Vengeance Borne (28 page)

Micah sat up in bed. Sweat trickled down his brow and his breath came heavy as though he’d actually been running. He buried his face in his hands as he tried to steady his reeling head. The dream had been
so
real. He smelled the frost coated grass, felt the tingle of cold on his nose. And the screams—
her
screams… A strangled shout lodged itself in his chest. He couldn’t go back to sleep, not now, maybe not ever. He had to know if she was okay and there was only one way to find out.

Micah crept down the stairs, careful not to make any noise, which was damned near impossible considering the old, creaky floor boards. He found the small wooden bowl next to the phone where Trish kept her keys and breathed a sigh of relief that they didn’t jingle against one another when he grabbed them. Trish had already proved she could practically read his thoughts; maybe she had supernatural hearing in her arsenal as well. As he closed the door, the entire house seemed to be his accomplice as the latch clicked silently behind him. His shoulders slumped as he stared at the Dodge. He didn’t think the obnoxious diesel engine would be so cooperative.

“Fuck it.” He climbed in the truck and turned the key. The engine roared and he sped out of the driveway hoping Trish wouldn’t be too mad that her truck had been stolen for a second time in less than a week.

The drive up Goose Creek Canyon was decidedly scarier in the dark. Like the first time he’d driven the winding canyon toward McCall, unfamiliar turns had to be taken at half the speed and Micah knew from experience that an animal could dart from the trees and across the road at any time. Memories of his dream spurred him, the sounds of tortured screams an eerie siren song he couldn’t ignore. He glanced at the clock on the dash, the sun would be rising soon and he was still nine miles away. Damn it, why had he left his motor home? At least it was in town, not parked in Butt Fuck Egypt like Trish’s house. He’d be closer to Jacquelyn if he’d just kept his ass in the damned RV. Panic spurred Micah on and he punched the accelerator, throwing caution aside as he raced up the canyon highway.

Micah pushed the truck to its limits, surprised that the huge ranch vehicle cornered as well as a small car. His stomach churned, fists gripping the steering wheel. What if she was hurt? Missing? Or worse. He never should have left her alone, tough girl act or not. She needed him and he’d let her push him away. The truck didn’t slow as Micah turned onto Jacquelyn’s driveway. Her house was dark; the porch light off as well. But the headlights caught the glint of a license plate and he recognized the truck parked in front of her porch.

Finn.

In her house.

With her.

At three in the morning.

A soft, warm tongue lapped languidly up the column of his throat and across his cheek. How many hours had he lain in the dark, arching into the grip of their skillful hands, writhing as they pet him, spoke sweet words in his ear? Their hands, both cool and warm, left sparks of electricity on his bare skin. Breath like a hot wind blowing over the desert rustled his hair, so loving in their care of him.

The walls of his bedroom closed in, the peeling vinyl wallpaper dingy and gray. It had once been bright with flowers. Maybe soon he’d do something to spruce this old place up. He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the dripping bathroom sink while his invisible lovers, the spirits that never left him, stretched long fingers across the expanse of his chest. He sighed. This was no place to bring a woman. He’d have to find someone to clean the house, make it presentable. A smile stretched across his face at the thought of her lying next to him, touching him the way his three angels touched him now.

So much closer to his goal, they’d dealt with the obstacles in his path one by one and it wouldn’t be long before he had everything he’d ever wanted. This damned town was full of idiots, busy-bodies, and
big men
whose self-importance was impressive to no one. Willie Carmichael had owned a business with loyal employees he’d chosen to belittle, and a wife and children he’d bullied and abused. And Bree Embry—she’d had decent looks, a decent job in a town with few to spare, and she’d chosen to let an ugly attitude negate all of her worth. As for the next person on his list…that bastard was going to get everything coming to him and then some. He had more than any of the others, he had the prize.

