Lost Souls

16

Voices chased Cait. Wails from the dead came howling. Whispers from uniforms and forensics techs combing a crime scene everyone was sick to death of seeing.

All bore stoic gray faces. Every one of them had known Sam. Everyone had liked and respected him. And because of their respect for him, they gave her peace, working quietly, their gazes never lingering long.

Cait didn’t know if she could have held it together if they hadn’t given her space.

As it was, Leland hovered over her from the moment he pulled her from the room, rubbing her back, offering her his condolences in a broken voice, and then shouting at everyone around them to “hurry the fuck up.”

Covering her ears, Cait shivered like a leaf in a gale. All blood had drained from her head, leaving her faint. Her fingers felt ice-cold. When Leland offered to drive her home, she stared, wondering where that might be. But she’d nodded her acceptance, only because she didn’t have the strength to argue.

She wished he’d just dropped her off at her door instead of following her inside and making her tea, looking as though he was prepared to stay when all she wanted was for him to leave.

When at last she’d issued her request in a scratchy voice, he sank on a knee beside the kitchen chair where she sat, her hands wrapped around her hot mug. The voices were a staticky, torrential hum, filling her head. She had to look at his mouth to know he asked her if she’d be okay alone.

“Just go, please,” she repeated, and at last, he did, sparing her one sad glance from the door before closing it softly behind him.

She didn’t stay long in that chair. The moment she heard his sedan’s engine roar, she lurched to her feet and grabbed her keys, goaded onward by the voices, which only faded away once she pushed through the door at O’Malley’s.

Cait sat dull-eyed and silent, waiting until nearly closing before her father joined her in the booth. Her hand was clenched around the Nick the Plumber pen forensics had pulled from inside the wall next to Sam’s body.

“Why can’t I see him, Daddy?” she asked, her voice rasping and dry. She’d screamed so much after Leland pulled her out of room 323 that talking hurt.

The TV crew had been moved to another floor. Then Leland had locked the third floor down tight. No one in. No one out. Even the elevator was locked to prevent anyone else using it.

The manager wasn’t happy, but he’d stood stoically as Leland told him he was lucky the whole building wasn’t cleared.

Avery Lewis had remained calm, his eyes glinting with quiet anger.

Even Leland had lost all his bluster.

Cait had been herded past Mr. Lewis and barely managed a single glance his way.

The hotel manager’s lips had curved with the barest of smiles, confirming her suspicion.

He’d won. She’d lost all will to fight him anymore. Without her special skills, the flurry of activity and negative press would fade from memory. He’d be busy with bookings from every nut job and psychic wannabe eager to walk the hallways in hopes of a legitimate “experience.”

All he’d have to do was wait, and then he could resume his killing, carefully spacing the deaths as he had before to avoid too much attention to his killing field.

“Caitydid,” her father said softly, pulling her back. His green eyes gleamed with compassion. The harsh contours of his rugged face softened.

Cait swallowed the burning lump in her throat. “Why hasn’t he come? I tried summoning him. Used the same spell I made for Sylvia. But nothing happened. It’s dead quiet,” she said, then laughed, the sound more like a ragged sob.

“You giving up on Sam?”

She aimed a teary glance his way. “He’s dead. What else can I do?”

“I’m not the person you should ask.”

She blinked away tears, hearing what he said, but not understanding.

“You’re strong, Cait. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone?”

“All of us,” he said, nodding. “If anyone can find a way to make this right, you can. You have to try, or you’ll never forgive yourself.”

“Maybe summoning him is the wrong thing for Sam. Maybe he’s in a good place. Past the pain and fear.” She sniffed and fought against the burning in her throat. “You didn’t see him, Daddy. Every bone in his body crushed, twisted together like a pretzel with that other cop’s.”

“This can’t be the end for you two, Caitydid. We don’t like unresolved issues, and you two have plenty.”

Her lips twisted in a snarl. “Who’s ‘we’? You ghosts?”

“We O’Connells,” he said with a one-sided smile. “And what the hell are you doing here in O’Malley’s?”

“I didn’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“Not Jason or Celeste?”

Cait shook her head. “Jason would’ve, if Leland hadn’t been there. Hell, Leland would’ve stayed the night, but I couldn’t bear the looks he gave me. Like I was some poor, beaten little puppy. And Celeste, well, I’m not sure she even knows,” she said, although she wasn’t so sure that was true. Celeste’s sight was always tuned to those she loved most. And Cait, despite the fact she hadn’t been great at keeping in touch, was family.

