Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3 (4 page)

“I’m hoping so. Especially since you’ve kept the place roped off.” He gestured toward the yellow ribbon. “You thinking of making this a permanent display?”

“I’m thinking of burning it to the ground.”

Shit. That was…extreme.

She crossed her arms and nodded. “Hurry up and get it over with. I don’t like being here.”

Finn felt his hatred of Michael ratchet up another notch. The bastard had driven Jazz out of her own gallery. There was no way she would have let this room stay as it was if she’d been around. It shook him to realize how deeply Michael had affected her. Finn didn’t want to keep her there any more than necessary.

“I don’t suppose I could get a little privacy?”

“I’m staying. Deal with it.”

His jaw clenched at his most hated catchphrase. The only thing about their breakup he had been whole-heartedly grateful for was that he would never hear those words from her again.

And now she was about to see him use his wonked-out powers. This night was getting better and better.

He would have to stay in control. He
could
stay in control. Repeating that thought, he turned back to the wall and pressed his hand to its cool surface.

Chapter Five

Jazz had returned to the gallery to try to set at least one corner of her world right. Instead, everything had been turned upside-down by finding Finn in the Cursed Display Room. That was what Jazz was going to call it forevermore. At least in her head.

Finn Connelly, the great love of her life. Who had kicked her to the curb before they had a chance to experience how great they could be together.

He looked like hell. Well, in an
I’m-too-sexy-to-do-laundry-or-shave
kind of way. The white tank top he wore under that ridiculous raincoat was rumpled and she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been wearing those same jeans for a week. His level of stubble was dangerously close to becoming a beard, and… She wanted to kiss him. Her skin burned from it, her heart pounded, and even her stomach seemed to be trying to reach out and touch him.

Just touch him…

Every part of her body was in agreement. But not her mind.

This was the guy who had broken her heart. He was the one who walked away. And she would
not
go crawling back to him. She wouldn’t beg him to take her back, no matter how much she wanted to.

Even obviously exhausted, Finn was the most gorgeous man Jazz had laid eyes on. And hands… And mouth… And…

Something was wrong. His breath was coming out in little grunts. He raised his right hand slowly, as if someone or some
thing
was trying to hold it down and he was fighting against them.

He punched the wall. Hard. Hard enough to hurt. She was surprised the drywall held. The impact propelled him backward, away from the wall. He ended in a crouching, fighting stance, eyes wild, glancing around the room as if he expected to be attacked.

Jazz knew better than to approach anyone standing like that, even before Finn’s lessons. She waited for his breathing to calm, his body to straighten and relax.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He didn’t reply. He seemed to be looking right through her.

“Finn?”

“Yeah?” He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I asked if you’re okay.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed. He put both hands on his face and shook his head, then dropped his arms to his sides and let out a huge breath.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Seriously? That is the biggest load of bull.”

He glared at her, but she didn’t care. He had scared her. She was sick of being scared for people she cared about, and dammit she still cared about him.

“What the hell was that?” she asked.

“That was me using my powers.”

“I’ve seen you use your powers before. It never looked like that.”

“This is a special case.”

No kidding. What had he seen that affected him so profoundly? She couldn’t believe that even an echo from the paintings would do that to him. Then again, she’d seen with her own eyes what Michael had done to Rachel. The mangled flesh on her wrists, the waxy cast to her skin from so much blood loss—blood
theft
.

Jazz didn’t let herself think about what had happened in that garage before she and the police showed up. She couldn’t bear it. She wasn’t sure she could stand watching Finn try to read the wall again, either.

You can and you will, if it helps him.

“Did you find what you’re looking for?” she asked.

“No.”

Her stomach sank. “Finn…”

“You don’t have to stay.”

But she did. She absolutely did. Dante still had multiple surgeries ahead of him. The bruises on Elsa’s neck had only faded a few weeks before, and Rachel was trapped in Garrett’s house until they could figure out a way to keep ghosts from haunting her. Michael might not be among the ghosts bothering her, but even the residue of what he had done was still hurting people.

There was no
fucking
way she would let Michael hurt Finn from beyond the grave. Not if she had anything to say about it.

“I’m staying. Tell me how to help.”

His mouth opened, then snapped shut. There was something she could do, but he didn’t want to tell her.

Typical. They had never really been partners.

She might not want a marriage contract, but she still wanted a companion. Part of that was having someone to lean on and part was wanting to be the one giving help. It had never been easy for either of them to ask.

“I’ll get it out of you,” she said. “You know I will.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “If I seem to get…stuck, snap me out of it. Just go for the left knee this time. The right one’s already taken a beating.”

