Come Hell or High Desire (7 page)

He shrugged. “I’m sure it wasn’t me. Maybe you’re just growing into your powers or
something.”

She smiled slightly. “I don’t think so. Anyway, I wish I could have been more help,
but if anything else comes to me I can call you if you want to give me your number.”

Giving her his card felt a lot more personal that it should have.

She tucked it in her purse on the passenger seat and turned back to him. “Be careful,
okay?”

Her softness made him ache. He scraped his hands into his front pockets. “I have a
lot more to go on than before. I’ll stop by a few of the other neighbors around here.
Someone else is bound to have seen something. Thanks for everything you’ve done.”
Then he backed away from her vehicle and turned toward his truck before his fool self
asked her to stay.

Ann was gone and in a hell of a lot of trouble. He’d find her.
He had to
.

Behind him he heard Sloane pull out of Ann’s driveway. And suddenly he felt very alone.

Chapter Nine

Blinded in the storeroom after the dazzling sunshine outside, Sloane bumped into a
ladder, shattering a glass jar. Tori flew into the room, her voluminous turquoise
skirts continuing to move for several seconds after she’d come to a standstill. “What
the heck?”

“Sorry. Bright outside, dark in here.” Sloane grabbed the broom to clean up the glass.
Why did she come back here, of all places? She should’ve gone home after her pit stop
at McDonalds. She didn’t want to face Tori’s questions. But then, if she’d gone home,
she’d probably think about the way Zack’s eyes had all but stripped her bare. It made
her breathless remembering the way he’d—

Tori snapped her fingers in Sloane’s face. “Wake up! Benjamin’s guy was here hours
ago. I tried your phone like twelve times. Where’ve you been all this time?”

“What?” Sloane set the broom against the wall and dug in her purse for her phone.
Sure enough, the sucker was dead. But that didn’t make sense. “How the—” It had been
fully charged when she’d left her apartment this morning. Then she remembered her
mother complaining about technology sometimes acting up when she “worked.”

One more “con” to add to the whole
I’m psychic and I’m pretty sure this blows
list.

“Sloane!”

She started, hugging her purse to her chest like she was about to be mugged. “Sorry,
what did you say?”

“Did you get the rhino?” Tori asked.

Sloane’s shoulders fell. She tossed the purse on her desk. “Couldn’t find it.”

“No!”

Sloane nodded. “What did you tell Benjamin?”

“It wasn’t him. He sent a stick-up-the-ass assistant. I told him the rhino was in
the safe, but you had a personal emergency and were the only one who knew the code.”

“And?”

“His face got all blotchy and gross. He demanded that I call you to get the code.
Seriously, the guy’s ten pounds of shit in a five pound bag.”

Sloane smiled in spite of her churning stomach. “How did it end?”

“He told me Benjamin wants the rhino by tomorrow or he’s withdrawing his support for
the foundation. God, I’m so sorry!”

Benjamin’s ultimatum settled over her. She sank into her desk chair.

Tori spun her chair around to face her. “Maybe this is for the best. If he was Broken
Wing’s sponsor, he’d always have first dibs on making you miserable.”

“I knew that going in, but I guess I thought it was worth it.” This was exactly what
she’d been afraid of. No Ann, no crystal rhino. No rhino, no sponsor. No sponsor,
no foundation.

Her dream dead in the water.

She hung her head. The gray concrete floor blurred when Tori’s fingers touched her
shoulder. A ripple of energy flashed diagonally through her torso, scorching her hip.
Tori was talking, but Sloane couldn’t make sense of the words. A hazy figure rose
up in her field of vision, the lower edges wavering like its legs were on fire. Blue
flames tinged orange. Scents of burning hair and something else really awful polluted
the air. Melting skin?
Oh.
She was gonna be sick. The figure’s arms reached for her.

No!

Contact with her shoulder was gone. She reared away from Tori, tumbling backward in
the chair, banging her head on the desk. When she looked up from the floor, her eyes
refocused to find Tori staring at her as if she’d sprouted horns and a tail.

“What the devil was that?” Tori knelt beside her. “Seriously. You went somewhere else
when I touched you. I’ve never seen you do that before. Did I bring it on?”

Sloane pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. This psychic freak show stuff seemed
to go hand in hand with the tear factory. “Please, Tori. Can I— I need a moment to
myself.”