In the dark he raised his hands, curious that he could make out the shape of his fingers in the absence of light. Just another gift from his lovelies, he’d become so much more than he was. Extraordinary. Superior. Clenching his digits into fists, he jabbed at the air once, twice, and again, laughing with each swing. Strong enough to bash in a skull. Forceful enough to take what he wanted. She couldn’t ignore him any longer. Soon, nothing would stand between them. She’d finally see him for what he had become, thanks to the creatures that gave him strength. She’d finally love him the way he loved her.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I am so happy.”

Chapter 22

JACQUELYN STRETCHED. A full-body, measured movement that eased the stiffness from her too tight muscles. She rolled over onto her side, and breathed in the scent of clean sheets that had bothered her so much just a couple of weeks ago. Funny how a little well-deserved anger managed to push her over the hump of getting over Finn. The previous night’s argument replayed in her mind, as well as her threat to put a bullet in him if he crossed the threshold of her door. Awareness spiked and Jacquelyn’s eyes flew open. She didn’t hear him leave last night. Had that stubborn pain in the ass spent the night on her couch as he patiently waited to start round two of their argument?

“Shit.”

She rolled out of bed, fumbled around for the jeans she’d worn the previous night, and rifled through a drawer for a clean t-shirt. A good night’s rest usually did wonders for her outlook, but as Jacquelyn remembered how Finn had crossed the line yet again using his gift to make her complacent, it caused the blood to boil in her veins. A deep aching sorrow churned in her stomach at the cavalier way he’d disregarded her need for distance.
Damn it, Finn. Why?

The crunch of tires and the deep rumble of an engine in her driveway interrupted her thoughts and Jacquelyn froze. Had Finn just left, or worse, had Trish’s Dodge just pulled in? Guilt tied her stomach into a tight knot, but why should she feel like last night was something more than it was? They’d fought. Finn refused to go. She’d been too tired to force him out. Their partnership couldn’t be cast aside whether she wanted to be romantically involved with him or not. Her thoughts drifted unbidden to Micah and her guilt welled up fresh. Would it matter to Micah if Finn was here last night? Why did it matter to her now? She pictured Micah’s rich brown eyes and a gaze that seemed to see into every secret part of her. He’d never actually claimed any personal interest in her. Only his eyes told her differently. And perhaps that was the reason for her blossoming guilt complex. Deep down, she wanted Micah to be interested. To care.

The not-so-melodious
beep, beep, beep
, of a vehicle backing up in her driveway tore Jacquelyn from her reverie and she peeked between the slats of her blinds to see Finn’s truck gone and Evan’s tow truck in its place, parked in front of her pole barn-slash-garage. Libby was on the ball. Evan parked the truck, jumped out of the driver’s seat and began to hook up to Jacquelyn’s old Subaru wagon. She stuffed her feet into a pair of shoes and gathered her hair into a ponytail as she high-tailed it for the front door. At least now she didn’t have to ride her bike into town.

“Hey, Jax!” Evan hooked the winch to the front bumper of the Subaru. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Jacquelyn turned her key in the deadbolt and headed toward Evan’s truck. “Nope. Can I hitch a ride back with you? I’m pretty much over the whole riding my bike thing.”

Evan laughed. An easy-going cadence with no hint of false pretense. He’d probably never play dirty and manipulate Libby into a situation she didn’t have the presence of mind to withdraw from. “How quick do you think you can fix it?” She climbed into the truck that made Trish’s Dodge seem Italian-sports-car-small.

“Depends on how bad you screwed it up,” Evan teased as he climbed in beside her. “If I have all the parts I need, I could have it done by tonight. Otherwise it’ll be a day or two.”

Jacquelyn couldn’t complain. It was her own damned fault the car wasn’t fixed. But she hadn’t
exactly
procrastinated taking it to the shop. Chasing Furies could eat up every second of a girl’s free time. As it was she barely had time to shower. “Thanks Ev. I’ll owe you one.”

“You already owe me four or five.” Evan cast a mischievous glance her way as he pulled out on to the road. “And that’s okay by me because one of these days, I’m gonna call it all in.”