He gave her his best cocky grin. She saw right through it. Still, that flash of teeth, all the memories that gorgeous fake smile brought out of her made her stomach flood with butterflies. Her heart was pounding again and heat started to build deep within her.

And she’d thought she was over him. What a joke.

Finn must have grown tired of her meaningful stare. He headed to another spot where a painting had been. The track lighting was still set up for the exhibit, making it obvious where the pictures were supposed to hang.

Jazz had considered Michael’s work dark, brilliant, and compelling. Her stomach cramped at the thought.

Each space represented a lost life. Each one had left a family grieving that would never find closure. Michael had carried the names of his victims to the grave. She hadn’t thought of that, either. She’d been too busy taking care of her friends. Still in shock over what had happened.

All those people… If Finn could help even one family find closure, Jazz wanted to help him. Finally, she could
do
something. Something to try to make things better. To set the scales right. It was a start, at least.

Finn shook his left hand, like he was trying to remove any residue from the first spot he’d checked, then he placed it on the wall. He was wearing a glove on his right hand. She’d never seen him wear gloves before. That and the coat were weird wardrobe choices for Florida.

Says she of the leather pants.

Working on such a disturbing case, it made sense that he’d want to protect himself from seeing things when he wasn’t ready. Maybe the gloves were supposed to help with that.

When he’d told her about his powers, he said they worked primarily through his hands. He could read memories off objects and actually read peoples’ minds if he maintained contact. Luckily, he couldn’t read her for some reason. The idea of having sex with someone who could read her thoughts during skin contact was not a turn-on.

Jazz wasn’t sure how he was getting anything from a wall that touched a painting. The energy imbedded in the paintings must have been intense. She thought of Elsa and her ability to travel through art by using the emotional energy infused into creating or even observing it.

Finn’s powers didn’t seem to be based on any kind of heightened emotion, though. He could read anything that happened around an object. He said the further back he went, the blurrier the memories became. The paintings had been gone for almost two months. He had to be pushing his limits.

He started to lean toward the wall he was reading. That didn’t seem good. He pressed his forehead against the surface, bringing his right hand up to help support himself. He shifted his weight to his left leg. She had kicked his right knee pretty hard when she’d thought he was a burglar.

“Finn? You okay?”

He didn’t respond at first. When he did, his voice sounded strange. Lighter, more breathy.

“You are so beautiful.”

He turned his right hand and ran the backs of his knuckles over the wall’s surface. That was weird.

“Look at me,” he said. “Look at me!”

Jazz jumped at his sudden shout. The change in his demeanor was so fast and unexpected.

“What the hell, Finn.”

But he didn’t turn. He didn’t even register that she was there. Did that mean he was stuck or was he just immersed in a memory? She didn’t like that he was acting things out. Besides being creepy as hell, he was reading the memories of
a murderer
.

Finn pinched his index finger and thumb together, like he was offering the wall a treat. She had seen that gesture before. Michael used to tip Rachel’s face toward him by putting his hand under her chin that way.

“There, now. Isn’t that better,” Finn said. “You shouldn’t have spilled the blood, Nicole. I can’t finish your portrait without more.”

“Shit!” Jazz’s stomach seemed to drop through the floor.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you something to eat and drink. We’ll spend a bit more time together than I planned. That’s all right, though. I forgive you. This is my first masterwork. Delays are to be expected.”

Was this what Finn meant by getting stuck? She thought he meant he could get stuck viewing a memory, not that he’d actually become part of it. She never would have let him read the wall if she’d known.

She grabbed his shoulders and pulled, but he didn’t budge. She yanked on just his right arm, but that didn’t work either. He was half a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than she was. She’d always loved how his body was all muscle, admired how he sculpted himself. Now she just wished he was smaller.

He shifted closer to the wall, as if he was going to lie against it. She had no idea what that would do to him. There was still a narrow space, and she slipped into it, putting herself between Finn and the wall.

His body pressed against hers, bringing back her own memories. They hadn’t been able to get enough of each other. Any closet, any private space was fair game. They’d had sex in her office in the gallery more times than she could count.

This time, her skin crawled at the close contact. This time, it wasn’t Finn.

Finn was thick with muscle—carefully controlled muscle. He had always seemed to envelop her, melding himself to her body as if they were made for each other. It made her feel delicate and strong at the same time. Finn owned himself, his body and his movement. The body pressing against hers was tense, hesitant.

“Finn, look at me.”

She put her hands on his cheeks, forcing him to face her. The pale blue-gray of his irises had hints of a brighter, darker blue bleeding in around their edges.

What the hell?

“Dammit, Finn!”

