Out of Mind

Chapter 11

Why didn’t she cry? Just break down and do what she felt like doing? Ben had grown up with a sister, and female tears didn’t bother him. You could comfort a woman in tears; Willow’s rigid face all but warned him to back off.

He continued to carry Mario. The dog had a worried look that narrowed his black eyes and made his whiskers quiver. “I never saw a dog settle in so quickly,” Ben said, hoping to crack the ice with Willow. “He’s worried about you, y’know. He figures you’re upset.”

Rather than carry on toward the shop, she took an abrupt turn at the next corner and broke into something between speed walking and trotting.

“C’mon, Willow, give me a break and talk to me.” He loped along beside her. “What’s making you so mad? The deaths, the reputation of your business getting dragged into the case or finding out you’ve trusted someone you shouldn’t have trusted?”

“A, B or C?” she panted, and skidded to a halt. “Isn’t that like a man? Everything has to fit into a box. Choose a box, Willow, and we’ll sort this little problem right out.”

Then she did cry, and Ben was instantly certain he wasn’t good at this after all. He pulled her stiff body against his chest and eased her close to the wall, while she clutched at him, sucking in sharp breaths, and he asked himself an old question: why did this pain feel so good?

“Let it all out,” he said quietly. “Relax. Let go, Willow.”

“R-relax?” Her voice got higher. “Are you relaxed?”

He gave a short laugh. “What do you think? I’m holding you.”

Mario seemed ecstatic to be squished between them.

Ben stroked Willow’s hair. “Let me take it all on for you. Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do. That’s what I always wanted, honey, to be there for you.”

She rested her forehead on his chest. “Did you ever think that might be part of the problem?”

Caution clicked in and he didn’t answer.

“You’re larger than life. No one passes you by without staring. Sykes is like that, too, and your brothers. Why is that? Big, powerful men attract people to them when anyone with an ounce of sense ought to run from you.”

“This could be good for my ego,” he said, avoiding the eyes of passersby. “But somehow I don’t think you’re complimenting me. What do you want to do next?”

She looked up at him, so forlorn she twisted his heart. “I want to make all of this go away.”

“Including me?” he said, knowing it was selfish to ask.

“Ben, when Sykes sent out his SOS, no one had died—at least the two people in question right now hadn’t. What exactly did he tell you?”

It surprised him that she hadn’t yet pulled away from him. “That you had admitted feeling followed and watched for a couple of weeks. He hadn’t identified any obvious threats but he thought you were scared. And he thought I’d want to know. I did and I do. Whatever happens to you, happens to me.”

She pursed her lips. “I can’t argue with you anymore right now. I’ve got to find Chris. He didn’t have anything to do with the murders, Ben. Believe me. I know him and he’s a gentle, free spirit. He’s even a bit wacky, but there isn’t anything in him that could be cruel.”

“You can’t really know most people, honey. They only show you what they want you to see.”

She looked at him as if he’d turned into a monster. “Do you see bad in everyone? I’m telling you Chris is a good guy. If he isn’t around, something’s happened to him.” Her green eyes turned sharp. “Ben, Chris could be lying dead somewhere.”

“With his skin peeling off,” Ben murmured.

“How can you say that?” A fresh torrent of tears caught the attention of anyone in the vicinity. “That is just cold.”

“Nope. Just a reasonable thought,” he said. Damn, but his mouth could have a mind of its own. “You were suggesting Chris could be another victim in the same crime and I agreed. But don’t worry. We shouldn’t buy trouble before we have to deal with it.”

“How long will it be before I see Mean ’n Green all over the news?” She sighed and shook her head. “If I didn’t need my business it might not matter, but I do need it.”

No, she didn’t. She needn’t work, ever. Being his Bonded partner would be a full-time job—he’d make sure of that.

“Why are you so sure you need the business? You could work for your uncle.”

“I’m independent and I intend to stay that way. You may not have noticed, but we came out of the dark ages some years ago. I don’t need busywork doled out by a male family member.”

“Mmm.”

“Do you think I could take working with Pascal every day? Do you know me at all?”

The sidewalks were drying under a warming sun. The scent of flowers overtook the aroma of grime again. The mood of the city was rising—too bad Ben couldn’t say the same for his own, or Willow’s.

Ben rubbed her shoulders, and muscles in his jaw tightened when she arched her back. “I know we’re still Bonded,” he said. “That isn’t something you can change. Sykes has told me it’s written in the Millet Book.”

“The Millet Book is a myth.”

“The rest of your family doesn’t think so, and I surely know what I feel whenever I touch you.” He massaged the back of her neck with his finger and thumb. “I’ve missed this.” He had even missed the close proximity of crippling sexual frustration. It was like a drug to him, and he didn’t think he could dry out again.

She gave a long shiver, then took Mario from his arm. “You should go back to your island,” she said. “Thanks for coming with me this morning.”

Hurrying, not bothering to check for traffic, Willow crossed the street, going back toward Royal. He winced when she almost walked into a bicyclist with a guitar slung over her back. The woman, wearing neon-striped knee-socks, Doc Martens, a cutoff painter’s overall and a lot of tattoos, yelled things ladies might know but didn’t say.

Willow started running again.

Following her at an easy pace while keeping the distance between them the same, Ben turned over his options. He couldn’t leave as long as there was any question of Willow being in danger, and she was in danger.

She turned to face him, waiting for him to catch up.

“Do you think I can’t feel you following me, Benedict Fortune?” she said.

“Whoa, Benedict? Even my mother doesn’t call me that.”

