Mystical Love (72 page)

“There are still bullets in your gun?” she asked sarcastically.

Again, she found herself stunned by a sudden movement. Only this time, he stood up, moved into the open, and emptied his Glock into a tall line of fruit trees. Ducking her head, Sonny covered her ears, trying to stay out of the way of the back blow. In a flash, he was hunkering back down beside her and fanning the air in front of them. Silence descended with no return gunfire from the trees. Sonny lowered her hands from her ears, giving the man in front of her a sideways squint.

“How long have you been a deranged maniac?” she asked. “And why am I putting my trust in you?”

“Because I'm the best, Miss Blake. Now, since my gun is empty, there is no reason for us to stay under this canopy any longer, is there?”

“None.”

Sonny bolted to her feet, and in a flash, she was out in the open, heading for the stone pavers in front of the chapel. An angry curse followed her flight, but she ignored it, concentrating on the ground in front of her. The sound of heavy footsteps soon clumped on the stones behind her.

Gunfire erupted from the trees, splicing the ground in front and behind Sonny's feet. Dodging, she hid her face from the showering debris, expecting to be felled by a stray bullet at any moment. A hefty shove between her shoulder blades kept her from thinking about stopping, though. Rotten toad! What on earth had possessed him to think they could outrun speeding bullets? She was as deranged as he was for buying into that fantasy.

A sharp ping echoed alongside her heel, and Sonny doubled her pace. They were almost there. She just had to keep her eye on the steps. She counted the strides off in her head. Three, two, one ...

She hit the bottom step and dashed into the shadows of the chapel with a heavy pant. Logan raced in behind her, swung around, and slammed the entry door behind them. Hearing the bolt click, Sonny breathed a sigh of relief and headed for the first pew she saw. Once there, she collapsed against the back of the seat, thanking God, the Universe, and any spirit guide who might be listening. They had been oddly lucky. She stole a peek at the man dropping beside her and inhaled sharply.

“My God, you've been hit!”

Logan stared at the bright red stain saturating his left pant leg. Christ, when had he been hit? He heard a rip and then saw gloved fingers wrap a piece of black fabric over the red stain and tie it off. He felt a slight pressure around the wound and tried not to wince as a familiar burning sensation snaked itself up and around his thigh.

“I told you it was the height of stupidity to try to outrun a rifle. But would you listen? No. You had to continue—”

“It's only a scratch,” he interrupted.

“It could've hit an artery.”

Logan placed his hand over hers. “It didn't. It's a graze, nothing more.”

“Still … ”

The stained-glass window over the entry door shattered with a horrific blast, and the woman beside him scrambled to the floor beneath the pew.

“Is he following us in here?” she asked, peering over the seat at Logan. “He must really want me dead.”

Logan studied the hole, now filled with an expanse of blue sky.

“You would think the bastard realized we got his message after the first round of shots,” Logan stated. He caught Sonny's eye. “We
will
be dead, Miss Blake, if you don't tell me there's a back door out of this chapel that doesn't send us hurtling two miles down to the desert floor.”

Her lips tilted at the words, and she sprang back up to the pew seat. “You don't think Daddy would build a masterpiece two miles up and not build an emergency exit down, do you?”

“Don't be smug, Miss Blake. If there's an out, lead me to it.”

Seizing his hand, she hauled him out of the pew behind her, ignoring his painful intake of breath. She led him down the aisle and then angled to the left, where she dropped to the floor and attempted to lift the handle of a trapdoor. Pretending his thigh didn't hurt like a son of a bitch, Logan helped her lift the door and push it over on its hinges. He glanced down the dark shaft to a ladder bolted to the side of the wall.

“How far down does it go?”

“Not too far,” she replied, dropping to a sitting position and dangling her legs into the hole. “The shaft ends at a lighted tunnel, which leads to the private elevator on the south rim of the Loop.”

Logan caught her gaze, stifling a fractured groan as he thought of the pressure that would seize his leg the moment he attempted to descend the ladder. His look sent the smile from her face.

