Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3 (13 page)

“Not safe for you, anyway.” She glared at him. “If you try to leave me here, I will kick your ass.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Good. Besides, you can’t touch anything. The way your eyes keep changing… It’s scaring me. I don’t want you to get lost in these memories. You need to stop reading things.”

“I’m not sure if I can promise not to. If it means helping Siobhan.”

Dammit. She was so keen on helping Finn. She needed to remember that he was just as adamant about helping his sister. She couldn’t really blame him for taking the risk. She’d do the same and more to help her loved ones.

He took her hand in his. “I need you with me. Are you up for this?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Chapter Eighteen

Wild fennel brushed against Finn’s face and arms as they headed toward Travis’s house. Finn didn’t know how he was finding the way, but was sure they were going in the right direction. A saw palmetto grazed his jeans, reminding him that Jazz’s legs were unprotected. He glanced back to see how she was doing.

Damn, she looked sexy. Okay, the boots were a little silly, but she was pulling it off. He loved seeing her legs stretch out from beneath his shirt. The view of her chest when she bent forward to duck under something was riveting. He felt guilty enjoying the sight of her, knowing that she was assuredly not having a good time herself.

“Eyes on the road.” She smirked at him.

He turned back to look where he was going just in time to be smacked in the face by a low-hanging branch. He heard her let out a stifled laugh.

Okay, maybe she was having a little fun.

He was glad there weren’t paths cleared to the little stretch of side-road where they were parked. It was a good sign that Travis didn’t get out that way and wouldn’t discover them. They were lucky to have a base of operations to investigate his house. Still, it would have been nice not to be swimming through foliage to get there.

My kingdom for a machete.

You got that right.

He sighed. Now he was talking to himself. At least it was just in his head. He stopped abruptly. Jazz appeared at his side.

“What is it?” She peered around at the wall of green surrounding them.

“This is it.”

He pushed back one of the fennel plants as if it was a curtain. On the other side, the brush had been cleared for a few dozen feet leading up to a run-down house. The paint was light brown and peeling and the roof was covered in moss.

He checked the windows and layout. From what he could tell, it probably had two bedrooms, one bath, a kitchen, and maybe a small family room. All of the rooms had to be tiny. The screen door facing them was barely hanging on its hinges.

Behind the house was swampland. True swamp. A small aluminum fishing boat was tied to a dock that stretched a few feet out over the water. The dock and boat were in much better condition than the house.

Finn remembered what Michael had said about well-fed alligators. He imagined Travis on the dock feeding them…leftovers.

He snorted.

What the fuck?

“Is something funny?”

“No.” Nothing about that was funny. Why the hell had he laughed? “Come on.”

He started for the yard, but Jazz held him back.

“How do we know he’s not home?”

Finn pointed to the gravel drive that led up to the side of the house. “His truck isn’t here.”

He headed forward again, feeling an almost magnetic pull toward the house. When he reached the front door, he didn’t hesitate to open it.

“Finn, let me do that! You shouldn’t be touching anything.”

“There’s a trick to it.”

He lifted the door slightly in its frame to keep it from falling off the hinges. Jazz stared at him.

“What?” he asked.

“How did you know to do that?”

How indeed.

“Just…let’s go inside.”

She kept staring at him as she slipped past into the house. Dim light filtered through the curtains. The inner door was open. Finn shut the screen door behind him and looked around.

It was even more depressing inside than out. Aside from the worn furniture, faded wallpaper, and truly disgusting carpet, there were pelts and stuffed animals everywhere.

“They look so real,” Jazz said. She leaned a bit closer to a raccoon, then backed away.

“Travis did develop quite a knack for it over the years.”

She turned and stared at him again. “What did you say?”

Finn shrugged. His head was starting to hurt. “They look real. Like you said. He’s pretty good at this.”

“That’s not what you said.”

“What does it matter?”

“Finn, you don’t sound right.”

Troublesome woman.

Finn shook his head. The room shifted as he did. “I’m fine. Let’s look around.”

“Just don’t touch anything.”

She’s always telling me what to do.

She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away. Why did he do that? He loved it when she touched him. And to have her reaching for him… It was a nice change.

He didn’t miss the hurt look that crossed her face.

