out of
the apartment. Through the wooden door she heard him growl, “Lock this.”

On shaky legs she followed his trail. Even her fingers shook as
she flipped the lock.

“Good girl,” he said, his footsteps sounding a moment
later.

She rested her forehead against the door. That man…oh, that
man. The kiss hadn’t panicked her, but now the thought of losing him did. In a
very short time, she’d come to depend on him…to need him. And maybe he needed
her, too. He could have washed his hands of her. After all, this wasn’t his
problem. But he hadn’t. He’d immediately taken up the reins of control,
arranging their next steps. A good thing. She wasn’t sure she would have had the
strength to visit After Moonrise without him.

You’re wasting time. Buck up and get to
work
. For Lana. She had to save Lana—so that she could yell at her
for daring to abandon her.

With a sigh, Harper marched into her bedroom.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Levi merged onto the highway. First he’d had Harper in
his apartment, now his car. He’d allowed her to borrow his clothes—which she’d
changed out of, and he kind of wished she hadn’t. Letting someone else play with
his toys should have put him on edge, but he was strangely settled. This felt
right. He liked having her near, within reach, surrounded by his things.

“Did you reach your friend?” she asked. She chewed on her nail,
watching as cars and buildings whizzed past. “Is he going to track down
Lana?”

“Yep.”

“You trust him? He’s decent at what he does?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s good enough for me, I guess.”

Her grumbling tone told him she reeeally wanted him to
elaborate, but how could he elaborate, when the details were sparse? Why did he
trust Bright? Instinct. How long had he known the guy? Years. What kind of cases
had he solved? Complicated.

Half an hour of silence followed that little interaction before
Levi could stand it no longer and asked, “Were you able to paint the guy’s
face?” He’d hoped she would open up on her own, and he wouldn’t have to press.
He wanted her to be comfortable with him, but he was also tired of waiting.

“No,” she said, and he caught the taunt in her tone. He’d given
little, so she would give even less.

This woman really cranked his chain. “Why not?”

“Blocked.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He purposely didn’t
mention Topper because he didn’t want to increase her worry for her friend. Not
unless absolutely necessary.

“Yes,” she said, and he could feel her gaze on him, as if she
were judging his reaction. “You could pretend you know how to have a
conversation and, I don’t know, stop barking out one-word answers anytime I ask
a question.”

Won’t grin.
“Sure.”

“Argh!” She leaned over and punched him in the arm. “You’re a
hard nut to crack, you know that?”

“Yes.”

That earned him another punch. “Well, despite your sparkling
wit, I’m going to let you stay with me tonight. I paint in my sleep, but fear
somehow finds me and wakes me up, stopping me from finishing. If you’re there,
I’ll feel safe and I’ll continue painting until it’s done. I know it.”

Safe. Good. “Consider me there.” Over the years, with as many
victims as he’d dealt with, he’d learned a thing or two about fear. You
absolutely could not meditate, or feed upon, thoughts that scared you. You had
to cast them away, and force yourself to focus on something else. He would be
her something else…his hands…his lips… He’d move slowly, take a little at a
time, demand a little at a time, until she was ready.

Then he’d take all. Everything.

She must have sensed the direction of his thoughts because she
said, “Now then, about the kiss.”

“Yeah. What about it?” He wanted more, and if she expected him
to enter some kind of friend zone, they’d have a problem.

“This is gonna tick you off.”

“Say it, anyway.”

“I know we’ve only kissed, like, once, but you’re staying the
night tonight, and…well…”

“And, well, you want me to keep my hands to myself.” It was
better than the total rejection he’d anticipated from her, and something he
could work around.

“Not at all,” she said, surprising him. “You can get handsy if
you want…maybe…if you go slow. But I don’t want you seeing another woman while
we’re…you know, involved.”

Wait, wait, wait. She was demanding exclusivity from him?
Giving him exactly what he wanted from her? He gave a mock sigh. “If you
insist…”

“I do.”

He liked knowing she was as possessive as he was. “Then I guess
I can—”

“Oh, just forget it!” she huffed. “I’m not dog food, you know.
I don’t want a man who’s this resistant. I don’t have to throw myself at anyone,
so you can just—”

“You’re not throwing yourself at anyone. You’re with me, and
there will be no other men for you.” Anger with himself—shouldn’t have teased
her over such an important subject—morphed into anger with any other man who’d
try to hook up with her.