“Forget it, Sloane. I know you’re wigging out right now, but I want to help.” Her
eyes looked concerned, determined.
Excited.
“Here, get up off the floor, you don’t want a trip to the doctor’s office to remove
slivers of glass out of your badonkadonk. Now sit here.” She patted the cushy zebra-print
chair until Sloane obeyed, then handed her a can of Red Bull.
Extra caffeine might not be such a good idea right now.
But by the time the first sip slid down her throat, she had it a bit more together.
Tori sat silently in the swivel chair across from her. Waiting.

Sloane took another drink. “Sorry. Don’t know what that was all about.”

“Yes you do. Tell me.”

“Stop being so pushy.”

“I know you’ve got powers. In all these years, have I ever told another soul?”

Sloane squeezed the blue and silver can.
How to explain?
“When you touched me, I saw a figure…on, well…oh, it was on fire.”

“On fire? Like
burning?
A person?”

She nodded.

Tori hesitated, blinked. “That’s scary stuff. Maybe you’re having a breakdown because
you’ve been denying your gift too long.”

Sloane pushed back in her chair. “That’s ridiculous. I’ve known how to control it
for years. I simply avoid situations that instigate the visions.”
Which has worked quite well until a certain tall, dark, and melt-my-panties walking
hunk of testosterone stormed into my world this morning.

Goddamn.

Tori leaned forward in the chair. “Yeah? And how’s that working for you? Natural impulses
can only be under lock and key for so long before there are repercussions.”

Sloane snorted. “There is nothing natural about this.”

“You’re wrong, Sloane. It’s part of who you are, but you refuse to acknowledge it.”

She was on the verge of contradicting Tori when Carmen poked her head around the showroom
door. “Sorry to interrupt,
chicas
, but I need some help out yonder. Everyone and their gramma’s shoppin’ today, and
one old lady with nothing but sailboat fuel between her ears won’t leave me be.”

“Be there in a sec.” Tori looked at Sloane after Carmen returned to the floor. “I’m
not usually superstitious, but I have a bad feeling about all of this. I don’t know
if it’s any help, but Ann keeps a diary. She told me a few weeks ago when I was whining
about Teddy.”

“Why would she tell you that?”

“She said it was cathartic to write about things you can’t tell anyone else. I thought
it was sad at the time. She obviously doesn’t have any of the
if you’re in jail I’m in jail
type of friends. I didn’t say much at the time because I thought maybe we’d become
that for her.”

A diary? When would she ever find the time to write in it? Maybe she should tell Zack.
Maybe they should go back to the condo to look for it.

No. No way. I’ve fulfilled my obligations. Zack said so himself
.

“…and I think your instincts are telling you to be careful, too. Maybe your mom’s
gone through something like this. You know, when she was your age? Maybe if you talked
to her—”

“
Whoa.
Don’t even go there. Mom’s got the talent to go with the gift. I
don’t.
Besides, this is about Ann. Not Zack, and certainly not me.” Sloane stood and walked
to the mess at her desk where she shuffled a bunch of papers without really seeing
them. “Thanks for telling me about the diary. And for your concern. Be sure to let
me know if you guys need help. I’ll be around till we close.”
Figuring out how to plug the holes in my dream.

She sensed Tori’s eyes boring into her back for another moment before the door shut
on a soft swish. She collapsed into the chair and dropped her head in her hands.

She was under attack. In the last twenty-four hours she’d experienced more psychic
energy than she’d allowed herself in the last six years. Add to that the fact that
Benjamin had surely already dropped her like third period French. He’d probably bad-mouth
her all over town, too.

Horrors all around.

She should call Benjamin. But what could she say? There was no rhino in her safe.

She caught herself chewing a fingernail, staring blindly at an invoice on the desk.
Instead of seeing numbers, she imagined intense green eyes so old with their secrets.
What kind of life had Zack led? There was an edge under his practiced nonchalance.

Or was it hurt? Vulnerability disguised by a moody, bad boy veneer. Even without the
organ donor thing in the mix, he was one honey of a package. He had a quiet core of
strength, a straightforwardness, and down-in-the-trenches humble nature that made
you feel like he wouldn’t abandon you in stormy weather. And he certainly hadn’t.
He’d stuck by her through multiple visions when most people would’ve probably run
the other way or called the psych ward of one of the local hospitals.

She imagined the men who worked at Samuel’s respected him. That they gave him their
best, along with all their life stories—kids and anniversaries and family dramas.
He seemed to draw secrets and personal history from you without even trying.

Even as he, himself, remained a mystery. Because he sure as heck didn’t volunteer
much about himself.

It was another log on her Zack Goldman fire.

Fire.
Maybe that’s where that vision had originated. But why? What did it mean?