“I just…need some space.”

No he didn’t. Why had he said that?

“Are you okay?”

He wasn’t sure. He glanced around the room, at the ratty green couch with an old blanket over the back. He was sure Travis was sleeping there at night—on the nights when he slept at all.

Travis had always been plagued by insomnia. His nervous energy was everywhere. Finn could practically see Travis pacing the room. Always pacing.
Taking up too much space.

A wave of nausea flooded his body. Finn felt dizzy. He had to get out of that room.

“Let’s go to the kitchen.” He walked past Jazz, being careful not to touch her, and headed to the archway that led to the small tiled room.

Finally, he could breathe again. Travis’s energy was much lighter here. He must not spend much time in the kitchen. Finn didn’t doubt it, with how emaciated Travis appeared. He walked to the fridge and opened the door.

“Don’t touch anything, remember?” Jazz grabbed the door from his hand. They both looked at its contents.

Mustard. A jar of dill pickles. Half a loaf of bread that looked like it was starting to go green. That was it. Aside from being kind of pathetic, it wasn’t scary at all. No severed heads or body parts. Finn chuckled.

What. The. Fuck.

“Why do you keep laughing?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”

Nothing. If there had been something frightening in Travis’s fridge, like trophies from Michael’s victims, they might have come from Finn’s
sister
.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

“I need… I need to go outside,” Finn said.

He staggered to the side door that led to the yard. Jazz was right behind him. This door was closed, but not locked. He jerked it open and practically ran out into the fading sun. He bent over, hands on his knees, and took deep breaths.

Someone put their hands on his back. He yelled and whirled away, swinging his arms to fend them off.

“It’s just me,” Jazz yelled. She was holding her hands up in the air and had backed away.

Thank God she was so fast. He might have hit her while he was flailing. His heart was pounding and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He needed to get control of himself again. She took a step toward him and he jerked back.

“Don’t touch me!”

Her mouth dropped open. She stared at him for a moment, then shut it.

Where had that come from? He still couldn’t breathe. His chest felt tight, like something was crushing him. The light was starting to dim, his vision tunneling. He fell to his hands and knees, retching.

“Finn!”

Jazz wrapped her arms around him. The tightness in his chest vanished.

“Finn, hold on to me. We have to get out of here.” She helped him kneel, cradling his face with one hand. “I hear an engine. We have to go. Please, Finn. Come on. Get up.”

She was trying to pull him to his feet. She was making better progress than he would have guessed, given how much smaller than him she was. He draped an arm over her shoulders and lurched up. They staggered through the yard together.

“Come on,” she said. “Keep moving. You can do this.”

They made it through the brush and collapsed, panting. Jazz turned back to the house, crawling on her stomach to get closer so she could see without being seen. Finn flopped forward to join her, dragging himself along. The fennel was thick enough that they should be hidden from the other side.

He won’t see.

Finn remembered lying not far from where they were, watching the house, laughing as Travis and Auntie had another of their fights.

Wait, no. That wasn’t Finn’s memory. Another of Michael’s rising to the surface.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, centering himself, reminding himself that this was
his
body. His mind. He was Finn.

Jazz was right about not touching anything. It was too dangerous. They would have to find another way.

A dark gray truck pulled up to the house. Travis leapt from the driver’s seat. He looked shaken. He practically ran to the house’s side door. The kitchen door.

The one they had left open.

Shit.

Travis slowed as he approached it. He stopped a few feet from the house and turned, scanning the yard and the brush. Finn felt Jazz stiffen. He put his hand on the small of her back, hoping to comfort her, to silently tell her to stay still.

Normally, Finn would absolutely be able to take Travis down. But not now. Not when Finn could barely stand without Jazz’s help.

Travis seemed to stare at them for a moment. He took a step forward. A squirrel ran out from the fennel nearby, charging him. Travis screamed, stumbling backward. The tiny squirrel was terrifying him.

Finn started to laugh. Jazz clamped her hand over his mouth. Lucky for them, poor Travis was still screaming. Because of a squirrel.

Poor Travis.
The voice in his head was mocking.

