Tangled Lives

====================== Tangled Lives by Mary Winter ====================== Copyright (c)2004 by Mary K. Wilson

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*Tangled Lives* He sounded so calm that Callie wanted to throw something at him just to see if she could ruffle his demeanor. "Look," she huffed. "I don't know what kind of clients you usually take on, but I'm sure you don't shut them in their apartments for their own good." Jase's grin widened, and her anger deepened. "I want to go out. Go out for dinner or something." She raked her fingers through her hair. "I can't imagine someone would try to kill me at a restaurant." "You didn't imagine someone would try to run you down, either, Callie. Or try to shoot at you on Second Avenue. It's not your job to imagine what people would do, it's mine." Jase spoke quietly, but with authority in his voice. "Yeah, but," Callie said. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, then shook her head. "I don't care. If you're good, then you'll protect me." She glared at him. Jase stood. His eyes held a predatory gleam in them, and Callie had to fight against the urge to gulp. He strode towards her, each step a precision exercise

in muscular control. He stopped a few inches away and looked her straight in the eyes. His gaze smoldered. With his finger, he tilted her chin so she could look into his eyes. "I'm very good, Callie. But I don't think that's what you were referring to." He dropped his hands, but remained standing before her. **** *What They Are Saying About* _Tangled Lives_ "Mary Winter provides a wonderful romantic suspense tale in TANGLED LIVES. Ms. Winter keeps her reader on the edge of their seat with suspense and danger and brings us endearing characters we can remember. I look forward to reading more stories from this author in the future." -- Tracey West,The Road to Romance **** Edited by: Ann K. Oortman Copy Edited by: Lorraine Stephens Senior Editor: Lorraine Stephens Executive Editor: Lorraine Stephens Cover Artist: Mary K. Wilson _All rights reserved_ Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. **** Wings ePress Books www.wings-press.com 403 Wallace Court

Richmond, KY 40475 **** *Dedication* To Elzbeth, Connie and Jen. Not only are you great friends, but, you introduced me to Norma. -------*Prologue* "He's late," she glanced at her watch and tapped a long, slender foot impatiently. The heavy fur coat she wore did little to ward off the damp, New England chill. Clouds obscured the moon, making her sigh with resentment. If it rained, less people would come to her show. Vinnie always liked to hear her sing to packed clubs. She smiled when she thought of Vinnie, her boyfriend. He did something in the warehouse district, had always worn a suit and tie, and tossed money around as if he could afford to give it away. She liked that about him. Her Vinnie always bought her nice things, like this fur coat. She reached into her small clutch bag for a cigarette and lit it. Taking two quick puffs, she glanced at her watch again. Damn it, she hated when he was late. As if her thoughts summoned him, the dark car pulled up at the curb. The driver stepped out and opened the door for Vinnie. He nodded to the man, then grinned when he saw his girl waiting for him. Vinnie looked impeccable as always. His wore his dark hair slicked back from his face, his suit coat folded over one arm in spite of the chill. "Sorry, I'm late, darling." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek, a chaste kiss that wouldn't ruin her makeup. "The show starts in forty-five minutes. You almost missed it," her husky voice purred. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." He glanced up at the sky. "Hope it doesn't rain. It drives away customers." She flicked the last of the ash from her cigarette as he took her arm and led her into the club. Tonight, she'd sing for him.

-------*One* With her leg propped up on pillows and plenty of ibuprofen in her system, Callie Davis pulled out her research, consisting mostly of photocopies of old newspaper clippings and photocopies of old magazines. As usual, one item in her collection held her attention: an old newspaper clipping given to her by an old man at the library. Imprisoned in the cool laminate, the article looked unreal. She remembered when she received it, her first day researching the life of Norma Winters. An old man, obviously there doing his own work, had seen her looking in the archives for Norma's name. He'd handed her a clipping, one that had a small photograph of Norma and an article about the club where she sang. Callie had thought it odd that he had carried that particular clipping with him, but graciously took the offering nonetheless. She'd never seen him again. Callie held the newspaper up, again squinting at the grainy black and white photograph of the woman. In the picture, she held her fur coat around herself and waved at the camera. "Norma Winters at The Backstage Club," read the caption. More newspaper stories, all encased in clear plastic, tumbled from the folder. Callie's clenched fingers held the folder closed, keeping the growing stack of notes and computer printouts hostage. Her hands shook. Her knee throbbed. The painkiller had begun to wear off, and Callie rose from the chair. She limped over to the counter, downed four white tablets and a glass of water, and then hobbled back to the table. Sinking into the hard vinyl seat of the kitchen chair, Callie tried to shut out the images of the white sports car speeding towards her. She remembered leaping from the curb, toward the cement walls of a parking garage, then the pavement had risen to meet her, and she remembered nothing but blackness and pain. She couldn't have blacked out for more than a few minutes because when she came to, the car had squealed around a corner and people surrounded her. She had risen to her feet, swayed madly for a moment, then took a deep breath and pronounced herself fit to return home. It had only been a drunk driver, all agreed, and she didn't question them, even as she clutched her day's research to her chest. Sitting alone in her kitchen, the sixty-watt bulb providing little illumination, Callie wondered again about the accident. The idea that it had been a drunk driver, even at two in the afternoon, seemed all wrong somehow. The car had lurched for her, cutting across several lanes of traffic. Had she still lived in

Chicago, she might have thought it a case of mistaken identity, but not here, not in pedestrian Des Moines, Iowa. Heck, here people ride bikes across the state in ninety-degree weather and call it fun. Callie snorted. She pushed back the chair and rose with a lurching stride that reminded her of Quasimodo. "I'm the hunchback of Notre Dame," she growled to her quite-unimpressed fish. Callie paused to sprinkle some flakes into the water. She grabbed the newspaper off the telephone stand sitting beside the tank, then collapsed on the couch just beyond. Shades of sea foam green and blue decorated her living room, with her couch alive in a geometric print in soothing pastels. The single plant in the corner looked in need of water, but Callie lacked the energy to oblige. Instead, she opened the paper across her chest, folded it up, and began to read. Tucked in the corner next to a boxed ad for her favorite restaurant, Callie saw an ad for Harrison, Inc. The words promised discreet and timely detective work; no job too big or too small. Callie nibbled her lower lip. Discreet. She liked that; after all, if she ran around town claiming she thought she was being stalked because of her knowledge about a 1940's mob boss' girlfriend, people may think she was crazy. Heck, _she_ thought she was crazy. Still, the strange men hanging around the library, the car that almost ran her over, all of it had to add up to something suspicious. Callie rose to grab a pen to circle the ad. She passed by her living room windows and peered through the curtains. As it had all morning, a dark brown sedan sat parked across the street. Her apartment looked across the street to a parking garage. It seemed odd to have a car park on the street. Why had it sat across from her apartment building all day? She peered closer and saw a man sitting in the driver's seat. He turned to look at her. Callie let the curtain fall back into place. She clutched at the fabric, her heart hammering in her chest. Someone watched her house. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pen and returned to the couch. _If I sit here perhaps the car will drive away. Maybe it's a tourist that's driven too far off the interstate._ Callie shook her head. Why would he park on the street, when the car could hide in the ramp, especially during rush hour, when no one was allowed to park on the street? She shuddered at the direction her thoughts were taking. Callie picked up the paper again.

_They'll think I'm crazy if I call._ She turned to the business pages. Stories about corporate mergers and ways to make money did little to hold her interest, but at least holding the paper in her hands felt as if she was doing something. A sharp crack split the evening air. Callie jumped. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she held her hand to her chest, as if by will alone she could calm the pounding of her heart. Another bang came from outside, a car backfiring, and Callie realized with a start that was all it had ever been, a balky car. She sighed, slumped against the couch, and picked up the paper again. The ad mocked her; the black lettering burning into her mind. Norma wouldn't have asked for protection. Then again, Norma had her own protection. She set the paper down in her lap and reached for the phone. Her hand shook as she raised the handset to her ear. She dialed the number, uncertain of whether anyone would answer. On the other end of the line, the phone rang. Callie bit her lip. She scanned the ad. Nowhere did it mention that phones were answered twenty-four hours a day, or even what hours the office was open. The phone rang again. Two more rings shattered the silence. It's not open, Callie realized, and with a sinking heart, started to pull the phone away from her ear. "Harrison, Inc. How may I help you?" The deep male voice on the other end of the line sounded out of breath. She hadn't rehearsed what to say. Start with the truth, her mother had always told her. "Hello," she almost whispered. "My name is Callie Davis. I saw your ad in the paper. I think I may need your services." Through the receiver, she heard the sound of someone easing into a seat then the rustle of paper and pencil. "Okay," he replied. "Why don't you tell me the situation? Then we can discuss if Harrison, Inc. can help you." He sounded like he could help her. His baritone floated through the phone line like warm syrup, and Callie felt better for just hearing it on the other end of the line. She wound the phone cord around one finger as she tried to concoct a story that wouldn't scare him. After all, not many people called him and said that they became targets when researching their past lives. In fact, she would bet money that no one had even mentioned past lives to him before now. "I was run down on the street earlier today. And before that, I felt like I was

being watched when I went about my work. There's this car, parked across the street, and I think the guy in it is watching my apartment window." To her own ears, Callie thought she sounded like a lunatic. "Can you tell me about the accident earlier today?" Callie nodded. Then, aware that he couldn't see her, she licked her lips and began her tale. "I was walking home from the downtown library; I live just a few blocks from there. Just as I was passing the parking garage by the civic center, I noticed a white sports car speeding down the street." She paused. "What street was this?" "Court Avenue. I was walking down Second Avenue." On the other end of the line, she heard the man taking notes. "I didn't think much about the car, after all, I was on the sidewalk, and you know how people drive around here. I had stopped to wait for the lights to change when all of a sudden the white car swerved across the lanes and headed straight for me. I jumped out of the way. I don't remember much after hitting the sidewalk, but another pedestrian said that the car swerved to avoid hitting the light pole and that's how come it missed me." Her voice shook. "Did you see the car?" "No. Just a white car. It looked like a sports car, but I have no idea what kind it was." "If you saw it again could you recognize it?" "I think so." Callie closed her eyes to avert the image of the white car barreling towards her. "Good." The man on the other end of the phone sighed. "I'm not sure if that is enough to make an assumption that you may need our services, but I would like to discuss this with you. Are you available later today, say around four this afternoon?" "I am," Callie replied. She'd only spent about an hour at the library and the noon hour rose upon her. "Where are you located?" He rattled off an address that was about twenty blocks away. "May I have your name again?" "Callie Davis," she said. "Yours?" "Jase Harrison. I'm the owner." He paused for a moment. "Will you be okay until our meeting?" His concern touched her. "I think so," Callie lied. She may be physically fine, but with her mind conjuring images of hit men and mob bosses, she suspected

she'd be a basket case in a few hours. Still, nothing like this had ever happened to her before, and she suspected that she probably wasn't alone in her assumptions. "If that's the case, then I'll see you then," Jase said. The two exchanged a few pleasantries, and then Callie hung up the phone. She stared at her closed curtains, afraid to look beyond and wrapped her arms around herself. She hoped she had made the right decision. **** Jase hung up the phone. He stared at it as if it might bite him. Something about the woman told him she was hiding something. What, he didn't know. With most women, he'd say the stalker was an ex-boyfriend, a jealous husband, or any number of men that they might have in their lives. Whether her story held true to the norm or not, he'd have to wait until four to see. Grabbing the gym towel he'd tossed on the edge of his desk, Jase mopped his brow. He'd been in the middle of his workout when she called, not expecting any callers until his ad had appeared in a day or two. Still, if she'd seen his ad, then it had worked. His brother might have ribbed him about needing to advertise his services, but he wouldn't hear Josh grumbling when he started bringing in clients. Just because Josh's business had taken off like wildfire didn't mean that Jase's wouldn't do the same. It just would take a little time, that's all. He rose from his chair to return to the gym he'd built in the back of his office. The second floor housed his apartment and the third stood empty. As he went back to the gym, Jase caught sight of himself in the mirror. Stubble covered his chin and black hair fell over his forehead. He looked like a vagabond. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, Jase knew he had to clean up before his newest client arrived. She sounded scared on the phone. Something about the tremor in her voice tugged at him, and Jase knew that no matter her story, he would do his best. He'd never forgiven himself for Molly's death; he wouldn't let it happen again. **** Callie stared at the phone, wondering if she really had done the right thing. Images of the car sitting across the street burned in her mind, and she moved the few steps it took her to stand in front of her living room window. Pushing aside the curtains, she peered outside. Lunch traffic had grown heavier, and in the bustle, she couldn't quite tell if the same car sat across from her building or not. The cars thinned, leaving her with a clear view. A blonde man leaned into the car, chatting with the driver. The two men discussed something, then the blonde turned to look up at her building.