Pain had snapped him out of it before. Maybe it could again. She slapped him, hard. He didn’t even blink. The blue kept seeping into his eyes as he murmured disturbing things to a woman long since dead.

“Finn, please…”

She slapped him again, even harder. This time, he blinked and shook his head. Jazz used the opportunity, bracing herself against the wall and shoving his chest as hard as she could. They stumbled away from the wall together.

He shook his head, then turned toward the ceiling. He covered his face with his hands as he took deep breaths. On the last burst of an exhalation, he lowered his head and hands, then opened his eyes.

Pale blue again. He was himself.

Chapter Six

“What the hell was that?”

Finn had never heard Jazz yell so loud. His head already hurt, and the noise was like a jackhammer on his skull.

“Could you keep it down a little bit?”

“No, I can’t keep it down! You need to tell me what just happened.”

Finn ran his hands over his face. His cheek stung like crazy. “Why does my face hurt?”

“Because I slapped you. Twice.”

He let out a snort, then walked to the low viewing bench that ran along the middle of the room and sat down.

“I hope you didn’t enjoy it too much.”

Her rage kicked up higher, rolling from her in palpable waves that he didn’t need his powers to detect. The volume of her voice lessened, but that just made her more intimidating.

“Fuck you.”

Damn. Yeah, that was past the line.

“Sorry.”

“Your eyes changed color,” she said. “The things you were saying, it was like you were
turning into Michael
. You just scared the shit out of me.”

His eyes had changed? That was scary for him too. He knew he was having trouble pulling himself from other people’s memories, but he didn’t think it was manifesting externally. He didn’t think his powers
could
manifest that way. It brought up too many terrifying possibilities.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.” He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Jazz. I’m trying to fix things, but I just can’t put them right.”

“What are you trying to fix?” The fire had left her voice.

“Me. My powers.”

In his periphery, he saw her stoop to pick up Dad’s hat. He hadn’t even realized it had fallen along with him earlier. She set it next to him, then joined him on the bench.

“Start at the beginning.”

Feeling her body so close to his, he didn’t trust himself to look at her while he spoke. The need to touch her was almost overwhelming. He stared at the floor, clasping his hands in front of him. He wished he could hold her. Hell, he wished she would hold him, but it was way too late for that.

“Two months back, I woke up from this screaming nightmare. Dad came running into the room, asking what was going on. I didn’t know. I tried to shake it off. Told him it was nothing.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“Yeah.” Finn nodded. “It was something. Big time.”

“Did Tommy believe you?”

Her tone warmed just mentioning Dad. It was so obvious how much they loved each other. Finn never understood why she was fine with becoming part of his family, but wouldn’t tell her own or even any of their friends they were dating. Old indignities tried to rise up in him, but he was too tired for them to take hold.

“At first. But the nightmares didn’t stop. Every night, I’m either sleeping so hard no one can wake me, or I wake everybody up screaming. It’s been wearing on them.”

“Them?”

Right. Daphne had moved in after Jazz was out of Finn’s life. He didn’t know why the thought of telling Jazz made him uncomfortable. There had never been the tiniest spark between him and Daphne. She was much more interested in Dad. If he’d stop being blinded by the difference in their ages, he’d see it.

“The new bartender has been living in our guest room.”

He glanced over at her in time to see her smile, the tension easing in her features. He caught a glimpse of the face she had shared with him and his dad and no one else—not that he’d ever seen, anyway. No cockiness, no bravado. Just Jazz. It only lasted a moment, but it was enough to send him reeling.

“Finally.” She let out a brief laugh. “I told you guys you needed more help.”

“Yeah, you were right, as always. Daphne’s been a big help in and out of the bar.”

Jazz went completely still. From what he could see, she wasn’t even breathing.

Crap.

“We’re not…together. Never have been.”

Goddammit, why was he compelled to explain himself? He could practically hear ice crackling around her, a thick coat of cold blocking her off. That was another thing he hadn’t missed—her freezing him out.

“Not my business,” she said.

Yeah. That was a familiar sentiment.

She launched herself from the bench and headed for the wall. He expected her to lean against it, cross her arms, and glare at him. Her arms were already lifting when she balked, then turned away and started to pace. She didn’t so much cross her arms as hug herself as she walked.

That was new. She probably didn’t want to touch the walls after what she had seen and heard from Finn. He wished he could un-see it himself.

Nicole had been a thin blonde woman with blue eyes. Similar to the one in Finn’s dreams, but not the same. Nicole was much smaller, for one thing.

In his dreams, Michael used a needle, tubing, and jars to siphon blood from his victim’s body. Nicole…

Her body had been covered in cuts. Michael was using a knife.

