Rogan's heart slammed against his chest. He hurried to the bed and cursed when he saw her tied and trembling. He reached for his pocket knife and realized they'd never given it back to him. Someone held one out. He took it and cut the ropes on her arms, at her feet, then sat on the bed.
Her lids were taped open.
"Oh, baby." Carefully, trying not to hurt her, he gently pulled the tape off.
Her eyes slid closed and she shook. A bruise darkened her jaw along the left side of her face. He reached down and pulled her against him. "I'm sorry," he muttered against her hair. "I'm so damn sorry. You're safe now. You're safe. I've got you."
"R-R-Rogan. Kn-knew you'd c-come." Someone tossed him a jacket. He tucked it around her and picked her up, holding her against him.
"Damn, look at this," one of the officers said. They all turned.
"I said wait for the crime techs," the chief snarled. "You might be with the sheriff's department, but your ass is mine," he told the young officer.
Rogan though, paused, looking at what the brash idiot had done. He'd opened a door to an armoire. Inside were shelves. And on the shelves were jars.
Rogan didn't need to get any closer to see what the jars held or who they held.
Shaking and sick, yet relieved, he walked them out of the basement and out of the house of horrors. He didn't want to release her to the medics, but finally set her down. Cora wouldn't let go of his hand, so he merely glared at the EMT and told the kid-who couldn't have been more than nineteen-that he knew how to kill in the most efficient amount of time and energy.
The kid didn't utter another protest.
On the way to the hospital, Rogan held her hand.
Thank you, God.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead, brushed her hair back. "You're going to be all right, Cora. You're going to be okay."
She barely nodded. "You're here."
Epilogue.
Two months later.
Cora opened the paper and grinned. "Nice layout," she commented.
"You think? I don't know if Patrick likes it, but he offered to try the new layout and see what the readers thought." Rogan studied the paper over her shoulder.
They were in his house, the one he was currently renting, eating dinner out of the containers from Riggio's.
"I still can't believe you took the job. Washington Post for Sedona News." She shook her head and picked up her fork, laden with chicken marsala.
He grinned at her and touched her head, tilting it back. Leaning down and kissing her, he pulled back. "Rat race for the calm desert winds."
"No regrets?" she asked, softly.
"About moving here?" He shook his head and licked the seam of her lips. "Nope. I do regret the fact I haven't seen much of you in the last two days. How's Hanson?"
"Better today. Kyle said Hanson's almost back to his old self, but Kyle won't let him push it." She shrugged, threw off the guilt that still ensnared her when thinking of how an innocent person had almost been killed because of her.
"It's not your fault," Rogan said, brushing her hair back from her forehead.
"I know, it's just hard sometimes." Again she shrugged. "I just gave that same bit of advice to Lake."
He frowned and shook his head. "How is she?"
Cora took a deep breath. "I don't know. Says she's fine, but she still blames herself, questions herself, wants answers."
He nodded. "Sounds normal. Where is she?"
Cora grinned. "Taos, says she may spend the summer there, find herself, realign her inner spirit. Who knows."
"Think she'll ever come back? I thought Sedona was her home." He ran a hand over her hair.
"I don't know, Rogan. I'm worried about her, but she says she's fine and she'll keep in touch." She lifted one shoulder and stared at him again. "I guess that'll have to do. Lake is not one to be pushed."
For a moment neither said a word, the tense air settling into comfort between them.
"I've missed you."
"We've both been busy," she said on a grin, as he pulled her chair back and began kissing her.
He nuzzled her neck. "Maybe so. But we're in the kitchen now, and you know what they say about kitchens..."
He sat staring out at the desert night from the prison outside of Tucson. He had his trial coming up, here in Arizona. He couldn't remember where they said it was. Didn't care.
His lawyer said he was up for court-martial as well for an entire list of charges that he couldn't recall just now.
He sighed and closed his eyes. Where were they? His angels? They weren't watching over him now. Who were they watching over, he wondered.
Who was sitting looking at all those pretty, pretty angel eyes?
He smiled. One day he'd get out one way or another. And then he'd have them again. If not, he'd simply start over, find more.
Pale blue eyes. Sweet and innocent. Just waiting for him...
Jaycee Clark.
To learn more about Jaycee Clark, please visit http://www.jayceeclark.com. Send an email to Jaycee at jaycee@jayceeclark.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Jaycee Clark! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jayceesden/.