Callie shivered. She let the curtains fall back into place. She wondered if the two men discussed her. With a shake of her head, she tried to clear her mind of such thoughts. They could have been discussing anything, and a prestigious law firm occupied the ground floor of the building, along with several other businesses. Perhaps the blond sought directions somewhere. While calming, the idea held little merit. Gathering her courage, Callie peeked out the window again. Both the man and the car were gone. Taking a deep breath, she let the curtain fall back into place and turned from the window. _If I were being watched the car would still be there._ After all, who can claim to be a part-time stalker? Callie giggled. The notion of someone watching her part-time seemed silly. What a thing to put on a resume, too. She imagined the man walked up to an imaginary boss. "I'm sorry, I can't work late tonight. I'm a part-time stalker." The idea had her in fits of giggles. She hiccupped on a laugh, the action bringing her back to reality. _My fear has run away with me._ She turned away from the window before any more foibles of her imagination could rear their ugly heads. The car might have another reason for not parking there. They might have tapped her phone. The thought rose unhindered from the depths of her mind. Callie shook. Tapped her phone. The idea sounded sinister, felt evil, and she wondered what kind of people would tap the phone of a certified past-life therapist. Sick people, that's who. But what other explanation did she have of the car leaving? Callie peered out the window again. The absence of the car shouted at her that something had happened. Even if the man had needed a bathroom break, he would have returned by now. _Great, I'm now rationalizing why this freak isn't watching my house?_ With a frustrated growl, she stormed into her bedroom to change clothes before her meeting with Harrison, Inc. **** Jase wrapped the towel around his waist as he stepped from the shower. Steam fogged the mirror and hovered around the light like ethereal beings. He ran a second towel through his hair before hanging it over the shower stall. Padding into his bedroom on bare feet, Jase quickly changed into a black shirt

and black jeans. As he slipped his feet into his sneakers, he realized he knew nothing about Callie Davis. He would remedy that right now. He crossed into his den and flipped on his computer. Within minutes, he began searching internet databases for his prospective client. The official records said little except that she didn't have a criminal record, didn't have a car registered, and was a registered democrat. Basic information anyone could get, and he shrugged. A general search brought up several links to a website for Callie Davis, certified past-life therapist. He suppressed a snort of derision as he clicked on the first link: Past lives. What a bunch of bull. People obviously trying to make themselves be more than they really were. Molly read those books, written by people who thought they were Kings and Queens in the past, now brought down to a humble life in this time. She'd believed them. Jase sighed. He shoved Molly's ghosts aside. The first website loaded, a black page filled with twinkling stars. In scrolling letters a biography of Callie Davis filled the screen, listing her as living in Des Moines, Iowa. "Hell," Jase swore. He'd agreed to meet a nutcase. He followed links to articles she had written about past lives. He read the first one, then moved onto the second and the third. Her lyrical voice spoke of a passion for her work, and that, in spite of the kind of work she did, he understood. Several case studies presented themselves, and Jase read further. At the end of the articles he came to her picture. In the photo, Callie sat in an antique chair, wearing a crushed purple velvet gown. Her short brown hair ended right above her collar. The cut would have looked masculine except for the slight wave of her hair. The fabric of her dress draped across her full breasts to slide over her stomach and hips. As his mother would have said, she had meat on her bones. A familiar stirring of desire tingled through him, and Jase quickly backed from the page. "Hell," he growled again as he'd stumbled across a page of photographs from her various seminars. There she stood, mingling with people. A couple of pictures showed her smiling with celebrities. There was an actor giving her a cursory peck on the cheek. She blushed, the red hue of her skin quite visible in the photograph, and Jase had the sensation Callie didn't like these public gatherings much. He quickly exited his web. He knew quite enough and suspected that this afternoon would be interesting to say the least. ****

Callie decided on a pair of jeans and loose blouse for the meeting with Jase. She stood in front of the mirror, alternating between tucking in the shirt and pulling it out, deciding to let the shirttails hang. The shirttails hid the roundness of her belly, and she liked the sensation of the fabric swishing against her denim-clad thighs. The walk to the offices of Harrison, Inc. shouldn't take that long Callie decided as she swung a tote bag holding her purse and her notes over her shoulder. She checked to be sure her house keys were secure inside, and the tiny can of mace she'd dug out of her suitcase from her last trip abroad hung on a metal ring from the bag's handle. _I can do this_ The thought of stepping outside filled her with fear. She downed a couple of ibuprofen to dull the pain of her knee, and with a deep breath, opened her apartment door. Callie stepped into the hallway and gave the empty corridor surreptitious glance. She was alone as she walked to the elevator; the silence so thick it echoed down the corridor. The idea that she might be the only person on this floor of the building sent her grabbing at the wall, and unnerved her a bit. Callie sucked in gulps of air through clenched teeth. The door downstairs was secure, only the house key and a special PIN, her mother's birth date, could open the door, but solicitors entered all the time when unsuspecting tenants let them in unknowingly. She tried not to think about such things. Instead, Callie pressed the down button for the elevator, and a few minutes later when it appeared, stepped inside and requested the ground floor. She stepped into the lobby. It, too, was vacant, and Callie paused for a moment before opening the heavy doors that led to the outside. A rush of fresh air greeted her. She darted across the threshold, sanding on the sidewalk beyond. _I have nothing of which to be afraid._ Callie pasted a smile on her face, and began the walk to Jase's office. **** Callie took a deep breath. With no one in the foyer to greet her, she walked towards the office in the back. A large desk and chair dominated the room. Filing cabinets sat off to one side, and in the corner, a computer sat on a small cart. As she entered, a man circled the desk towards her, moving like a panther. He wore all black and the jeans and thin cotton shirt clung to every muscle in his body. Her breath left her. "Callie Davis?" He asked, his baritone the same as she remembered.

She nodded. "Jase Harrison, I presume." She finished stepping into his office and closed the door. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." He smiled, the action softening his hard features. "Right on time. Come inside and sit down." Callie followed his gesture to a green vinyl chair sitting in front of his desk. She closed the door behind her before following him and taking the offered seat. Jase eased into the leather chair behind his desk. "What can I do for you?" The smile he sent her made Callie wonder how quickly he'd run when she told her tale. "Sixty years ago, I was murdered." -------*Two* "I began researching a historical figure," she said, carefully choosing her words. "Her name is Norma Winters, and she is -- was -- a nightclub singer in 1940's New York. She had ties with the mob. Ever since I've been researching her, I've gotten the feeling that I've been watched. There's a man who is always at the library the same time as me, every day. One or two days, I could dismiss, but every day." Callie shook her head. "And then I was almost hit by a car today." "And you think the two are related to your 'death'?" Callie nodded, a lump forming in her throat. Jase released a sigh. "It certainly is something to look into. If nothing else, we can find out if the man at the library is a coincidence or if he is part of something bigger." "You'll help me?" Callie said, a bit more disbelieving than she suspected anyone else in her position would sound. "Is there a reason why I shouldn't help you?" _Because I'm researching a past life, and you probably don't believe those exist._ She remained silent. Jase leaned forward. His deep blue eyes stared at her, and for a moment, Callie wondered if she could lose herself in those depths. "You're hiding something from me." His simple statement shook her to her

core. "I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth." _You can't handle the truth._ "You're right," she replied, "I am, but what I am not telling you has no bearing whatsoever of my being here." "You came to me for help. You can't be the judge of that," his soft voice held a hard edge. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to bury her face in his shoulder and cry for the young woman that died at the hands of the mob over sixty years ago. She wanted to cry because even though he'd been a part of the mob, Vinnie had loved Norma, and she doubted that she would be loved like that in any lifetime ever again. "You look like you're thinking about an awful lot," Jase's words cut into her thoughts. "If I tell you my tale, no matter how fantastic it may seem, you will not refuse to take the case, will you?" Her lower lip trembled, and Callie feared she might cry. He reached across the desk and held open his hand. "I can't make any promises, but I've heard some pretty far-fetched things." _That's what Will had said,_ a_nd he had run off before she'd gotten the words "past lives" out of her mouth._ Callie breathed deeply and shoved the thoughts of her ex-boyfriend from her mind. _We dated three times, and I thought it was going somewhere before he chickened out and left. Part of what I wanted to leave behind me in Chicago._ She looked Jase square in the eyes. "Money is not an issue, Mr. Harrison. I will pay whatever you require to protect me from these men who seem intent on ruining my research. Anything." "And you think your money will buy my belief," Jase replied. He snatched his hand back as if she had burned him. "Not your belief, your acceptance of this job. I'll tell you all that you want to know, and you can believe or disbelieve any of it. All I want to know is that you won't turn me out because you think I'm a nutcase." She might be dragging out the drama a bit too much, but too many men, too many times before, had called her crazy, then showed her the door. She wanted, no needed, this one to be different. Jase nodded. "I'm a certified past life therapist. I help people discover their own past lives, and I research my own. One really, and that is the life of Norma Winters. If I

can find proof of this past life, and of the things that I know happened, then I can prove the existence of past lives. Only, like I said, since I started researching Norma's life, I've noticed people watching me, following me, and then the incident with the car. I don't know why they're doing this; I have no idea. I do know I don't want to get hurt." Callie slumped in the chair. "Why do you think that someone wants to stop your research?" His face betrayed no emotions. Callie shrugged. "I honestly don't know. No one else knows what I'm doing. I haven't spoken with anyone about my research. All anyone knows is that I'm looking up Norma Winters, but she's been dead for years. No one should care about her." "Except you," Jase replied. "What sort of things are you doing to research her life?" Callie had no idea how that question had any bearing on this matter, but she had come to Jase seeking protection. She told him about the trips to the library, the internet searches, both from her own home and from the library, and that she had requested some information from the State of New York, claiming to be Norma's great-granddaughter. The state had willingly handed over a birth and a death certificate, for a modest fee, of course. "To be quite honest with you," Callie said, "I've done nothing except what any genealogist would do in researching his or her own family history. I've maybe looked for a few more articles in the New York Times, looked for some off-off Broadway coverage to see how far her career went, but nothing beyond that." Callie shrugged. "I have absolutely no idea why anyone would want to harm me for knowing about this person, but someone does." **** He believed her. Damn it, but he believed her. Not about the past life things, no he wouldn't believe her about that, but about not knowing why anyone would want to harm her. Jase clenched his fist beneath the cover of the desk. A jealous lover, boyfriend, spouse -- he could handle any of those. But someone who wanted to hurt her because of a stupid hallucination about a past life? It seemed too far-fetched. Jase stared at Callie across the desk. If he confronted her now, she might walk out the door and choose someone else's services. Although it would be a blow to his pocket book, he was more than willing to take the chance, but what if she walked out and decided not to seek help and was hurt? He couldn't allow that, not on his turf. "You don't believe me." Callie shot at him.