She reached for her purse. After taking something for her headache, she walked to
the bathroom, brushed her teeth, then gathered her hair into a ponytail. Looking for
something to tie it with, she spotted the gauzy blue scarf Zack had wound around his
hands this morning. She picked it up, the transparent material sending echoes of his
scraped, rugged fingers like whispers across her skin.

Her heart beat uncomfortably faster until she reached for her beat-up cadet hat with
the large pink dragonfly. Hats just like it had been among her first purchases for
the store, and had become a staple of the boutique since. She put it on and felt more
in control.
Smoke and mirrors.

Well, yeah, but right now she’d take what she could get.

Over the plain white sink of her utilitarian office bathroom, she regarded the gray-brown
eyes she’d hated since middle school and told herself that she had nothing more to
offer Zack in his search for Ann. She’d tried, but had only come up with more questions.

That was it, then. She’d have to steer clear of emotional attachments to the combustible
material that was Zack Goldman.

But damned if he wasn’t a fire she hated to put out.

Chapter Ten

Twyla Raessler opened the door to the home she shared with her husband and smiled
at Zack unreservedly. He returned her hug, careful of the growing bump at her waist,
and noted the increased pallor of her complexion.

“Where you been so long, sweetheart?” She grabbed his hand to pull him inside, and
moments later a powerfully built man roamed into the foyer. His knuckles caressed
Twyla’s cheek before he shifted his attention to Zack.

“Goldman.” Archie Raessler and Zack exchanged a quick handshake and half-hug before
Archie’s arm settled protectively around his wife’s shoulders. A flash of movement
on the staircase drew their attention, and Zack extended his arms to catch a flying
mass of six-year-old exuberance.

“Uncle Zack! See my cape?” Logan Raessler’s arms flapped. “Now I’m a superhero like
you!”

Zack looked into Logan’s vivid blue eyes and a lump jammed his throat. He squeezed
the boy to his chest, catching the brief look between Archie and Twyla before she
brushed at her eyes.

This family deserved decades together. He’d give Twyla both damn kidneys if she needed
them. No question.

He put his head next to Logan’s, inhaled the salty-sweet scent of boyhood, and then
tickled the superhero until he wriggled, giggled, and begged to be let down. When
Zack set him down, he scurried off to the playroom, his superhero cape billowing out
behind him.

Morgan floated down the stairs, examining a light green baby blanket. “Twy, you gotta
teach me how to do these bobble stitch borders.” When she reached the landing, Zack
laughed at the sudden blank look on her face.

“Long time no see, huh, Morgan? Didn’t see your car out front. What’d you do,
walk
?” he asked.

Archie snickered. “You know she can’t exercise, man, she’d lose a cup size.”

“Shut up, loser. You should talk. Married life’s making you soft around the middle.”
She lunged at Archie, but her pinch found nothing but the fabric of his T-shirt. Her
cheeks dimpled as she turned to Zack. “Since you’re burning to know, I hitched a ride.
Wanna know who with?”

Not right now.
He had enough to worry about without having to wonder who was carting Morgan around
these days.

Twyla grabbed his arm and steered him into the kitchen where he’d spent countless
hours talking, laughing, and learning what a healthy marriage looked like.

A safe haven where no one would sell him out.

“This is lovely being together so spontaneously. Are you hungry? Knowing you, you’ve
been too busy to catch some lunch again, right?”

“Right before I came, I stopped at home to let the hounds out. I grabbed something
then, so don’t worry about me.”

But within minutes, she’d slid a plate heaped with sweet breads, cold cuts, cheese,
and crackers in front of him. He smiled. “This looks great, but not as good as you.
You look beautiful like always, Twyla.”

Morgan swiped a piece of Colby off Zack’s plate. “Brown-noser.”

Twyla set a glass of milk in front of Zack, a pretty beam bringing some color to her
cheeks. “Hear that, Arch? Six weeks to go, and I’m still beautiful.”

Archie pulled her into his lap, his grin softening the scare factor of the jaguar
tattoo wrapped around his neck. “I’ve told you that many times, but do I get the kind
of reaction he does?”

Zack felt a curious pang watching them. He took a swig of milk hoping to ease the
void in his chest. An image of a leggy blonde sashayed through his mind. He scraped
the back of his knuckles against his stubbled cheek and looked up to see Morgan watching
him.

Forcing another smile, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “Glad to see you still
keep him leashed, Twy.”

Archie rolled his eyes. “Glad to see you up North. Ann all moved into her new condo
yet?”

