Harlequin Nocturne March 2016 Box Set (22 page)

“I don't know, but I'm sorry I...” Jase coughed and looked away from her. “I shouldn't have touched you that way.”

If there was any part of this that she regretted, it was definitely not that he'd touched her in “that” way or any way. “I'm not.”

He looked back at her, and the blaze of desire in his eyes glittered a little brighter. Neither of them moved. She licked her lips and watched him follow the tracing of her tongue along them.

“I haven't had a lover in about a year and a half,” she told him. “I tried a couple one-night stands, but they never were more than that. I tried going out with my friend the other night, tried to pick up a guy in Ocean City, but I only kissed him. When it came time to go upstairs with him, I wasn't into it. Not like this. Nothing like what just happened.”

“You were in Ocean City on Friday night?” Jase ran a hand through his blond hair until it stood on end.

It only made him more attractive, that rumpled look. Chelle ran a hand along her chin, feeling the burn from his stubble there. Her nipples, too, she realized, though she didn't dare cup her breasts to feel the sting he'd left behind.

“Yes.”

Jase stood so suddenly his knee hit the coffee table. Cold coffee sloshed, but he ignored it as he moved away from the couch to pace. He ran both hands through his hair this time before turning to face her with a grim look.

“Did you go home and write after? Like two or three in the morning?”

The heat was fading, leaving behind a seminauseated ache in the pit of her stomach. She nodded. “Yes?”

“Shit.” Jase shook his head. “I think it's you. It's not just happening to you. You're doing this.”

Chelle flinched. “Doing this? Look, I know I wrote that sci-fi story, and yes, I definitely used you as a model for the hero, but it really was just fiction. I had no idea—”

“Not just this thing with us. Damn, I wanted you from the minute I saw you,” Jase cut in. “All the other stuff that's been going on around here. Flying monkeys and zombies and shit.”

“You did?” She grinned, not sure what the hell he was going on about but not really caring. “That night at the Cottage Cafe, I saw you turn around to look back at me, but I didn't think much of it. Wait. What? Zombies? What?”

“Yeah. I saw you. Yeah, I turned around.” His small smile turned tight in a second. “You started writing about me right after that. Didn't you?”

She blushed, more heat, not nearly as pleasant as the sort that had come from his hands on her. “Yes.”

“I know. I felt it. The same as what just happened. Only, I was alone. I was that guy, that scout guy.”

“And I was the regent?” Chelle asked in a whisper. She had to sit, or she was going to fall. She shook her head, not understanding. By the look on his face, Jase had only a little more clue.

“Yes. You were the regent and I was in love with you. And when I came out of it, there was all this stuff, this glowing remnant of something. It was the same as the other cases. I knew they were connected. I just didn't see the connection until now.”

Chelle twisted her hands together in her lap to keep them from shaking. Chills had replaced the heat, though she was still sweating. She swallowed another rush of nausea. Her head was starting to hurt.

“I don't understand, Jase.”

He moved toward her so fast that she let out a yelp and retreated against the couch. That stopped him. He moved slower then to sit beside her without touching her.

“Don't be scared,” he said.

She was a little scared, though not of him. She ought to be, Chelle thought at the sight of his expression, which had gone dark and stern. She knew nothing about him except that everything he'd told her had been lies.

“Do you know what's going on?” she asked him.

Jase shook his head, pulling out his phone from his pocket and tapping a quick text. “No. But Reg might be able to put it together. If he can't, someone on the team should be able to figure it out.”

“The team?”

He looked at her, then put away his phone. “Yeah. I belong to a team called the Crew.”

“And you don't investigate insurance fraud,” Chelle said.

Jase's smile shouldn't have sent another glittery slice of heat through her, not with all this other weird stuff surrounding them. But it did. The slight brush of his hand on hers did, too, when he moved a smidgen closer.

“No,” he said. “Let me tell you what we do.”

* * *

“When I was seventeen, my family and I went camping in Yellowstone Park. We'd gone every year for as long as I could remember. Sometimes we had an RV. Sometimes we stayed at one of the lodges. This year was the first time we'd gotten passes to go far back, off the marked trails. Me, my dad, my sister. My mom had stayed home with my younger brother, Corey, who'd broken his leg playing soccer.

“The three of us carried only what could fit in packs on our backs. My dad had camped like this plenty of times. He even served as a guide sometimes during the summer. He was a schoolteacher. Geometry. But he loved being outdoors more than anything else.

“We knew to watch for bears, of course. And there are wolves in Yellowstone, too. But my dad knew how to be careful, how to keep our food locked up in scent-proof containers so we didn't attract anything. We spent the first night hiking as far back off the trail as we could. We made camp right near a waterfall. There was a hot spring there, too, one of the small ones, but still pretty amazing to see. Every so often, it would bubble up a little higher, then settle down. Nothing like Old Faithful, but enough to make the evening entertaining without much else to do but play checkers.