"I certainly believe that someone might be trying to harm you," he said, his voice carefully modulated. "But not about the past lives." Jase shook his head. "I must confess I've never dealt with things like that before..." His words trailed off. "I suppose it doesn't matter," Callie replied. "After all, it matters not why someone is trying to harm me, only that you prevent it." "That, dear lady," Jase said, "I can do." He leaned back in the chair and wondered from where the sudden chivalrous streak had come. "Then I suppose it's settled." Jase didn't like the sound of defeat in her voice, and he certainly didn't like the way she slumped in the chair as if he had beaten her into submission. She held a front of calm serenity, like she dealt with this sort of thing every day. That, he knew wasn't faked, and he admired her for it. "Let me tell you my terms," he said, then smiled. "Then we can see if it is settled." He watched her nod and wondered how hard of a sell this would be. **** Callie worried her lower lip as she listened to Jase. His warm voice made her feel he cared, but she doubted he did. _I'm just a client, a highly eccentric one, but a client nonetheless. His only stake in my safety is to see me alive long enough to pay the bill._ The words felt cold in her mind, but she had no doubts they were the truth. "What are your terms?" She asked, her voice steady. She'd already told him she'd pay whatever it took, and she had no idea what security ran. "First," he said, "I don't offer just part-time security. I'm there, with you twenty-four, seven. I'm there when you wake in the morning; I'm there when you go to sleep at night. Okay?" "Okay," Callie replied. The idea of Jase being with her every moment of the day filled her with a lump of dread. Thankfully, most of her clients came to her over the phone or on the internet, so she rarely saw anyone these days. Her heart palpated in her chest. "I work on retainer," he continued. "It's five hundred dollars up front, and that's for two weeks of service. At the end of the two weeks, we can discuss how we think things are going. If things are taken care of by then, there will be no prorating for time." Jase knew he had cut his rate considerably and didn't

care. Not this time. "If you'll excuse me for saying this, but that sounds kind of cheap. If I had to hire someone to be my bodyguard, I'd spend considerably more than that," Callie said. Jase rubbed his chin, and smiled. "I'm sure you would. However, right now you don't trust me. And if you walk out that door because you don't trust me and something happens -- let's just say I'd never forgive myself. We'll consider this a trial. Two weeks of service for five hundred dollars. If you feel I'm doing an acceptable job, then we can continue at my regular rate." He already had Molly's blood on his hands. He didn't need Callie's as well, and frankly, he suspected that if she walked out of here without taking his services, she wouldn't hire anyone. "Double that, and I bet we're closer to your regular weekly rate for a service like this. I can't think of a single company that would offer me what you just did, at least none that I could find in the yellow pages. I'll pay you a thousand dollars for two weeks. If you'll accept that, then you're hired." Callie said. Jase smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, but I'm not finished yet. While I'm on the job, my word is law. I say where you go, who you see, what you do, at all times. If I'm to be responsible for your safety, I won't have you jeopardizing my work. I also want a full itinerary before we begin of what your schedule is like and any trips you plan on taking." "That's easy to answer. I stay home most of the time, except for my visits to the library, and there are no trips." Callie replied. "One final thing: Even if you do decide to hire me, I'd like to run you through a basic drill of self-defense before we go any further. I can't be everywhere at once and would like to have an idea of your skills before I also agree." Callie frowned. What he said made sense, but she wondered if he might be insinuating something about her weight. She was solidly built and suspected that would be to her advantage if she ever had to fight anyone one-on-one. "It's something I've done with all my clients. Think of it this way, when I'm gone, you'll have some new skills." She wondered if he read minds. Still, his offer was too good to refuse. She had just one more question. "Do you have references? I will need to know your credentials before we make anything official." she replied. "Of course." He pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer. "Here's a partial list of my clients, along with a summary of my experience. I think you'll find it acceptable."

Callie skimmed it, noticing that he'd spent some time in California as a bodyguard to several well-known movie stars. He'd worked with someone named Marc and was named as the partner in his company back in California. He'd also spent some time in the military. To her inexperienced eyes, what she saw was more than acceptable. "Thank you, Mr. Harrison." Callie slid the paper across the desk. "I will hire you." "I'm glad to hear it." He flashed her a smile that warmed her all the way to her toes. "Now, please, call me Jase. There is one more thing I'd like to take care of before we make it official. I need to get an assessment of your current level of self-defense skills. While it will be my job to protect you, I also need to know that you can at least stay out of harm's way." He rose from his desk and motioned through an open door. "My gym is through there. We'll practice on the blue mats." Callie rose from the chair and turned her back to him. She held her shoulders stiffly, not at all relishing the idea of doing anything remotely resembling "working out." That he had a gym so close to his office made Jase a certified fitness freak in her mind, and the trimness of his body attested to it. Then again, Callie tried telling herself as she stepped into a cavernous room filled with all manner of exercise equipment, she hadn't really found anything in the fitness department that had appealed to her. She stopped just inside the door. A hardwood floor ran the length of the room, covered by blue exercise mats in one corner. A large weight-set sat to her right, weights haphazardly piled beside it. To her left, a treadmill and aerodyne bike sat. A large stereo dominated one wall, opposite a huge mirror. At the sight of the mirror she stepped back. A solid presence stopped the motion. She gasped at the sudden impact. His hands rose to cup her arms to steady her, and Callie's ears reddened. "Sorry," she mumbled, but made no move to step away. Jase stood like a solid wall behind her. Warmth flowed from his body into hers. His hands gripped her arms solidly. "Easy there," he crooned, his breath hot against the side of her neck. She felt it tease strands of her hair, and the sensation shook her to the core. He slid his hand to her shoulder, to caress the side her neck and it burned on her skin. She stepped hastily away from his embrace and walked briskly towards the mats. Behind her, she heard Jase follow. Images of physical education classes flashed in her mind; she'd always been the last one picked. She could have been one of the better athletes in school, but intellectual pursuits always seemed to come before fun and games. She halted at the edge of the mat.

Callie abruptly turned to look at Jase. "Shoes on or off?" "Off, if you don't mind," Jase replied. He paused at the edge of the mat and slipped off his sneakers and socks. Callie followed suit and stepped onto the edge of the mat. Immediately, her stocking foot slid on the vinyl surface. She quickly regained her balance. "This is a little slick," she said, glancing over at Jase. "Mind if I take my socks off?" "Not at all," he replied. Callie quickly stripped her socks and tossed them onto her shoes. Her purple toenails stood out like a target. "Nice color," Jase said. He flashed her a smile. Callie tried to smile back, tried to relax, but she kept thinking that this was some kind of test she was doomed to fail. "Don't be nervous," Jase said, reading her thoughts. "I'm not going to hurt you. We'll run through a scenario or two. I may even let you slap me around a bit." Although she knew he was joking, Callie wondered if she could even hit him. She took a deep breath. "I'm not very good at this." She swallowed hard and shoved the images of physical education classes she hated, out of her mind. Jase strode over to her, his movements purposeful. He stopped in front of her, and Callie fought hard to suck in her breath at his bulk. She stared at his chest and thought about burying herself and her fears in his strong arms. Taking a deep breath, she met his eyes. "You don't have to be an athlete to save your life." Callie nodded. "Let's get started," Jase said. He suddenly turned serious. "Lesson one: Scream. Your voice is your biggest weapon. The more attention you can draw to yourself, the better off you'll be. Lesson Two: Don't try to be a hero. If you can run, do it. Lesson Three: If you can't run away, hurt him like hell." Callie liked his no-nonsense approach to safety. The images she had of Jase teaching her kicks and punches fled. _This I can do._ Jase stepped back. "Let's say I grab your arm." He snaked forward and grabbed her wrist,

holding it up between them. "What are you going to do?" Instinctively, Callie yanked her arm away, but Jase's firm grip on her wrist only made her shoulder hurt. "Hey!" she yelled. "Let go of me!" Jase held on tighter, then started to step back, dragging her along with him. Callie dug in her heels. Jase stopped pulling, though she suspected it was so he wouldn't hurt her. Glancing at him, she saw an almost feral smile begin to curve his lips. Callie returned his smile. "At this point," she said, "I'd probably knee you in the groin." Jase laughed. "That's good." He released her hand. Callie rubbed her wrist, and Jase suddenly was beside her. "Did I hurt you?" "No," Callie shook her head. She let her wrist drop at her side. "Did I pass?" "Not bad. I'd like to teach you a few other things, but those can wait. You didn't freeze. You didn't faint. Not bad for a first try." Callie glowed at the praise. "I'll take the case, Callie" Relief washed through her at his words. "Thank you," she breathed. "Thank you." Her knees felt wobbly, and she sat down to put on her shoes and socks. "What do we do now?" "I'm packed and ready to go." "What?" Callie turned to face him. Rising to her feet, she watched him walk back towards his office. Jase stopped and turned back to her. "How did you think I was going to protect you, Callie? Someone is after your life." "I guess it seems kind of sudden for you to come home with me. Don't you have arrangements or something to make?" Jase nodded. "In a few moments we'll begin the job of protecting you. We're going to become very close within the coming days." He flashed her a grin. "We'll have to if I'm going to be living with you." You're my only client from now on out. I obviously can't be two places at once, and it will be my job to ensure your safety." He walked into his office and headed towards his desk. She followed him back into his office in silence and closed the door to the gym behind her. Shaking her head, she refused the chair that sat in front of his desk. "I don't think -- "

Jase fixed her with a hard stare. "That's right, Callie, you didn't think. You came to me for protection, and we're going to have to do it my way. I am the bodyguard, and you will remember that." Callie slumped into the chair. "That would be why I hired you," she snapped. The idea of Jase invading the private sanctuary of her apartment chilled Callie. She thought of her clients, many of who thankfully did business over the phone and how they would feel if they knew she had a bodyguard living with her. Her clients trusted her to provide fair and accurate readings. If they knew that she needed protection, they might doubt her capability. _I know I'd certainly wonder if I had a reader with a bodyguard. Kind of makes me worried about what they did, or didn't do._ For a moment she thought of her sister, living safely in Albuquerque, and what she would think of a strange man moving in with Callie. She banished the thought. Her sister would be ecstatic "You don't know what you're moving into," she said finally, thinking of her evenings spent in a housecoat curled up with a good book. "Tell me. I need to know everything." Jase sounded serious, as if it were more than her evening comfort at stake. Callie shrugged. "I live in a two-bedroom apartment, but the second bedroom is my den. My loveseat is probably too short for you to sleep on." She shook her head. How to go into her daily routines, the fact that her home was quite feminine, and the fact that she really didn't want to give up her bed so Jase would have a place to sleep. He laughed. The throaty rumble filled the room and soothed Callie's nerves. "Is that all?" She frowned at him, thinking him kind of rude for laughing at her concerns. "I can deal with all of that. I thought maybe you were wondering how to explain me to your mother or something." Callie tried to hide the sadness in her eyes. "No," she said quietly, "my mother passed away a year ago, and I'm glad I don't have to explain any of this to her." "Any family?" Jase asked, sounding concerned. "A sister in Albuquerque who knows nothing of what has been happening. That's it." "I see. Well if you wait a few moments, I'll walk you back to your apartment."

