Dream Eyes (35 page)

Gwen caught her breath. “Your wife is a very wise woman.”

“She is.” Elias looked at her, sunglasses glinting in the hot light. “I’m not so dumb, either.”

Gwen laughed. “No one would ever call you dumb, Mr. Coppersmith.”

“Judson is in love with you.”

She turned away to look at the cave entrance. “It’s too soon to know.”

“Not for a Coppersmith. The question here is, are you going to break his heart?”

She flushed. “I really don’t think this is the time or place to talk about that sort of thing.”

“Can’t think of a better time or place. It’s a simple question. Are you going to break my son’s heart?”

“Mr. Coppersmith, for heaven’s sake—”

“Willow says that if you do intend to break his heart, it ought to at least be for the right reason—not the wrong one.”

Gwen realized she was starting to get mad. “Assuming I do have that power—which I very much doubt—what would constitute the wrong reason for breaking Judson’s heart?”

“Doing it because you think it’s for his own good,” Elias said. “Worst damn reason in the world.”

She froze. “But, if he doesn’t know his own mind—”

“No such thing as a Coppersmith who doesn’t know his own mind.” Elias broke off and focused his attention on the cave entrance. “Here they come. Doesn’t look like they got fried while they were inside.”

Gwen followed his gaze. Judson and Nick emerged from the cave. Automatically she raised her senses and studied the auras of the two men. They both looked normal—at least as normal as the auras of two powerful talents could look, she thought.

“They’re fine,” she agreed.

Judson stripped off his helmet and put on his sunglasses. He walked to where she and Elias stood. Nick accompanied him, grinning with excitement.

“Still damn intense in there,” he said. “Makes for a great ride.”

Elias looked at Judson. “Find anything?”

“Maybe.” Judson held up an object that looked like a flashlight. “This is the weapon that Spalding used on me. I’ll have Sam and his techs take a look at it.”

Gwen frowned. “But that’s not what you were looking for in your dreamscape.”

“No,” Judson said. He reached into his pocket and removed a slip of paper. “This is what I went down there to find.”

“What’s that written on it?” Elias asked.

“I think the name of a business firm and the town where it’s located,” Judson said. “Anyone ever heard of Jones and Jones in Scargill Cove, California?”

Forty-five

T
he voice on the other end of the connection sounded like the low, ominous growl of a bear.

“This is Fallon Jones,” the bear said. “Who are you, and how did you get this number?”

“The name is Judson Coppersmith,” Judson said. “Got the number from a guy who’s really good at tracking down information online.”

Nick smiled and drank some of his beer.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the phone.

“Coppersmith as in the Coppersmith mining company?” Fallon Jones said. He sounded interested now.

“Yes. And also as in Coppersmith Consulting,” Judson said.

“Never heard of Coppersmith Consulting.”

“We’re a small security outfit,” Judson said. “Specializing in psychic investigations. Sort of like Jones and Jones.”

“Yeah? Lot of psychic investigation agencies out there. Most of them are frauds.”

“We’re a little different,” Judson said. “Like you. And by the way, we’ve never heard of you, either. But we need to talk.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m calling from a small island in the Caribbean. We pulled what’s left of a man named Daniel Parker out of an underwater cave today. He was murdered a little over a month ago. He left a message for whoever found him, a scrap of paper with the name of your firm on it.”

“You’re right,” Fallon Jones said. “We need to talk.”

Forty-six

T
his Jones and Jones agency had Daniel Parker working undercover in yet another low-profile agency affiliated with the government’s intelligence community,” Judson said. “He vanished without a trace over a month ago. Jones said they tracked him to an island in the Caribbean but not to this island. That was the end of the trail.”

Nick studied the screen of his computer. “From that point on, Parker paid cash. Chartered a boat to bring him to this island where he evidently intended to meet up with Spalding.”

“Jones says he thinks Parker stumbled into Spalding’s operation while he was working another case,” Judson said. “Instead of reporting back to Jones and Jones, it looks like Parker went rogue. Saw a chance to make some easy money. Jones thinks he probably tried to blackmail Spalding. But if that’s the case, Parker was way out of his league.”

