Whispers After Death: A military psychic thriller (Mind Stalkers Book 3) Read online

  “You remind me too much of him.” His smoothing circular caresses on her temple then down the bridge of her nose and cheek quieted the worst of her turbulent thoughts.

  “So, you’ve been on your own all this time? Dear God. You’ve hidden right under my nose.” As if trying to negate his own culpability and pain, Conner pressed her cheek against his chest while kissing her forehead. “I’m eternally thankful you’ve done whatever necessary to survive, but you’re safe now. It’s time to let go of all that and start over.”

  “I don’t need you. I do fine on my own.” The lie tasted acidic in her mind and on her tongue. The last thing she wanted was to leave, but if she stayed any longer, her heart would detonate, so conflicted, so wrapped up in this man who’d changed in ways she couldn’t define.

  “We’ll discuss that later. Right now, we need to get you settled.”

  “I’m okay, for Chrissakes. What was in the envelope Billy sent? And why wait to open it?” Curiosity drove her thoughts forward while pulling up memories of how Billy had always protected and supervised, guiding her actions and nodding approval of her choices.

  “Don’t know what’s inside. It’s still sealed. When it arrived, that’s when I found out you were in the wind.” Self-recriminations and a certain emptiness seemed to writhe within his tone as his caresses momentarily stilled.

  “So, let’s see it.” She understood Conner’s perception on an elemental level since the same agonizing torment lay within her heart, as if seeing Billy’s legacy would reanimate pain and restore her anguish to its former heartrending capacity.

  “Since it’s waited this long, a little longer won’t hurt. I have a proposition for you.”

  Her body tensed. This new and twisted Conner held more than a shadow of something ominous beneath the surface, something dangerous which led far from her desired path. Just because she accepted a few crumbs of comfort didn’t mean she’d trust him.

  “Jeez, haven’t heard that one before. No, thank you. I was just kidding earlier.” She curled forward and away from his body.

  A small shake accompanied his admonishment before he pulled her back tight to his chest. “Knock it off.” Immediately, his touch softened.

  “I’m twenty-one. I’ve grown while you’ve been away. Do these look like puberty-induced pimples to you?”

  Either self-preservation or cowardice prevented her from lifting her shirt but placing her hands beneath each breast and pushing up proved her point. Although she’d matured into a woman’s body, her small breasts didn’t compare to his blonde, capable of breastfeeding a small village.

  “Yeah, like I said. You’re young.” Seizing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her face to meet his gaze.

  Regardless of the decades spent, she would never fathom what depraved schemes warped through his mind. He hadn’t been like this when she was younger, when Billy was alive.

  “You’re going to spend the next three months working for me. I have need of an assistant in my PI firm.” Determination in his gaze matched the force of his grip.

  This version of Conner she feared, the one who lurked behind the fierce scowl and foreboding aura.

  “A dick’s assistant? Wonder what that job entails. Sorry, I don’t look good in knee pads.”

  As the oldest of four brothers, he’d looked after them even before his father murdered their mother and left them alone in the world. He’d become protector, advisor, and parent to three younger siblings. It became his way of life.

  Determination and something unfathomable vacillated in waves to insulate them from the world while at the same time spreading uncertainty and a tinge of fear. “It’s the only way you’ll get the envelope.”

  This time, her entire body threatened withdrawal. Gray edged the periphery of her vision, fighting to take control. Could she run and leave a part of Billy behind? The last part he’d intended to share? If not for street seasoning, she might’ve caved—until another thought occurred.

  A standoff ensued as neither could proceed nor retreat without exposure to a crushing defeat. For him, the danger was failure to coerce her as he’d always done.

  The menace to her was much greater and entailed a broken spirit. The resultant tension knotted her stomach just as his jaw tic radiated conviction.

  There’s more than one way to skin a cat. “No. Now, let go of me.” Shocked when he relented, she scrambled to her feet while examining his expression, dissecting it. She didn’t like what she saw.

