Mystical Love (82 page)

Though surprised by the sudden quiet, Logan's fingers continued to wield the twisted knob of the canister, making sure that no fried wires had a chance of reigniting. It only took a scant ten seconds for the small fire to be totally put out, and another five seconds for Sonny to realize that her father's killer, a skillful hunter, had made sure the mice didn't come away with any of the cheese.

Smoke teased her nostrils a few seconds longer, and then, hearing the canister hit the floor with a crash, Sonny sank into her chair again. All remnants of her computer had been turned to melted mush. The clues inside were now nothing, at least nothing that could be traced from this location. Their hunter had put them back at square one.

On the other side of the console, Logan shoved the fire extinguisher with his toe. It scraped loudly, a perfect mirror to Sonny's thoughts.

“The bastard should be shot,” Logan said. “Preferably twice.”

She heard a sudden, rapid tapping on the door.

“Your sandwiches, querida,” Consuela called through the glass panes. Sonny started to send her away, but Logan's growl brought her attention back to him. A second rap sounded on the door. “
Señorita
, I bring food.”

“The computer was triggered with a shut-down,” Logan said, ignoring Consuela's third hammering. “Who has access to this room?”

“No one,” Sonny said tartly. “This is my home. Besides, the shutdown was done remotely.”

“How the hell did you discern that?”

She waved her gloved fingers at him. “This is how.” She ripped off her glove and skimmed the fried wires. “I can sense the shutdown didn't come from this computer.” She donned her glove again. “And now, thanks to our hit man, we haven't a chance in hell of proving who murdered Daddy today. We'll have to wait and use the main bungalow computer when Dick releases it.”

Even as she said the words, Consuela pounded on the door again, this time yelling in a voice laced with panic. “
Señorita
Sonny, mi querida!”

The shaking of the doorknob vibrated through the floor beneath their feet; however, neither of them moved to let the housekeeper in.

“I wish to hell we'd thought to print out the clues right away,” Logan said.

Hearing his heartfelt declaration, a lump rose in Sonny's throat. She was the one who was sorry. Her problems had put his life in danger. He forestalled any comment from her by chanting ominously:

“Three blind mice, three blind mice, see how they run, see how they run … ”

“That isn't funny,” Sonny chided, shivering.

“Neither is burning to death,” Logan said, finally moving to the French doors to let the housekeeper in. Consuela's pounding became intense, and to Sonny's horror, a fire alarm activated.
Good grief!
Consuela had hit the police emergency button.

Frowning, Ned entered the hypnotherapy chamber, his focus on Logan Reed's sudden arrival. The man was a stupid bastard if he thought he could protect Sonny from her destiny. No one could stop the hands of time or the plan in motion—especially not a Meta Corps agent. Ned snickered, and the sound bounced off the walls of the empty room. It would be a pleasure to abduct Sonny from under Reed's nose. He'd never find her in the dark abyss Ned would be sending her to. In fact, when he was finished scrambling her brain, he'd focus on her body. She'd give him weeks of pleasure before he killed her, and he'd make sure he didn't leave a trail a bastard like Logan Reed could follow. The timing would have to be perfect, though. One false step and his abduction plans would come crashing down.

Sinking into his console chair, Ned continued to fuel his anger. Logan Reed was an unexpected complication. He had already managed to impress Cutter with his Meta Corps badge and credentials. And if he actually had managed to impress Sonny, well, it would be hell to short-circuit their partnership.

Remembering Sonny's declaration that she enjoyed being kissed by the bastard, Ned's jealousy flared anew. It didn't matter how many times the pair kissed. His lips would be the last she tasted. Love wasn't in the cards for her—only a brief life as his plaything.

Shifting his attention to the console, Ned booted up the machines in front of him, and then, rising, he removed a headpiece from a robotic crane arm. He set the piece down on the seat of the room's client chair. Too bad he'd had to kill David so soon. The man had been good to him over the years. But the wily bastard had brought his own demise. He had found Ned's Pandora tape, been appalled by what he had seen on the disc, and then threatened to reveal everything to Sonny first—then to the world. Well, now he wouldn't have a chance to breathe a word of what he knew to anyone. The secret had gone with him to his grave.