Jacquelyn leaned her head back on the rest and closed her eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

By the time they got to the Gas ‘n Go, the gentle pulse in her brain had erupted into a full-blown skull-splitter. Having a Bearer poke around in your head to the extent Finn had produced the same after effects of a three-day bender. But this time Jacquelyn actually wished she’d been out boozing. “Hey Libs.” She gave a little wave as she snatched a travel-size bottle of Ibuprofen from the impulse buy rack. She popped the lid and shook four pills into her mouth.

Libby handed a bottle of water across the counter. “You look like shit.”

Jacquelyn peered at her friend through one eye. “Better than I thought,” she remarked, taking several gulps of water.

“Does your hangover have anything to do with Finn’s cheery mood?”

“You saw him this morning?”

Libby’s mouth curved into a grin, the curls of her hair looking more springy than usual. “Oh, yeah. He came in this morning on his way to work. Whistling, permagrin. All the signs of a night well spent.”

The glass doors beside the counter swung open, the bell chiming loudly, and Jacquelyn looked up to find herself pinned by a blue-gray stare. A smile tugged at one corner of Pete’s mouth. “Hey.”

His tone, smooth and confident, caused a chill to race up Jacquelyn’s spine. Her heart lodged somewhere in her throat and she found it hard to draw a breath.
Micah
. His name, not Finn’s came first to her mind as she wished like hell a Bearer was with her now to read Pete. His behavior the night before had been so out of character, she couldn’t help but be suspicious. Forcing a smile in return, she turned to Libby. Christ, her skin was literally
crawling
.

Like a loyal friend, Libby changed the subject, steering the conversation toward Jacquelyn’s car repairs and the estimate Evan had worked up. Jacquelyn nodded her head and smiled for Libby’s benefit. She didn’t want Libby to think she wasn’t listening. But Jacquelyn’s racing thoughts drowned out all of her friend’s words.

What did Furies want? They really weren’t so different from humans or any other being that roamed the earth. Whereas some creatures were ruled by their base emotions, Furies fed from them, using the ugliest parts of human nature for sustenance. Greed, jealousy, rage, lust, even ambition… Furies drank the dark desires people hid in the deepest parts of their souls.

“…can go ahead and change the oil while he’s at it,” Libby said.

“Sure, sounds good.”

Someone had called those three bitches. Whether that person realized what he was doing at the time was moot. Because with two murders under their belt already, they’d gotten their hooks in deep, and it wouldn’t be long until their victim had lost most of his humanity.

“…plus twenty eight dollars for the new fuel filter…”

“Fine.”

But who? Who had summoned them? It wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish. A person had to ache with want of something. The need had to be so intense that it became a beacon to the Furies. And who the hell in tiny, inconsequential McCall would have a longing that strong?

“…if you want I can go ahead and let you charge it. Evan and I are fine for now. You can make payments.”

“What?” Jacquelyn asked.

Libby grinned and shook her head. “The repairs. On the car. You can charge the parts. Evan is waiving the labor.”

Jacquelyn gave herself a mental shake.
Don’t give your best friend the impression that you’re not paying attention. Or crazy.
“Sorry. I zoned out there for a second.”

“I guess so,” Libby remarked with a laugh. “Does it have anything to do with what happened between you and Finn last night? I talked to Wes this morning, I know you got into it over at the brew pub. I figured Finn’s good mood had something to do with a little make-up sex.”

Thanks, Wes.
Wasn’t it a friend’s job to not spread gossip about you? Especially to other friends. She was going to lay into him the next time she saw him. Unless Finn beat her to it. No doubt he wanted everyone in town to think they were still a happy couple. Why wouldn’t Libby assume there was make-up sex involved when Finn acted so damned cheerful the morning after their public blow-out? She glanced at Pete, digging through the refrigerator case at the back of the store and leaned in toward Libby. “Whatever Wes told you is probably way overblown. Finn’s a marshmallow. I’m just jumpy this morning. Not enough sleep. And for the record, there was no make-up sex involved.”