  Cunning. Determination. Victory. Then the damned smile, the one she could never resist that declared him master.

  Why?

  The ensuing silence unified years of grief, fear of the future, and dread over what final method her dead brother had devised to tweak her mind. It resulted in a point of no return and no moving forward.

  The present was too painful to live in. Delving into the past would kill her spirit in an instant.

  Flinging the door open, she rushed out to the vast hall until her forward momentum was halted by the scene on stage. Palmer was wicked on the drums as Cliff, their bass player, sang a slow ballad. They sounded good, real good.

  Daeron’s gaze found her, friend to friend, visually inspecting as if seeking assurance of her safety. She nodded then gestured toward the front door, knowing he’d discern her need to go.

  Like Conner, he understood her. Unlike Conner, Daeron never inspired fanciful dreams of white picket fences and long, hot nights filled with melting kisses and bodies joined in ecstasy.

  In less than an hour, the night brought death to her dreams of a new beginning while throwing her into a living nightmare fashioned from her own horrific past.

  The blonde bitch who’d visually dissected her earlier stepped into her path, the evil gleam in her eye spelling a type of trouble no one needed.

  “Where’re you going, sweetie? Obviously, Conner wants you to stay. I’m Cindy, by the way, his girlfriend.”

  “Listen, slut. You can have him. All of him. I don’t want him, don’t need him, and wouldn’t have him, especially that part. All yours. Have fun boning the dick.” She couldn’t force any more vehemence in her rejection.

  “Oh, hon, green just isn’t your shade. He’s already mine. Always has been and always will be. He just needs a little push now and then as a reminder, like tonight. ’Sides, there’s not enough of your skinny little ass to keep a man like him satisfied. Tell me, why didn’t you stuff socks in your bra for tonight’s performance? Must be awful to be mistaken for a guy…”

  The room held no comfort and no future. Pivoting, Kendra ran through the entrance hallway in need of the cool, fresh air to snap her reality back into place. At least Conner didn’t follow.

  He thought to manipulate her? Ha, he was in for a big surprise.

  Though almost dry, her thin shirt afforded no protection against plummeting temperatures and accumulating dew. The jacket she’d tossed aside in her bolt-hole would’ve felt good about now, but the distance to travel and retrieve it would ruin the evening’s plans.

  If only she could see the look on the smug bastard’s face once he discovered she’d outmaneuvered him. Wes should have been inside by now, which meant his vehicle was on the lot. She hadn’t seen him yet and wouldn’t search for his truck. The risk of being seen as a delinquent lurking about was too great.

  Still, she had a plan.

  Chapter Four

  The parking lot held more shadows than comfort as row after row of vehicles fostered the look of soldiers at attention, lined up and oblivious to the castle’s barbarians seeking untold perversions.

  How could Conner submerse himself in a glorified bar? Had war twisted him into some distorted and demented creature so foreign to his previous character? During her younger years, he’d existed as a beacon of light.

  Understandable the younger Croftons would follow his lead. Some things never changed. Marc had seemed perfectly comfortable in the dark surroundings. Even Daeron, whom Kendra had called friend for
three years, cast an appreciative glance around the interior. How could Conner lead them all astray? What happened to his sense of direction?

  The way he’d jumped away from her after their bodies collided relegated her to the status of filthy animal. That realization imparted freedom to view the world in a different light and from a different perspective, one she’d never considered. Perhaps she had sunk to the level Cindy’s gaze condemned.

  Smooth hardtop met damp grass beyond the last row of cars, a perfect place to sit and ease the roiling emotions driving her heart rate skyward from conflicting thoughts. Something about the surrounding woods made her avoid their silent offer of anonymity and shelter from the wind. The night’s temperature was dropping, yet the emotions boiling inside her would provide warmth until the band finished.

  Lower temps forced her to look around for Wes’ car, finding it locked and near the middle of the lot. Strange that she hadn’t seen him inside. Where was he, and why hadn’t he helped them set up? Wasn’t that what managers did?