In the distance, Ned heard a police siren wail, followed by the shrill whine of a fire engine. It was obvious the shutdown at the hacienda had occurred. The security team was en route.

Lifting his wrist, Ned checked the time. His last appointment of the day would be here in less than ten minutes. No time to seize Sonny today. Lady Luck had chosen to delay her capture for another day. There'd be another chance to abduct her, though. All one had to do was wait for it. Carpe diem! Seize the day!

Swinging about, Ned headed back to the console; however, before he reached it, the lab door swung open. Margie Hunt shuffled through the door, dressed in a strapless tank top and jean shorts. The energy surrounding her frame sizzled with her apparent excitement.

“I know I'm early, Dr. Chalmers, but this morning's session was so invigorating, I couldn't wait to feel that way again.”

Ned signaled her to the chair. “Then why wait? Let's get right to it.”

She climbed into the chair rapidly, and then, settling into a comfortable posture, she donned the green headpiece and matching headphones.

In seconds, Ned had ramped up the power system and taken his place at the console.

“Close your eyes, and breathe deeply. We'll start by counting backward from twenty.”

She complied, and soon, she was answering a taped question. “And where are you now?”

“I'm in your bedroom. We're about to make love.” She gave a breathless pant. “You're slipping off my clothes.”

Ned flipped off the tape, rose from the console, and approached Margie's chair. The woman was completely under, with no conscious thought of her surroundings.

“And now what are we doing?” he asked, studying her glowing face.

“We're naked. We're kissing.” Her breathing revved up, and Ned reached out and tugged her tank top down. Her large breasts bounced free, the material sliding under and catching. Seeing a pair of large, dusky nipples, Ned inhaled sharply. The woman had breasts to give any man a raging hard-on. Luckily, today, he was that man.

“And where are we now?” he asked, hitting the “recline” button on the chair.

“We're on the bed.”

The chair slid back, and Ned lowered the arms, locking them into place under the seat. “And what do you want?” he asked.

Her voice became euphoric. “I want you to make love to me.”

“Done,” Ned said.

He began unzipping his pants.

• • •

Standing in the doorway, Sonny watched the security team rummage through the melted debris.

“You cold?”

She jumped, startled to find a lacy shawl being dropped across her shoulders. Tucking it around her, Sonny glanced up at Logan's face. “I'm freezing.”

“And fighting off the urge to go in there and touch the wires so you can see who wants you dead, I bet,” Logan added.

“It's too late for that. Nobody could possibly sense anything but smoke and charred ash.” Sonny pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. An unexpected heat washed across her face, and she bit down the urge to prove Logan right. She would have liked nothing better than to shove the evidence team aside and sift through the embers of the fire with her fingers. She had the overwhelming sense that the Tower card lying on the coffee table signaled the total destruction of the hacienda, not just one little computer.

“You're shivering,” Logan remarked. “Are you getting some kind of supernatural message I need to know about?”

Whipping her head around, Sonny smiled at him. “No, I was thinking how lucky we were that he doesn't want me dead yet.”

“He'll be back,” Logan countered. “He's already made the card with the Tower image come to pass. I hope this is the only thing designed to rock your world.” He let his gaze graze his slacks and then brushed at a foam stain near his groin. “He's a wily bastard, I'll give him that.”

Flashbulbs lit up the room, startling them both. They shifted their gazes, spotting the lieutenant's tall figure motioning to them from the bottom of the staircase. Descending, Sonny was the first to greet him. “Anything?”

He gave her a brief hug. “Are you hurt?”

“No. We're fine.”

The lieutenant's gaze found Logan. “What the hell is going on with you two?” he asked, turning back to Sonny. “It's as if, together, you are a magnet for trouble.”