“She was ill, you know—the woman who shot you.” She saw his eyebrows rise. “She was suffering from a form of mental displacement. It happens after an empath has absorbed too many heavy emotions year after year. Your empath was unable to carry the burden any longer, so she looked for a way out. Unfortunately, she chose you.”

“You got all that from a vision that lasted only a few seconds?”

“Well, I am the best,” she said with an airy wave.

Logan grinned. “Tit for tat, Miss Blake. Now, we've more urgent things to worry about than old gunshot wounds.”

“Why our sniper wants to kill me?” she asked.

“No, why he was toying with you. If he meant to kill you, you'd be dead.”

Sonny shivered and then threw off the tremor. “I'll not give the bastard another thought. It gives him power over me.”

She started to descend the ladder; however, Logan halted her movements. “Let me go first. This ladder looks like it has seen better days. Can't have you falling to your death so soon after we've met.”

She made a face at him. “I know the shaft and tunnel. You don't. I need to go first.”

Logan swung onto the ladder quickly, forestalling any chance of her going first. He clung to the top rung of the ladder, sucking in his breath and willing his thigh to stop burning from the sudden exertion. He waited for it to quiet, and when it did, he looked back up at the mouse.

“I promise not to peek up your skirt, Miss Blake, but if I do happen to see anything, it won't be the first time I've seen two gorgeous buttocks.”

He started down the ladder, giving her no time to mount a scathing retort. When his foot hit the fifth step, he felt the ladder vibrate beneath his fingers.

“You better keep your eyes front and center, mister,” she warned from above. “The shaft is going to get smaller and darker as we go, and you'll need to pay attention to that. I just hope we can open the exit door when we reach the bottom. I don't remember if the latch has a digital lock or not.”

Logan couldn't keep a grin from emerging. “Where's your adventurous spirit, Miss Blake?” he mocked her.

“It's back with the whizzing bullets,” she muttered.

Logan's grin widened. The wench had a sense of humor, he'd give her that.
Another admirable trait in her favor,
his inner voice advised
.
As he took each rung, he wondered where the next attack would come from. There would be one. In his line of work, there was always a next one.

• • •

Sonny heard a swift intake of breath and wondered what was wrong with the toad. Was his leg finally giving out? Or had they reached the exit only to find it did have a digital lock? She halted on the ladder and whispered into the darkness below, “Have we gone all this way for nothing?”

She heard a measured grunt, and though she knew she should be reassured by the sound, she wasn't. If it turned out they had reached a dead end, she would begin sobbing like a hysterical teenager who had caught her boyfriend kissing her best friend.

Hearing a light scuffling sound, Sonny dropped two steps, realizing the man below her was stepping off the ladder. She could sense it through her gloves. And then she heard a light bang, followed by hands gripping her hips.

“We've reached the tunnel. Watch your step.”

Sonny took the last few rungs quickly, jumping to the floor in relief.

“Thank God Daddy put a string of lights in the tunnel, because I am never going to climb a dark shaft again,” she stated. “All I could think was, is he standing over the hole with infra-red goggles, prepared to pick us off as we climb down?”

His voice held amusement as it washed over her.
“
If we had one of those bullets, you could touch it and we'd have the shooter's identity lickety-split,” he said, brushing an open patch of skin on her shoulder.

“Did you just say
lickety-split
?”

“No, of course not. Your hearing must be slipping.”

“You better hope not. If I have to use my empathic talents in the dark, there's no telling what might occur. I might end up days ahead, or days behind.” She shivered uncontrollably. ”I don't relish having to relive this day over again. Do you?”

Ignoring the question, he turned from her, signaling for her to lead the way. She took off, focused on the energy surrounding his body as he followed. She had never imagined her contract with Meta Corps would bring her face to face with one of its agents one day. She had relied on staying in the background, her contract nothing more than an amicable handshake between colleagues. She had helped when she could over the years, declined when she couldn't. That agreement had always worked, so what had changed? The High Priestess Tarot card flashed through her mind. Of course. The packaged Tarot cards Meta Corps had sent her. Their arrival wasn't a coincidence. They weren't just about other victims. They held a message for her as well.

