It was probably my imagination that I was being followed on my walk home. I’d walked that sidewalk a hundred times, at all hours of the day and night, and had never felt unsafe. The nine-millimeter in my waistband holster probably had a lot to do with that. As a former cop, I’d learned to depend on my gun as a great equalizer. No matter how fit and strong a woman was, there were always men who were stronger. They had a built-in advantage with heavier bones, more muscle and superior natural strength that a woman couldn’t match.
But a gun. A gun put everybody on an even playing field.
Still. Something wasn’t right about the way shadows drifted and stretched around me. The street was too quiet. A complaint I never thought I’d make. Despite it being only a little after eight at night, the streets were empty. Nobody even sat on the stoops, chatting it up with neighbors.
That was unusual for my part of town.
The unnatural silence was probably the biggest reason I leaped off the ground with a girly screech when something crashed and clanged in the alley as I passed by.
I cursed softly as a big cat I recognized trotted out of the alley, tail high and ears twitching. “Go home, Manus!” I yelled at the big yellow and white tabby.
Taking deep breaths, I tried to calm my racing heart. That was when I realized my hand was on the grip of my gun. The girl in the apartment next to mine would kill me dead if I shot her stupid cat. And, truth be told, I’d feel bad. I kind of liked that stupid cat.
“Traveler Kitt?”
I yelped. Amazed at how twitchy I was, I blamed it on the disappearing dead woman. My nine-mil clutched in my hand, I scoured the shadows for the source of the voice. “Who’s there?”
The shadows stretched and broke as a darkly-clad form strode toward me from across the street. The man, because even in the dark at a distance I could tell it was a male, just kept coming, despite my having a gun trained on him.
I held my finger just above the trigger, my heart pounding. “Stop right there or I’ll shoot.”
He eased slowly to a stop about ten feet away, his face illuminated in the street light looming over him. I sucked air as I caught sight of his face. It was perfection. He looked to be over six feet tall and had sharp, chiseled features and deep-set cerulean eyes that were framed with impossibly thick lashes. His nose was long, with nostrils that flared as if scenting the air. His lips looked like they’d be soft. A sexy goatee ran from just under the lush lips, turning into a short, light-brown beard on his square jaw. Mid-length hair curled against a muscular neck, gilded with natural highlights. And his body…sweet cherubs on a crescent moon…I nearly swooned on the spot.
Of course, swooning while holding a gun was never a good idea. “Who are you? And why did you call me…” I frowned as it sank in that he’d called me Traveler Kitt. The woman on the sidewalk had said the same thing to me. Right before she’d disappeared like a ghost. “I’m not who you seem to think I am.”
He lifted a foot to rest it on the curb. The pose did amazing things to his long, lean form and I suddenly had trouble swallowing. “You are Traveler Kitt. I’ve come to take you to your preparation. We must go now. I had difficulty finding you and we’re late.”
I stared at the man standing in the street, noting the way the shadows seemed to cling to him, caressing him. He was dressed in black from head to toe, which was probably why he looked like he was clothed in shadows. But his clothing was different. Form-fitting, with a slight sheen to it. I realized the woman had been dressed the same way. I hadn’t really thought about it at the time. Everything had happened so fast. But her clothes had been strange too.
I shook my head, realizing what he’d said. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you.”
He inclined his head, lifting a large hand and cupping the night with it. “I understand. I am Justice. I’ll be your guide.”
“Guide? I don’t think so.” That sounded kind of … My gaze roamed over him and I had to shake off a wave of pure lust. Stop that, Kitt. You’re a fifty-seven-year-old-woman. You do not lust after men who couldn’t be more than twenty-nine or thirty.
The hand clutching the night tightened into a fist.
Pictures slammed into me. Strange and terrifying pictures. A child’s cries. A feral roar from something that sounded really big. Screaming.
The vision sliced off and I stumbled, hitting my knees on the edge of the sidewalk. I fell forward, my hands buried in thick green grass. The sweet scent of broken blades rose up to tease my woozy senses and I blinked hard, trying to rid myself of whatever that had been. “What did you do to me?”
The shadows enveloped me, an unfamiliar warmth wrapping around me. It was somehow comforting. Enticing.
“I simply engaged your power. Relax into it and all will be well.” Justice reached down and lifted me by my arms. I was five feet seven inches tall and had a strong, not bulky but toned build. I was no light-weight, yet he lifted me easily.
He held onto me until my vision cleared and I jerked away. “Stop touching me. I don’t know who you are.”
“I told you. I’m Justice. Your guide.”
Guide to what?
I wanted to ask him what had just happened. But I couldn’t. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was get away from him. “You’re talking crazy.” I turned and started to walk, then broke into a run, listening with one ear to see if he followed me. I was still woozy and my limbs felt heavy. I stumbled a couple of times but kept running.
I was running fast. My legs and arms syncing into a perfect rhythm and my breaths keeping the same beat. I’d been a runner once. When I was much younger and trying to hold my own as a female cop. But I hadn’t done any running for years. Still, it came back to me in that moment of fear. And I was grateful.
I was home much faster than I expected. Sliding to a stop, I risked a look back, scouring the shadows for the man.
Justice. What a weird name.
I jogged up the steps to my apartment, not even breathing all that hard, and quickly punched in the code to unlock the door. Then, with one last glance around the darkness, I ducked inside and locked the crazy out of my world.
I made myself a meal of cheese and crackers and carried it into the living room, where I put on my favorite paranormal television series. I settled in with a glass of water and munched happily as the unfortunate people on the big screen television were chased and abused and made angsty by the vampires in their lives.
I wondered why anybody would subject themselves to that kind of abuse. Particularly from creatures that were so much stronger and more dangerous.