Enjoy the following excerpt from Arianna Hart's new romantic suspense, Dark Heat, available May 9, 2006 from Samhain Publishing.
"Well, Cassidy's not here. I think I'll head home. I didn't figure she'd be in a place that didn't have thumping bass or gyrating trendsetters, but it was a nice break from all the other clubs I'd seen so far." She took her purse out to pay for her tea, but Finn beat her to it.
"I'll get that, Tiger."
"I can pay for my own drink. Honest." Her teeth were clenched and her face was tight.
"I know, but I was raised to be a gentleman so I'm honor bound to pay for it. C'mon, I'll walk you to the subway."
"Let me guess, you're honor bound to walk me home too?"
"No, but since I didn't drive here, and it looks like my partner over there isn't going to be leaving any time soon I figured I'd head home too. I need to take the A train, how about you?"
"I'm fully capable of getting to the subway all by myself."
"Maybe I'm not. I need a savvy, independent woman like yourself to protect me."
Talia eyed him up and down with a brow raised. "Yeah, right."
Somehow the streets didn't seem quite so cold with the solid bulk of Detective O'Brien beside her. Finn. What a name. He reminded her of some ancient Celtic god. He was good-looking enough to be one.
Talia shivered in complete sensual awareness. She could smell him, feel him, and man oh man, did she ever want to taste him. She quivered at the thought of running her tongue across the column of his throat before diving in for a kiss.
"Are you cold? You're shivering."
Ha. Cold? She was burning up. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt this much hunger for a man.
"No, it was just the change from the cozy bar to the street, that's all." No, I'm not cold, I'm just thinking about attacking you.
"Yeah, O'Malley's is a good place to go for a beer and some companionship. They usually have a band on Friday and Saturday nights."
"I'm glad they didn't this time. My head is still ringing from the music in the other clubs I went to. I'm surprised Cassidy has any hearing left after going to those places night after night."
"What? You don't like to be smashed next to hundreds of other people, drinking high-priced, watered-down drinks and screaming above a thumping bass line? Where's your sense of adventure?"
Talia felt his laugh right down to her toes. Being with him was better than thermal underwear; she hadn't been this warm all winter.
"It's tough, but I can usually manage to hold myself back."
Absently, Finn put his hand on her lower back to steer her around a pile of garbage bags on the sidewalk. It was ridiculous, but she could swear she felt the imprint of his fingers through her heavy winter coat, sweater, tee shirt and tank top, straight to the skin underneath. Did he have any idea the havoc he was causing to her dormant libido?
Talia bit her tongue as they approached the subway station. How did he feel about her? When she was shielded, she could only feel really strong emotions. The regular play of emotions that went on around her bounced off her mental walls without much notice.
Her mother had taught her to keep her shields up at all times. Probing someone's emotions without permission was like reading someone's diary. You didn't do it unless it was absolutely necessary.
But would a peek really hurt? She'd just take a quick glimpse before she caught her train. He was going in the opposite direction, and she might never see him again. He wouldn't know either way.
"Here's where we part ways Miss Talia. It was a pleasure bumping into you."
"Likewise. Thanks for walking me to the subway. You can shine up your boy scout badge now." Without thinking any more about the rights and wrongs of what she was doing, Talia opened her shields just a crack-and felt nothing.
Nothing? She opened them a little bit more. It was like there was a blank spot where Finn was standing.
Duh. He's a cop. Shielding his emotions probably came naturally to him. Lots of people who worked in human services-firefighters, doctors, and nurses-had natural shields. They needed the protection to survive the emotional wringer of their jobs day in and day out.
Well, that's what she deserved for trying to sneak a peek anyway. As she replaced her shields, a wave of need and anger hit her.
"Look out." Talia didn't have time to think, only react. She pushed Finn away just as a knife came arching towards him.
A kid in baggy clothes and a skullcap pulled low over his forehead waved a knife around wildly. Talia tried to stay out of the way and put her shields back up at the same time.
Her head hurt from the emotional punch she received, but she knew enough to get the hell out of the way. Finn was much better at handling this type of situation than she ever would be.
Finn circled the kid, keeping his distance, and staying light on his feet. His hands were up in front of him, but he didn't move in to attack or try to disarm the little thug. "C'mon kid, there's nothing for you here. Run while you can."
end.