Night Visions (Night Series) (4 page)

Cupping her hand, she swept the yellow and pink confetti into the pail next to her desk. She should be working. She knew that, but her mind remained unsettled. Blank pages didn't matter. Nor did editors. Or the characters she
should
be writing about. The only thing that did matter…the voices, the visions, the nightmares. If she wasn't losing it, then how could they be connected?

Who was the woman in the mirror? Why did she feel compelled to warn her?

Sam's stomach twisted just thinking about it. If it's supposed to be a premonition, then why were there so many unanswered questions? Who was going to hurt her? She dealt with fanatic fans and crazed stalkers before. But this? This brought crazy to a whole new level.

And the voices. It couldn't be a coincidence that they pulsed in her head at the same time Ginger sensed something in the woods. The urgency couldn't be mistaken for anything but a warning. Even Bryan's concern alarmed her.

She groaned, dropping her head in her hands.
Am I psychic? Or just plain crazy?

Rubbing her eyes
, she avoided the mocking cursor. If she didn't pull herself together, she would never meet her deadline. Add to that her book tour next month, three television interviews, an upcoming writer's workshop and she could pound her head on the desk.

Wiping her clammy palms on her knit pants, she fought the panic as it began to surface.

Breathe Sam!

Frustration built inside her. She snapped her laptop shut before she threw it out the window. Stressing over everything would only be counterproductive. She'd block her creativity for weeks if she allow
ed herself to continue with that destructive behavior. Maybe she needed to rearrange her schedule for the weekend. Allow herself the day and night off. Enjoy her time with Scott tonight. Give him her undivided attention. But come tomorrow, she would be glued to the chair. No matter what. Hopefully the only voices in her head will be her characters.

The caster wheels whirled across the floor as Sam stood, settling her hands on her hips. She arched her back
, letting out a groan when she felt a satisfying pop. How long had she been sitting in her office? Three hours? Four? Her stomach growled in response, letting her know she had daydreamed through lunch. Again.

Stepping away from the desk, she crossed the threshold, making her way to the kitchen. She stop
ped at the refrigerator to study the contents inside. Even though her body craved food, the thought of consuming it turned her stomach. Her eyes passed over the leftover chicken salad and settled for a green tea instead.

She eyed the kitchen table, though she didn't stop to sit. Fresh air would do her a world of good. What was it about being out in nature that rejuvenated her spirit? Even something as simple as sitting on the porch. She really should be baking something for dessert, but the thought of staying in
the empty house alone unsettled her. Scott would have to be content with the store bought cookies she had in the cupboard.

Sam plopped down in her Dad's favorite wooden rocker. She let her eyes drift closed, concentrating more on sound than sight to soothe her mind. A warm breeze caressed her face, bringing a smile to her lips. As did the sound of rustling leaves and the steady thump of her boat as it bumped against the dock. How could her loft in Manhattan compete with this? While she missed her life in the city, it didn't feel like home.

The wind kicked up a notch, carrying the scent of pine and mint from her garden. Sam propped her feet on the porch railing. Her foot flexed and relaxed, setting the chair in motion. Why couldn't time move faster? Bringing her closer to her dinner with Scott. Being idle for the next few hours sounded luxurious in theory, but at that moment she would prefer the comfort of his company.

Scott filled the void in her heart. Not completely, but enough so she could breathe again. So why did she wait until today to try and kiss him? Because she was a fool. Haunted by a ghost. A memory that overstayed its welcome. It was beyond time to move on. Didn't she deserve to be happy?

To think she wouldn't know him if she wasn't such a bookworm. Why he wasn't out on a Friday night getting bombed with the rest of campus never made sense. For her? It made total sense. Sam could still see her favorite corner in the library. Feel the cool wall against her back. The crisp pages of her English Lit book under her fingertips.

But that
night, when the shadow fell over her, that's the night things changed. That's the night the hottest guy on campus came into her life, sporting a flannel shirt and converse. And those jeans...She gripped the cool wood of the chair, the edges biting into her palms as warmth poured through her body. Even his loose fitting shirt couldn't hide the bulging muscles underneath.

She twirled a brown curl around her finger, a nervous habit she had never been able to break. Scott knelt next to her, pulling her hand away. His touch lingered for a moment, sending a strange prickling through her skin, before he ran the silken strand through his own fingers. No use denying the attraction she felt. Still felt for that matter. Today wasn't the first time Sam dropped her guard, letting herself drift closer to Scott. But at the last minute she would retreat as warm hazel eyes replaced blue ones.

Ian's…

Sam dragged her gaze to the dock. The last place she'd seen Ian, the last place she'd touched him. Lifting a shaking hand, her fingers pressed to her tingling lips, awakened from a long slumber. Her time to heal, now long o
verdue, she needed to mourn him.

A
nd move on.

A soft whisper drew her back to the present.

What now?

Her chest tightened as her eyes darted back and forth for any sign of danger.

Ginger bounded up the steps and plopped at Sam's feet with a grunt.

“Gin, you just scared the life out of me!”

Ginger sniffed in response, letting her eyes drift closed.

Sam ran a shaky hand through her hair as she tried to compose herself. If Ginger wasn't alarmed, then she shouldn't be. Why couldn't the damn voices be consistent? How was she supposed to know if there was danger if they popped up whenever they felt like it?

The chair creaked as Sam leaned forward ruffling Ginger's fur. Suddenly alert, Ginger lifted her head, tipping her nose in the air she sniffed. Her nails scraped against the wooden floorboards as she scrambled to her feet. In one swift motion, she leapt off the porch and raced toward the house next door.

“Seriously
, Ginger?” Sam sighed.