  A black SUV in the lot’s corner offered a much-needed windbreak from the slicing breeze along with back support as she sat and rested against the wheel while praying for sanity’s return along with a plan. Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath.

  Thank God.

  Minutes passed as the cold breeze seeped through her pores to encase her new reality in virtual ice.

  “Hello, sweets. Need a little warming?” Underneath the thin veneer of civility, menace and syphilitic intentions lurked in the disembodied voice.

  Her gaze snapped open.

  Two encroaching shadows moved with stealth born of dark intentions. Blood roared in her ears to override the breeze’s sibilant sloughing through budding oak trees. In her life, threats often approached from a twisted angle seldom seen without good peripheral vision.

  She’d known better than to have her head up her ass and ignore her surroundings. A rapid vault to her feet landed her in a fighting stance with knees bent and fists ready. She may not have attained Billy’s level of black-belt expertise, but she’d spent years on the street, and had Daeron’s training to hone her skills.

  As panic settled its talons deep in her chest, the danger creeping forward took human form. Black-clad, masked face, gloved hands, the thugs stalked from the woods to extend the fingered, inky darkness in venomous degrees of menace. Despite the cloudy veil, she detected slim, wiry builds as faster, stronger than her adrenaline-flooded frame.

  Viewed minutes ago as a threat, the castle stood too far away to furnish safe haven since a flood of adrenaline compromised her mind’s order to run. She couldn’t override the increasing tremble in her legs until she got control of her breathing and heart rate. Daeron’s words echoed in her mind: “Assess your situation, control your response.”

  A deep breath. A mental shake. Her head cleared—somewhat. Her first opponent’s rigid stance prepped her mind and body for the brawl ahead. Six feet away and out of reach, he still towered over her.

  I will survive this.

  Her personal boogeyman motioned to an extended threat.

  A shorter man stepped up beside him.

  Jesus. Two-to-one odds.

  This isn’t good.

  Shorter, stockier, and dressed like his companion with the addition of a black trench coat, the newest peril kept his communication nonverbal, albeit more threatening. Ambient moonlight reflected his knife’s glimmer weaving a figure-eight pattern in the quiet night.

  Oh, shit.

  Her glance flicked to the castle.

  “Yeah, you could try, but you’d never make it. I’ll bring you down like a small deer and maybe snap your neck.” The leader snorted as he stepped closer, further assessment underway indicated by the way he cocked his head side to side. Four feet separated them, not close enough for a strike. His height gave him a longer reach, another disadvantage.

  “What do you want, asshole? The rest of the perverts are inside. Why don’t you join them?”

  Calm likely inherent to his degenerate personality, he gave her chills, something not many could do.

  “Just what your brother stole, the envelope. We’ve watched you, waiting for you to exploit the contents, then realized you didn’t even have it. Probably never did. Your bastard brother must’ve mailed it to one of his team. We’ve never been sure.”

  “You’ve waited years and still want to collect it? Must be important. Let me guess, pictures of your boss screwing his secretary? Probably worth millions in alimony payments.”

  “No dawdling, sweets. I’ll have what’s mine.” Three feet and almost within reach.

  How about a kick in the teeth instead?

  Kendra took a soft step left, but both men mimicked her move. “I don’t have your envelope.”

  “Maybe not, but you can get it from one of the Crofton brothers. Otherwise, they’ll be having accidents and end up like your big brother.” The verbal blackmail held no hesitation, only the desire to fulfill a promise, an unspoken need for violence.

  “If it’s in a safe deposit box, I can’t get to it. Looks like we’re in the same boat.” Street smarts only carried one so far. She didn’t want to bet a Crofton life on being able to crack it.

  “The way I hear it, no lock can stand in your path. However, if you prefer the easy way, use your charms, but be careful. The oldest brother has a terrible temper and has killed many times.” A glint of light off a false gold tooth provided the only distinguishing feature through the mask’s openings. “My boss wants this done now and without a mess.”