What the fuck was happening to him? How were memories surfacing, causing outbursts, when he wasn’t even touching anything? And why
the fuck
was he thinking things—thoughts that obviously weren’t his—that weren’t even memories?

“We have to go,” Jazz whispered. “Now.”

Finn nodded. They backed away from the edge of the fennel. She pulled his arm over her shoulders again and helped him to his feet. They had to get away. Away from Travis and the house where Michael had grown up. Away from his childhood stomping ground.

Even as they ran, Finn felt an oppressive energy, like it was riding on his back, weighing him down. He stumbled more times than he could count, but Jazz was always right there, pulling him up, alternating between whispering encouragement and threats.

Distance wasn’t helping. They finally reached the SUV. She popped open the back hatch and helped him sit. When that was too much for him, he lay down on the tarp that covered the big space.

“Finn, what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know.” He covered his eyes with his hands.

“No you don’t,” she said. “Cut that out.”

He felt her crawl up next to him.

“Let me see your eyes. Finn, come on.”

She grabbed his arm and started tugging on it. When she couldn’t get enough leverage to budge him, she straddled his stomach, gripping his hands tightly and pulling. He let her win, but kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to know what she’d see. He was too afraid.

“Please Finn. Let me see your eyes.” She put her hands on his cheeks, her touch gentle. “Please.”

Begging. I like it.

Shut up shut up shut up!
Finn’s stomach started churning again. The thoughts popping into his head weren’t memories. They were new.

A horrifying theory presented itself.

He had been focused on avoiding getting lost in memories while he was reading things. As long as he made it out, he figured he was fine. But what if he was wrong? What if he was picking up Michael’s energy with each reading and it was somehow staying? What if Finn couldn’t get rid of it?

He felt like Michael’s memories had become ingrained in Finn’s mind. Worse—like part of Michael’s
personality
was stuck in him.

Finn felt a darkness within him laugh. Whatever it was, it wasn’t even bothering with trying to hide. Not anymore.

Shiiiit.

“Finn, please. I’m scared. You’re scaring me.”

He was scared too. He couldn’t move. The darkness was creeping along his limbs, paralyzing him. He was trapped in his own body.

“Please, I can’t lose you again,” she said. “Do you understand? Can you even hear me?”

Jazz’s hands were trembling. Her grip tightened. Then she kissed him.

The darkness evaporated. Finn felt it retreat. He wasn’t sure what it was or where it had gone, but for the moment, he was just himself again. It was only him and Jazz.

She pulled back from the kiss. He opened his eyes.

She smiled, her gaze searching his face. Then she laughed and lowered her head to his chest.

“Oh thank God.”

She slid her arms around his neck and held him, thighs tight against his sides, chest pressed to his. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. He didn’t ever want to let go. She was his anchor. Somehow, she had pulled him back from that darkness.

At least for now.

Chapter Nineteen

His eyes were normal. Pale blue. Finn’s eyes. Jazz had half expected them to be bright blue. The same blue as Michael’s.

The things he said back at the house and the way he was acting… It wasn’t him. Finn was confident, but not arrogant. And he knew way too much about Travis’s home. Finding it was one thing. Being aware of the trick with opening the door? That was another.

He had only mentioned being concerned that he would get lost in a memory while using his powers. Why was he acting weird when he wasn’t touching anything? At least when she touched him it seemed to snap him out of it.

She didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t know how to protect him. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him again. Not to Michael’s memories. So she did the only thing she could. She held on.

Finn nuzzled her neck. She shifted so that she could kiss him again.

He brought his hands to her face, brushing her hair out of the way. His tongue slid into her mouth, coaxing her to relax into him. He brought his hands to her hips, holding her tight to his body as he rocked against her. His erection prodded her through his jeans.

They needed this—needed to connect on a deep level. Words had never been their strong suit. Touch was their best form of expression.

She leaned back, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. He massaged her hips as he watched. She left it on, hoping it would add to his pleasure, keeping him focused on what they were doing. The fabric whispered against their skin as she moved.

She lifted his shirt so she could explore the chiseled rows of his abs with her fingertips. There was no padding to soften his muscles. Only lines and curves, dips and valleys defining every inch of him. He was exquisite.