Callie remained seated and watched as Jase disappeared through a door. She heard him walk upstairs, presumably to his apartment. A few moments later he returned with a laden duffle bag slung over his shoulder. "Ready?" He stopped beside his desk. Callie rose to her feet. "Just waiting for you." She followed Jase out of his office and back into the busy street. With him walking beside her, a feeling of safety enveloped her. _I must be overreacting. It isn't as if there are people watching me, right?_ She remembered the car sitting across her street and shivered. "Are you all right?" Jase glanced over at her with concern. "Just fine." Callie pasted a smile on her face. "We're almost there." He looked at her warily, as if he didn't believe her, but said nothing for the duration of the walk to her apartment building. "I'm glad you live in a secure building. There were a few things that I couldn't bring with me. I need to run back to my place and retrieve them, but I didn't want to let you walk home alone. I'll be along shortly," Jase said, once they were inside her apartment. "And don't worry about where I'll sleep. I can pull up some floor. I've slept in worse places. Now that you're home safe, I do need to run back to the office for a few things. Stay here, all right? Don't go outside. Not even to get the mail." From the tone of his voice, Callie didn't doubt it. She nodded. He must have taken it for assent, for without saying a further word left. Callie took a deep breath. Now that she'd actually hired a guard, her fears came back to assault her. _I can do this. I didn't have any protection in Chicago, and everything turned out all right._ She sat on the loveseat and folded her arms around herself, warding off memories of those frightful two months last year. Within Jase's office it seemed easy to forget that someone wanted her dead, wanted her dead because she researched a forties mob figure. Fifteen minutes later, Callie slumped on the loveseat. She stared at the arrangement of dried flowers in a crystal vase sitting across the room. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she spoke to no one in particular. Silence answered her, much to Callie's relief. Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine sharing her tiny apartment with Jase, but the thoughts wouldn't materialize. Rising to her feet, she crossed her living room and stared out the window. No

cars lined the street. Callie clung to the curtain, her knuckles turning white from the strain. Staring at the street, she willed a car to appear, a pedestrian, anything to substantiate the paranoia running through her mind. The street remained deserted. Releasing the curtain, she watched it swish back into place then turned and slumped on the loveseat. _Am I crazy?_ The question ran unbidden through her mind, and Callie fought hard to dismiss it with claims of reason. Crazy people don't question their sanity, though the words sounded hollow in her mind. Silence surrounded her, wrapping her in a cocoon of security. Within the confines of her apartment, she felt insulated from the world, as if no one and nothing would intrude. She breathed deeply. A quick glance at the clock told her less than half an hour had passed since Jase had left to return to his office. Jase didn't say when he would return. _If he's been gone this long, then perhaps he doesn't think that I'm in much danger._ The thought did little to reassure her. Stretching her legs, she grabbed the book that rested spine-up on the coffee table next to the loveseat. A scholarly treatise on past lives, she enjoyed reading the professor's views on something that couldn't be proven, yet seemed so much a possibility. She wondered if the theologian actually believed in past lives, and the puzzle kept her interested. She settled herself against the armrest of the loveseat, crossed her feet at the ankles, and began to read. Callie jumped, startled by the shrill noise. For a moment she forgot that the apartment building's security system rang to her phone. The book tumbled into her lap, her place hopelessly lost. Reaching behind her, she grabbed the phone. "Hello?" Her heart pounded, and she wondered if the caller could hear. "Callie, it's Jase. Let me in." He sounded impatient. Callie pictured him standing outside the building by the intercom. "Okay." She pulled the phone from her ear, pressed the pound key, and then replaced the receiver. Her stomach fluttered at letting Jase into her private sanctuary. She thought about his opinion of her floral print loveseat and the collection of candles beside the television. She thought for a moment about the lilac-colored bedspread on her queen-size bed and wondered what Jase would think of her quite feminine bedroom. Shaking her head, she chased those thoughts of her mind.

She paused by the door and checked the spy hole. Jase stood there. She opened the door and stepped aside to let him enter. "Long time no see," she said in a lame attempt at humor. "Come inside." "Did anything happen?" He stepped inside and motioned for her to close the door behind him. He looked around the apartment as if he expected a bogeyman to leap at him. "No," Callie replied. She furrowed her brow. "Everything's fine." "Glad to hear it," Jase said. He motioned to the duffle bag with its handles wrapped around a sleeping bag. "Where can I put these?" The bedroom leapt instantly to mind, but Callie stamped it. She pointed to the corner of the living room by the candles. "Over there is fine until we make final arrangements." Jase nodded. She noticed him discretely glancing around the room. For a moment she thought he might be taking in her decor, but his glance at the window and at the front door made her think he searched for security leaks. He stepped over and set his duffle bag down on the floor. As he glanced at the candles, Callie noticed the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. "My sister would like these," he said. "You have a sister?" She thought of him only a security person, not someone with a family, a home. For a moment she wondered if he was married, but no ring shone on his hand. _Of course, many men don't wear rings._ He nodded. "Yes, she lives in Iowa City and is a pediatric nurse at the University Hospital." A grin lit his face. "She and her husband just had a baby girl last year." He had a family and was here to protect her life. The thought rolled through her mind, sickening her. How would she explain to his family that she had gotten him killed researching her past life? "That's nice." Callie forced the words past the lump forming in her throat. "Are you okay?" Jase asked. She nodded, then turned toward the kitchen. "Let me get something to drink. Can I get you anything?" "A glass of cold water, please." Jase said to her retreating back. Callie stepped into the kitchen, looking for a clean glass. She stopped by the counter and pulled a clean glass from the drainer. As she carried it over to the

refrigerator something on the table caught her eye. A white envelope. Callie stepped closer. Her name was written in a rough scrawl with a heavy, black marker. "Jase," Callie called. Her hands shook as much as her voice. The sound of shattering glass filled the room. -------*Three* Callie's hands shook. The white envelope on the table mocked her. A little more than an hour earlier she'd been thankful for her secure building and deadbolt lock on the door. Nothing looked amiss when she'd entered, and surely to Jase's trained eyes, he would have noticed had someone tried to pry the locks. _Oh God, they have a key to my apartment!_ The irrational thought flew through her mind like a jet. Jase stepped into the kitchen, his large frame suddenly filling the room. He took one look at Callie and rushed to her side. With tentative hands, she pointed at the envelope that sat on her kitchen table. "That w-w-wasn't h-here when I left," she managed to stutter. "How -- How did it get here?" Reaching out, he wrapped his arm around her, and Callie buried herself in his chest. Sobs shook her, tearing from somewhere deep inside her chest. She felt him resting his chin on her head; his big hands stroked her back. "Did you touch it?" he asked, his tone professional. Callie shook her head. "No," she said. She remembered questioning her need for Jase's security, and her own foolishness scared her. "What are we going to do?" Jase stepped back and looked down at her. "What are we going to do?" he asked, sounding as if he didn't believe her question. She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes, and he softened his voice. "We're going to call the police." "We can't!" The words rushed from her lips before she had a chance to think about them. Whether they were her own worries of the police finding out about her past life work, or perhaps inhibitions left over from her past life as Norma, she didn't know. Jase touched her chin, tilting her gaze up to reach his. "What do you suggest we do?" Callie looked from the letter lying innocently on the table to Jase then back

again. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. That's why I asked you," she said in a soft voice. Jase stepped back. He rested his hands on her shoulders and looked down as if she were a truant child. Callie licked her lips and hoped he didn't notice the tremor in the lower one, or the way she clasped her hands in front of her to stop their shaking. Jase sighed and moved toward the table. He glanced at the letter. Then, with a reluctant shrug of his shoulders, he grabbed the corner of the envelope and pulled it from the table. Callie found her gaze glued to the scrap of white paper with her name written on it in black marker. It seemed her life, her future, were wrapped into those flimsy sheets of tree pulp, and when Jase gently tore open the corner to extract a slim slip of paper, she felt as if he held her life in between his thumb and index finger. "Stop the research," Jase said aloud. He looked at Callie and held the paper with its neat computerized script out to her. "That's all it says. Stop the research." Callie gulped a breath she hadn't known she held. "Then it has to be related to my past life work." A smile lit her face. "This, I can deal with. This is what I thought it was in the beginning." "Are you sure?" The rumble of Jase's voice pulled Callie from her aloud musings. "This looked professional. All black ink and white paper. I bet if we dusted it for prints there would only be mine from this single handling." He shrugged. "I think we should call the police." His words galvanized her into action. She'd been to the police before in Chicago and knew what would happen. She wouldn't put herself through that again. "And what should we tell them?" Callie stepped forward, charging Jase. He laid the paper back onto the envelope so it wouldn't further be contaminated from either his or Callie's hands. "Shall we tell them that I'm researching my past life and that I'm afraid someone's after me because I've discovered that I was a nightclub singer in the forties? Oh sure, they're going to believe that brash, beautiful Norma Winters was my past life, and that I was Vinnie's girlfriend. Hell," Callie threw her hands into the air for emphasis, "if they don't laugh us out of the police station, they'll lock me up for being a nutcase. Is that what you want? If I'm a nutcase then you don't have to take this job and keep me safe." She reached out, her hands stopping inches from his arms. "No," he said softly as he looked down at her, "that isn't what I want. I also don't want to see you hurt because we should have called the police. I'm sure they've dealt with stranger stuff than this on a daily basis." He gestured

towards the table. "In fact, they probably will shake their heads and say that they have no reason to believe that there is any foul play here and no reason to do anything but listen sympathetically. After all, there wasn't any forced entry. No signs of a break-in. Your home is immaculate and nothing has been stolen. There's really nothing for the police to do." "Glad to hear it," Callie said, though she shivered at the thought of someone being clever enough to break into her house and not leave a trace. She looked up at Jase again. "So what do we do?" She glanced at the envelope and fought the feeling of helplessness that rolled through her. She reached out for a dining room chair and sank into its wooden seat as if it were the most comfortable chair in the world. Energy rushed from her. "What do we do?" she whispered. "Keep vigilant. Be careful. They'll slip up somewhere along the line." Jase didn't sound convinced that they followed the right action. His tone made Callie wonder if she wished he'd call the police, even just so they could say the meaningless things he expected them to say. "And I need to know as much of your research as possible." "Why?" "Because, if I know what you're looking at, I might know what they're interested in and how best to protect you." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You hired me to protect you. You pay me to do things my way, and my way is to learn as much about what I'm protecting as I can. What if there's something in your research that's a clue?" "There isn't." She, too, crossed her arms over her chest. "And you know this because..." A grin quirked the corner of his lips as he let his sentence trail into silence. "You hired me," he said at last. Callie had to give him that point, so she rose from her seat and gestured to her den. "Well then let's go look," she said and couldn't quite keep the sarcastic tone out of her voice. Jase followed her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the smaller second bedroom that acted as her den. A computer sat in the corner, turned off for now. Twin four-drawer filing cabinets sat next to it, each drawer marked with tiny labels. Crates holding books were stacked in another corner, and bookshelves dominated one wall. Callie stopped in the middle of her den and looked at him. "What do you want to know?" She asked, a frown tugging at her lips. "Everything," he said and a grin lit his face. ****