“I don’t want to be hugged,” she whispered. “Not now.”

Paddy O’Connell’s solemn gaze reflected her sorrow.

“I’m too brittle,” she rasped. “If I start crying, I might not ever stop.”

“You have a key,” he said, sliding from the seat. He bent near her.

For a moment, she expected to feel his breath on her cheek.

“Use it, darlin’.” And then he was gone. Wisped away.

For a long moment, she thought about what he said, realizing he was right. She couldn’t let things stay the way they were. Couldn’t accept that she and Sam were done. Without resolution. Without him knowing he was everything to her.

Cait slid off the seat, eager to leave.

As she left, she didn’t acknowledge Pauly. Didn’t want him to say again how sorry he was for her loss.

Sam wasn’t hers to lose. Not really. They hadn’t mended the rift that ended their marriage. They’d only just begun to realize that living apart was only half a life, even though being together hadn’t been easy or comfortable for either of them.

Mention of a key, that other key, had made her heart spasm, remembering Sam’s quiet refusal to accept hers. But that wasn’t the one her father had been talking about. Cait felt in her pocket for Morin’s key. One that didn’t actually fit any particular lock but which granted her access to his domain.

She wouldn’t be seeking solace from him. Couldn’t betray Sam like that, even if he was dead. But Morin might help her find some answers.

Even defeated, so empty she felt like a hollow shell, she still had questions.

Stepping outside, she hoped she hadn’t missed the last trolley run; otherwise, the walk to Beale was going to be a long one.

When she let herself into Morin’s shop, she found him sitting on the steps leading up into the library. His face was haggard, his hair disheveled as though he’d been running his fingers through it. But what right did he have to look that way? He hadn’t lost anything except a rival for her heart. Not that she’d ever let him back inside. Suddenly angry, she regretted the decision to come.

He stood slowly, his arms swaying beside him, seeming unsure whether he should embrace her but deciding at the last moment not to. “I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“You didn’t check my crystal ball?” she snarled.

“It needs charging. I didn’t see much past you running after Sam in that monstrous hotel.”

She was glad he didn’t make mention of the bodies she’d found. “So you know.”

His gaze sliding away, he nodded.

They stood in awkward silence until Cait swayed.

“You need a bolstering tea,” he said softly.

Blinking against the burning at the back of her eyes, she gave a sharp shake of her head. “I need Sam.”

Morin reached out to touch her shoulder, a tentative caress. “I’ll make tea. We’ll talk.”

Cait shook off his hand. “I don’t want to talk.”

His expression bleak, he nodded. “Then we won’t, but you need to sit down. You’re exhausted.” He began to turn.

“I don’t want tea. I want to sleep, Morin.”

Without looking her way, he asked, “Need a potion?”

“No, I want your bed. Someplace he hasn’t been. And I want to be alone.”

Morin swallowed and then gave her a nod. “Of course. You know the way. I’ll be down here when you awaken.”

Without another word, Cait trudged past him, making her way behind the books to the iron spiral staircase that led upward to his bedroom. She’d been there twice before. Once when she’d asked him to take her virginity. The last time, to draw down the moon while she stood in his arms, the details of which she’d shared with Sam, knowing he’d find her actions hard to forgive.

And this was the place she’d been drawn to. Cait shook her head, not understanding herself but knowing she couldn’t sleep anywhere she’d have reminders of what she’d lost. Not her bed. Not Sam’s. Surrounded by his scent, she’d have cracked.

All she wanted was to sleep and forget the images that bombarded her over and over—his strong arms braced in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at the last moment. The empty hall. The remnant spark. The twisted, blackened husks stuffed into the wall.

Cait sat on the edge of Morin’s sumptuous mattress and toed off her boots. Fully clothed, she crawled into the center and lay down on her back, staring at the dark ceiling and the window of the skylight where a full moon shed beams to brighten his chamber.

Only then did she let her mind wander. She remembered the first day she and Sam had met. He’d transferred in from vice. Although she’d seen him a time or two, crossing paths on investigations, she’d never paid him any attention until she’d raised her hand to shake his.

“Cait O’Connell.” She dropped her hand instantly, made uncomfortable by the warmth of his strong hands.