Sonny shivered at his words. If only Dick knew what they knew. He would not only think they were magnets for trouble, he would
swear
to it. Her gaze found Logan's, and she saw the clear, almost imperceptible, shake of his head. He knew she was thinking of spilling every detail of Pandora. And he didn't want her to. Why? No answer came, thanks to her uncle's voice shattering the air.

“What the bloody hell is going on here?” He strode into the room. Reaching the middle of the carpet, he took one look at the cluster of uniforms upstairs and gave a fractured growl. Here it was again, that growl Sonny knew so well. It indicated an explosion was on the way. She braced herself for the worst as he took a step towards her.

“You know bloody well that when something goes wrong here, you are to call me first, Sonny.”

“Lighten up, Fletcher,” Logan commented, stepping in front of Sonny. “And change your tone. I don't like it.” Hearing the rebuke, Sonny moved away, dropping onto the nearby sofa. It was best to retreat when men resorted to high levels of testosterone. Why couldn't they just bypass the macho crap and talk to one another?

To her amazement, no explosion came from either man. Instead, her uncle appeared baffled by Logan's complete shift of attention to the lieutenant.

“Sonny was in the middle of checking the daily financials, when the computer caught fire. We managed to hose down the wires and halt any major damage to the room, but Consuela panicked and hit the fire alarm button.”

The lieutenant eased his stance, but not the bite in his tone. “You're lucky the entire hacienda didn't burn down with you three in it.”

“It was a minor fire, Dick,” Sonny advised. “Easily handled. However, Consuela did the right thing in hitting the alarm.”

The lieutenant studied her face, attempting to read it for any hint of a lie.

“Was it an attempt on Sonny's life this time?” he asked Logan.

“Most likely—or a damn fine scare tactic,” Logan replied.

“Bloody hell, Reed, you're out of line,” Brad snarled. He ignored the immediate glare sent his way, and Sonny winced as he turned and joined her on the sofa. He took her hand and raised it to his lips. “How are you really feeling?”

“Shaky. But you should thank Logan, Uncle Brad, not growl at him. He acted quickly in putting out the fire. If it had spread to the other computers, it could've been a lot worse.”

Schooling his features, her uncle made a weak apology to the man now standing alongside the couch. “Sorry, Reed. When it comes to anyone harming Sonny, I see red.”

Logan ignored the apology, turning back to the lieutenant, who was in the midst of jotting something on his notepad.

“The killer must think David told something to Sonny before he was killed,” Logan said. “It must've been pretty damn important.” He jerked his head towards the computer room. “Your men aren't going to find any evidence up there. Sonny sensed the fire was detonated remotely.”

The lieutenant's gaze canvassed the second floor overhang. “What the hell was he looking to cover up?”

Sonny started to say, “Pandora,” but stopped her runaway tongue. No one but she and Logan knew about Pandora. Should they confide in Dick? Legally, she knew they should. They were withholding pertinent information in a murder investigation, and if found out, they could be held liable themselves. She glanced at Logan. Why had he chosen to mention her sensing the detonation? It made no sense.

Seeing the strained expression clouding his face, she decided it was important to do everything in her power to convince him to give up Pandora to the police. She couldn't let him sacrifice his life or career for Blake Industries, especially since she was coming to depend on him so much. She had to convince him to let her reveal her disturbing vision of the mysterious therapy session. Of course, they'd leave out the vision of them having sex.

She glanced towards the terrace window. It went against the grain of things to give Logan an order when she knew he couldn't abide being told what to do. But it had to be done. So, how did she get him to see it? She thought deeply for a moment, realizing their talk had better be soon. There was a cold chill stealing over her bones again, plus an overwhelming fatigue. Both were clear signs that her empathic skills were about to reach behind the fabric of her gloves in an effort to detect the truth behind things.

Another angry voice erupted in the foyer, and all eyes swung to the pair entering the front door.

“Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Ned. I am perfectly
calm
!”

Ned's flat, inflectionless voice made an autocratic reply, but to no avail. In seconds, Charlotte Fletcher was standing in front of the lieutenant, her voice laced with contempt. “Are you going to wait until we're all murdered in our beds before you take my brother's death seriously?”