Twyla moved off Archie’s lap. “I thought she would’ve called to keep me posted, but
I suppose she’s been busy between work and packing. I’m dying to see how she’ll set
up her new place, especially since she started working at Skinny Dipping. I love that
store!”

Zack looked down at his plate, his chest tight. The small hope that either of them
might know Ann’s whereabouts flickered and died. But was he really surprised? The
note, Sloane’s visions, and his gut all told him the same thing.

Someone had taken Ann, and things were bad.

He’d been a jerk. He’d helped Ann move in more than a month ago, and she lived only
a few miles from here. He’d meant to stop by. He truly had, but how could he tell
these guys that lately their collective happiness made him edgy? How fucked up was
that?

He glanced over at Morgan, who was now seemingly engrossed studying the fuzzy blanket.
She knew when he’d moved Ann. The hellion had worn out her welcome at Ann’s for three
miserable hours, mocking how he carried boxes, unwrapped dishes, and arranged furniture
until Ann had finally taken pity on him and told Morgan to lay off the wisecracks
or she wouldn’t get any more hand-me-downs.

So, she could have busted him. She normally lived for that kind of thing. Why didn’t
she say anything? He looked down at his plate again.

“Zack?” Twyla’s tone made his eyes prickle. “What’s wrong?”

Everything.
“It’s all good. Ann’s pretty much settled in the condo now.”

“Why’ve you been such a ghost, then? I thought she lived a stone’s throw from here.”

He pretended not to notice Archie nudge his wife under the table.
Tell them how it feels like there’s a hole the size of a meteor in your chest. How
you want John back.

Ann back
.

Her absence hadn’t started with the note this morning. They’d been close while John
was alive, but that had all changed when the EMTs had pronounced him dead on arrival
almost a year ago. Instead of their grief drawing them together, it had isolated them,
as though they couldn’t stand seeing their own pain reflected in one another’s eyes.
John would be devastated.

And pissed.

Zack rubbed his palms together, the emptiness inside him expanding until he was sure
that if someone yelled in his ear it would echo in his chest cavity. Archie’s eyes
narrowed.

“Zack?” Twyla laid a hand on his arm, and he almost came out of the chair.

Get a grip, Goldman.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’ve been super busy with the mall project. Two days to go until
we’re done, and in some ways I still wish I hadn’t won the bid. The Benjamin Group’s
a nightmare to work with, not to mention getting them to pay their bills on time.”

“Things pretty tight?”

Zack leaned back in the chair, willing his body to relax in spite of Archie’s eagle
eyes. “Yeah. Ultimately, this project should help us pull out of it, though I need
more jobs lined up. None of my people can afford to be laid off.”

Another thing that kept him up at night.

One of his foremen had a fifth child on the way. A supervisor’s wife had to have a
third round of chemo and even though Samuel’s provided excellent medical coverage,
the family’s bills were staggering, especially with two of their kids in college.
And on it went with so many of his people.

“I thought John always had good cash flow.”

“He did. I don’t know what happened. Ross is going over the books to see where the
holes are. He’s already found a few, so that’s promising.”

“Someone siphoning?”

“Ross seems to think so, but he doesn’t have any proof yet. If anyone can find it,
he’s the man.”
He has to.
“I’m lucky he’s stayed with me since John—” He couldn’t get the words out. But they
knew. Twyla reached over to squeeze his hand. When the ache in his throat eased, he
pushed the plate away. “It’s my own fault for not taking a more active role in the
back office.”

Archie sat back. “What, you expect to run the whole business alone?”

“It’d be nice.” How was he going to broach the topic of Ann’s disappearance? He looked
into the eyes of each of his friends. If he couldn’t trust these three, everything
he’d reconstructed his life on was a sham. “Ann’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Twyla asked.

He told them about Ann’s disappearance and the note, leaving Sloane out of the picture.
He wasn’t sure how to explain any of that. Nor his growing belief in something that
he would have ridiculed only yesterday.

Twyla rubbed her belly. “This is scary. Do you still have the note?”

He pulled it from his pocket and laid it on the table. Archie picked it up, and Zack
continued. “I talked to her last night, but she didn’t say anything about going out
of town or being unavailable. Has she talked to any of you about anyone she’s been
seeing lately?”

Morgan shook her head and got up to get a pop from the fridge.

“She hasn’t said anything to me,” Twyla said. “Guys ask her out, but she’s just so
shy she usually says no. I tease her that she needs a higher power to intercede to
make her bold. She always jokes back that it’d be her luck to fall in love with a
pastor.”