“Sam Pierce.” He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck and stared at the two desks shoved together, hers and Henry’s, but now theirs. “Leland gave me a brief summary of the cases you’re currently working on.”

She raised her chin. “Along with a warning about me, right?”

His smile had been slow. And she’d liked the instant heat that had gleamed in his blue eyes. His gaze had matched his name. Piercing. Knowing. He’d sensed trouble from the start but hadn’t been the least put off.

Tears seeped from her eyes. She was aware, but too enmeshed in her memories to care. Their first kiss had happened by accident. They’d just closed another case, handing it off to a pleased DA. She’d invited him to join her at O’Malley’s to celebrate.

He’d seemed amused at how well known she was among the patrons.

Pauly had served her favorite scotch before even asking him for his order.

“This was my dad’s favorite place,” she explained.

He knew who her dad was. Every cop knew the names of their fallen heroes. The fact her father’s luster didn’t pass to her made him curious.

Rather than let him find out from the gossips, she said, “I get the strange cases. The full-moon ones.”

“Why’s that?”

“Low woman on the totem pole?”

“Leland said you had a knack for strange.”

She grimaced. “Leland doesn’t like me much.”

A dark brow arched. A half-smile curved his firm mouth. “I think he likes you, but you’re giving him an ulcer. He liked your dad. Maybe since they worked together in the early days, he thinks he has a duty to set you on the right path.”

She wrinkled her nose. “And there’s the problem. I couldn’t find the right path if it waited at my front door.” She shrugged. “I seem to attract weird.”

Sam’s white teeth flashed. “Why do I feel insulted?”

Her gaze darted to his. “You’re attracted?”

His mouth firmed. “We’re partners. Can’t happen. We’d be reassigned.”

His response set her girlie parts into mild arousal. He could have given a flat “no.”

“Leland might not care—if we kept things on the down low,” she said, dropping her voice into what she hoped was a sultry whisper. “No one else wants to work with me. Why do you think he had to bring you in?”

He finished his drink. “Can I drop you home?”

Cait nodded, mildly insulted he hadn’t responded to her flirting, and disappointed he was letting some pesky rule get in the way of their exploring where their mutual attraction might lead.

Outside, he held the passenger door open, a gesture that was odd given he’d never done that for his partner before. He’d never done a thing to concede to her femininity.

Cait paused, the door separating their bodies. He held so still she worried they’d never be comfortable with each other again. The secret was out. Suppressed desire would only flare hotter. They’d grow more testy with each other the longer they ignored what simmered between them.

Rather than sliding into the car, she rose on tiptoe and leaned against the door to plant a kiss right on his mouth.

Sam didn’t respond. His eyes glittered with quiet fury. An action that inexplicably turned her on even more. Opening her mouth against his, she licked the hard line where his lips met.

Their eyes remained open. Her unspoken challenge was answered by the narrowing of his midnight eyes.

Cait bit his bottom lip.

A chuckle shook his chest. Then his hands rose to cradle her cheeks, a tender gesture that fueled the flame licking at her skin.

Two minutes later, they were wrestling to remove her trousers and shoes in the backseat of his car. She rose over him, straddling his waist. Not until she slid down his cock did they both pause, shocked by the overwhelming arousal that had guided their every move.

“We’ll get this out of our systems,” she said, gliding slowly up, then down.

His hands clamped on her bottom, forcing her to move at a more urgent pace. He leaned up to rub his lips against the pulse throbbing at the side of her neck. “Tomorrow, this never happened,” he growled.

“Agreed,” she said, then groaned because she knew the statement was a lie. Moisture seeped from inside her, easing her movements. She’d never felt like this. Driven, greedy, desperate to claim every thick inch.

After Morin, men hadn’t interested her much, because she’d known they wouldn’t measure up to the memory of the one glorious night they’d shared. But Sam was different.

“You’re so damn tight,” he muttered. “Christ, when’s the last—”

“Shut up,” she said. She hadn’t made love with a man since Morin, and with him, only once. She didn’t want that memory intruding.

Then she couldn’t hold that thought long because sturdy, hung-like-a-god Sam was moving her again, his grip so strong that even though she was on top, he was completely in charge.

Lord, she loved it, wished the rest of their clothes were gone. Caution, the fear of being discovered coupling in a car, two cops fucking like teenagers, was the last thing she was worried about.