Reluctantly
, Sam pushed herself out of the rocker. Her peace and quiet short lived. She dragged her feet as she headed toward the neat, two story tan home with chocolate shutters. Of all the places Ginger had to run, why next door? A house that had been empty for too many years. Sam's stomach twisted in knots as she drew closer, sweat beading on her brow. She paused rubbing her temples as the whispers forced their way back into her head.

Not now
! Her silent scream forced the voices to listen. She exhaled a sigh of relief, grateful they had vacated her mind.

As she rounded the corner, she stopped in her tracks, startled to see a man kneeling beside Ginger. Not just kneeling, but actually petting her. His voice so soft, she was unable to hear what he said.

Who is this guy? Cesar Millan
?

Ginger never let anyone, let alone a stranger, within 100 yards of her without baring her teeth or deciding if she'd use them as a chew toy. Sam opened her mouth to tell him he was trespassing, but the words were trapped in her throat as he stood and faced her.

A sense of déjà vu washed over her. There was something familiar about him. His presence…his demeanor…his eyes…

Then he smiled. A crooked smile that stole the air she breathed. A rush of memories came flooding back. Of her childhood. Of happier times. Of
him
.

Ian Behr.

He'd disappeared from her life after their first stolen kiss on the dock. A kiss that forever changed her life.

Where had he been for the past six years? Why didn't he say goodbye? Why didn't he call?

Anger blazed in her soul. Mind-numbing anger. Ian had left her heartbroken, not respecting her enough to say goodbye. But staring into those hazel eyes shattered the silence in her heart and it began to beat again.

He was still her Ian. Except he wasn't a boy anymore.

CHAPTER 4

“Hi, Sammie.” Ian could see the conflict warring inside Sam. Anger. Confusion. Grief. Grieving for what could have been. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. He knew he hurt her all those years ago. Hell. A part of him died the night he left. She was the light in his soul. Without her, there was nothing but darkness. He had no choice but to slip away under the cover of night. One look into her eyes and he would have stayed. To hell with the consequences. But to save her, he had to go, even if it meant losing her forever.

How many hours had he spent that night, watching her sleep? Not long enough. Each hour that ticked by risked her waking. Lying there, a soft smile had rested on her lips, hands tucked under her cheek. Her life uncomplicated. He couldn't take that away from her. Not until he was sure. What if he had been wrong? She wouldn't have had a chance to grow up. Experience college. Have a career.

But he hadn't been wrong.

More beautiful than he remembered, her black hair hung in waves just past her shoulders, the sun catching strands of auburn. Just like it did that day on the dock. He resisted the urge to reach out and wrap a silky curl between his fingers. And her eyes… He could get lost in those big brown eyes. It took every ounce of strength he had to not grab her and pull her into his arms. He knew he needed to be patient. It was going to take time for her to trust him again. He couldn't do anything to jeopardize that. Unfortunately, the one thing he didn't have was time.

Now he needed to figure out a way to convince her to leave with him. He had hours behind the wheel to formulate a plan, but seeing her now, his scripted verse vanished. Time should have healed her wounds, but her emotions slammed into him. Doubt crept up with a vengeance at the shimmer of tears in her eyes. He wished she would scream at him, slap him, pound on his chest. Anything but tears. He deserved this punishment. Deserved to feel his heart ripped to shreds as her lip trembled. He had betrayed his best friend. Had been the sole cause of her pain. He needed to fix this.

* * *

Mouth gaping open, Sam could only stare at the man before her. Her lips tried to form words, but they lay trapped in her throat. Only Ian called her Sammie. He told her she would be his Sammie forever. But forever never came.

Ian.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Leaving her hollow inside. If she took two steps she would be in his arms. How many nights had she dreamed of him holding her, only to wake screaming when he was torn away? Ginger was there to make things right. Countless nights she would curl up next to her, nuzzling her until the tremors subsided. Or until Sam fell back into a restless sleep.

But Ginger couldn't protect her from this. No one could.

“I can't do this,” she moaned, not ready to dredge up all of those old feelings. A steady thrum began in her head, working its way to her stomach until it churned in denial.

Oh God. Please don't let me throw up
.

Sam blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over. The first sign she was on the verge of losing it. She should run now, before her heart betrayed her. A coward's way out. But better than making a mistake she would regret later.

As she spun toward her house, Ginger bumped into her legs. Sam flung her arms out for balance, grabbing the first thing her hand connected with. Ian's chest. Her attempt to pull her hand away failed as he linked his fingers through hers, anchoring her to him. He caressed her knuckles, each pass leaving her breathless.

“Please, Ian. Let me go,” she whispered, pleading for him to understand the tornado of emotions twirling through her.

Ian's eyes never left hers. His smile vanished, his mouth now pinched with worry. Could he possibly still care? What did it matter now? She refused to give him the benefit of the doubt. He didn't deserve it. Not after six years.

She tried to pry her fingers free, but might as well have been fighting with a bear trap. His other arm slipped around, pulling her closer. The heat of his hand warming the small of her back, unyielding in its affect on her.

Being this close to him, feeling his arms wrapped securely around her, sent a tidal wave of memories crashing over her. Her hands fisted, gripping his shirt. Holding him tight as if he were a lifeline, the only thing keeping her from drowning. She buried her head into his warm, solid chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart against her cheek. Inhaling his all too familiar musky scent, sobs poured out. As hard as she fought to keep it from happening, all of the pent up emotions unleashed on his shoulder.

She felt his arms tighten around her. If not for them, she would be in a puddle at his feet. His hand moved up to caress her hair, causing her skin to tingle. Her mind screamed to walk away, but her heart begged her to hold on and never let go.