They were gathered on the veranda of the hotel’s open-air bar. Gwen lounged in her chair and toyed with the little umbrella in her colorful rum-based drink. She contemplated the glorious island sunset. It was the same color as her drink.

“Spalding planned to go to work for this Nightshade bunch that Jones told you about?” she said.

“Jones says Nightshade is a group of talents who have developed some kind of formula that enhances a person’s natural paranormal abilities,” Judson said.

Nick’s platinum brows shot up. “Cool.”

“Not so cool, according to Jones,” Judson said. “Apparently, there are some major side effects, the kind that make ’roid rage look like a common cold. Also some serious withdrawal issues. Skip even a few doses and a user will sink rapidly into insanity. Suicide is the usual result. Jones and Jones has an antidote, but no one ever calls for it. Nightshade would prefer not to leave any trail.”

“Damn,” Nick said. “Why does there always have to be a downside? Guess we now know what happened to the two guys you took down here on the island before you went on that last dive.”

“Yes, I think so,” Judson said.

“They ended up in the local hospital,” Gwen said. “Their boss was dead. You were swimming for your life, and there was no one around to give them a dose of the drug or call this J-and-J outfit.” She sighed. “How sad.”

“Except for the part where they murdered one guy and tried to kill me,” Judson said.

“Except for that part,” she agreed.

“I got the strong impression from Fallon Jones that Nightshade has a company-wide policy of abandoning its agents who are unlucky enough to get caught,” Judson said.

Elias whistled softly. “Tough outfit.”

They watched the sunset in silence for a while. The men drank their beers. Gwen sipped her umbrella drink. After a while, she looked at Judson.

“Sounds like your former client, Spalding, and his two men sold their souls to this devil called Nightshade,” she said.

“According to Fallon Jones, his chief client, an organization called Arcane, has been trying to control rogue talents, including Nightshade, since the Victorian era,” Judson said. “We stumbled into the middle of a turf war that has been going on in the shadows for more than a century.”

Elias snorted. “More like they stumbled into us.”

“Regardless of your point of view, contact has been made,” Judson said. “And early indications are that the Coppersmiths and this J-and-J agency are on the same side.”

“Or maybe just temporary allies,” Elias said. “There’s a hell of a lot we still don’t know about this Arcane bunch.”

Judson’s smile was cold. “And a hell of a lot they don’t know about us.”

“And it’s going to stay that way,” Elias said. His voice was flat and hard.

“Right,” Judson agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got secrets,” Nick observed. “Doesn’t mean you can’t do business together.”

“No,” Judson said. He drank a little more beer and lowered the bottle. “It doesn’t mean that at all.”

Gwen sensed the energy in the atmosphere and smiled. She was feeling it, too, she thought.

“I get the impression that this Fallon Jones person may have suggested a business arrangement of some sort?” she said.

Judson watched the hot sunset streak the sky. “Jones mentioned that his agents work on a contract basis. He brought up the fact that he could use the expertise and the vast resources of an experienced security consulting firm that had global connections and a very solid cover.”

Elias paused his beer in midair. “Vast resources?”

“He recognized the Coppersmith name,” Judson said.

“Huh.” Elias thought about that. “Well, he’s right about one thing. Coppersmith, Inc., would make a hell of a cover. Our business interests give us an excuse to go just about anywhere in the world at any time. Hell, we’ve got our own jets, our own helicopters, our own ships.”

“It occurs to me,” Gwen continued, “that Coppersmith Consulting is in need of a new client to replace the one that recently went out of business.”

“That occurred to me, as well,” Judson said.

“If you’re taking on a new client, you’re going to need to hire some new talent,” Gwen said. “Someone who can talk to ghosts at crime scenes, for example.”

“And maybe a guy who can get through locked doors,” Nick said. “One who can hack into just about any computer. Someone with connections in places where those ritzy Coppersmiths generally don’t hang out.”

