by Linda Howard
Maybe one day he would buy himself an island and build a house for his family, a house so isolated that he could recharge whenever he felt like it, and no monsters would dare to come near him or Hope or Emma. In many ways it was a comforting idea, but could he do that? Could he literally hide away?
No, he couldn’t, and neither could Hope. Somehow they were going to have to make it work in the real world, with bad guys and heartbreak and uncertainty.
He turned toward home, and Honey—dressed in a bikini top and a scarf worn like a skirt—waved at him. “Come on over!” she called.
Gideon shook his head. “I can’t. Sorry.”
She gave him an exaggerated pout, and someone else on the crowded deck began to wave at him. Another blonde. Tabby’s ghost.
Crap, she looked solid and real. Did that mean she would stick around for a while? Did that mean she was going to be everywhere he turned? He’d been sending sad spirits on for years, but he’d never gotten himself stuck with a malevolent ghost.
The ghost stopped waving, turned and walked toward the stairs. She actually wove around the party guests, as if she was afraid she would bump into them. Did Tabby think she was still alive? Gideon stopped, his feet digging into the sand, and waited for her. Somehow he was going to have to get rid of her once and for all, but he had no idea how to send on a dark spirit who didn’t want to leave.
Tabby walked toward him, smiling that sick, confident smile of hers. If Lily Clark had been able to affect this world, what could a spirit as dark as Tabby’s do? He knew how to handle sad spirits and monstrous bad guys, but this was a new situation, one he didn’t know how to handle.
As she moved closer, Gideon got a sick feeling in his stomach. Tabby looked too real, too solid. Her feet left impressions in the sand.
This was no ghost.
She pulled a small revolver from her pocket. The knife she preferred was locked away in evidence, but she seemed familiar enough with the gun. “Surprised to see me?”
“Yeah. I heard you were dead.”
“Not really. I just appeared to be for a while. Imagine the coroner’s surprise when he goes to the morgue to perform an autopsy and finds the body missing.”
“Where’s the bomb?”
Tabby nodded toward the deck. “Right up there with the dancers. Waiting.”
He didn’t think she was bluffing. She took too much pleasure from the pain of others not to take advantage of the opportunity. “Waiting for how long?”
“Not long.”
Gideon had left his weapon sitting on the dresser, so he was basically a sitting duck. He didn’t wear his weapon when he walked on the beach, or when he sat on the deck at the end of the day and listened to the waves, or when he met the night storms and traded energy. He didn’t want to get to the point where he was always on guard, always waiting for someone like Tabby to come along.
“You could shock me again, I guess,” she said. “But how will you explain that to the people who are watching? And they are watching, Raintree. They’re curious and bored, and that one blonde, she really wants you to jump her bones. She’ll settle for any other man who comes along, for the time being, but she really wants you. She’s sad that your new partner has been hanging around so much. Sad and jealous, spiteful and envious.”
“What do you want?”
Tabby cocked her head. “I want the same thing your neighbor wants, but in a very different way.” She lifted her weapon and fired. Gideon saw the move coming and jumped to the side. A bullet creased his shoulder before he landed hard and rolled through the sand. His shoulder stung, but he was able to rise to his feet and run. He didn’t run away from Tabby but toward her. She aimed the gun again.
He had to get close enough to shock and incapacitate her without creating a light show that would have everyone on the beach and on Honey’s deck pointing at him. It was risky not to immediately take his shot, but he had to believe that his protection charm would give him an edge, as it always did. A few feet closer and he would be able to stop her without revealing his ability to those who were watching. Another step or two…
“Gideon!”
He and Tabby both turned sharply toward the sound. Hope was bounding from the boardwalk onto the sand, her long legs bare beneath one of his T-shirts. The gun was steady in her hand. “Drop it!” she ordered.
Tabby spun, took aim and fired in anger. Not at Gideon this time, but at Hope. Hope didn’t fall; she fired back. Twice. It was Tabby who dropped onto the sand, one shot to the forehead, the other to the dead center of her chest. Gideon rushed forward and moved the revolver Tabby had dropped when she fell, tossing it away from the body as Hope reached them.
“Come back from that, bitch,” Hope said softly. Then she looked at Gideon and said, with less venom, “You’re bleeding.”
Gideon turned and ran. “The bomb’s on Honey’s deck.”
Hope was right behind him. “I’ll call the bomb squad.”
“No time.”
Gideon ran up the deck stairs that led to the party. The music was still playing loudly, but there was no more laughter or dancing. The guests were somber; none of them had ever seen anyone shot before.
“I called the cops,” one young guy said.
“Good,” Gideon replied. He found Honey in the crowd. “That woman, did she leave anything up here?”
“Like what? She said she was a friend of yours, and that you’d come over later. What was she—”
“Did she leave anything here?” Gideon repeated more tersely.
Honey glanced around the deck. “She was carrying a big purse. I guess she might’ve left…” She raised her hand and pointed. “That’s it, over there by the beer.”
Gideon rushed past the subdued partygoers, grabbed the purse and ran from the deck.