“You’re sure?” she said in a snippy tone.

“Very. You?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw her flick her hair over one
shoulder. “Kind of.”

Really won’t grin.
She was sure all
right, but her mean streak had kicked in.

Now to figure out what was happening to the world around
them.

Finally they made it into Tulsa. Here, the trees were thicker
and there were a few more hills. There were buildings of brownstone and stucco,
brick and siding, some tall, some short, some thin, some wide. The sky created
an eerie backdrop, a long expanse of dark gray layered with fat, rain-heavy
clouds.

After Moonrise came into view. Eight stories high, with
smoked-glass windows and a waterfall in front, it was one of the city’s classier
structures. The front doors were arched, all about the welcome.

He parked in one of the only empty slots, got out and moved to
the other side of the car to help Harper. Clutching the sheet-covered painting
in her hands, she gifted him with a soft smile of thanks. He couldn’t stop
himself from smoothing a strand of hair from her cameo face and luxuriating in
the perfection of her silky skin.

She leaned into his touch, her eyelids dipping to half-mast—but
not before he caught a glimpse of apprehension. Not directed at him, but at the
coming meeting, he was sure. He knew she expected to be told she had predicted
her best friend’s death, knew part of her also expected to be told there would
be nothing she could do to stop that death from occurring. He knew because he’d
battled the same thoughts.

“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “When you first came to
my apartment, what would you have done if I’d kicked you out without listening
to you?”

Her brow furrowed as she gave serious consideration to her
response. “I guess I would have annoyed you so badly you would have done
anything to get rid of me. Even listen.”

Exactly what he would have guessed. “How would you have annoyed
me?”

A shrug of those delicate shoulders as she said, “By knocking
incessantly on your door, following you around like a puppy and ultimately
shoving the painting in your face.”

“That would have taken balls of steel.”

“And I polish mine every night. So what?”

Again, exactly what he would have guessed. “So,” he said,
trying not to grin, “I just wanted to remind you that you do, indeed, have
them.” He linked their fingers, confiscated the painting with his free hand and
dragged her to the entrance.

As they strode across the pavement, he heard her praying under
her breath. “Lord, give me the strength to hear what I need to hear and to do
what I need to do. Thank You.”

A bell rang as they stepped from outside to in. Soft music
played in the background. The temperature rose considerably, from misty and cold
to dry and bone-meltingly hot. Incense saturated the air, sweet and spicy at the
same time, somehow pleasing and repugnant at once. His nostrils burned, but he
endured the sensation as a necessary evil.

He scanned the area, taking in every detail at once. There was
a reception desk, a long table with coffee and other refreshments, and a waiting
room with big, comfortable-looking chairs.

Six people—four males and two females—reclined in those chairs,
but only the little dark-haired girl perched on her mom’s lap paid Harper and
him any attention. She smiled and waved, and Levi waved back, charmed. The mom
looked over at him, frowned and gently admonished the girl to behave and mind
her own business.

The lady at the reception desk alternated between answering the
phone and typing into her computer. In her mid-fifties, with hair dyed the
darkest of jet, skin aged from sun exposure and features that were lovely
nonetheless, she glanced up at his and Harper’s approach—

—and screamed.

Her hand fluttered over her heart, and she jumped to her feet.
“What are you doing here?”

He was used to alarming people with his gruff appearance and
no-nonsense demeanor, but screams and accusations at minute one, when he wasn’t
waving a gun? Yeah, that was a first.

“It’s okay, Mommy,” he heard the little girl say. “He’s not
gonna hurt anyone. He just looks scary.”

“My name is Detective Reid, OKCPD,” he said loudly, hopefully
calming the people in the waiting room who’d begun to mutter in distress. He
lowered his voice and added, “Milana Bonnie Wee Cutie should have called to tell
you we were coming. We have a few questions for whoever’s in charge of…” Just
how did you explain the weird things happening to Harper? And to him, for that
matter.

“Lana works for the OKC branch,” Harper blurted out. At least
she kept her hands at her sides, opting not to chew on her nails.

The receptionist exhaled with relief and said, “Okay, yes. Yes.
I—I remember getting her call. I just wasn’t expecting—” she waved her hand up
and down to encompass Levi’s big body “—this.”

This. “What’s wrong with
this?
” he
growled.

“You’re not a little blonde with a Napoleon complex, are you?”
she snapped. “I was told to expect a little blonde with a Napoleon complex.”