As if reading her thoughts, the man beside her took her elbow. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said.

“They're not worth a penny,” she replied, “but here's something that is. Nothing that occurs in my world is random. Everything has a place and a meaning. A plus B always equals C. Your being assigned this case is no coincidence. Nor were the Tarot cards you sent me to decipher. My interpreting them will be no coincidence, either, when we get to that place. Spirit never makes mistakes, you see, and it never deviates from the plan it has orchestrated once it starts.”

Logan clutched her elbow tighter. “How far is the elevator, did you say?”

“End of the tunnel,” Sonny answered, slipping around a corner and heading north. Logan matched his stride to hers.

“Humor me for a moment, Miss Blake. If what you say is true, and nothing is random, then the vision we shared back there was purposely meant to rattle us. And if, as you pointed out, my shooter skidded off the rails, how far can you push your nervous system now and not skid into your own meltdown?”

“Empaths do suffer from bouts of madness from time to time,” Sonny said. “And even though you'd like me to, I can't promise you that what lies ahead of us won't push both of us over the edge. However, we have one thing going for us.”

“Which is what?”

“Faith. I trust in my talent, and you trust in your logic.”

Logan gave a resounding chuckle. “I didn't realize you were such a Pollyanna.” He switched subjects. “So why did your father build The Sanctuary in New Mexico?” he queried, picking up the pace.

“Privacy, mostly,” Sonny replied, spotting a pinprick of light in the distance. “It was a chance to stay off the paparazzi radar. Since we cater to the rich and famous, it has given our family blissful anonymity.”

“Admirable.”

“What's not to admire? My father is a genius. He knows quality when he sees it.”

“And obviously knows how to sire it, as well.”

“Why, thanks for the compliment—I think. You did mean me, didn't you?”

“Don't fish for compliments. You know you have magnificent looks.”

She winced at the backhanded compliment. “Ouch,” was all she said.

Obviously seeing how fast the bright sunlight was closing in on them, Logan tightened his hold on her elbow. “You talked about learning lessons before. I sense my first lesson is going to be learning how large the security force at the retreat is and who heads it up.”

Sonny sighed. Why was he focusing on the practical when she wanted to focus on the personal? Ever since her mind had merged with his, she had fallen under his spell. He was so totally opposite her that a push-pull vibration had been created between them. It had set off a sexual attraction, as well; one that she could sense strongly and he couldn't. What would he do if he knew that she was hoping the Lovers card in her pocket signified a night of hot sex with him?

“Lieutenant Dick Cutter,” she said, finally seeing the end of the tunnel. Seconds later, they stepped into the sunlight and onto a cement patio housing an elevator. Sonny shaded her eyes from the bright light. Logan did the same. “After what just happened,” she went on, “we have to step up security.”

Logan dropped her elbow and then pressed the “down” arrow on a metal panel. When the elevator door slid open quickly, the pair stepped inside.

“I know you don't trust me yet,” Logan stated, as Sonny's fingers hit the floor button. “But it would be in your best interest to tell me what the card in your pocket signifies.”

“Wasn't being shot at enough to make the card seem pointless?”

“Not when you take into account that nothing is random in your world.”

Sonny's mouth tilted at the declaration. “Are you saying that there might be something to my ‘spiritual shit' after all?”

A scratchy growl emanated from the man beside her, and Sonny's smile withered under the drawl of his mocking taunt. “I'm hardly a convert yet. I grew up believing logic wins out over faith every time. So far, I've not seen anything to convince me I'm wrong.”

Sonny's smile vanished. “Well, I shall just have to try harder to convince you.”

“You can start by telling me about that Lovers card in your pocket. Is it a vague reference, or have you been dallying with a naked lover in some exotic garden of the retreat?”