Jase watched as Callie stood in the middle of her den. She stared at him as if he were the cause of the letter and all the pain in her life. He supposed that people like him probably were. After all, few people believed in past lives, and people could be cruel in voicing their opinions. He softened his smile. "I'm going to pull up some floor here. I would really appreciate it if you told me all about your research. How you began, how you research, what you do, that sort of thing. Okay?" Without waiting for her answer, Jase seated himself on the floor and crossed his legs. He watched her defensive stance soften at his casual tone, and with a sigh, she pulled out the desk chair and sat. "Do you know what a regression is?" She asked, suddenly all business-like. Jase shook his head. "A past-life regression is when a person is placed into a meditative state. With their mind quieted of the daily thoughts that run through it, it can access subconscious memories, some call them the higher self. The images may be a fleeting thought or an entire scene. That's what I saw." Callie took a deep breath. "I saw myself standing in front of a night club. It was the forties. I saw what I wore, what I smoked, everything, and I waited for Vinnie. I knew little about him, only that he wore suits and worked in a warehouse downtown. My friends all thought he was in the mob, but I didn't know. I was naive I guess." Jase nodded. He said nothing. Callie sounded as if she believed what she had seen, though she just could be imagining it. "So how do you research this?" He sounded genuinely interested. "Start with a name search. Once I hit upon Norma Winters, a nightclub singer in 1940's New York, I knew I had hit pay dirt. I began to research old magazines, old newspapers, anything until I could get a picture. Once I did, she matched the woman in my regression. I haven't stopped my research since then." Callie pointed to the top drawer of a filing cabinet. "That contains everything I have on her." "What are you going to do with all that research?" "Prove that past lives are real." The conviction in her voice sent shivers down Jase's spine. He shifted position on the floor, even as his mental image of this woman shifted as well. When she'd walked into his office he thought her a dreamer, someone who he needed to protect. But listening to the passion in her voice when she spoke about proving past lives real, he heard another side of her. "Can I look at your research?" Callie nodded. "It's in chronological order and quite extensively cross-referenced. As long as you don't get anything out of order, you'll be

fine." She slumped against the back of the chair. "Who do you think is after me?" She nibbled on her lower lip, a thoughtful gesture Jase found distracting. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It could be something you've run up against in your research of Norma Winters. It could be someone who doesn't want to see you succeed." He shook his head. "Though I certainly never would have thought such cut-throat tactics ever existed within the realm of past lives." Jase saw Callie straighten, saw the gleam in her eyes and wondered if he'd misspoke. "Because we're too whitesy-lightsy for you? Too much sunshine and incense?" He nearly jerked back with the vehemence of her words. "Never. I just didn't think it was a field in which such things happened." He tried to backpedal, knowing she hit too close to the truth for his liking. "You know. There are some fields that you don't expect fierce competition in. Others seem to be havens for competitive types. I meant nothing against past lives. Really." He didn't think he mollified her, but she resumed leaning back in the chair. "I don't know what else you need to know, really. Why don't you go through the files and see what you can find?" She rose from the chair and stretched. The movement pressed her breasts against the fabric of her shirt. She looked tired, Jase realized, and he fought an urge to walk around to rub her shoulders and neck. She smiled at him. "I'll leave you to your research." Without waiting for a reply, she walked around him and out of the den. Jase remained sitting on the floor. He stared at the filing cabinets, feeling as if he were about to invade her most private thoughts. _I have to do this._ He rose to his feet to begin his research. **** Callie closed the door to her bedroom and slumped against the wooden panel. She felt certain Jase knew what he was doing, that he needed to review her research before continuing on; however, she felt as if she had just bared her soul to him. _There's not much I can do though, and I certainly don't want to hover._ She went to the living room and picked up the book she had been reading before Jase's arrival. In the back of her mind, she supposed she should find

something for dinner. Her stomach lurched at the thought, and she figured Jase could say something if he became hungry. Listening nervously for sounds coming from her den, she started to read. Thankfully, the book drew her attention away from the man in her den. Sometime later, she looked up from her book at the darkness peering through the almost closed curtains. She yawned and rose from the couch. A light shone from beneath her den door. Tapping lightly, she opened the door to see Jase sprawled on the floor reading an old magazine. She stood there for a moment, taking in his long denim-clad legs. His shirt pulled across his broad chest, drawing her gaze up to his face. He must have sensed her staring, for he looked up at her. "This is fascinating." The excitement in his voice couldn't be faked. "Sorry if I forced you out." "Not at all." Callie yawned again, and she rubbed her eyes. "I'm pretty tired. If you're hungry, there's food in the cupboards. You'll probably have more room if you stretch out in the living room." _That way I can have a whole short hallway and a door between us._ "Sounds great." Jase grinned. "You don't have to worry about feeding me. I've been a bachelor for a while." "Okay. If you don't mind then, I think I'll go to sleep. Good night, Jase." "Good night, Callie." She stood there for a moment longer, then turned from the doorway. In a few steps, she crossed the hall to her own bedroom. No sooner did she close the door behind her, then she slumped against it. How he made three words sound so intimate, she didn't know. _It must be my lack of experience with men._ She swallowed hard. _We're both adults. I think we can handle this._ She hoped she was right. Closing her eyes, Callie took deep breaths before straightening. She crossed the room to her bed. A novel sat by her pillows, its pages offering a welcome escape from the reality of her life. She quickly changed into a nightgown, one that covered her from head to knees. Then, she crawled beneath the sheets. She heard her houseguest rustling around in her den, heard his footsteps as he walked out to the kitchen. The water turned on, then stopped, and Jase walked back into her den. Callie leaned against her pillows in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

This book failed to hold her attention. With a sigh, she set the novel on her nightstand and curled beneath the covers. She still heard Jase moving around in the den. She pulled the covers up to her chin and tried to block out the noise of him closing the filing cabinet. Exhaustion finally gave way, and she slipped into sleep. They were after her. Who, she didn't know, but the heavy thud of their footsteps echoed in her mind, in her dream. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw no one on the deserted street, only streetlights casting a luminous glow against the pavement. The library had been closed for hours, and Callie looked around wondering what she was doing walking outside then. Her tote bag held the copious notes she'd found today and still someone followed her. Her heart pounded. She couldn't go home; everyone said when you were followed you shouldn't lead the attacker to your house. Jase's office seemed blocks away, miles even, and she stood in the darkness by the monolithic building of the civic center, she knew she was going to die. "Quit being silly," Callie muttered to herself. She took a few steps. Someone followed her. The echo of their footsteps bounced from the buildings to assault her with the knowledge that she was being stalked. Callie started walking again. Thud. Thud. The sound of footsteps not her own echoed in her ears. Callie's heart pounded. _I can do this._ She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. A man stood on the corner in front of her. In the hazy way of dreams, she knew not how he got there, only that he stood in front of her. A long black trench coat covered him from neck to ankle. Streetlights glinted off of something metallic in his hands. A gun. He raised it chest height. The barrel pointed directly at her. A loud bang filled her ears. Light flashed from the end of the barrel. Callie screamed. She bolted straight up in bed, spots of white light swirling before her eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest. She tasted the metallic taste of blood. Gentle probing with her tongue told her she'd bitten her lip. She pressed shaking hands to her chest. The door to her bedroom slammed against the wall. Callie turned. She stared wide-eyed at the man who burst into her bedroom. He rushed to her bedside, and Callie gripped the covers. She pressed herself close to the wall. "Callie, you all right?" It took her a moment to place the voice as belonging to Jase.

She nodded. "Callie," he said again when silence greeted his first request. "I'm okay," she replied. Her voice shook, and she knew she didn't sound okay. She heard him move towards the bed. "I had a nightmare. I'm okay." Her heart had slowed to a more normal pace, and saying the words aloud, she felt silly. _My imagination ran off with me._ But a part of her refused to believe. Jase turned on the light, and a soft glow illuminated the room. Callie saw Jase kneeling by the bed, his eyes full of worry. She clutched the blanket nearer to her chin, not wanting him to see her in the silly nightgown covered with cartoon characters. "I'm okay," she said, "really," even though she didn't believe the words. He reached out and laid his hand on her arm. "You know I won't let anyone hurt you." His words shivered down her spine, evoking something primal in her, a need to bury her face against his hard chest, feel his arms wrap around her, and know that nothing would harm her. "You can't be everywhere at once," she said. Then, as if the thought of Jase not protecting her broke a damn, she buried her face against his bare chest as sobs tore themselves from her throat. "Oh God, Jase, it was horrible. I was b-being followed, and this -- this -- guy shot me." Her words dissolved into sobs. Jase wrapped his arm around her. "It was just a dream," he said, his voice soft. Callie allowed herself the luxury of letting him hold her, of letting his strong hand rub her back. Her sobs abated into sniffles, and there, within Jase's arms, she knew that he would do whatever it took to protect her. She swallowed hard. It had been so long since she'd known such security, but Callie realized, she didn't know who would protect her from Jase? With that question came the realization of springy chest hair beneath her cheek and a soft musk that could only belong to him. She pulled away. "Thank you," she said, then shimmied back beneath the covers. She watched him turn and walk out of her bedroom. **** Callie woke to light streaming through the curtains. She remembered a dream,

a man chasing her, then waking up to a strong, masculine presence telling her it would be all right. Jase. Her lips curled with the memory of being tucked against his hard body. She'd felt the fierce pounding of his heart, felt it accelerate with her sobs, then slow with her tears. Her knee throbbed, a reminder of yesterday's accident. She'd have to get up soon and take some ibuprofen, and then wished all her problems could be solved as easily. Fluffing the pillow beneath her head, she debated ignoring her knee, rolling over, and trying to get another half an hour's worth of sleep before starting the day. The sound of whistling brought her farther from slumber. She groaned. Jase didn't tell her he was a morning person. She flopped over in bed and thought longingly of that first cup of coffee. Three cups minimum, and then she would be ready to face the day. Quite unlike this maniac, who rattled pots at an ungodly hour of the morning and whistled. Her sigh echoed in the room. The whistling stopped. _Thank God for that!_ Callie cringed beneath the blankets as she heard Jase walking toward her bedroom door. It was one thing for him to see her last night in duress, but for him to willingly walk into her bedroom ... She shivered, realizing how long it had been since a man had been in her bedroom for any reason. She heard his steps outside the door as if listening for any more sounds of her waking. Callie smiled. "How dare you whistle at," she reached for her alarm clock, "7:30 in the morning!" "You're awake?" She heard through the door. "No," she replied, "I'm talking in my sleep. I'm awake now." She held the blanket to her lips to try and stifle her laughter. "Sorry if I woke you," he said. He sounded truly apologetic, and Callie regretted her teasing words. He didn't say anything further, and she heard him turn around and return to the kitchen. She lay in bed thinking of their exchange and tried not to regret it. He was a big boy, Callie decided as she flipped back the covers and rose to her feet. If he hadn't dealt with anyone who wasn't a morning person before, then that was just too bad. She gathered up her clothes and carefully opening the door, after being sure that Jase wouldn't see her, she dashed into the bathroom. Emerging twenty minutes later, Callie walked into the kitchen. Her hair hung in damp strands against her head. She wore jeans and a shirt, her usual uniform.

Pain shot through her knee, not quite as violently as yesterday, and she hoped the ibuprofen would work soon. She sat down at the table and hoped she wouldn't have to take anything stronger. Without asking, Jase set a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of her. Callie inhaled its aroma. She blinked her eyes sleepily. "Thanks," she said. Jase stood by the stove. Something sizzled in a pan, and it took her a moment to recognize the aroma of bacon frying. Had he brought that from home, she wondered, or perhaps stepped down to the corner grocery not far from here? "Sorry I woke you," he said. She shrugged. "Don't worry about it. I didn't sleep well last night." She didn't elaborate on the nightmare. Jase gave the bacon a flip with the spatula, then turned and rested his hip against the counter. "You know you're safe when I'm here, don't you, Callie?" he asked. The sincerity in his tone made her regret getting mad at him for whistling. She took a sip of her coffee so she wouldn't need to answer right away. Setting the mug down in front of her, she looked at Jase. "I know," she said softly, "but this is all so new to me. I've never had anything like this happen before. What do we do now?" Jase looked thoughtful for a moment. "You've never run into disturbed people in your line of work?" He sounded as if he didn't believe her. She shook her head. "No. I mean, okay, some of the people aren't quite balanced, but they'd never do anything like this. They worry more about if they were a king or queen or something." She snorted. "Really, most people were just plain old individuals caught in circumstances beyond their control. Like Norma. You'd be surprised how many boring, uneventful lives I uncover and how people are satisfied with that." Jase remained silent. Callie looked at him for a moment, then sipped her coffee. Jase turned back to the stove and finished cooking the bacon. He lifted it from the pan and set it on a plate covered with paper towels, then went to the refrigerator and grabbed the eggs. "How many eggs?" "Two please," Callie replied. "Sunny side up." Jase didn't say anything more, which reassured Callie. The coffee began to do its job, and she started to wake. It seemed awkward being in such close quarters with Jase. She could grow quite used to waking up to his making breakfast.

