He wondered where the future was going to lead him. Clipping his phone to his pocket, he grabbed up his files, shoved them in his bag along with his not-needed pack of cigarettes. He held the package and decided to hell with it. On the way up to his room, he dumped the pack-minus two-into the wicker trash basket near the front desk.

Rogan quickly changed his shirt, and called his brother Sean with the intent of filling him in. Sean, was currently working on gathering evidence in Los Angeles for a case he needed back in Baltimore. He'd planned to fly out in a couple of days, but thought he could swing up to Sedona for a day or two. Rogan figured he should tell Sean everything was fine, but something stopped him.

"Whatever you want to do, bro."

Sean laughed. "I've looked at all the old court records I want to for this stupid case. I need a break. I'll be there either later tonight or tomorrow morning."

For a moment, Rogan didn't say anything. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

Sean sighed. "This hasn't been easy on anyone. If I can help you clear your name, you know I'll do it. Don't be an idiot."

Rogan smiled. "Fine."

"See ya. I'll call you when I get there."

"Okay. Be safe."

"Always." With that his brother hung up.

Feeling better, Rogan shrugged on his jacket. His watch told him it was almost five. He didn't want to leave Cora alone to fend for herself. He'd spent most of the afternoon across the street at the coffee shop. Watched people come and go. Chatted with the owner, Monte. Stated his interest in Cora loudly enough so the weird guy-Chris-would get the picture. Hell, he'd even mentioned it to Chris's weird girlfriend who wore bared wire around her neck. Course he'd pissed the chick off when he asked her if she was ever worried about puncturing her jugular, but then he was also known for pissing people off.

Rogan spoke to Lake and her current-possible boyfriend. This morning, he knew she'd mentioned breaking it off with the guy, but then he'd seen them together for lunch. Rogan chatted stocks and politics with the man and then left the coffee shop coming here.

Now it was time to return. He wondered where she wanted to go tonight for dinner.

Cora listened to the police, spoke with them for a bit. And waited patiently while they asked more questions. She told them of the armoire, of the basement, of the colors she saw, little details they were digging for.

"Amazing, you can see all this, but have no idea what he looks like," Mesler muttered.

A headache throbbing behind her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose and then took a deep breath. "You know, forget it. I'm done. Figure it out on your own. When you can pull the stick out of your ass, detective, you know where to find me. Please leave." She walked back into the shop and saw Rogan pull up to the curb, climb off his bike and pull off his helmet. His dark brown hair shifted with the breeze.

Relief seemed to swirl off him, smoke through the air to wrap around her. She blew out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Cora glanced over her shoulder to see the two detectives whisper to each other as they walked back to the front of the shop.

"Ms. O'Donnell," Palacios started.

Cora merely ignored him and strode to the door, unlocking it. She had no idea what Rogan would think of the cops, especially after what he'd been through in the past, but they couldn't hide him forever.

"Mr. Duran, wasn't it?" Mesler asked. "I've seen him around here a few times already."

Rogan stepped into the shop, ran a gaze over her, then asked, "Okay?"

She nodded.

He didn't so much as glance at the policemen. Instead he stepped closer, bent his knees so they were eye level and ran a thumb between her brows. "You have a headache."

She couldn't help but smile. Motioning to the detectives, she nodded. "Yes, talking to narrow-minded people after dreaming tends to do that."

The thumb paused. "Dreaming?"

She patted his arm. "We'll talk about it later."

Those dark eyes not looking away from her, he nodded. "Yes, we will."

Then his attention focused on the policemen. He offered them his hand. "Rogan Duran, we met before."

"You know Ms. O'Donnell?" Mesler asked.

The woman grated on Cora's nerves. She wasn't only narrow-minded, but judgmental as well, or maybe Cora was just tired and having a really, really bad day.

"Something like that," Rogan admitted, putting his arm around Cora's waist.

Tired, she leaned into him.

"Thank you for your time," Palacios stated, then took his partner's arm and steered her towards the door.

Palacios paused and turned back. "When did you get into town, Mr. Duran?"

Rogan shrugged. "A few days ago."

"Reason?"

She felt his muscles tense, but he smiled. "Personal."

Palacios cut her a look and then said, "We'll be in touch Ms. O'Donnell."

"Don't bother," she muttered.

She watched as her door shut behind them, as they climbed into their car and the car sat for a moment, the detectives talking on their radio.

"They're running my plates," Rogan said, nodding. The hand on her shoulder lifted in a wave as Palacios turned and looked back through the window at them.

"They're going to be back very shortly."

"Because of you?" She turned into his arms and wished they'd met under other circumstances, that he'd just been a guy, and she'd just been a shop owner.

"Probably. They want to know who all might be involved in this." His hands rubbed up and down her back. "Did you tell them about your latest dream?"

She nodded against his maroon shirt, the scent of his dark brown leather jacket mixing with the spice of his cologne.