Archie put his elbows on the table. “Have you filed a report with the police?”

“Yeah, right before I stopped at home.”

“How were you received at the department?”

Zack interlaced his fingers behind his head. Being around Archie was like living in
a Petri dish. Couldn’t hide shit even if you grew fur. “Let me put it this way. Barnaba’s
been promoted to head up the CAPERS unit.”

Archie pounded his fist on the table, rattling the silverware. “No way, man.”

“A few months ago, I guess. Yay for me.” Zack downed the rest of his milk.

“What am I missing? What’s CAPERS?”

All three looked at Twyla. Zack tried to remember how much she already knew. Morgan
must have read his mind. “CAPERS is the Crimes Against Persons division within the
Criminal Investigations Unit at the Fargo PD. CAPERS scopes out missing persons. And
from Zack’s information, an old crum bum’s now the big dog.”

“Crum bum?”

“
Enemy.
” Morgan spit the word out. “Barnaba’s the guy who sent Zack to prison.”

“That’s ridiculous. I know you guys haven’t always been model citizens,” Twyla said,
jabbing Archie when he snorted, “but you’ve proven to be law abiding for at least
ten years now. Isn’t a cop supposed to do his or her job, no matter who needs help?”

He and Archie exchanged a smile. He wished everyone could be as forgiving as Twyla,
but he knew Detective Tony Barnaba’s hatred would follow him to the grave. Thing is,
he probably deserved it.

Archie cracked his knuckles. “Zack ever tell you about Barnaba’s wife, Kasey?”

“Butterface bint.” They all looked at Morgan, surprised at her vehemence.

Twyla turned back to Zack. “No. But she’s the one, isn’t she?”

Zack stilled. “The one?”

“Who put that sad look in your eyes,” she said.

“You can’t read people’s feelings in their eyes.”
Unless they’re she-wolf eyes.

“You’re wrong, Zack. A person’s eyes are the proverbial window to their soul.”

Archie tucked his hand under Twyla’s hair to lightly knead her neck. “Someone said
Tony finally threw Kasey out a few years ago. Guess he found her in bed with her karate
instructor.”

Classic Kasey
. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore.” Zack got up to pace over to one of the windows
that faced Archie’s large workshop, the river, and their back acreage where three
dogs were rolling around like cats in a bed of catnip. He looked back to find Archie
watching him, his demeanor calm. “Bart Winters still work in the department? I know
he had access to the Motor Vehicle Database.”

“No. Bart retired a couple years ago. What’s up, man? What do you think’s going on
with Ann?”

“I knocked on a few doors in her neighborhood before I stopped at the station. The
police will probably send someone out to do the same, but I…wanted to do something.”
He paused and Archie nodded. Of course he’d understand. Archie had always been a man
of action. “Anyway, one of her neighbors is an old lady on oxygen who does jigsaw
puzzles on a card table in front of her picture window. She said she often sees a
white Lexus parked in Ann’s driveway. She also made sure I knew that the man who drives
it is way too old for Ann.” He could barely get the words past the ache in his throat.

“There you go. Ann’s probably on a weekend tryst.” Twyla started clearing the table
with Morgan’s help. “I sure as heck wouldn’t have informed either of my brothers if
I was planning a romantic getaway before I was married. They would have been hyper-protective
too.”

“I wish you were right, honey, but I think Zack should trust his gut and find out
who owns the Lexus.” Archie looked at Zack. “Winters is out, but I can ask around
to see if anyone else has any suggestions. Have you checked the hospitals?”

“Yeah. Nothing.”

“The gym, the office, the new store where she works?” After Zack’s nod, Archie paused,
his eyes steady on Zack. “The morgue?”

Dishes clattered into the sink, but Twyla quickly recovered, her gaze shooting to
her husband. Pressure grew in Zack’s chest until he felt as though he’d suffocate
unless he got outside.

He shouldn’t have come. Of course they didn’t know anything about Ann. He was on his
own.

“Don’t need to check the damn morgue. The police would’ve been more interested in
my story if they had an unidentified body floating around.” He strode over to kiss
Twyla’s cheek. “Thanks for lunch. Take care of yourself and those kids.” He nodded
at the table. “Morgan.”

She scrambled up from her chair. “Zack, wait! Do you want me to—”

He didn’t hear the rest. The door had already slammed behind him like a judge’s gavel,
sentencing him to stupidity.

Because, for better or for worse, he knew where he was headed. And she might not be
too happy about it.