She gave him a surreptitious glance over the rim of her coffee cup, liking the way the jeans cupped his backside and stretched tight over long legs corded with muscle. The shirt he wore, black again, stretched across his shoulders. He stood barefoot, and Callie steeled herself against him. "What are you plans for today?" Jase set a plate in front of her. Callie's stomach rumbled loudly. She slowly turned the plate, looking for any lack in this man's cooking. When the eggs looked perfect, she picked up a fork from the table. "I was going to work until about noon or one, then go to the library." "More research?" Callie nodded, her mouth full. She swallowed. "This is good," she said. "Yes, more research. I need to know as much as possible about Norma before I present my findings." "What about your previous lives?" She raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his question. Jase knew more about such things than he should. "Remember what I said about most people being ordinary? Norma is the first person I've been able to get extensive records on." "You have records on your others?" "A few," Callie confessed. "Mostly birth and death records." "And you can't present that because people will think you've just pulled people at random from history, right?" His words shocked Callie. Jase having an innate understanding of her work wasn't in her plans. She finished the eggs and nibbled on a piece of bacon. "Right," she confirmed. She opened her mouth, wanting to ask him how he knew. The more he accepted her work, the better he would be at guarding her; Callie knew that much was true. Instead, she finished the last piece of bacon on her plate. Jase sat down at the table, his plate heaping. Callie rose to her feet. Carrying her plate over to the sink, she silently contemplated how she was going to work with him in the house. She rinsed the plate, and then headed for the den. The ibuprofen had kicked in, and her knee hardly bothered her. "When you're ready to go to the library, let me know." Callie nodded and without further words headed for her den and refuge.

**** Jase watched her leave, viewing the sassy sway of her hips as she headed down the hall. She was onto him, or at least onto his knowledge of past lives. He contemplated his breakfast; his appetite seemed to have left. Nibbling on a piece of bacon, he listened to the soft sounds of New Age music drifting to his ears and the scent of incense teased his nose through the closed door. What was she doing in there? Sit on the floor chanting to unknown Gods? A phone rang, and the sound of Callie's voice barely filtered through the door. Phone consultations seemed so horribly modern. It all came back to Molly. Dear, sweet, innocent Molly, who believed that she had been a queen, and the man who had been her king had led her to her death. That stupid cult that neither Josh nor he had seen until the police called one grim, winter day. He shook his head. Callie wasn't like that -- couldn't be like that. He tasted his eggs. They'd gone cold in his musings, and with a grimace he slid the contents of his plate into the trash. Josh would die of laughter if he knew that his little brother's first assignment was with some New Age past life reader. He sighed. Still, if people were after her, she deserved protection as much as anybody, and she paid. Jase quickly washed up the dishes, and then went into the living room for his morning callisthenic routine. In the apartment, he couldn't jump rope, but that wouldn't stop him from his daily round of one hundred sit-ups, followed by one hundred push-ups. He heard snippets of Callie's conversation. She seemed to be leading the person in some sort of meditation involving stairs and windows. He closed his eyes as he lay on the floor and began his routine. Her voice held a hypnotic quality. The question of why someone would stalk Callie ran in his head, circling like a jogger on a track. At the fifty sit-up mark, he was as clueless as when he began. As he worked the last exercises in his set, he had an image of a man dressed in a long trench coat. A cigarette hung from the corner of his lips. His dark hair looked as if it needed a trim. Then, he saw a woman. She looked much like the photographs of Norma. She walked over to a third man, kissed him on the cheek, and the trio watched. Jase felt jealousy burn in his gut. One hundred. He stopped his exercise, the motion shoving all images from his mind. Callie had stopped talking, and the scent of incense came less strongly now. For a moment, Jase wondered if he had flashed back to the past, then dismissed the notion as silly. He didn't believe in past lives. When you're dead -- you're dead.

The thought bolted him to his feet. He was here to do a job, not to imagine himself as some kind of mobster. He wasn't sure those people were in the mob, but he knew. Deep in his gut, where hunches and instinct live, he knew those two men were in the mob. A chill darted down the spine. Callie said she wanted to go to the library. He had better make sure everything was in order. The phone rang again, and this time Jase turned his back to the sound, shoving it from his mind. In this life, he would protect her. Somehow he doubted he would get a second chance. -------*Four* Pedestrians rushed past Callie and Jase as they walked back to her apartment. Men and women dressed in suits lugged briefcases or carried children from daycare at the Federal Building. The street looked more like a parking lot, with cars sitting bumper to bumper. Every so often vehicles would move a few inches closer to the next stoplight, belching exhaust as they went. Callie didn't mind. She admired the architecture of the old buildings as she passed, the modern-looking Civic Center contrasting with the brick courthouse just a few blocks away. Even though parking created more headaches, and she had to leave downtown for many essentials, she enjoyed living in the hustle of the city. Jase walked stiffly beside her. She noticed his discomfort at being out in the open and had even ridiculously suggested she ride the bus the few blocks to the library. Callie tried not to scoff at him, but it was hard. After all, she lived in Des Moines, not a huge major metropolitan area. Then, he reminded her that someone wanted her life, or at least to scare her. She agreed, but refused to do anything but walk to the library. "See," she said, affecting a cocky little smile, "I told you nothing was going to happen." Jase shrugged, not influenced by her nonchalant attitude. Half a block ahead, a silver Lincoln honked its horn as a sporty red car stole its parking spot. Callie smiled, having witnessed that drama many times before from her balcony. The driver of the sports car parked. He got out and stood. Callie saw the brown fedora on his head and the hint of a blue knit shirt of some kind. He looked towards the driver of the Lincoln, and then glanced up the street. "Callie, stop," Jase's low command halted her in midstep. "Why don't we go into this building nice and slow, as if we wanted to." His lips hardly moved.

For a moment, Callie wondered if he perfected the talent of sounding like a television cop. She glanced at the man in the hat again. He turned her way. Sunlight glinted off the barrel of his gun. "Down!" Jase yelled. He shoved Callie to the grass. She stretched her hands in front of her to break the fall. Grass snagged on her nails, and she felt her face being pressed to the turf. Jase's presence burned above her, his solid weight keeping her to the ground. His muscles flexed. Tires squealed in the street. A shout broke the din of traffic. To her, the world sounded normal. Callie lifted her head. She spat dirt from her lips and looked at Jase. He surveyed the street, looking for all intents and purposes as if he'd forgotten her. Ire rose within her. She bolted to her feet. "How dare you -- " Jase shoved something at her, interrupting her tirade. Callie looked at the bit of metal he held in his hand. Although impact had dented it somewhat, the object still looked like a bullet. "Is this a...?" Jase nodded. "Yes." "Someone fired at me?" Her voice rose. Jase cupped her shoulder with his hand. The warm, soothing comfort of his presence instilled calm in her. Callie looked from the bit of metal to Jase's serious expression. "You believe it don't you?" "I don't know. It's ironic, isn't it, that a bullet is found in the ground not far from us." "But this is downtown Des Moines. What if this were left over from a drive-by shooting or something." She refused to believe that the man had shot at her, yet it had been months since a shooting had happened in the capital city. Sure, sunlight had glinted from something metal in his hand, but it could have been a watch or maybe an umbrella. Shivers darted down her spine even though the sun beat upon them. "Let's go back to your place." Jase said. Bending over, he picked up her bag with its papers containing snippets of Norma's life. Callie had forgotten about them in the struggle, and now, as she stared at photographs of a woman several decades dead, she questioned herself. Callie nodded, afraid to trust her voice. Chills still coursed through her body, and her hand shook as she reached out to take the bag.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I -- I think so," Callie replied. _He should have asked me earlier. He has to know that I don't get shot at every day._ Still, he'd been intent on scanning the road for something, someone. "Okay." Jase sounded as if he didn't like her answer, but said nothing further. He waited for her to slide the strap of her bag over shoulder and start back down the sidewalk. He followed in silence. A few steps later, Callie turned to look at him. "Do you really think someone shot at me?" She asked. "Why?" She clutched her bag tighter. If Jase noticed her action he said nothing. "I say that we call the police in on this." "Don't start that again," Callie replied. "Now we have a man cutting off a car and the fact that we found a bullet in the grass." "Why do you seem so intent on not believing that you could be in danger? You came to me, remember?" She did, all too vividly. The dull throbbing in her knee reminded her even if her memories didn't. "But to have someone shoot me in broad daylight?" A fresh round of shivers darted down her spine. "Does that seem a bit melodramatic to you?" Jase shrugged. "Different individuals work in different ways." He didn't say anything further, and Callie left him to his silence. She paused at the front door to her apartment building and unlocked it with her key. Jase followed, his presence a reminder that all wasn't right in her world. **** Once inside her apartment, Callie set her research on the kitchen table. She grabbed a glass of water from the refrigerator and sat at the table. Slowly, she pulled the folders out and stared at the pictures they held. Different shots of Norma lay on the table in front of her. The image of the bullet lying in Jase's hands flashed across her mind, and she closed her eyes to shut out the image. The scrape of a chair made her open her eyes, and Callie looked across the table at Jase. He stared at her, his gaze sliding to the pictures of the nightclub singer. Reaching out, he picked up one of her on stage. He held up the picture, looking at it with an unreadable expression. Slowly, he laid it back down on the table.

"She was pretty," he said at last. "She was," Callie replied. She sipped at her water. "I'd like to do some research about this," he said. "What kind of research?" Callie's skeptical mind returned. "Check crime records, see if anything unusual has been happening. I need to go to the office again, though." "I have plenty of work here to do," she rose from the kitchen table and started for her den. Jase looked at her, then nodded and rose to his feet. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone." "If I stay inside I should be fine." She shoved the image of the letter on her kitchen table from her mind. Although she spent most of her days indoors, she began to resent the fact that she had to stay inside to avoid whoever it was. Jase didn't look happy at her response. "Make sure you stay indoors. I shouldn't be gone over an hour or two. I'll just buzz when I come back to be let in, though I'd like for you to make me a key if you don't have a spare." "Why don't I give you my key and you can have one made?" Callie grabbed her purse and removed her house key. She handed it to him. "I'll do that. Thank you." "You're welcome." She walked into her den and a few moments later heard the front door close and the lock click. **** Once out of Callie's apartment, Jase slipped into detective mode. The idea that Callie was having nightmares over what was happening burned at him, and he hated the people who were responsible. "I should have taken this more seriously," he muttered to himself as he stepped into the stairwell and jogged down the stairs to ground level. "I shouldn't have dismissed Callie's claim so easily." He mentally kicked himself for leaving information at the office. With the passwords and links he used to search police and medical databases, he could have done all his research from Callie's apartment and not left her alone, but he wanted to grab some CDs from his office, so he could install some stealth and intruder detection software on her computer. If she was using her home computer to search for information about Norma, then anyone monitoring her internet connection could see what she was doing.