She tugged on his shirt to let him know she wanted it off. He sat up and lifted his arms so she could pull it over his head and cast it aside. Dark hair graced his pecs, fanning over his chest and running down his stomach like a waterfall.

Running her fingertips over the softness of it, she took her time, watching his gaze intensify with each stroke. She pushed him back onto the floor of the SUV, then started to undo his jeans. As she opened his fly, he gripped her hands to stop her.

“Jazz…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have any condoms.”

Condoms. Right. And they’d used the only one she had. One that had been sitting in her wallet since they dated, now that she thought about it. But why didn’t he have any?

“Please tell me you’ve been practicing safe sex,” she said.

He let out a short laugh and sat up next to her. “I haven’t been practicing much of anything. Not with a partner, anyway.”

She stared at him. They had talked about their histories when they were dating. She had been surprised that his was as brief as her own. When he explained about being able to read people and the logistic issues with not being able to touch someone during sex without reading their mind, it made more sense. Still…

“Finn, it’s been years since we were together. Surely you’ve slept with someone. I mean, everybody has urges.”

“I don’t need anybody else to deal with my
urges
.” He laughed and shook his head. His tone was more serious when he went on. “I haven’t been with anyone since we broke up. I tried a date or two, but just…wasn’t interested.”

“Oh.”

She hadn’t been interested in even trying to date anyone. She had thrown herself into her work. The only romantic indulgences she allowed herself were her attempted hook-ups for her friends. Knowing that he hadn’t been with anyone either, hadn’t even really felt like trying… It gave her hope. He still cared. She wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to move on.

“This is the part where you say something,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Okay…what?”

“Okay, we don’t need to use a condom.” They never really did, in her mind. “Neither of us engaged in risky behavior before we started dating or since.”

He winced, then looked away. “Great. Good to know.”

“I didn’t mean…” She let out a sigh. “I haven’t been with anyone else either. Since you.”

“Oh.” His face actually lit up.

Apparently he was feeling relieved about their mutual lack of activity too. She had to admit the thought of him with other women was upsetting. She really had wanted to keep him all to herself, not even sharing him with her friends. She would fix that mistake too, if he gave her a chance.

He grinned and said, “I suppose I ruined you for other men.”

She laughed. She couldn’t say that he had ruined her for other men. There had really only ever been him. No one else had made their way into her heart.

“Don’t be so cocky,” she said.

He feigned a confused expression. “But I thought we were going to—”

She covered his lips with her fingertips briefly. “How could I have forgotten what a comedian you are?”

“There are many things I’m eager to remind you of.” He lifted his hands to her back, running them along the sides of her spine.

“There’s something else you should know,” she said.

His smile dimmed. She knew she must sound serious. Then again, she was broaching a serious topic. Possibly a deal-breaking one.

He leaned back and said, “I’m listening.”

Her heart was beating in her throat. She forced herself to swallow as her moment of truth approached.

“You don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant either,” she said.

“Okay.”

He was too flippant. He didn’t understand, probably thought she meant she had an IUD or something.

“I can’t get pregnant,” she said. “Ever.”

“Oh.”

She waited for him to say something else. Ask questions. Offer comfort or something. He just stared at her.

“That’s it?
Oh?
”

He shrugged. “Lots of people can’t have kids.”

“It’s not a condition. For me, it was a choice.”

His mouth dropped open. Here it came.

Why would you do that? What if you change your mind? But you’re so young.

Instead, he laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

He kept laughing for a moment, shaking his head. “We could have saved so much money on condoms.”

“That’s very practical of you.” She wasn’t sure which was worse, him grilling her about her choice or joking about it.

“We were really going hardcore on birth control.”

Yeah, this was worse. She bristled and shifted away from him, but he reached out and picked up her hand.

“Jazz, I’m laughing so hard because I did the same thing. I made the same choice.”

“What?”

He shook his head and laughed. “It took me five years to find a doctor who would finally give me a vasectomy. They all kept saying, ‘You’re too young to make a permanent decision like this. Wait for a while. If you find the right person…’ And on and on. Such bullshit. As if I don’t know my own mind.”

Jazz had heard the same lines. It had taken her
seven
years to get her doctor to perform a tubal ligation.

“But you love kids.”