“I beat my sister every time. She was laughing about that when the thing came after us. They would tell us later it was a bear, but I can tell you, Chelle, I saw that thing and it was not a bear. It was about nine feet tall and had teeth like swords. Claws to match. If it was anything, it was something out of the Stone Age, some kind of saber-toothed tiger hybrid that had been hiding out in the wilds forever. Like the Loch Ness monster, like Sasquatch.

“It killed my father and my sister. It left me for dead, and I wasn't faking—I was as close to death as I've ever been, and I've been hurt pretty damned bad since then.

“I lay in the backwoods of Yellowstone for three days before a ranger found us. By then the thing had taken my father's and sister's bodies. They were never found. It ate them. Everything, even the bones. I don't know why it left me behind. Maybe it was full.

“What I do know is that when I got out of the hospital, a man named Vadim came to see me. He told my mom he was a grief counselor. That's one of those things we learn to do, see. Tell lies in order to get where we need to be so we can figure out what the hell is happening.

“I knew he wasn't any sort of counselor. I didn't want to tell him anything. Nobody would've believed my story, I knew that from the start. If the rangers said a bear or bears had taken my dad and Karen, then that's what I was going to say, too. The nightmares were bad enough without anyone trying to also psychoanalyze me.

“Vadim, though, had a photo of something that looked a helluva lot like what had come out of the trees that night. Blurry—maybe it could've been faked—but as soon as I saw it, I turned and puked into the trash can by my bed. It didn't faze him. He's an unshakable bastard, Vadim. One of the bravest men I've ever known, and that's saying a lot.

“He told me others had seen this thing, close to where it had killed my family. The picture had been found on the phone of someone who'd gone missing, leaving behind that as the only evidence they'd come to harm. He never told me how he got hold of it, but it didn't matter. Once I saw it, I knew I had to help him find it.

“My mother thinks I joined an elite branch of the marines, and I aim to keep her thinking that. She worries about me, but at least I never had to convince her I wasn't insane, not with the sorts of cases I've taken on. Most people can't wrap their heads around it. Hell, there are times I can't even figure it out.

“But I'll tell you this, Chelle. I found that thing that killed my dad and Karen, and I followed it to its lair, where it had a litter of kits, still sucking. No sign of a mate, and we never found out how it breeds, but we know there are more of them out there than we thought. They are real.

“So are a lot of other things you never believed were true.”

* * *

Chelle had listened, her stomach twisting, to Jase's story. He'd told it without so much as a break in his voice, and it was somehow all the more awful for that lack of emotion. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to run away.

“So...you killed it?”

He shook his head. “No. Seeing it with its young, I couldn't do it. Yes, it had killed my family, but we were in its territory. A bear might've done the same. Wolves. My dad always taught us that entering into nature's realm meant taking risks. That we were the interlopers. I could've killed it, for sure, and its babies. But it was an animal, not some kind of monstrosity bent on slaughtering for the fun of it. Believe me, I've met those kinds of monsters, and they deserve to die. This thing was only trying to feed its children.”

It was a more fantastic story than any she'd written, that was for sure. She shouldn't have believed it. Crazy talk, or at the very least, simple lies told for a purpose she couldn't comprehend.

“I've always believed in Nessie and Bigfoot,” she told him, not quite sure why she was admitting it.

“They're real.”

She bit her lower lip for a second. “I'm sorry about your family.”

“Thanks.”

They stared at each other again. She reached for his hand and he let her take it. She squeezed his fingers.

His phone buzzed, and he withdrew his hand with an apologetic smile to look at the text. He read it, then looked up at her with narrowed eyes. He looked at the computer.

“This writing program. GOLEM. You say your boyfriend wrote it for you?”

“Yes.” She gestured at the laptop, wondering if suddenly she was going to find herself naked on his lap. To her regret and relief, nothing like that happened.

“The night after you went dancing, you wrote about zombies.”

“Yes,” she said, startled. “How did—”

“You wrote about the neighbors' yappy dogs. A dinosaur? And the woman that jerk ran over on his bike, that was you, too. You came home and wrote out a little revenge on him. King Kong?”

Sickened, Chelle fell back against the couch. “Yes, yes. Oh my God, Jase, what are you saying?”

“Everything you've been writing has come true,” he said. “At least some of the things have. And I think it's because of GOLEM.”

This was too much. Chelle got off the couch and pushed past him to go to the fridge for some cold seltzer. No, screw that—she needed something stronger. She pulled the bottle of vodka from the freezer and poured two shots, holding up one for him before setting it on the bar so she could toss the other. It went down like fire, making her cough and her eyes water, but she shook it off.

“That's crazy,” she said. “I write fiction.”

