Copper Beach

“How are you feeling?” Abby asked.

“Coming down. Finally.” It was the truth, he realized. The alcohol and time were working. He would sleep soon.

“Before you crash, I just want to say thank you again. This is the second time you’ve saved me from someone who wanted to kidnap me.”

He closed his eyes. “I’ve told you before, I’m just doing my job. But in fairness, I don’t think Gideon Barrett would have grabbed you against your will. He just wanted to get me out of the way for a while so that he could talk you into accepting his offer. And he would have made you one hell of an offer, trust me.”

“Looked a lot like an attempted kidnapping to me. It’s sort of scary knowing that people want to kidnap you.”

“I know,” he said, gentler this time. She had good reason to be afraid, he thought. “You’re handling it well. Lot of folks in your position would be basket cases by now.”

“If I’m dealing with it well, it’s because I’ve got you watching my back. So thanks, anyway.”

He opened his eyes. “Even if I do have my own agenda?”

She smiled. “Everyone has an agenda. I can deal with that, so long as a person is honest about it. You’ve been up front about yours from the beginning. Well, almost from the beginning.”

The last thing he wanted was her gratitude.

“Finish your wine, turn out the light and go to sleep, Abby,” he said.

“Okay.”

She set the empty bottle on the nightstand, switched off the lamp and got into bed.

Sam contemplated the little brandy bottle and decided not to finish it. Too much alcohol might prolong the recovery phase of the crash. He set the bottle on the table beside the chair, leaned back and watched the shadows on the ceiling for a while. He thought about the array of people who were trying to grab Abby and the lab book.

“I’m missing something,” he said after a while.

“What?” Abby asked from the shadows.

“Don’t know. Can’t think clearly tonight. But in the morning, I need to go back to the beginning of this case and look at everything from a different angle.”

“You mean back to that first blackmail note?”

“No, back to what happened in Vaughn’s library.”

“You think that’s where it all started?”

“The answer is there, somewhere.”

“Maybe our chat with Grady Hastings tomorrow will give us a lead.”

“I’ve never interviewed a crazy psychic,” Sam said. “Should be in­­teresting.”

The deep sleep crept over him.

37

The woman walked down the endless basement hallway. He knew she was going to open the lab door, knew the killer was waiting for her on the other side.

He tried to go after her, but he was trapped in the shadows. He tried to call to her, desperate to warn her, but he could not get her name out.

At the door she paused, her hand on the knob. She looked back at him. For the first time, he saw her face. Not Cassidy.

“Abby.”

“SAM, YOU’RE DREAMING. WAKE UP. IT’S ALL RIGHT. I’M HERE.”

Energy shivered in the atmosphere, summoning him from the nightmare. He came awake on a surge of adrenaline and psi, aware of the warmth of Abby’s hand on his bare arm, aware of her comforting energy.

He opened his eyes and saw her bending over him. Her anxious concern was a palpable force in the atmosphere. He had probably scared the hell out of her. Bodyguards weren’t supposed to sleep on the job in the first place, and they definitely were not supposed to suffer from nightmares. There were rules about that kind of stuff somewhere.

He took his feet down off the ottoman and sat forward, scrubbing his face with his hands. He willed himself to full wakefulness.

“Abby,” he said again.

“I’m here.”

She was safe. She was not caught in the endless loop of the damned lab dream.

Automatically, he raised his para-senses and was relieved to discover that they responded instantly. He did not know how much time had passed, but it was clear that he had recovered from the heavy exhaustion that followed a hard burn. He glanced at his watch. The black crystal numbers glowed. He had slept for nearly three hours.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice sounded rough, as if he had dragged it out of the fog of the nightmare. “Must have been dreaming.”

“Yes. You called my name.”

He tried to think. “It was the recurring dream I told you about tonight. But it was different this time. Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake.”

He got to his feet. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.” She stepped back, out of his way. “Well, actually, I didn’t try. I was a little worried after you fell asleep. You seemed feverish, so I decided to stay up until it looked like you were through the burn and sleeping normally.”

First he had to deal with her gratitude. Now she was treating him as if he was an invalid. This relationship was going downhill fast.

“Just the afterburn fever,” he said, trying to sound cool and in control, like a man who could handle his job. “I’m not ill. You’ve been through a burn. You know how it is.”

“I know how it feels, but I’ve never been close to anyone else who is going through it, so I didn’t know what it looked like. I didn’t realize that it had some of the symptoms of a high fever.”

“Aura heat.”

“Yes, but you were giving off a lot of energy,” she said. “I have to tell you it was a little unnerving. I was afraid that flash-bang gizmo might have caused some sort of delayed psychic stress.”

“I told you, I’m all right.” Great. Now he was snapping at her again. “You don’t have to play nurse.”

“I was just looking out for you while you slept off the burn.” She was starting to sound annoyed. “I didn’t mean to offend your macho self-image. Do you always wake up in a bad mood like this?”

“No. But everything seems to be different with you.”

“Keep in mind that I had a bad day, too, and unlike you, I haven’t had any sleep yet. I am in no mood for sarcasm.”

He took a few beats to ponder that. “Does it strike you that we seem to be arguing over nothing again?”

“Yes, it does.” She folded her arms. “Any idea why that is happening?”

“Sure. I want to have sex with you, but every time I turn around tonight, you’re either thanking me or trying to take care of me. So I provoke an argument because it makes you mad. See, I’d rather have you mad at me than pointing out the fact that I’m a decrepit bodyguard.”

There was stunned silence for a few seconds. Abby finally got her mouth closed.

“Good grief,” she said. “That is…very insightful.”

“For a man, you mean?”

“For anyone. I’m impressed.”