How fast could he bring her to orgasm? Now that was a question worth pondering. She kissed him, her hands on his shoulders as she pressed up and down, trying to fight the slower rhythm he wanted. “More, Sam. Faster, God, please.”

“Baby, keep making noises like that and I won’t be able to wait.”

“Who’s asking you to?”

His laugh was husky. “We’re gonna get arrested.”

“Leland’ll have my ass. Be worth every embarrassing minute.” A moan escaped her lips.

And then he slid a hand between their bodies, his broad palm covering her hipbone to hipbone. One calloused pad slid into the top of her folds, rasping her clit.

Cait’s head jerked back; her body went limp. Impaled on his cock, her hips sliding forward and back, grinding her sex against his, she let go, letting the pleasure wash through her, wave after endless wave.

When she came back to herself, Sam had her folded against his chest. His cock was still hard and pulsing inside her.

She lifted her head. “Sorry about that.”

His teeth flashed again. “That you left me behind? Selfish of you.”

They’d sat there, panting hard. And she’d known there was no way this was the one and only time they’d succumb to their longing. However, instead of becoming a distraction for their professional partnership, they’d melded together like a single entity, working like a well-oiled team.

They’d married quietly, telling Leland but not announcing the event widely. Although he’d made noise about splitting up their partnership, the threat was always “After you wrap up this next case.”

Until her past found her. And the voices that had been an ever-present, indistinguishable murmur grew louder and more distinct.

Cait had battled for her sanity the only way she’d known how. She drank, grateful for the peace the alcohol provided, however temporary. The deeper into the bottle she fell, the more Sam had drawn away, confused and hurt.

She’d been unwilling to share the reasons for her fall. And toward the very end, when the voices and drinking became almost constant, she’d been unable to keep it from interfering with her job.

The night a uniformed officer had been killed, she’d heard him calling her toward the shooter. When she’d found Orlando Cruz and drew her gun, she knew there was no going back. She’d told the truth at the administrative hearing that had followed the shooting, about how she’d found Cruz when no one else had known where to look, and damned herself.

Leland had pressed her to resign, to save her father’s name from being tarnished.

Nothing had ever been the same between her and Sam. He’d finally left her for good because she’d stubbornly refused to get help.

Cait rolled onto her side and curled into a ball. “This can’t be it,” she whispered. “We’ve just found each other again. There’s so much left to say.”

Footsteps padded nearby.

“Go away, Morin.”

“Not Morin, sweetheart. But you might want to be nicer to him the next time you see him.”

Cait’s heart stopped. Her head turned to find Sam, dressed in his dress shirt and trousers, striding toward the bed. When he sat on the edge of the mattress, she gasped, because his weight caused it to dip.

She reached out a shaky hand and felt solid muscle wrapped around steely bone. Her heartbeat raced, and she sucked in a breath. If she blinked, would he disappear? “How can this be? Is this real?”

His dark gaze steady, Sam shook his head. “We only have now.”

Her heartbeat continued to thunder inside her chest. “This is his shop. Time stands still.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Gonna stay here forever, Cait?”

Although she knew the lie she spoke, she said the words anyway. “If it means I can have you? Yes.”

Sam’s chest rose around a deep inhalation. “Morin worked a little spell. Drew me here.”

“A summoning.”

“Not quite. For as long as the candle he burns lasts, I’ll be with you.”

Cait drew a ragged breath. “No! It’s not enough.”

Sam swallowed, but then forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Baby, we shouldn’t waste time railing against what we can’t have.”

For as long as Morin’s candle burns. Cait sniffed, then forced away her tears and her denial. She offered Sam a nod, telling him she understood.

He reached and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I love your hair. Love the color, the thickness.”

“Love pulling it,” she said with a little smile.

As his smile deepened, his eyes wrinkled at the corners. “Yeah, I do.” His fingers wrapped around a lock and tugged. Then he smoothed his fingers along her cheek and rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “First time I met you, I knew I was in trouble. So much fire in your green eyes. So much attitude—every bit of it bad.”

She chuckled, surprised she could manage to laugh. Then her breath hitched. “I was groaning inside. You were too good-looking. A distraction. And the longer we worked together, the harder I struggled to hide the fact you turned me on.”

“I didn’t see you fighting it. Those glances, always so busy checking me out. Wanted to tell you to stop, but then I’d have to admit I’d noticed. Besides, I was doing my own looking too.”