Jase leaned on the bar to take the shot of vodka. “Two years ago, Reg and I worked a case with a real golem, one made of clay. It had been made by a rabbinical student who wasn't happy with some of the things his rabbi was doing. It killed four people before we stopped it.”

“I haven't killed anyone. Oh my God, I haven't, have I?” Chelle put the vodka back in the freezer, though she wanted another shot. She clenched her shaking hands into fists at her sides. “The dog. Oh, no.”

“We don't know for sure that it's dead,” Jase told her.

It wasn't much comfort. In the story she'd written, the pterodactyl had definitely eaten the dog. There'd been no gore in the story—she'd written it tongue in cheek—but even so. The dog was definitely a goner.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. “The stuff with us. That wasn't real, then? Or did it really happen?”

“I think it really happened.” He touched his mouth, which looked a little swollen, the way hers still felt. “Not the part on that other planet. But at least some of the stuff on the couch.”

“Oh God,” she whispered and put her face in her hands. “I'm so embarrassed!”

“Hey, hey. Don't.” He came around the bar as though he meant to take her in his arms, but Chelle stepped back before he could.

She didn't need his pity, that was for sure.

“Would it be all right if I took a look at the program?” Jase asked after a minute. “Reg's text said he was sending some updates to the data team.”

“Yeah. Of course you can look at it. It's not like you haven't already seen the most mortifying stuff already.”

Jase shot her a look. “Chelle, don't. I meant what I said about seeing you for the first time. Whatever is happening has nothing to do with how attracted I am to you.”

This time when he moved to take her in his arms, she didn't pull away. He didn't kiss her. He hugged her instead, and this simple comfort was enough to burn her eyes with tears she was helpless to keep from sliding down her cheeks. She pressed her face to his shirt. His hands rubbed her back in slow circles until she got herself under control.

“Let's take a look at that program,” she told him. “Because if I'm really what's causing this stuff to go on, I want to stop.”

CHAPTER 14

H
e hadn't been lying when he'd told Chelle he wasn't really that great with technology. Jase wasn't afraid of much anymore, not after facing down the things he'd seen. Comparatively, nothing on this case so far should've frightened him. Yet he hesitated before opening the laptop.

His fingertips tingled as they hovered over the metal. He glanced at Chelle, who'd been watching intently. Her brows went up.

“You want me to do it?” she asked.

“I'm not sure what's going to happen,” he said honestly. “Twenty minutes ago, you and I were...”

“Yeah,” she said. “I remember.”

“If that happens again, we'll have to stop it,” Jase told her.

She laughed lightly, a pink tinge climbing into her cheeks. “Yes. I know.”

“But first,” he said, “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Chelle looked surprised. “Why?”

“Because right now we can be sure it's something we both really want.”

She ducked her head, smiling. The blush spread across her face, sending a flush down her throat and into the V of her T-shirt. “Just a kiss, then.”

“Yeah,” he said, sliding closer. “Just a kiss.”

He half expected to be taken over by that mad rush of lust again the way he had before, but this time, the kiss was truly just a kiss. If anything that sweet and tempting could be called “just” anything anyway. Her mouth was lush and delicious and everything he'd dreamed of it being, yet nothing like it had been while they were swept up in that previous madness.

“This,” she whispered against his mouth, “this is real.”

It was, which was more terrifying than anything he'd ever had to face with a knife. He kissed her again, softer this time. It lingered. When he pulled away, she was smiling.

“Are you ready?” Jase asked.

Chelle looked uncertain but then nodded firmly. “Yes. Bring it on.”

He lifted the lid of the laptop, tensing. Nothing happened except for the whir of a fan inside the computer's workings. She laughed in relief and he joined her.

“Show me how this works.” He leaned to the side so she could get her fingertips on the keyboard. He couldn't stop himself from breathing her in.

She gave him a sideways glance and a secret sort of smile but didn't shift away from him as she drew a finger over the trackpad to move the cursor to an icon in her task bar. She let it hover there for a moment, then clicked to open a small menu that closed the program down.

“It's set to automatically open the last-used document,” she explained. “I just closed it totally, so when we start it up again, we should be able to choose which project to open.”

He nodded and watched her double-click the icon again. A menu appeared with a list of document names and folders. “Don't open any just yet. Tell me how this works.”

“Grant built it to not just help me write and make word count, but to really plot and do character development. Stuff like that.” She gave him another sideways glance as her fingertips tapped across the keys. “See, you can start a new document like this.”

She showed him, along with the tabs and functions that brought up different databases. All blank in this case, as was the document she'd started.

“He's the one who called it GOLEM,” she said quietly as they both stared at the computer. “Grant had a fondness for myths and fairy tales. And he told me more than once, before the end, that he wanted to make all my dreams come true. Do you think that's what he was trying to do, Jase?”