“Okay, taking over now,” Harper muttered. “Here’s the deal. I
might be painting the future, and Lana thought you could help me. And besides
that, other things have us freaked out, like the fact that Levi’s apartment
changed its furnishings in a single night, but he didn’t do the changing and it
still looks the same to him. This agency specializes in the paranormal, right?
Well, there’s nothing normal about anything that’s happened to us lately, and I
want answers. Like, yesterday.”

The lady glanced between them, her color high but gradually
lightening. “Just…stay where you are.” Never taking her gaze off them, she bent
down and picked up the phone.

A whispered conversation took place, and Levi thought he heard
“I don’t know” about a thousand times. Finally, she replaced the phone in its
cradle and said, “Agent Peterson will be right out.”

A few seconds later, a big man with a big scowl stomped from
the elevator. A smaller man holding a stack of files raced behind him, desperate
to catch up.

“Headed out, Mr. Raef?” the receptionist called.

“Yeah.” Mr. Raef stopped, gave Levi a once-over, and glared.
The smaller man rammed into Mr. Raef’s back, dropping his papers, but the guy
hardly seemed to notice. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“He isn’t as evil as he looks,” the receptionist said.

“You’re sure?” the man demanded, taking a menacing step in
Levi’s direction. “My woman is waiting for me, and even the thought of being
late makes me killing mad, so if any killing needs to be done…”

Levi rolled his eyes and wished he still had his badge.

“Ms. Peterson is taking— Ah, there she is,” the receptionist
said with relief as a woman stalked out of a second elevator. She was of average
height—meaning Levi towered over her and she towered over Harper—and average
weight. Meaning Levi could snap her spine with a single twist of his giant
man-hands.

Peterson had short hair dyed pink and lacquered into tiny
spikes. Her eyes were brown and rimmed by eyelashes she’d also dyed pink. She
wore a dog collar, had brass knuckles tattooed on her fingers and was clad in a
plaid shirt with ruffles and baggy black pants tucked into combat boots. She
stopped abruptly when she spotted them and flashed her teeth in a scowl.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Seriously. Could no one treat him like a human being? “We’re
friends of Lana’s.”

“Lana?” Mr. Raef cursed under his breath. “They’re all yours,
Peterson,” he said with a mean-sounding chuckle, and exited the building, the
other man scurrying behind him.

Peterson ran her tongue over her teeth. “Lana didn’t say you
looked like…this.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Harper snapped.

Levi swallowed a laugh and put his hands on her shoulders,
holding her in place. He had a feeling she was seconds away from leaping on
Peterson like an injured wolverine interested in a last meal.

Peterson’s gaze danced between them before she nodded. “All
right, fine. I’m choosing to believe you are who you say you are. So don’t just
stand there. This way.” She motioned to the elevator with a sweep of her hand.
“Fifth floor.”

On the walk to the office, he counted three gasps, two weird
looks and one murderous glare, but other than that, he was ignored.

“I’m telling you, I’ll be fine,” Peterson said as she closed
the door, sealing herself inside with him and Harper. Levi had no idea who she’d
been talking to, since everyone had beat feet out of the hallway, but whatever.
He just wanted to get this over with.

They each took their seats, and he carefully leaned the
painting against his leg.

The office itself was normal, with white walls, brown carpet, a
desk, a computer, a phone system and papers scattered everywhere. Even the
portrait hanging over the desk was something you’d find in any other
establishment: pink rosebuds surrounded by green foliage.

Peterson leaned back in her swivel chair, crossed her arms over
her middle and said, “All right. Why don’t you tell me why you’re here. That
wasn’t a question or a suggestion, by the way. Lana was vague, and I don’t have
a lot of time.”

“Why don’t you tell me your qualifications first,” Levi
replied, his voice wielding a sharp edge.

One of her brows shot into her hairline. “Qualifications for
what?”

“For dealing with a situation like ours,” Harper said. Her
nerves must have kicked back into gear, because the tip of her nail found its
way into her mouth. “Besides the obvious, of course.”

Peterson drummed her fingers together, but replied, “Well, I
can see into the spirit realm and I’m usually given the cases dealing with
people no one else wants to deal with. It’s my sparkling personality. I can put
anyone at ease. What else, what else. I’ve solved murders gone cold, helped lost
souls figure out why they’re still here, and aided families who’ve just lost a
loved one.”