“You do know what we’re doing, don’t you?”

“Give me a hint,” Ben said.

She scowled at him. “We’re waiting for someone else to die. We’re waiting for the next corpse with its skin peeling off.”

He shrugged. “You always cut to the chase, Willow.”

“Are you taking me seriously?”

Sinking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he said, “I wouldn’t dare do anything else—” he wagged a finger at her “—and before you tell me I’m being flip, I absolutely mean that. What I want from you is a little cooperation. Together we can get through this thing and I can keep you safe.”

“There you go again. You’re going to keep me safe. Who’s keeping you safe, Ben?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”

Abruptly, she put the dog down at her feet. Her eyes were wide-open and she pressed her lips together.

Ben grabbed Mario up again. “Dogs are unpredictable,” he said. “He could decide to run in front of a car. He’s got to have a collar and leash.”

Willow stared at him, but he didn’t think she was seeing anything at all. Both hands went to her neck, beneath her hair, and she shook her head. Then she wrapped one arm around her middle, and he thought she gave a low moan.

Her eyes came into focus and she waved him away.

“What is it, Willow?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. What just happened?”

“Leave me alone.” She snatched Mario back and walked backward a few steps before she sidestepped to the nearest wall and leaned on it. “It is all about me.”

Ben’s gut tightened. “Should we get off the street?” He searched around, but saw nothing unusual. Then he deepened his sight to see the others, the ones who drifted among those who were physically present. The others, and there were never many of them at a time, were going about their business without expecting to be seen by people like Ben. They continued to search for a way back from the deaths they had not accepted.

None of them took notice of Willow or approached her. He felt satisfied that these were not part of the puzzle, a good thing since that would be a complication he would rather not deal with, given that he and Sykes Millet were the only ones he knew of who had the deeper sight, the third eye.

“You’re doing something,” Willow whispered, her attention darting from him to each person who passed.

“Not really. Tell me about your neck and what you feel.”

“I can’t.”

“Why? That’s ridiculous.”

Willow crossed her arms over Mario. “Okay,” she said, keeping her voice very low. “I don’t know who, but someone is watching me—all the time. And I get these feelings on my neck. Tap, tap.” She drummed the fingernails on one hand against the opposite forearm. “Like that only sharper and creepier. Almost like a stroke with little stings in it. No, not that… I don’t know.”

He felt a deep anger. He could tell she was telling the truth. But what did it mean? The type of elements that went in for torture—and Willow was being tortured—didn’t care about domestic engineering outfits. They didn’t care about the businesses of their victims one way or the other. But it looked as if Mean ’n Green had been targeted as a way to discredit Willow.

What made him feel mean was the idea of something touching her.

“Last night at the Brandts I felt fingers on me—on my skin. That never happened before.” She turned bright red and rested her cheek on the dog’s head. “It was horrible, the worst. An intimate attack and it came while I was talking to people. I couldn’t react or they would have thought I was mad. And it wouldn’t have changed anything if I suddenly said someone I couldn’t see was running fingers all over my body.”

Feeling mean turned into feeling murderous. Someone had touched her intimately? It didn’t matter how it happened, it happened, and he would find out who was responsible.

“Willow,” he said gently. “Let’s get you home.”

“I can’t move,” she murmured.

He looked at her closely. “Try,” he told her with a reassuring smile that cost him. “Come on—start walking.”

“I don’t mean I really can’t. I’m afraid to. The prickly thing will come back.” Again she reached for her neck and he heard her shallow breathing.

Ben deepened his sight again, narrowing his eyes to concentrate on the space around her.

And he tensed.

A small, gray-black, almost transparent thing darted from behind her head. Ben reached for it, but the shadowy object dissolved. He caught sight of its pallid shadow rising against the face of the building behind Willow.

In a whisper of an instant, he put himself on the roof and spread his hands to catch the phantom. Power pulsed through his body. He leaned out, horizontal to the wall where he could see the top of Willow’s head far below and people in the street appeared smaller.

This way and that he searched. He could only be away another beat in nontime, or he would be missed.

It, whatever it was, had completely disintegrated. That, or some cloak of complete invisibility had covered it.

He reversed his trajectory, put himself back a fraction later in the instant, and stood with Willow again.

“Ben,” she said, and her skin took on a transparent quality. Her forehead looked damp. “I think I’ll be next. It’s taunting me, but then it will kill me—just like the other two.”

Mario barked and Ben jumped. So did Willow. He had never heard the animal bark before. A ferocious attitude turned the little creature into a bundle of struggling legs.

“Cool it,” Ben snapped.

“He’s feeling something, too,” Willow said.

Ben knew that. “Yes,” he said. “But nothing will happen to you, Willow. I’m here and I won’t let anything happen.”

“What if you can’t stop it?”

Another surge of power pumped through him. He looked into her eyes. “I will stop it—if something tries to happen.”

“Benedict Fortune?”

For the second time today, the second time in perhaps years, Ben heard the ominous sound of his full name. This time, spoken by another female, it was loaded with reproach. “Poppy,” he muttered.

“Stop right there, Ben Fortune.”

His tall and very beautiful sister, with his brother Liam ambling along behind, approached with heavy footsteps. She noticed Willow, and Ben could have sworn Poppy blushed. But at least she stopped thundering toward him and her expression lost some of its fury.

Liam waggled his fingers at Ben from behind their sister’s back. Like Ben and Poppy, Liam was dark-haired and had almost navy blue eyes. The three of them came together, regarding each other with question, although Ben’s expression was a cover for guilt. He should have let his family know he was in New Orleans.