“Hey!” Honey shouted. “You’re bleeding!”
Gideon ran toward the water, the heavy purse dangling from one hand. Hope was still standing near Tabby’s body, watching, her eyes alternately on him and on the bag. “Get back to the house!” he shouted.
“No way, Raintree.”
He looked her dead in the eye as he passed her at a run. “For Emma, not for me.”
Hope reluctantly did as he asked, hurrying away from the shore as he ran into the water. While the surf crashed around his calves he gave the purse a mighty heave. It flew through the air, tumbling and sailing. He prayed the bomb was no more powerful or complicated than the one Tabby had planted at The Silver Chalice. If that was the case, then he was far enough away. Hope and the people at Honey’s were more than far enough away. If not…
He couldn’t allow a live bomb to float out into the ocean or perhaps wash up somewhere else into innocent hands. With his body shielding what he had to do as much as possible, Gideon let loose a stream of electricity as the bomb landed in the water. It exploded when the spark hit the bag. The force of the blast knocked Gideon back, out of the water and into the wet sand. In an instant it was over, and all that was left were bits and pieces of debris floating on the waves.
Less than a minute later, Hope was there. She didn’t help him to his feet but instead dropped to sit beside him in the sand.
“You’re a good shot,” he said as he placed his arm around her.
“Don’t sound surprised.”
“That’s relief, not surprise.”
Hope rested her head on his uninjured shoulder. In the distance, sirens approached. “For a second tonight, just a second, I thought I was seeing ghosts.” She scooted closer. “It’s not a whole helluva lotta fun.”
“Nope.”
“I thought my heart was going to come through my chest.”
He threaded his fingers through her hair. “You didn’t panic.”
“No. I only panic when I find unexpected fertility charms hanging around my neck,” she teased. “I called it in, grabbed my gun and walked outside just in time to see her following you onto the beach.”
Night was falling quickly, but the lanterns on Ho
ney’s deck lit the beach well enough.
“You’re going to make a good partner.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you that all along.”
“The chief will try to split us up once we’re married. Annoying rules and all.”
“Rules are made to be broken. We’ll find a way.” Hope stood and offered him her hand, as paramedics and two uniforms ran onto the beach. “Come on, Raintree. Let’s go inside and have a look at that shoulder before you blow up the paramedics’ equipment.”
The police and the paramedics and Tabby’s positively dead body had been taken away, and explanations had been made to the neighbors—which wasn’t easy, since a couple of young men swore they’d seen lightning jump out of Gideon’s fingers before the bomb exploded. Fortunately they’d been drinking heavily, and no one gave their account much credence.
Hope was still shaking a little. She’d never fired her weapon in any situation that wasn’t controlled. Target practice, training and testing, that was it. But when she’d seen Tabby shoot at Gideon, she hadn’t had any choice. She hadn’t been thinking about Emma or marriage or special gifts—or nights on the deck, making love in the moonlight.
That psycho was shooting at her partner.
All the officials were gone, and the party at Honey’s was over. Hope locked the doors and led Gideon into the bathroom, undressing him and herself as they went. She let her fingers trail over the bandage at his shoulder. It was just a scratch. Would he heal it anyway, with a tickle of lightning or a surge of electricity? Or would he leave it alone and let it heal on its own?
“A couple of those kids saw me, didn’t they?” he asked, sounding unconcerned.
“Yes. I convinced them they were too drunk to see anything clearly, and I think they believed it by the time I was done.”
“You’re very convincing.”
“Thank you.”
They were mostly undressed when she leaned against Gideon’s bare chest and tipped her face up to look him in the eye. “I have an appointment to interview Frank Stiles Monday afternoon.”
“You’re going to make him confess, is that it?”
Hope nodded. “Yeah. You did your part, now I’ll do mine.”
She was good at getting criminals to confess. She and Gideon hadn’t been working together long enough for him to know that about her, but he would learn. Soon enough.
“What makes you so good at getting confessions?” Gideon teased as he brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek. “You think just because you’re prettier than all the other detectives, the bad guys are going to give it up for you?”
“No. I’m actually an excellent poker player, Raintree. I’m very good at bluffing my way to a confession. You give me enough information so I can bluff well, and I’ll charm a confession right out of Stiles.”
“Poor guy doesn’t have a chance.”
“Yeah, well, life’s not fair.”
Gideon held her, and she melted into him. It felt good to be embraced with love and passion and unexpected tenderness. She’d never known it would be so good to have a place to rest at the end of the day, a special person to rest with.
“I was so worried about you,” she confessed. “When I saw Tabby point that gun at you and fire, and you fell…”
“I’m fine,” Gideon said.
“I know, but…” The words caught in her throat. With the good came the bad. With the happiness, the worry.
Gideon leaned Hope back a little and kissed her throat. “Since you’re feeling vulnerable, partner, maybe we should renegotiate that sex on the desk ban….”
Sunday—11:36 a.m.
“At least she didn’t get up and walk away from us this time,” the coroner said as he walked around Tabby’s covered body.
