Persecuted

скачать книгу бесплатно


That night, seeing Ariel and David’s love for each other, had forced Elena to face the reality of her loveless marriage. She hadn’t even told Kirk about her sister finding her.

Ariel began, “If you want to help me—”

“I do!” Elena insisted.

“Then you have to accept yourself, Elena, everything about yourself.”

Elena’s lips pulled up into a reluctant smile. “I thought you were a teacher, not a psychiatrist.”

Her sister shrugged. “I guess I must have picked up something from all the ones who talked to me when I was growing up, who tried to pass my gift off as a bid for attention, or a coping mechanism for losing my family.”

While her grandmother had had harsher explanations, a few counselors had told Elena the same things about attention and coping. Softly she acknowledged, “Maybe they were right.”

“You don’t believe that I see ghosts?”

“Our mother was a con artist who staged séances to bilk people out of money.” Until they’d been taken away from her, they’d helped.

Maybe that was why Elena was drawn to Joseph; she wasn’t so different from him. She knew how it was to be a kid forced to do whatever necessary to survive. But she’d grown up and realized there were better ways. Someday, maybe, so would he.

She sighed. “I don’t know what to believe.”

Instead of taking offense, her sister chuckled. “That was crazy. Mama had more gifts than you and I. She didn’t have to lie to them, but she thought lies made them happier than the truth.”

“There are such things as false truths and honest lies.” Her mother’s favorite gypsy proverb.

Ariel nodded. “You remember that, too. Remember who you are. Then you can help me.” Her heels clicked against the cobblestone path as she left Elena standing alone in the middle of the garden, trying to absorb her sister’s ultimatum.

Ariel could accept that her sister was a McGregor, but she didn’t want Elena’s help until she’d accepted herself? Her ability, her heritage or both? Either way, she asked the impossible. But to find Irina, to save her sisters from a killer, Elena would find the strength to conquer the impossible.

She glanced toward the four-story house again, her gaze focusing on the windows of her grandmother’s parlor where behind the gauzy curtains the shadow loomed, watching her. Always watching her, worried about her well-being, as she’d claimed when Elena was twelve, or planning her destruction?

“Why are you here?” Elena asked Joseph as she opened the door to his handsome face.

She stepped back as he shouldered his way into her private living room. The room was bigger than most modest ranch houses, with a massive, sandstone fireplace on the outside wall, in the middle of a row of leaded glass windows. The walls were a soft pale blue, with trim and furniture in chocolate brown and rich cream. An ornate oak staircase wound up opposite the door to the hall of the main house, the door through which Joseph had pushed his way.

“Do you need to talk to Kirk?” she asked, unsettled by his physical appearance as much as his visit. She didn’t even know if Kirk was back from his last trip, but then Joseph would probably know before she would. Kirk might not report to him, but she couldn’t imagine there was much at Jones Inc. of which he wasn’t aware or hadn’t orchestrated.

His gaze not meeting hers, Joseph shook his head.

“Well, I guess you’re a little overdressed to talk to an employee,” she remarked, trying to ignore how his muscular body filled out the black tuxedo he wore with no bow tie, just the white pleated shirt sharply contrasting his dark hair and honey-toned skin. “If you want to see Thora, I think she’s out, too, at some political fund-raiser or benefit—”

“Yeah, I escorted her,” he said.

“Oh, you just brought her home?” And decided to look in on Elena after? She couldn’t imagine why…unless he was accepting the challenge she’d unwittingly presented herself as at their last encounter.

Excitement quickened her pulse and shortened her breath as an image flashed through her mind. Green eyes dilated darkly with passion. A chest, dusted with black hair, rising and falling with harsh breaths. A hard body pressed tight against hers. She struggled to draw a deep breath into her suddenly constricted lungs. All she inhaled was his scent, of citrus soap and musk.

He didn’t look at her as he shook his head. “No, your grandmother’s still at the fund-raiser.”

“So you skipped out on Thora?” She whistled under her breath, impressed despite her animosity toward him.

Dismissively he shrugged, his shoulders appearing even broader in his tux. “She has a driver.”

“But if she asked you to accompany her, I’m sure she expected you to stay until she was ready to leave.” Elena would much prefer he were with Thora than her. What if his late night visit brought on another dream? “Maybe you can get back before she realizes you’re gone.”

His lips twitched into that wicked grin as she reached for the door handle. “Trying to get rid of me, Elena?”

Unlike her grandmother who shortened her name to Elle, Joseph always called her Elena. The sound of her name in his deep voice quickened her pulse even more. She clenched her fingers into a fist, fighting her reaction to him. “Since you know Thora’s still at the benefit, I’m not sure why you’re here.”

Under his breath he murmured, “You’re not the only one….”

From the way he wouldn’t meet her gaze, she had a feeling his visit had nothing to do with a challenge. “What’s wrong—” She’d nearly called him Joseph but stopped herself before giving him the satisfaction.

“Does there have to be something wrong for me to come see you?” he asked, his green eyes gleaming as he finally looked at her.

Elena’s heart reacted to his flirting with a sudden jump. She infused her voice with ice, something she’d learned well from her grandmother, when she replied, “Yes.”

Her imperious tone didn’t discourage him. His eyes only gleamed brighter. “Really? I can’t stop by just to visit you?” he teased, as he stepped closer to her, invading her space with his imposing presence.