“I do. For about an hour. Then I’m ready to move on.” He smiled at her, then brushed a lock of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Come on. I’m sure you love those adorable nieces of yours. But that doesn’t mean you want your own. I get that. I’d sure as hell rather figure it out before having kids than after.”

She couldn’t argue with that. But this was so unexpected. It felt surreal.

“I thought… I thought you wanted a family.”

“What? Why?”

“Your dad named the bar Connelly’s. You kept talking about your family up north.”

“Because I miss them sometimes. And I was trying to draw you out to talk about yours. My dad named the bar that because he opened it with his brother originally.” He grinned at her. “Man, talk about jumping to conclusions. I am never going to let you hear the end of this.”

Jazz couldn’t believe it. She had built up such a fantasy around Finn—a story of why they couldn’t be together. Maybe she had just been trying to feel better about keeping him at a distance.

He shook his head, still laughing. “We
really
should have talked more.”

“Do you want to get married?” she asked.

His smile vanished and he paled. “Wow. Okay, that is sudden. Look, we have a lot of things to work out. And marriage…” He shook his head.

“Wait, I’m not asking you to marry me. I’m asking if marriage is something that you’re interested in.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxed, shoulders lowering as he let out a deep breath. “That’s reassuring.”

“Well?”

“Damn. I know I wanted us to talk more about meaningful things, but this is venturing into ‘be careful what you wish for’ territory.”

“Finn.”

He smiled, but it was subdued, then he shook his head. “No. I’m not interested in marriage. I’ve seen too many people break vows and ignore the spirit of the arrangement. Paperwork doesn’t make a union. Partnership does.”

She couldn’t speak. How could this be so…perfect? For the first time she could remember, she felt as if Fate was smiling on her.

“Besides, it always struck me as a lot of trouble for what? A tax break on buying a house together? No thanks.”

“You like it above the bar. If someone tried to get you to move, they wouldn’t be right for you.”

He smiled at her. “You never asked me to move.”

Jazz smiled back. Her stomach was doing somersaults. She had always felt that she and Finn were a match. She just didn’t know how much of one. Talking definitely had its advantages.

Then again, so did other activities.

“I’m going to ask you to move now.”

His smile faltered.

She put her hand on his chest and said, “Lay back.”

He grinned as he did as she asked, shifting so that he was in the middle of the empty space. She had never been gladder to have a roomy vehicle. And the padded tarp made it downright comfy.

Kneeling at his side, she picked up where she’d left off. She pulled off his shoes and socks, then unfastened his jeans and slid them down his muscular legs. He was already tenting his boxer-briefs. She gave herself a moment to enjoy him through the thin fabric. She ran her fingers along the length of his shaft.

He closed his eyes and folded his arms behind his head, using them as a pillow. She wanted him relaxed. She also wanted better access. He lifted his hips as she pulled off his boxer-briefs, leaving him naked before her.

Finn naked. She hadn’t taken the time to look at him before in the hotel. There had been too much need, too much fear. She had thought if she said or did the wrong thing, he would bolt again.

Things changed. Quickly, sometimes. She smiled as she ran her hand over the strong muscles of his stomach, gently skimming his shaft before tracing her nails along his thighs. His breathing relaxed.

Never in a million years had she thought she would be back in this situation—back with Finn. She wouldn’t waste a moment.

She kicked off her boots and slid her shirt from her shoulders, then untied her bikini top. After slipping out of the bottoms, she looked back at Finn. His eyes were open as he watched her, smiling.

“You know you’re the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, right?”

She smirked. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

He laughed, but then a shadow crossed his face. He murmured, “I bet you do.”

“I don’t think I’ll be hearing it nearly as often now, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’ll be with me.”

His expression remained guarded. “I guess I’m pretty good at playing the heavy when we’re out in public.”

“I was thinking of a different role.”

“Which is?”

What word could she use?
Boyfriend
seemed too trite for what she wanted them to be. She was so relieved to know he had no interest in the title of
husband
.
Mate
just made her feel ridiculous. But she wanted him to know she was all-in, just like he’d once told her.

She settled on the phrase that made the most sense to her.

“Partner.”

He practically beamed at her. “That sounds good to me.”