Gideon had tried to convince Hope to stay at home this morning, but she wouldn’t have it. She’d insisted on coming with him. One of these days he was going to have to quit protecting her so diligently. She didn’t like it much.
But he wasn’t going to quit today.
“It was the shot to the head that killed her,” the coroner said without emotion. “The bullet that hit her torso missed the heart and lodged in the spine. That alone wouldn’t have killed her. Would’ve stopped her cold, though.”
Hope, who had never killed anyone before last night, paled a little. She’d been the one to pull the trigger and stop Tabby; she’d done what had to be done. Neither of them felt one iota of guilt. Tabby was one of the most evil people he’d ever met, and she didn’t deserve a place on this earth.
“What was it you wanted me to see?” Gideon asked. He hated this place. He could live down here for years and never find a way to send all the ghosts to a peaceful place.
With help from an assistant, the coroner uncovered the body on the slab and gently rolled it over. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this. I thought it was a tattoo at first, but it’s actually a birthmark. I know some birthmarks are shaped in such a way as to resemble something else, but this crescent moon on the corpse’s shoulder blade is absolutely perfect. And it’s such an unusual color. I thought it might be helpful in identifying her.”
Gideon stared at the blue birthmark of a crescent moon. It was, as the coroner had already observed, perfect in shape and color.
“Oh, shit,” he said softly.
“What is it?” Hope asked.
Gideon ran for the door as he reached for his cell phone, and Hope followed him. “Tabby said they,” he muttered. “And she was afraid for her own life if she missed killing me. Of course she was afraid. She wanted Echo, too. She said so at your mother’s apartment.”
“Raintree.” Hope followed him up the stairs at a run. “What are you talking about?”
He couldn’t get a signal, so he cursed at the phone as they burst from the building and stepped into the sunshine. “Her name is Tabby Ansara. We thought they were down. Defeated and powerless and…dammit. This changes everything.”
While he was moving away from the corner of the building in an attempt to get a decent signal, the phone rang. Instead of giving Hope the phone, as he often had in days past, he answered himself and got an earful of static.
It was Dante. Gideon couldn’t make out every word, but he very clearly heard the two he most needed to hear.
Ansara.
Home.
Gideon turned to Hope. He loved her, and even though she didn’t like it much when he tried to protect her, he wouldn’t put her in the middle of what was coming. Wouldn’t and couldn’t. “I have to go home. The Raintree homeplace.”
Concern was clear on her face, startling in her brilliant blue eyes. Had he ever told her that he loved her eyes? Not yet. When he got back, he would make sure to tell her. He had so much to tell her.
“I’m going with you,” she insisted.
“No.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean, no?”
“There’s trouble at the homeplace, or soon will be.” Trouble of an unimaginable sort. Trouble she wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. “I want you and Emma safe.”
“I have a gun,” she said. “I know how to use it.”
How could he explain to her that a gun blazing in each hand wouldn’t be enough in the battle to come? “Stay here,” he insisted. “Please.”
Hope sighed and accepted his order, but she didn’t accept it easily. Would she ever? “Call me when you get there.”
“I will.” If I can.
“I still don’t see why I can’t go with you,” she grumbled. “I already know about your family, so it’s not like there’s anything left to hide.” He saw the unspoken Is there? in her eyes.
He took Hope’s face in his hands. “I love you. I love you so much that it terrifies me. I didn’t expect to ever care about anyone the way I care about you, and it happened so fast my head is still spinning. It’s important, and I want us to have a real chance. One day I will take you to the homeplace, I promise,” he said. “But not toda
y.”
“I don’t understand,” she said softly.
“I know, and I’m sorry.”
He kissed her, long, but not nearly as long as he wanted to, and then he jumped into the Mustang. “Call Charlie and have him take you home. I’ll call as soon as I can.”
Gideon left a confused Hope standing in the parking lot. She wasn’t a woman accustomed to waiting, he knew, but she would wait for him. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind.
Today was the summer solstice; that wasn’t a coincidence. Tabby’s attempts to kill him and Echo in the past several days, also not a coincidence. The Ansara wanted the homeplace, they wanted the sanctuary and the power it harnessed, and they always had.
They weren’t going to get it.
One day his wife and his daughter would discover the beauty and power of the land the Raintrees had always called sanctuary. It was Gideon’s duty to protect the Raintree sanctuary, just as it was his duty to protect Hope and Emma and any other little Raintrees that came along in years to come. It was his duty and his honor to protect what was his, and if that privilege came with ghosts and electrical surges and the occasion battle, then so be it.
Gideon drove as fast as the Mustang would allow once he reached the highway. The wind whipped his hair, and the homeplace grew closer with every second that passed, and when the unexpected storm approached from the south and gathered in the darkening skies over the car, there was no one for miles around to see.
BEVERLY BARTON
RAINTREE: SANCTUARY
To my dear friend Leslie Wainger, an extraordinary,
insightful editor who appreciates unique ideas,
encourages individual creativity and inspires her
writers to learn, grow and spread their wings.