Popping the last bite into my mouth, I briefly considered getting more. The cheese and crackers had tasted delicious. A wave of happiness slid through me. Being able to eat cheese and crackers for dinner was one of the best things about living alone. I didn’t always snack for dinner. Sometimes I cooked entire meals for myself. I liked cooking for myself, and the leftovers were good for lunch the next day. What I hadn’t liked was having to prepare meals every night for a man who sprawled like a king in his recliner in front of the television while I did all the cooking after a long day at work.
My cell rang and I looked at it, grimacing. Speak of the devil. I was tempted not to answer, but if I didn’t, he might show up in person. After my strange experiences from earlier, dealing face to face with my ex was the last thing I needed. “Hello.”
“Hey, Kitten. What’s up?”
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Come on, don’t be cranky. I was just wondering if you wanted some company for dinner?”
“Nope.”
“Oh. Did you already eat?”
“I had cheese and crackers. Thanks for asking, Tom.”
“That’s not a meal. Don’t you feel like cookin’ something heartier. Maybe a roast chicken or a nice stroganoff?”
“I’m not cooking your dinner,” I told him, anger tightening my voice. “Go to a diner if you’re hungry.”
“Give a guy a break, Kitte…um Rae.”
“I did give you a break. A complete break. About a year ago. Maybe you remember those bossy people who wore expensive suits and tried to take everything I owned?”
“The lawyers? Yeah, I remember them. I told you I was sorry they were so mean.”
“What do you want, Tom?”
“I don’t know. I’m bored.”
What he really meant was he was lonely. “The beauty of a divorce is that I no longer have to entertain you,” I told him. “Bye, Tom.”
“Wait!”
I bit back a sigh. “What?”
“I was going to ask Lissy if she wanted to go to the ballgame with me next weekend. I wondered if you wanted to go too?”
Silence pulsed between us. I scowled at the phone. What was he up to? “Um. That’s nice, Tom. I’m sure Elisabeth will enjoy it. She likes baseball. I don’t though, so…”
“Uh, yeah. That’s right. Okay. I just thought I’d ask.”
A sudden thought gave me pause. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah. I’m…I’m fine. I gotta go.” He disconnected before I could ask any more questions.
I frowned at my cell, mad that I still worried about the big idiot. I’d ask our daughter how he seemed the next time I talked to her. Elisabeth had a good sense for people’s physical conditions. Almost mystical. Which was why she’d decided to become a nurse.
I yawned, glancing at the clock. It was nine o’clock and I wanted sleep. It was a little early for me. I’d been a night owl all my life. But after the scare and the run, I was exhausted.
I yawned again. I’d go to bed and catch up on the sleep I’d lost the last few nights watching the vampire shows with my best friend, Molly, and eating junk food.
I smiled at the memory and headed into my room. By the time I had my shower and threw on a tee-shirt and a pair of flannel boxer shorts, I was nearly asleep on my feet.
I’d barely hit the mattress before I was out.
My ringing phone wrenched me from sleep. I opened my eyes and immediately regretted the action. I’d forgotten to close my blinds the night before and the morning sun tried to sear a layer off my green eyes. Squinting mightily, I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand and finally came up with it just before the call flipped over to voice mail. “Hel…” I cleared my rusty throat. “Hello?” Still squinting, I shaded my eyes with one hand and tried to see the time. The large-numbered clock had been a gag gift from one of my friends on my fifty-fifth birthday. The giant numbers proclaimed that it was five-thirty. In the morning? Had my caller lost her mind?
“Rae? Are you sick?” It was my best friend, Molly. I tried to remember if she and I had plans for the day. There was nothing until work later that evening.
Running a hand through my short, curly cap of auburn hair, I cleared my throat again. “No. Why?”
“It’s five thirty. Are you coming in to work?”
Five thirty in the evening? Had I really slept…? I did a quick calculation. Over twenty hours? Panic flared in my chest, making it hard to breathe.
Molly Brand was a talented designer with a cute warehouse store in downtown Fort Wallace. She’d given me a pity hire as her security guard when I’d retired from the force.
“Oh,” I said when I realized how late it was. “I overslept.”
She barked out a laugh. “I’d say so. By about eight hours. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ll be there in a half hour.”
“You don’t have…”
“I want to come in,” I interrupted. “I’ll see you soon.”
“But…”
I hung up before she could argue. She might have taken pity on me and given me a job when I’d needed one, but I loved that job. And Molly needed me, whether she believed it or not. Her warehouse store was wicked successful, but it was in a bad part of town. And, aside from the bad element roaming the streets outside, we constantly had to deal with theft inside the store. Shoplifting was a real problem.
I’d been trying to get her to open a smaller store in a safer place, but she’d dug in her heels. A party girl from way back, Miss Molly had kicked off her clothing lines with huge bashes that tested even the lofty dimensions of her warehouse store. Her parties were famous and her location ensured that nobody would care about the noise and activity.
Molly also kept much later hours than other clothing stores, starting the day at noon and keeping the store open as late as eleven pm if she felt like it. I’d told her the late-night hours weren’t good for her safety, but she’d blown off my concerns. “That’s why I have you,” she always said.
Who was I to ask my best friend to change her stripes at the ripe old age of fifty? Besides, her stripes had led to me having a job I loved.
I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower, the night before a distant memory, and the night ahead a not-so-distant promise.
Almost gone were the thoughts of brilliant blue eyes and a broad, sexy chest. Nearly forgotten were a husky voice calling me Traveler Kitt and strong hands keeping me from face-planting on concrete after a series of terrifying images slipped through my thoughts.
Almost.
Nearly.
But somehow. Not quite entirely forgotten. Despite my best efforts.