Damn it, he cursed as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Breaking into a jog, he headed towards his office. He'd just pick up what he needed and would return to Callie's as soon as possible. He didn't like the idea of leaving her unprotected for long, but after the incident on their way from the library, he didn't want to take any chances. He reached his office and unlocked the doors. There, sitting at his desk, was Josh. His younger brother sat with his feet propped up on the desk. His blue eyes twinkled, and the deep tan he wore only served to bring out the highlights in his sun-bleached hair. Wearing a baggy tank top and shorts, he looked ready for the beach volleyball circuit on which he used to play. Josh let his feet drop to the door and rose to his feet. "Jase, bro," he said, walking around the desk. "Where have you been? I've left messages for you." "I'm on assignment," Jase replied with a glance at his blinking answering machine. "Assignment, eh? That's kept you away from us?" Josh replied teasingly. Jase ignored him and went to his cabinet where he kept his software and passwords. Unlocking the drawer, he began to put file folders into his bag. "Must be serious if you're digging out that information." Josh said. "What's up?" Jase debated telling his brother. Granted, the two of them shared most everything, but this was a client and a case. "Can't say," he said curtly. "You only get that look on your face when you're thinking about Molly. What's going on, Jase?" Jase rose from his crouched position in front of the filing cabinets and stood to face his brother. "Just a case," he replied. "Don't worry about it. So how's the restaurant business and why did you want to see me so badly?" "Just wanted to stop in and say hello, that's it. Gee, you don't need to look for ulterior motives for everything, do you?" Jase shook his head. "Sorry, I guess I don't." "You've got that look on your face again," Josh mumbled. "Look," Jase said, raking his fingers through his head. "It's this case. There's a young woman involved and it just brings up memories of Molly. It's wearing on me, that's all." "You can't let what happened to Molly color the rest of your life, Jase. You did everything you could. None of us could have imagined that bastard would

eventually kill her, least of all you. You loved her, that's what you should remember. Not that she's dead." "I know," Jase said softly. "I loved her with all my heart and because of my incompetence she died." "If you're going to believe that then you should just go lie beside her and die, too. You can't keep beating yourself up because of what happened." As much as he hated to admit it, Jase knew his brother had a point. "Well, thanks for this pep talk bro, but I have to get back to my assignment." He slung the bag over his shoulder. "You know how to lock up." "Just remember what I said, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, Josh turned towards the door at the back of the office that lead up to the apartments. Jase walked out of his office, not wanting to ponder what would be bothering his brother enough to drop into his office. Josh had an apartment upstairs, but his own office was across town in the back of one of his restaurants. With a sigh, he stepped back onto the sidewalk and jogged towards Callie's apartment building. **** Callie curled on the loveseat and flipped on the television. The opening music of the six o'clock news filtered into her living room. A few moments later, the lead anchor came on and announced breaking news. A shooting on the east side seemed to have connections to the mob. Callie froze. _Not here, not here in Des Moines, Iowa._ It seemed too far-fetched to believe that something so far away could come to a farming state like Iowa. Chills raced along her spine and down her arms. Hugging her knees to her chest, she stared at the television, the news anchor's words not registering. She heard nothing but the beating of her own heart and the swish of blood through her veins. "Oh my God. Oh my God." She repeated the litany over and over to herself. **** Jase unlocked the apartment door. Something felt wrong. From the living room, he heard the television announcing a scandal involving a celebrity, certainly nothing he ever imagined Callie watching on TV. He closed the door behind him. "Callie," he called. She didn't answer.

"Callie, are you okay?" he called again. Still, no answer. "Damn it," Jase growled. He dashed into the living room, his only concern for Callie's safety. Images flashed through his mind, of her hurt, or worse dead. He shouldn't have left. Callie sat on the loveseat. With her back to him, it looked as if she were rocking. She held her knees to her chin, her eyes staring straight ahead at the fish tank in the corner. "Ohmygod. Ohmygod," she repeated to herself over and over again, sobs breaking her voice. "Callie," Jase called again. She didn't respond. Gingerly, he reached out and touched her back. Kneeling by the couch, he looked into her tear-stained face. "What happened?" he asked. _Damn it. I never should have left._ She looked uninjured. The remote lay forgotten on the floor, and he flipped off the television. The only sounds were Callie's sobs and her litany. Slowly, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her face against his shoulder. Callie coughed, the first break in her unending mantra that he heard, then began to cry in earnest. "Shh," Jase soothed. "I'm here now. It's going to be okay." "No," Callie protested. "Yes," Jase insisted. "We'll find out whoever is doing this and put them in jail where they belong." Callie shook her head in protest against his shoulder, then gingerly, her hand reached out and wrapped around his back. He felt the damp spot on his shirt from her tears. _How can I release Molly when I have the same situation right here in my arms?_ He received no answers. Jase felt Callie's breasts pressing against his chest and something stirred deep inside him. He willed his body to behave. "What happened, Callie?"

She raised her head from his shoulder, sniffed once, and then leaned back on the loveseat. He admired her for pulling up her composure like that. "The news," Callie said, gesturing to the now silent television. "The news said there was a mob shooting. Why here? Why is the mob in Des Moines? Are they after me?" She dropped her face into her hands, but did not cry. "I can't do this anymore, Jase. I want to finish my research so badly, but if it is going to get people killed, get me killed, then I won't. I give up." "Callie, no!" The words passed his lips before he even had a chance to think. "You can't give up. If what you're researching is true, then you have a right to share it with the world." He shook his head. "I don't know what the implications of your work are, but surely immense good must come out of it." Jase didn't know where the words came from, but deep inside he felt they were true. Surely, if past lives were true, then it would help people on some level. Callie sniffed. "But the television said -- " "That's news, Callie. In my line of work you quickly learn that the media only wants you to know what they think will get them viewers. It could have been related to the mob, but then it could have been an upset ex-spouse, too. The police always know far more than they tell the news reporters." Callie had stopped crying and seemed to be considering his words. "Don't you have work to do?" Jase asked. "I'll make sure everything is secure out here and you take care of you, okay?" Callie nodded. "Can I use your phone jack out here for my laptop?" "Sure," Callie said. She stretched her legs in front of her and moved to stand. Jase rose to his feet and offered her a hand. She took it. Callie smiled. "Thank you," she replied. "I guess I went a little crazy when I heard that." Jase returned the grin. "Don't worry about it. I would have done the same in your place. You sure you're going to be fine?" Callie nodded. "Yes, thank you. If you need anything just knock. I don't have any clients scheduled for this afternoon." Without waiting for his reply, she turned and walked into her den, closing the door behind her. **** A sense of peace descended on Callie as soon as she stepped into her den. Closing her eyes, she let the calmness envelop her. The scent of the sandalwood incense she burned teased her nose, and it's rich, woodsy

fragrance grounded her. She heard Jase moving around in the living room, and she shoved thoughts of him from her mind. She spent a few moments stretching, pulling her arms over her head and circling her shoulders to loosen tense muscles. Her back felt stiff, and she bent at the waist, letting the blood rush into her hands and neck. Taking deep breaths, she worked to hold the serenity the room held within her. Slowly, she straightened. In the corner sat a small table, upon which she had placed a ring of candles. She lit them, delighting in the vanilla fragrance that filled the room on wisps of smoke. "Nothing can harm me," she whispered to herself and envisioned shields of blazing blue light around her apartment and all within it. A loud thump echoed from the living room, followed by muttered curses. The corners of Callie's lips quirked into a smile. _So Jase wasn't as immune to things as he seemed._ Callie sat on the floor. She crossed her legs in front of her, arms draped loosely on her knees, and closed her eyes. With slow inhales and exhales, she worked to raise her consciousness past that of her physical body. Colors swirled behind her closed eyelids, forming the familiar pattern of a rainbow. The regression was one she had been taught so many years ago, when she first began past life work. She'd seen Norma then, on her first regression. Of course, it had taken years to perfect the technique, not only with her own lives, but to work with others. And it was only recently that she'd begun serious research into Norma's life specifically. The swirling colors of the rainbow soothed her, drawing her deeper into the regression. The colors turned from indigo into violet, then the color leeched out of them, leaving whiteness in front of her. Slowly, like curtains parting on stage, the mist slipped into nothingness. Callie saw the scene before her, a smoky bar room. She's Norma, sitting on a chair, smoking her trademark cigarette. Vinnie sat beside her, his hand at her elbow. He discussed something intently with the man opposite them. Dominic, Callie realized. She'd read little about the third member of their group, a co-worker of Vinnie's. Norma's memory held little of him but that he seemed gruffer, more workmanlike than her beau. Norma never paid much attention to him. Callie took a few moments to admire the strong tilt of his jaw and the fall of dark hair that swept nearly to his collar. He turned to stare directly at Norma, and his gaze pierced her. Callie gasped.

Jase. Dominic could pass as his twin brother. She blinked her eyes, rapidly, struggling hard to keep herself in the regression. The image of Jase's face -Dominic's face -- burned into her mind, and she gasped. Her eyes flew open. Callie found herself staring at the black screen of the computer. From the living room she heard nothing. "It can't be," she breathed. "No. Not Dominic." She rose lithely to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest. Surely somewhere in her copious notes she had to have information about the third member of their trio. Her regressions had turned up little, but focused as she was on Norma, she didn't think it likely she would pick up on the intimate details of Dominic's life. She opened the drawer of a filing cabinet. Her hands shook as she pulled out the thick folder holding everything she had acquired about Norma. Callie seated herself in her desk chair. Opening the folder, she began to scan for pictures. A little ways into the stack, she found a small newspaper clipping. The picture was of Norma and Dominic, a small, grainy photo from one of the society pages. The caption stated the picture had been taken at a cafe shortly after one of Norma's performances. "Singer Norma Winters enjoys a drink with her bodyguard Dominic Graven," the small print said. "Bodyguard," Callie whispered. She shook her head. _No, history couldn't be repeating itself._ She had heard of souls who repeated the same lessons life after life, but the same events? Her stomach knotted at the thought. She knew Norma died from a gunshot wound. Presumably, if they were reliving this time again, then Jase would save her life. She hoped. The folder slipped from Callie's lap, spilling photos over the floor. She hastily picked them up and put the folder back in the filing cabinet. Of all people, she knew that just because people had come together again in a life, didn't mean things would end the same way. She could pull case studies from her files of people bound together in one life to reincarnate in another on totally different missions. It meant nothing that Jase was in her house guarding her. Callie found it hard to convince herself. She rose to her feet, an urge to walk overcoming her. She wanted to move, wanted to flee the confines of the apartment that suddenly felt like a prison. Her hand closed around the doorknob. She stopped. Clicks came from the living room, sounding like metal against metal. Jase, Callie realized, and an insatiable curiosity overcame her. She wanted to know what he was doing, what preparations he was making to guard her. After all, she wanted to make sure he got it right this time.

Callie shook her head. He didn't fail last time. He might not even have been Dominic. The two men merely may look similar. In her heart, she didn't believe her mind's thoughts. She knew, with the skill of a trained professional, she knew Jase was Dominic reincarnated. She swallowed hard and opened the door. With the door open, the clicks sounded louder. The harsh smell of solvent assaulted her nose. She stepped into the short hall and fought against the urge to run back into the den and light a stick of sandalwood incense. More clicks sounded from the living room, each one making her jump. "Jase?" Callie asked hesitantly. The sounds stopped, and she heard someone shuffling. Callie took a step forward. Jase sat on the floor of her living room. He appeared to have the pieces of something spread out in front of him on an old towel. She saw him capping a bottle of liquid, and the smell instantly began to fade. He turned to glance in her direction. "You're done so soon?" he asked, sounding surprised. He glanced down at the items spread around him. Callie wondered if he didn't want her to see what she was doing. Curiosity drove her to step forward. "Yes. I heard you out here and came to investigate." She thought she recognized the handle of a gun. Images from her last regression, with Dominic and Vinnie, came to mind. "What are you doing?" Jase snapped a couple of parts together with an ease that spoke of how many times he had done it before and held it up to the light. The barrel pointed away from both of them, towards the far wall, but Callie couldn't help the sense of foreboding that filled her. He turned to face her, the gun held nonchalantly in his lap. "Want to see it? It's a Glock 9mm, nothing fancy, but I thought I'd bring it just in case. I was just making sure it was clean and ready." He set the gun down into a case and began to put the cloths and swabs into a plastic box. If she hadn't known what was inside, she could have mistaken the container for a toolbox. An image of Norma's death, with bullets flying through the wall of the apartment she shared with Vinnie flashed across her mind, and she gave an involuntary gasp. Clutching the back of the chair with both hands, she looked at Jase. "You okay?" Jase asked. Callie nodded. "Yeah." She exhaled a long breath. "Norma was shot, and sometimes guns just bring up a reminder of that. Spontaneous regression it's

