Beyond Fearless (16 page)

From below, he heard Anna gasp as the birds circled madly around the open area, still squawking, frightened and determined to get out of the house—if they could figure out where to find the window.

“Watch out,” he shouted.

When he looked over the railing, he saw she had already ducked and covered her head with her arms.

She peered out, watching the egrets wheel in the small space. One found the broken sliding glass door and sailed into the open air. A second followed. But the third was apparently too stupid to live.

It kept flapping around the room, protesting loudly as it clipped walls and windows.

Finally, by some miracle, it found the broken door and zoomed through

“Jesus!” Zach stared after the retreating shape. “That was certainly exciting. Is that what you were worried about?”

“I don't know.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

Turning, he looked up at the ceiling, seeing the sky showing through a massive break in the roof where some of the birds had escaped.

“I wonder what else is in here,” Anna called.

He nodded, skirting the hole in the ceiling as he started down the hallway. “We'd better check.”

He was still walking cautiously. But not cautiously enough. He had covered only a few yards when he heard a tremendous cracking sound as the floorboards gave way beneath his feet.

ZACH'S KNIFE CLATTERED
to the floor as he grabbed frantically for the solid edge of the hallway.

The surface crumbled away under his fingers, turning to powder in his grasp.

Then, finally, he found solid purchase.

Below him, in his head and in his ears, he heard someone screaming. It was Anna.

“I'm okay,” he shouted, with his legs dangling through the hole that had opened up under his weight.

He couldn't look down, but he judged that his heels were still twelve feet above the tile floor below. A long enough drop to break a leg or sprain an ankle, if he was unlucky.

Under the circumstances, a break would be a disaster. And he had the eerie feeling that, if he
did
fall, the worst would happen.

Struggling to breathe slowly and evenly, he considered his options. Maybe he could pull himself up. Or if not, maybe he could swing his body enough to contact the flooring that was still solid.

He swung his legs, trying to lever himself up and out of the hole. As soon as he shifted his weight, more of the floor gave way.

“Shit!”

“Zach!”

He stopped moving, hoping that if he held still, the rest of the floor would stop breaking away.

With difficulty, he repressed another curse so as not to alarm Anna. But he suspected she heard him inside her head.

He should have listened to her. She'd been using her psychic talent for years, and in this situation, she'd picked up on something bad. But he'd charged up the stairs anyway, and now he was in trouble.

Her voice shot up from below. “What can I do?”

Not sure,
he answered in his head, because he could feel the floor subtly shifting, and he didn't want to take the chance of doing anything—even talking—that would send him hurtling downward.
Move out of the way so I don't fall on you.

“You won't fall!” she said, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

Her next words made his gut twist with fear.

“If I come up there, do you think I can pull you up?”

“Stay downstairs!”

As he bellowed the order, the floor vibrated.

More calmly, he added,
We don't want to add any weight on the floor up here.

“You're right.”
Had she spoken aloud or in his head? He wasn't sure. Maybe both.

He might have examined the odd sensation if more of the floor hadn't crumbled. Trying to keep his motions smooth, he reached out to shore himself up, wondering how long he could hang there. His arms were strong from working on the boat, but he couldn't keep this up all day. Especially after his long swim.

Below him, he could hear Anna's footsteps clattering across the floor.

“Hold on. Just hold on.”

Easier said than done.

Too bad his psychic talents didn't extend to controlling the physical world. Then he could float himself down from the second floor without risking injury.

It seemed like Anna was gone for years, and he felt his fingers starting to go numb. In a few minutes, he wouldn't have a choice about dropping to the level below.

He heard something heavy scraping across the floor, but he couldn't look around to see what it was. Along with the scraping came the sound of Anna's heavy breathing, as though she were working at some task far beyond her physical strength.

What are you doing?

“Pushing the dining room table under you.”

He remembered it. A solid slab of wood that would surely hold his weight.

Another piece of the floor broke loose, and he shifted his hold again, but this time the surface gave way under the fingers of his left hand. He found himself dangling by his right hand.

The second side of the hole broke off, and he hurtled downward. But he fell only a few feet before landing on a hard surface.

The table.

The extra three feet made all the difference. He bent his knees, landing on his feet first, then dropping to his butt, breathing hard.

Anna rushed around the table and reached for him.

“Are you all right?” she asked, her voice urgent.

He flexed his limbs. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

“I was afraid you were going to break your leg.”

“Me, too,” he answered as he moved to the edge of the table, spreading his thighs so he could pull her close. She walked into his embrace, clinging to him, and he stroked her back, whispering reassurances.

He cupped her head to his shoulder, and he turned his face so he could slide his lips against the tender line where her cheek met her hair.

Thank God you're okay.

I'm fine,
he repeated, then angled his head and brought his lips to hers.

She sank into the caress as his mouth ravaged hers, and she returned the kiss with equal fervor.

Her body fit against his so perfectly. And the pressure of her breasts against his chest was heavenly.

He longed to make love with her. But it was getting dark, and they had be sure they were secure in the house before they could focus on each other.

Still, he couldn't deny himself a little more closeness. And as her mouth opened and he stroked his tongue against hers, he felt desperation welling inside her.

“What?”

He's trying to…get into my head. Trying to pull me away from you.

Jesus!

“But I belong to you. Only to you,” she gasped.

“Yes.” Even as he answered, he felt a little worm of doubt trying to work its way into the encounter.