  “I’ve never been one to screw around, asshole.”

  “Well, then, looks like you need a tutor. I don’t mind helping a girl in need.” Glancing over his shoulder at his partner, he added, “Brac, keep a look out while I take this little morsel in the woods and guide her in the art of sucking dick and spreading her legs.”

  She couldn’t place the foreign accent, some form of Asian dialect.

  Affirmation wrapped in the same foreign intonation defied definition but not clarity as his partner rubbed the front of his jeans. “Save me some.”

  The woods lay twenty yards behind the second man. If she ran, regardless of the direction, they’d catch her. If she screamed, someone might come out and receive a crimson necktie during an attempt to intervene.

  When the first dirtball stepped close, she dropped her shoulders and relaxed her hands in a show of defeat.

  His gloved fingers flexed into fists.

  Another step forward.

  Fear clouded her mind, disconnecting thoughts firing at random while the rapid beat of her heart shook her body. The sound of it echoed in the roar of blood through her ears. She remembered how terror smelled after one time in its grasp. Them memory now left a nonhomogeneous sour reminder in her throat.

  She was experienced. She was strong. She could survive.

  A stiff blast of chilled air dried the moisture beading her brow before his foul breath boiled down her face and shrouded her mind with its filth.

  A dark chuckle accompanied rough hands pulling her forward and rubbing his hips back and forth against her.

  A quick step back prepared her for action. A deep breath to clear her mind. She’d use the SUV for leverage.

  Introducing her knee to the pervert’s nards lent its own satisfaction.

  “Looks like this chilly weather has had its own effect. Sorry, I don’t carry tweezers.”

  The hard ridge of his manhood received a wakeup call, street style.

  Her attacker doubled over as she shoved him to the right and off balance. Her step to the left gave her a clear line of sight to thug number two.

  A low snort accompanied the second man’s immediate countermove. He’d anticipated and again mimicked her step.

  She stood no chance against a knife.

  Hoarse words followed a groan from the first asswipe. “Shit. You’re gonna pay for that, whore.” Harsh breaths punched thin trails of vapor in the m
oonlight.

  Delight sprinkled his partner’s tone in chiding. “Christ, man, you can’t handle a half-pint like this? What good are you?”

  The taunter’s sudden grunt took her by surprise when unseen hands jerked him backward, the knife flying from his hands to clatter on the stones at her feet.

  A third unknown had joined the party from hell, one she hadn’t sensed. Damn. Again, with a mask, this one wore a trench coat and made no sound in his ghostly movements.

  The split-second reprieve offered no clarity of the situation. Who the hell was helping her? And why?

  Regardless of the temporary remission from purgatory’s northern theatre, she was now hunted. Not by a random sexual deviant, no, she had to go for the deluxe stalker, one with a complicated agenda.

  Figures.

  The first assailant caught the blade’s glimmer before she could recover it. He struggled to grasp it even as he groaned. Due to her first knee-jerk reaction enforcing his bent posture, he was closer and scooped up the blade.

  Shit.

  His fumbling the knife in raising his arm allowed her to reach under and around to grab the outer part of his hand. Using her other hand to grab the inside of his palm, she rotated them to apply a joint lock.

  Had pain not incapacitated her opponent, even her adrenaline-flooded system wouldn’t have been able to enforce the restraint. There was no space to afford a step back, so she planted her foot against the SUV’s fender as leverage and shoved forward with all her strength.

  The resultant gurgling and warm spray across her face and chest betrayed the dark, slick evidence of her success. Copper scent induced a dry heave as her heart hammered and an icy chill penetrated her mind. In all her independent street time, she’d never faced a knife, yet minutes after rejoining polite society and letting her guard down evolved into murder.

  A widened gaze further exposed his sclera and betrayed the victim’s shock as he scrambled to stem the flow of blood from his neck. A strangled bubbling sound confirmed his compromised airway. He jerked in random spasms even as his body thudded to the ground.