His nightmare of a past, became her nightmare of the present. Angel eyes, murders. Two strangers who probably shouldn't be...

She shook her head.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her.

She licked her lips. "I was just thinking how this seems to have come full circle. At least for you."

He nodded, his eyes intense, a muscle bunching in his jaw. She reached up and smoothed her fingers over the tense muscle.

"Yeah. And I can't figure out why." He sighed. "Or more importantly, who."

"Yes, the who would be helpful. I'll worry about the why later."

He grinned. "Ah, but sometimes if we learn the why, it'll lead to the who."

She thought about it. Searched her jagged memories from visions. But her head, already throbbing, spiked viciously with pain. She closed her eyes. "I don't even know if he knows why. It's just the eyes. That's why he takes them."

The hands on her back rose so that the fingers gently rubbed her shoulders and neck. "Yes, but why does he take the girls and women with beautiful pale blue eyes. If you learn that, please let me know."

One brow rose. "I'll let the cops know."

He tapped her chin. "Same thing."

"Uh-huh. I believe that."

She felt him kiss the top of her head.

"I'd planned to take you to dinner, but I think you need a hot, relaxing bath and bed."

He watched her as she stood there, pain-etching lines between her brows and around her mouth. She smiled but it held little amusement.

"Not tonight, dear, I have a headache."

"Wench." He slapped her ass and grinned as her eyes shot open. "You up for a ride?"

One brow quirked. "On the Harley?"

He glanced over his shoulder, out the window at his bike. He figured they had an hour, maybe two. He knew they'd run his name through the system and then they'd be looking for him and wondering why he hadn't come in to talk to them.

Rogan glanced back down at her and grinned, wiggling his brows.

"I didn't say on your Harley."

"Did I say you did? And correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that bike out on the curb, mine. So whether you ride the bike, or me, you'd still be on mine."

Her small fist hit him in his biceps.

"You hit like a girl."

"Shock. Gasp. I am a girl."

He pulled her closer and kissed her, teasing her mouth with his tongue. "Yeah, I think I noticed."

She shook her head and shoved against him, then grabbed her purse and turned off all the lights. Locking the door, she said, "Let's go. I'm tired and cranky."

He couldn't resist. "I'm told a ride on my Harley cures all."

She strode to the bike and climbed on. "You do know the only difference between cures and curse is a matter of misspellings."

He ignored that as he climbed on and revved the bike, pulling out and weaving through traffic with her holding tight around his waist.

His thoughts shifted from her to the matter he'd be facing very shortly. He needed to get in touch with Clay and see if he could find if the Feds were involved yet or if the local boys were keeping it between them and the state boys.

He was not looking forward to what lay ahead, but saw no way around it. He could hardly leave and let her fend for herself. He wasn't about to waltz in and make it easy on them either. So he'd stick, play the game, walk the line, make certain he didn't speak without his lawyer present and go from there.

In the mean time...

"How about take out?" he hollered over his shoulder to her.

He felt her nod against his shoulder then she leaned up just as he pulled to a stoplight. "Italian? Go left at the next light. Riggio's."

Half an hour later, they stood at her apartment holding bags of steaming bread, containers wafting of garlic and basil.

"Are your roommates going to be here?" he asked.

Inside the hallway, she grinned and tried to open her door. A door down the hallway opened. Rogan turned and there was Mrs. Kovoski. He grinned and nodded. "Evening, ma'am."

"That it is. Going for my evening walk."

He frowned and watched her limp over to them. Should someone her age be out walking alone?

She cackled. "Young people are so easy to read. Don't worry, I just walk the hallway. That way if I fall, I can yell and someone can hear me."

All he could do was nod. "Maybe you should get one of those little things that go around your neck to press if that happens."

She waved the idea away. Her gaze raked up and down Cora and she cackled again. "Good round of sex always puts color in the cheeks."

Cora's eyes popped wide. "But we haven't...that is we didn't..."

"Honey," the elderly matron said, waving her silver cane in Cora's direction, "you go as long as you did, the color's gonna last a long damn while."

She thumped and limped passed them. "Y'all don't have too much fun. And remember the kitchen is one of the most enjoyable places to have sex."

"Oh my God," Cora muttered, shoving the key home and all but dragging him into the apartment. She shut the door, then opened it and hollered, "Thank you, Mrs. Kovoski. Have a wonderful evening."

"I got new batteries. I will."

"Ohmigod." Cora shut the door and all he could do was laugh. Her face was priceless, shock, awe and curiosity shone in her eyes, in the way her brow creased, the lines around her mouth.

He leaned over and kissed her. "The kitchen is always fun."

Cora shook her head and set the packages of food on the kitchen table. "My life will never be the same. I'm happy with the woman I am, but feel like I suddenly need therapy."

He watched her as she set the containers of food on the table. He walked up behind her and leaned closer, trapping her between the table and him. He lifted her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. "Oh but, honey, didn't you know. All you really need is a ride on my Harley, it'll put lots of color in your cheeks."