Finn ran his hands over his face again. If he thought this case was about bringing Michael down, he would be all over it. He’d be charging in and reading everything he could to bring the bastard to justice.

But Michael was already dead. Finn seriously didn’t know what he was accomplishing with any of this, aside from figuring out the identities of the victims. Like Nicole.

Did she have a family somewhere? Were they still hoping, waiting for her to come home? How would they react if Finn walked in and told them she was gone? He hoped they never found out what had been done to her.

“Tell me about the nightmares.” Jazz’s clipped voice was commanding. Somehow, that reassured him—made him feel that he wasn’t in this alone. At least for the moment.

“I’m inside someone else’s body, sharing their experience. I’m chained to a wall in darkness. My wrists are burning, my arms sore where they aren’t numb. There’s cold cement under my knees and my lungs are full of stale air.”

Jazz stopped pacing and stared at him. He knew that look. It would be a while before she spoke. She wanted more information. He could provide it.

“I’ve only been able to see and hear things in dreams before. These are different. I have all my senses. I can feel everything, and I… Whoever it was, she was so scared. They always end the same way. Light floods the room, and this guy comes in.”

“Michael Angelo.” Jazz said the name like a dirge. Appropriate.

“I recognized him from the news. I can see his face clearly in the nightmares. I know he was the one hurting me. Hurting her.”

“Do you know who she was?”

He looked over at Jazz and let out a short chuff of breath. “I wish. Maybe then I’d have a clue what the hell is going on. I mean, why am I having these dreams? I didn’t touch anything or anyone related to this case. I would have known if I did. Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

“What did Tommy say about it?”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Why not?”

Finn let out a sigh that felt like it emptied him out. “Dad had a heart attack not too long ago. We almost lost him.” Finn’s voice cracked a bit, but he didn’t let it slow him down. “It scared the crap out of me. He’s worried enough already. If he finds out my powers are…”

He paused when he looked up at her. All the blood had drained from her face and her mouth was hanging open.

“You okay?”

“I…um…” She shook her head and swayed on her feet.

Finn leapt up and grabbed her, pulling her against his chest. She gripped his arms tight, taking slow, steady breaths. She murmured something too quiet for him to hear.

“What was that?”

“You should have called me!”

She shoved him hard. Pushing him away. Always fucking pushing him away. She staggered to the bench and sat down with her head between her knees.

After a few moments, she said, “Is he going to be okay?”

Affection and jealousy were fighting it out inside of Finn. She loved his dad so much. Why the hell couldn’t she love Finn that much? Like he loved her—passionately, completely.

“The doctors say he needs to be careful. Dad did their rehab and is seeing a specialist.” And the bills were still rolling in. Bills Finn was doing his best to intercept so Dad didn’t worry more. “He’s exercising more and we’re watching what we eat. And he isn’t working so many late hours.”

“Okay.” She let out a shaky breath. “That’s good.”

She was worse off than he thought. It made sense, though. She had almost lost Elsa and Rachel. Hearing about Dad when Jazz was already off her game… Yeah, he understood why it was hitting her hard. He was glad to know at least she still cared about his dad.

“Has Tommy ever been haunted?” she asked.

Her voice was a little muffled since her face was pointed at the floor. Finn couldn’t have heard her right.

“What?”

“Haunted.” Jazz sat back up, looking more stable. “Has he ever run into any ghosts?”

Finn laughed and shook his head. Jazz didn’t join him.

“Oh, you’re serious.”

Her stare turned into a glare and he cleared his throat.

“He’s never mentioned it. And he would have told me when he taught me about our powers.”

Jazz nodded. “We need to talk to Tommy. I get that you don’t want to worry him. We’ll figure out a way—”

“Hold up.” Strolling down his own memory lane had been…awkward and uncomfortable. But he was done. Jazz was a distraction. Being around her was too damned painful. “There is no
we
.
I
will figure out a way.”

“Not this time. I’m in, whether you like it or not.”

“All I need is more time with this room. I already have a name now. Nicole. I can check with missing persons files and see if I can find more leads.”

“I’m. In. And there is no way in hell I’m letting you read more of these walls. Not after almost losing you like that.”

“Look, your concern is touching, but—”

“You try, and I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

He stared at her, stunned for a moment. “You wouldn’t.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him, then stood and pulled out her phone. Yeah. She would. He shook his head and smiled.

“Same old Jazz.”

If he could manage half of her self-control and determination, he doubted his powers would be acting up at all. Maybe having her along would help. She could keep him from losing himself in the memories he read. He just needed to be sure he didn’t lose his heart again.

Right. As if it wasn’t already hers.

He rose to his feet without realizing how close she was standing. A few inches of space separated their bodies. It might as well have been an entire universe.