He hated that she sounded so sad. “I don't know. Maybe. I've been on a few cases where someone who passed away had left unfinished business behind. Sometimes people linger long after they should've gone on. How long have you been using this program?”

Chelle hesitated. “Honestly, he gave it to me before he left for Arizona, but it was hidden. I didn't find it until about six months ago. How long ago did these odd things start happening?”

“Six months ago,” Jase said.

Chelle looked stricken. “It
is
me. It has to be.”

“Well, there's one way to find out.” He tilted the laptop toward her. “Write something.”

The room was filled with helium balloons.

* * *

Chelle sat back and looked around the room. Nothing had happened. They both looked at the screen.

“Do you do anything else?” Jase leaned forward to look at it.

“Well, I usually write more than that.” She frowned, looking at the document. “But otherwise, no. Not really.”

She laughed. Then a bit louder. She shook her head. Jase gave her a curious look.

“All of this is a little hard to take in, that's all.” She nudged him with her knee. “Right? I'm sure you're used to it. But I'm not.”

Jase grinned. “Trust me, every time I start a new case, there's something I'm not used to.”

She couldn't stop herself from touching his face, tracing the line of his jaw and then letting her thumb run across his lower lip for a second before she leaned to brush a kiss against his mouth. “Just making sure this is all still real.”

“Write a little more, maybe,” he suggested when she pulled away.

She did, spinning a little tale about balloons and rainbows and pots of gold. Nothing happened. With a sigh, she saved the file into the Works in Progress folder.

The room filled with balloons. Hundreds of them, multicolored, bouncing and bobbing. Every time one popped, a rainbow shot out, covering them with glitter. Chelle laughed, hands out to catch it, watching as the colored and sparkling bits of light cascaded through her fingers.

“Boom,” Jase said.

She looked at his face, cast in rainbow-shaded shadows. Glitter had settled in his fair hair. She brushed it off his shoulders.

“Now we know,” she said. “The default setting to save files is the drafts folder. But if I put it in that one, it happens. I just don't know how.”

He shook himself to let the glitter fall away. “We don't need to know. We just need to know how to stop it from happening anymore.”

She thought about writing good things. Winning the lottery, finding a cure for cancer, world peace. A roomful of balloons had been fun and easy and hadn't hurt anyone. What if she used whatever this was, as crazy as it seemed, to make a better difference in the world?

“Jase...”

“Do you want that responsibility?” he asked quietly, though she hadn't said anything aloud. “Think about it, Chelle. You don't know the limits of this. Do you want to be in charge of the entire world?”

She definitely did not. More than that, she suspected she wouldn't have been allowed to be. Jase might've kissed her breathless no matter what she'd written, but he was here to do a job, and that job was to stop all this stuff that had been going on.

“I'm going to delete it,” she said.

“The story?”

She shook her head. “No. The program. I know Grant wrote it for me because he wanted me to reach my dreams, but he couldn't have meant for it to hurt people. That's why he didn't give it to me outright—he was still working on it. He must've known it had issues. And he's gone and will never be able to fix it. I'm going to trash it.”

Jase looked solemn. “I think that's a good idea. But all your work...”

“None of it was much good,” she told him. “Besides, you do your best work in the revisions. I'll be okay.”

“Trash it, then,” he told her.

Her fingers nudged the trackpad to position the cursor, then dragged and dropped the program's icon into the trash. She waiting, expecting a warning or something to pop up, but nothing happened except that small crinkling sound that always occurred when she deleted something.

“Well,” she said. “That's that, I guess.”

“How do you feel?”

She'd expected a sense of loss. Months of work, tossed aside. Sorrow, certainly, at deleting something Grant had left her. Yet all she felt was unburdened. A weight, lifted. She twisted in her chair to look at him.

“I feel...inspired.” She grinned and put her hands on the keyboard, fingers resting lightly on the keys but not typing anything yet. “I feel free, Jase. Is that weird?”

“What isn't weird in this world?” he replied with a laugh and sat back in his chair.

Chelle laughed, too. “Maybe you can tell me all about it sometime.”

“So you can write a book?”

She pressed her lips together on another laugh. “You never know. Might be a huge bestseller. Romance sells, you know. Especially when it has a happy ending.”

“Would you say this has a happy ending, then?”

She leaned forward in her chair to offer him her mouth, hoping he would kiss her. “You tell me.”

He did. Sweet and slow and smooth, exactly what she'd been wishing for. His hand slipped beneath her hair, cupping the back of her neck.

“I think it's a good possibility,” he said against her lips.

His phone buzzed, not a normal text tone but something harder. Jase pulled away, leaving Chelle confused, eyes half-closed, mouth half-open. He pulled his phone from his pocket with a muffled curse.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“It's Reg. He says we should get our asses over to the beach. Now.”