She locked her knees, so she wouldn’t step back. Like Thora, he wasn’t someone to whom she would ever wittingly reveal weakness. She lifted her chin and reminded him, “I’m a married woman.”

Until Kirk signed the damned papers.

“I talked to Kirk today.”

She held her breath, so it wouldn’t shudder out from between her suddenly parted lips. “You know I’m getting a divorce.”

And he’d come right over? Why? She’d never given him any encouragement but in her dreams.

“I’m sorry, Elena,” he said.

She would have doubted his sincerity, but sympathy and regret deepened his voice. “I didn’t think you had much use for the institution,” she mused aloud.

His lips twitched again. “Just because it’s not for me doesn’t mean that I don’t respect it.”

Maybe he would have respected his vows more than Kirk had, but then he wasn’t likely to ever get married. He’d made it clear his priorities were money and power. Maybe if she kept reminding herself, she would stop having the dreams.

The lightning flashed behind her eyelids, signaling the beginning of a vision. She fought hard to suppress it, squeezing her eyes shut, afraid that it might be the one where she was naked, lying in his arms. She didn’t understand that dream; it wasn’t that she subconsciously wanted him. She couldn’t, not when she didn’t respect or trust him. After Kirk’s infidelity, she wasn’t likely to trust any man, ever again.

“Elena, are you okay?”

Eyes still closed, she nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

This wasn’t one of those brief flashes where images flitted through her mind. This was deeper, the paralyzing grip of a complete vision. She rallied her strength, fighting against it. She concentrated instead on his voice, which seemed to come at her from a distance.

“Divorce can be tough, so I’ve heard. If you need anything…”

Surprised by his offer, she opened her eyes. Then pride lifted her chin and once again permeated her words with ice. “I don’t need your help.”

He didn’t grin this time, his eyes darkening as if she’d offended or hurt him. But she knew better. She couldn’t hurt him. She could only be hurt by him.

“If you ever do need my help,” he continued, as if she hadn’t rudely thrown his offer back in his face, “I’m here for you, Elena.”

She was almost as afraid of his closeness as she was her visions, but if he were sincere, maybe she could use his help. He might be able to aid in the search for her baby sister. He’d grown up on the streets. If Elena had interpreted her visions of Irina correctly, her sister was living on the streets. He might be able to help Elena find her.

Before she could open her mouth to ask him, the lightning flashed again inside her head, too bright and blinding to be suppressed. Even though she kept her eyes wide open, the images began to play out in her mind like the reel of an old home movie. This wasn’t her and Joseph tangled up in each other’s arms. This was worse. Pain pierced her temples as the lightning brightened, illuminating the person in her vision.

Stacia cowered in a confined place, in the dark. Her little body shaking in her pajamas, the ones Elena had helped her into just a little while ago, the pink ones with the fluffy white sheep, each of them wearing a number, dancing on them. She’d taught Stacia to recognize numbers by pointing to them on those pajamas.

Where was her baby? Elena had to know. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on the vision, but the shadows thickened, obscuring everything but Stacia, lying alone in that tight, dark place but for her teddy bear, the fluffy white one that was so hard to keep clean Elena had to sneak it into the washing machine when Stacia was sleeping. Why was her baby alone in the dark? Stacia was terrified of the dark.

Elena hadn’t had a dream or vision of Stacia in so long, not since the one of her being born. Why now? Was Stacia in danger?

The pain intensified, hammering at Elena’s temples with such force that her knees weakened. As she swayed on her feet, strong hands closed over her shoulders, steadying her. But she couldn’t feel the touch, nor could she hear anything for the roar of fear in her ears, rushing through her pulsing veins.

Inside her head, in the vision, hands came out of the shadows, big hands reaching for Stacia, closing around her thin arms, dragging her out of her hiding place.

The muscles in Elena’s stomach clenched. Why had Stacia been hiding? Where was Stacia? Who was reaching for her?

Stacia’s blue eyes widened with fear, and she twisted in the grasp of the unknown man. But the hands only tightened, squeezing her delicate little arms until her mouth opened in a cry of pain.

“No!” Elena yelled, overcome with the need to protect her child.

The hands on Elena’s shoulders gripped harder, shaking her. “What the hell’s going on? What’s wrong?” Joseph shouted his questions, as if he’d asked before and been ignored. Undoubtedly he wasn’t used to being ignored.

Elena blinked open her eyes and stared up into his face, his brow furrowed in confusion. Choked with fear, all she could do was whisper, “Stacia…”

“She’s upstairs, right? Asleep?” he asked, his concern vibrating in his voice.

Elena drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Her visions were of the future, not the present. And they didn’t always come true. If they did, Ariel wouldn’t still be alive. Stacia was fine. Her pulse leapt as she added her next thought. Now.

“I put her to bed,” she told Joseph and reminded herself. “She was in bed.”

“Then she’s still in bed,” Joseph assured her, as he studied her intently.

No one had ever witnessed Elena having a vision before. She’d been careful to conceal them while awake, even if she’d had to rush from a room during the middle of a conversation, and if a dream had interrupted her sleep, she’d insisted it was just a dream.

“Everything’s fine,” Joseph insisted, so eerily calm and reassuring that he unsettled her as much as the vision. Nobody had ever offered her such solid support.