“Who is he?”

I don't know!
Her denial rang inside his mind as she brought her mouth back to his, greedy and anxious at the same time.

I can't lose you. You're too important to me.

Thank God.
Her breath hitched.

You won't lose me.

She clung to him, her body plastered to his as he stroked his hands up and down her back.

Then, from one moment to the next, the whole context changed. His head spun. And the room around him seemed to blur, replaced by another scene. It was almost like the first time he'd met her—not in person, but on that windswept plain outside the real world.

Only he sensed this wasn't outside the world. It was real. And very strange.

He saw a room that was decorated like a shrine, but like no shrine he had ever seen. The main colors were gold, coral, and red, with a strange collection of objects set around the walls and in front of a wooden altar.

He saw fans, peacock feathers, and a fountain where a stream of water shot from a turtle's mouth into a shell-shaped basin. The animal's head looked a lot like a penis.

All that registered only at the corners of his vision, because he was still focused on Anna.

Behind her he saw a high wooden altar, dedicated to a goddess called Ibena. Somehow he knew that. And knew she was one of the Blessed Ones. Like Pagor. But different. Not the god of war. The goddess of love and sensuality.

God, no!
Anna screamed the protest inside his head.

As she cried out in denial, the gold, coral, and red colors faded. The strange room vanished, and Zach was left with Anna, in the abandoned house. The two of them alone.

Or were they?

He looked wildly around, seeing no one else.

“Zach, Zach.”

“What happened?”

I don't know! I don't know,
she sobbed out.
But he dragged me to a shrine where he was worshipping Ibena.

Yes. I saw it, too.

Oh, God.
She whimpered, and he held her to him, knowing that they were both in danger. More danger than he had thought possible.

Everything had changed when they first made love. Not just inside his head. The world around him was brighter, a kind of supercharged reality. All his senses were sharper.

Yet at the same time, he knew it wasn't happening fast enough. The understanding between them was still new. Unless the connection went deeper, he could still lose her. Lose her to another man desperate to take her away.

As he contemplated that horrible possibility, he knew she had followed his thoughts.

“No,” she sobbed out. “We belong together. Us. Anna and Zach. Not
him
.”

 

ANNA
hitched in a breath and let it out slowly, clinging to Zach.

He was with her in a way that nobody had ever been with her. Well, not since her imaginary friend, long ago. But she hadn't known that he was real then. And she had never met him. Never seen him in person.

Yet nobody else had ever been so close to her. Not her parents, or anyone who had ever been her friend. This was unique. And so real that it made her insides ache.

She simply wanted to be left alone with Zach to savor the experience. But almost as soon as she'd found him, outside forces had leaped in, struggling to tear them apart.

Not just the guy who worshipped Ibena.

The man who had hired Wild Bill to follow her—and kill her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them so she could meet Zach's eyes.

We got away from the thugs. Now we have to fight the psychic guy.

She could have said it aloud. Instead she deliberately chose to communicate mind to mind—to emphasize what they had found together. She still didn't know how or why it had happened between them, but now the connection was as much a part of her as the need to breathe.

She looked around the room.

“Whatever happened, we're alone here. I mean physically.”

“Yeah. And we'd better get ready for the night.”

Looking toward the window wall, she saw that the sun had been sinking, and the room was dark and shadowy.

She longed to stay in Zach's comforting embrace. Instead she forced herself to take a step away. Glancing toward the sofa, she made her voice brisk. “I guess this is as good a place as any to camp out. I can turn the cushions over, in case they're dusty. And get some of those tablecloths for sheets.”

“Good idea. And I saw some dead wood outside. I'm going to get some so we can build a fire. That will give us light. And we can cook some of the soup.”

He eased off the table, testing his legs to make sure they were steady.

As she watched him, she made an effort to guard her thoughts. She didn't want Zach to go out and leave her alone in the darkening house, but she didn't want him to know she was a chicken.

He picked that up, anyway.

“It's okay to be…jittery,” he told her, stroking his hand over her arm.

“Am I that open to you?”

“When your emotions are involved,” he answered.

He retrieved the flashlight from the kitchen, then walked to the sliding glass door and disappeared into the vegetation. And she knew he wanted to be alone with his own thoughts. Or as alone as he could be, under the circumstances.

Wishing she had a broom to clean up, she detoured around the debris on the floor and carefully pulled the cover from one of the sofas. At least there didn't seem to be much dust, she thought as she folded the covering and did the same for the other section of the sofa, which was backless. By turning it around and pushing it against the first one, she was able to make a wide bed. Very palatial for a couple camping out.

When she had finished, the room was almost dark, and she could hear the sounds of the night starting up. Insects, and other noises she couldn't identify.

A sudden thought struck her.
Good Lord!
She was supposed to be at the Sugar Cane Club right now, getting ready for her act.

She struggled to repress a hysterical laugh as she pictured Bertrand's panic. This morning he'd asked her to do an extra show. Now she wasn't going to be doing
any
shows.

A loud crack made her jump, but then she realized it was probably Zach out in the jungle breaking up wood for the fireplace.

Reaching for him with her mind, she came up blank.

The absolute silence brought a dart of panic—until she ordered herself to calm down. When they weren't touching, or near each other, she had trouble contacting him. His mind was closed to her now. But they'd fix that soon.

And being alone now was an opportunity. It gave her a private moment to think about what had happened after he'd fallen onto the table.