His tone was as cool and cynical as ever, but Gwen recognized the hope and longing just beneath the surface. Like her, Nick was looking for a place he could call home, a place where he belonged. He was searching for a family of his own.

Judson smiled at Gwen and Nick. “Coppersmith Consulting is hiring, and the firm could use your talents.”

Nick nodded once, satisfied. “Just so you know, since I’ve been assisting your father, I’ve developed a taste for first class when it comes to travel and accommodations. That corporate-jet thing sure is convenient.”

“I’ve created a monster,” Elias said. “But his B-and-E skills make him worth it.”

Forty-seven

T
hat night, Judson made love to her beneath a brilliant Caribbean moon that splashed the sea with silver light. Gwen abandoned herself to his touch, savoring the tenderness and the power that he brought to the bed they shared. But it was the sense of intimacy that flared between them that she would treasure all the days of her life.

When it was over, Judson rolled onto his back and pulled her down across his damp, heated body.

“I love you, Dream Eyes,” he said. “I have since that night in Seattle.”

She laughed. “You were looking for some hot sex that night because you thought it would take your mind off the dreams.”

“That’s what I told myself at the time, but when I didn’t get the hot sex, I realized I was wrong.”

“And just how did you figure that out?”

He smiled and twined a strand of her hair around his finger. “Because it dawned on me that if I couldn’t have hot sex with you, I didn’t want to have it with anyone else, even if it meant that I wouldn’t get a break from the dreams. How long is it going to take for you to figure out that you love me?”

“Oh, I fell in love with you that night, too,” she said.

“Is that right?” He looked pleased.

“I knew from the start that you were the one I’d been waiting for. But I screwed up our first date when I offered to fix your dreams, didn’t I? You got pissed off and disappeared to Eclipse Bay.”

“You felt sorry for me because of the dreams. Pity was the last thing I wanted from you.”

“I knew you were having a few dream issues and I was sympathetic, sure. I also knew I could probably fix your dreams. But that had nothing to do with falling in love with you.”

“You’re positive?”

“I told you,” she said. “I never sleep with clients. I certainly don’t fall in love with them, either. I love you, Judson. I have from the start and I always will.”

“Glad we got that settled.” He smiled and framed her face between his hands. “I could only think about two things that month in Eclipse Bay—you and that damn recurring dream. It was only a matter of time before I went looking for you. But I told myself I needed to clear up the dream issues first. Then Sam called and told me that you had a problem.”

“What a coincidence. I spent that month telling myself that I would see you at the wedding,” Gwen said. She touched one fingertip to the corner of his mouth. “I had a cunning plan.”

Judson’s eyes gleamed with laughter. “What was your cunning plan?”

“I wasn’t going to say a word about your dream issues at the wedding. I was going to pretend that I couldn’t see a thing wrong in your aura. Instead of talking about my terrific skills as a psychic counselor, I was going to try to seduce you instead.”

“A very cunning plan, all right. I can guarantee you that it would have been successful, too.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Without a doubt,” he assured her. “I can prove it.”

“How?”

“You can try your cunning plan on me right now and we’ll see if it works.”

“What a brilliant idea.”

She kissed him there in the moonlight and put her cunning plan into action.

The results were extraordinary.

Forty-eight

T
he day of the wedding had been made-to-order for an outdoor ceremony. Legacy Island was bathed in the warm glow of a summer light that was unique to the San Juans. But it seemed to Gwen that the Coppersmith family compound at Copper Beach was illuminated with a little extra energy.

The sun flashed on the surface of the sea. The air was so crystalline that the small, neighboring islands appeared to be within touching distance. And as if hired by the wedding planner to make the picture-postcard scene perfect, a pod of majestic orcas cavorted offshore. They danced in and out of the water as though their sleek, black-and-white, multi-ton bodies were weightless.

“You look beautiful,” Gwen whispered to Abby.

They were in a small alcove of the old mansion that Abby and Sam now called home. Gwen was making final adjustments to the elegant folds of Abby’s satin and lace gown. Through the open French doors they could see that the rows of linen-draped folding chairs on the groom’s side of the aisle were filled.