Her strength returning, she pushed up to sit beside him. “I wanted you, but I didn’t expect to fall for you. We were supposed to be nothing but sex. Nothing complicated, but…” Her head dipped as her cheeks grew hot.

Sam smiled and scooted closer. “I tried to keep it light. But the first time I slid inside you, I didn’t want it to end. When you came apart in my arms, your orgasm was so damn beautiful. You were beautiful.” His head bent toward hers, his gaze lingering on her face. “I fell in love with you.”

“I sensed it.” Cait let a small smile tilt her lips. “I was afraid of things getting sticky. But you were always there for me. And you surprised me. Rough sometimes, but so careful. You gave me exactly what I needed to shake me up and pay attention.” She gazed upward, her eyes filling. “I know loving me wasn’t easy,” she whispered, forcing the words through a dry throat.

“No, you’re not easy.” He bent his head and kissed her mouth, letting loose a long sigh that drifted across her mouth and warmed her cheek. “I wouldn’t have respected easy. Our involvement wouldn’t have lasted. You kept things interesting, always changing. I never knew what direction you’d go next. Sometimes, the relationship scared me. Most times, it made me angry, but we both liked the results.”

They smiled, mouths close.

Cait’s eyes blinked to clear her vision. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Always.” He closed his eyes. “That candle’s burning.” Sam settled his hands at her narrow waist and smoothed up her shirt.

Although they trembled, she raised her arms and held still while he stripped away her shirt and bra.

He rose and removed the rest of her clothing, and then his own. When he bent again, she opened her arms.

Sam lay down beside her, tucking her gently against his chest. “We should talk.”

She shook her head, not wanting the real world to intrude. Didn’t want the image of his wizened, unrecognizable body intruding. Smoothing her hands over his broad chest, she drew nearer and pressed a kiss on the muscle right over his heart.

“I don’t want you going back there,” he said. “I don’t want you hurt.”

Again, she shook her head. “How can I just walk away after what he did to you?”

Sam’s eyes closed, and he drew a deep breath. “I didn’t feel much. Once I was hurtling through the air, down that hallway, I blacked out. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Stop.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat.

“I want you to know I didn’t suffer.”

She leaned closer and pressed her mouth against his to shut him up.

For a split second, his mouth remained firm, but then he groaned and opened, his tongue pushing into her mouth. He rolled over her.

Opening her legs, she welcomed him inside. As he began thrusting, their mouths moved in greedy circles.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his back, fingertips digging into solid muscle. He was so solid, so real. Right here. Now. How would she ever let him go?

A sob ripped through her.

Sam leaned back so he could connect with her gaze, his own softening. “Don’t cry, baby. Please don’t.”

His features blurred, and she blinked fast. “I’m sorry. For everything. For letting you down. For pushing you away. We wasted so much time.”

Sam’s eyes filled and overflowed, a tear dropping onto her cheek. “No regrets, baby. I don’t have even one. Don’t be sorry. You’re the strongest person I know. Stronger than me. You can do this. You can move on.”

Their hips moved together, the sweet coupling deepening. Sam’s body shuddered as he came, and Cait watched his face, committing his features, his changing expressions, to memory.

When he fell against her, he kissed her shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You always took care of me first. Always.” She caressed his jaw. “Let me give you this. No regrets,” she said, her voice thick and watery.

Despite the shadows around them, the moonlight filling the chamber, she knew the moment had arrived.

A golden flicker of flame shined in his eyes. A sad smile stretched across his face. He withdrew and then gave her one last look, filled with longing and promise. And then his body wisped away, lightening atop her.

Breath caught in her throat, she dropped her arms to the mattress, watching as he faded away.

When she was alone again, she didn’t move. She lay with his scent wrapped around her. Her tears slowly dried on her cheeks. Cait O’Connell sniffed once and then sat at the edge of the bed, reaching toward the floor for her clothing.

“I’m sorry, Cait.” Morin’s voice came from the spiral staircase.

She ignored him, finished putting on her clothes, and then walked toward him. Muscles heavy with sadness, she raised her hand and pointed a level finger at his chest. “I don’t accept this is over. You and I know there are ways. We just have to find one.”

Morin stood rigid for a moment, and then held out his hand.

She pressed her palm in his, accepting a firm squeeze.

She looked him directly in the eye. “There’s something you want, Morin Montague. If you help me, I’ll help you.”

His nod was short, sharp. “I’ll make a pot of tea.”