called. I don't have it too often, but when I do it's a doozy." "I'll put it away." He quickly set the gun back into its padded case and closed the lid. "There. All better? I'll be sure and warn you the next time I'm going to clean or check them. I also brought a couple of smaller pistols as well, but they're safely locked up." "You're just doing your job. It's I who should have warned you." She glanced at her hands and saw her knuckles had turned white from the force of her grip. Jase rose to his feet and, in an instant, stood beside her. "I didn't realize you felt that way," he said. He gently laid an arm around her shoulders, and Callie felt him strong beside her. She leaned into his strength, feeling drained. "There's something I should probably tell you." He looked from her to his closed gun case, then back to her. His eyes held concern, and he reached up with his thumb and stroked the side of her neck. Callie shivered at the contact. "Jase, what is it?" Callie asked. She longed to step away from him, to look him square in the eye and demand he tell her everything. All the bravado in the world wouldn't help her cause, however, if she couldn't even stand. Right now, she felt as if the chair, and Jase, were the only things holding her upright. Jase sighed heavily. "I don't want you to worry." Callie shook her head. "I need to know," she replied. Taking deep breaths, she felt her strength begin to return. She took another step away from him "I need to know," she repeated. "Whatever you have on the case affects me, too." "The news wasn't completely lying." "What?" Callie asked. "Oh my god." Her eyes widened with realization. "You can't mean -- " Jase nodded. "I checked my police contacts earlier. There have been signs of the mob in Des Moines. Maybe not the story they showed on the news, but there have been signs." "No." Callie said. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. "Norma. Vinnie. Damn it, no." She shook her head, but the motion only made the room start to spin. "It's all happening again, and I can't stop it!" Swallowing hard, she released her hold on the chair and stepped backwards. The floor rose violently to meet her. Callie's vision grew black. Swaying on her feet, she collapsed to the floor. The last thing she heard was Jase frantically crying her name.

-------*Five* "Callie! Callie!" Callie moaned, her head feeling as if it were pounding with the force of a brass band. Someone distantly called her name, and she wanted to go to the voice. It was a strong one, a male voice. Jase, she realized, was calling to her, and he sounded worried. Her eyelids fluttered. She wanted to open them, but seemed to lack the strength. As she regained consciousness, Callie remembered the gun, Jase's gun. He had one in her living room and spoke to her about the mob. Vinnie had been in the mob, and his connections had gotten Norma killed. She didn't want to repeat the mistakes of her past life, but feared not completing her research even more. "Callie. Talk to me. Say something," Jase sounded frantic now. He sounded worried. Slowly, Callie struggled towards wakefulness. She opened her eyes to see Jase leaning over her. Worry clouded his gaze, and a lock of hair had fallen over his forehead. He knelt beside her, with her hand encased in his. Gently, his thumb stroked the back of her hand and the contact comforted her. She left her hand in his grip. "Callie?" Jase asked. "Are you awake?" "Yeah," she whispered. "What happened?" The pounding in her head made bursts of light swirl in front of her eyes. She'd never had a migraine, but heard the horror stories from those who did. She wondered if that is what was happening to her now. "We were talking," Jase said. He hesitated as he spoke, as if choosing his words carefully. "And you fainted." "I fainted?" Her mouth felt dry, and she moved to sit. "I've never fainted before, damn it." She looked up at him. "You must think I'm a total nutcase." Jase released her hand so he could slide an arm along her back. As he did so, he leaned forward, bringing his cheek in contact with hers. "I don't think that. You've been under a lot of stress, more than you've probably let on. It was a natural thing to do." "Still." Callie frowned, disgusted at herself. "I fainted." She smelled the woodsy scent of his aftershave and felt the prick of stubble along her jaw. Gently, he helped her ease into a sitting position. He pulled away slightly, and Callie mourned the loss of the contact.

"Are you...?" His words trailed off as their gazes collided. Callie looked at him, at the warmth and caring in his gaze. She knew he would protect her. No matter what had happened in her past life, what Dominic did or did not do, she knew Jase would expend all of his resources and then some to see her safe. Reaching up, she traced her finger along the line of his jaw. For a moment Jase looked as if he were going to pull away. He stiffened, and Callie feared he would stand up and walk away from her. Instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. "I won't fail again," he whispered as he kissed her. Callie responded to the warmth in his voice. She slid her hand to the nape of his neck. Jase moved his lips across hers, the gentle touches making her feel cherished. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. Callie wrapped her free hand around his bicep. She felt the muscles beneath her touch. Callie lost herself in the sensations of Jase's lips on hers. When his tongue touched her lips and slipped inside, she opened her mouth for him. Even then, he held his distance. Pulling away to suck in breaths of air, she glanced at Jase through half-lidded eyes and saw him start to stand. "Don't," she said, her hand tightening on her arm. Jase shook his head. "I shouldn't have done that." She slid her hand from the nape of his neck to press her finger against his lips. "Did you want to?" she asked easing into more of a sitting position. "Yes," Jase replied, and the simple one-word answer sent a wave of pleasure washing through Callie. "Then don't say you're sorry." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I fainted. I didn't expect to have a spontaneous regression." "I should have warned you. I should have known." "You couldn't have. Don't worry about it." Callie smiled, but the expression did not reach her eyes. As she rose to her feet, Jase extended a hand to help her. They stood together. Callie watched him walk into the kitchen. She raised a finger to her lips that still tingled from Jase's kiss and smiled. She, too, had wanted Jase to kiss her, but didn't dare give voice to her thoughts. He would have said something about women caring too much about their bodyguards or something logical like that.

_No, he probably already thinks I'm a flake. He doesn't need me adding to it._ When Jase didn't return, she rose to her feet and started walking towards her den. As she passed the island separating the kitchen from the hall, she saw Jase turn and look at her. He glanced at her quizzically, and without acknowledging his glance, she darted into her den. As the comforting walls of her research and her life closed around her, she worried at her own thoughts and wondered if they might be true. She stared at her computer and wondered what links Jase had that she didn't. He might have more as a bodyguard, but she knew her way around the internet. Sitting in the chair, she booted up her computer. If the mob were indeed active in Des Moines, she felt certain she should have all the facts. Just in case. It didn't reassure her. Someone had seen her begin her initial look into Norma's life, and this same someone seemed determined to stop her research. She needed all the facts she could get. Period. A sense of purpose filled Callie. She stared at her filing cabinets and all the folders containing information about Norma, Vinnie, and Dominic. She had to learn more. Taking a deep breath, she sat down at her computer and began to pull files out of her filing cabinets. In short time, a small mountain of paper surrounded her. She logged onto the internet and began a thorough web search reaffirming what she had about Norma's life, as well as current mob activities in Des Moines. A quick look through the archives of the Des Moines Register showed only two stories that mentioned the mob, and they both profiled news out of New York. A search of smaller, independent presses showed the same thing. Callie checked a few more sources, still not finding any information that Jase claimed to know about the mob. She bit her lip and stared at the computer screen. It could be possible, that he made it up to feed my fears. She shook her head. It didn't seem like Jase to do something like that anymore than she would lie to one of her customers about a past life. There had to be a better explanation. From the living room, she heard what sounded like pacing. It sounded like he might have been doing calisthenics, and she tried to block out the image. Her palm still tingled where it had rested on his bicep. _He's just your bodyguard, nothing more._ In the back of one filing cabinet, she found her folder on Dominic Graven. Opening it up, she felt as if she were looking into the past. It could have been Jase standing on the street corner in a long overcoat. She recognized Norma standing a little behind him, her trademark cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Well, Callie idly speculated, if Norma hadn't been shot she would have died

from lung cancer. Getting shot would have been the kinder of the two deaths. She shuddered. More pictures of Dominic filled the pages, some with and some without Norma at his side. It seemed that in his own right, Dominic was a wealthy businessman. Callie pursed her lips. Vinnie worked in a warehouse. Dominic made lots of money in business. She sang in nightclubs. Shaking her head, Callie wondered what kind of idiot Norma had to be not to realize that they were all involved in something bad. She flipped to the last of the pictures. The newspaper photo showed Norma and Dominic shopping. They must have stopped to confer about something. Her arm rested against his shoulder, and their heads were close. The camera didn't do a good job capturing the couple's expression, but it looked more intense than "just-friends." In the three-quarter profile, Dominic looked exactly like Jase. Callie's blood ran cold. She took deep breaths, trying to calm the racing beat of her heart. There was no denying it. Jase was Dominic. Callie bolted to her feet. She paced the tiny room, making circuits of it as if in a race. Raking her fingers through her hair, she tried to deny the proof that was in front of her. After all, just because the two men looked alike didn't mean Jase was Dominic reincarnated. She looked nothing like Norma with her tall, willowy curves. Callie shook her head and sank into the chair. Projection, that's all. She simply projected her wishes for Dominic and Jase onto the photos. The two couldn't be possibly related at all. **** Jase sat on the floor of Callie's living room listening to her pace in her den like a madwoman. Part of him wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he suspected he should probably keep his distance. He figured he was the cause of all the pacing. The lull of her steps sounded familiar. He counted them as she paced around her room. Five steps. Turn. Seven steps. Turn. Five steps. Turn. Seven steps. Turn. The rhythm repeated itself again and again. Jase leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. He had done this before, he realized. He had listened to her pace in another room. An image emerged in front of his eyes, of the backstage of some seedy little club. He leaned on a chair against her dressing room door, listening to the sounds of her changing inside and keeping people away. Jase nearly groaned aloud, remembering the torment of knowing she slipped out of her clothing into a fancy dress. If he were lucky, she would need help zipping the back, and those few moments were pure pleasure and pure hell for him. Vinnie

would show up then, just as he was brushing his fingers across the back of her neck, and it would be Vinnie, not he, who would escort her onto the stage. Damn him. The pacing stopped, drawing Jase out of his reverie. What was he thinking? He shook his head to clear it from the daydream. From the den, he heard silence. Callie must have gone back to her research, and he had an overwhelming urge to find out what made her pace so violently. Jase stared at the toolbox that held his gun-cleaning kit and the locked case that held his Glock. They rested next to his duffle bag and his rolled up sleeping bag. Taking a deep breath, he wondered why he had allowed himself to care about a client. Callie was his client, nothing more, and although his heart had nearly pounded through his chest when she fainted, she could never be any more. Molly had seen to that. Swallowing hard, he rose to his feet and walked into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter to think. **** For the fifth time in as many minutes, Callie cursed as her fingers hit the wrong keys on the computer. _This is silly._ Standing she looked at the closed door to her den. She felt like a prisoner, kept trapped in her apartment by danger and lies. Okay, danger and lies might sound a little melodramatic, but she was kept in -- trapped by danger -- at the very least. "You stay in your apartment all day," Callie muttered under her breath. "It's just work, work, work." Callie shook her head. At least then she was there by choice. She felt as if Jase had penned her in here in an attempt to protect her. The idea that someone else imposed her exile burned. Working up a good mad, she opened the den door. She heard the sound of paper being shuffled in the kitchen. As she stepped into the kitchen, she saw Jase sitting at the table, shuffling notebook pages in his hands. She chuckled derisively to herself. If he was cataloging their itinerary, there wasn't much to write. Memories of the kiss rose in her mind, and Callie fought against the blush that crept across her cheeks. "I want out," Callie announced. Jase looked up from his notes. He sipped his glass of water and looked at her blandly. "Out?" he asked. "Out. I feel like a prisoner in my own home. This is Des Moines for Christ's

sake and I don't think there are bad guys around every corner waiting to get me." Jase nodded. "And you hired me for company?" He raised an eyebrow and grinned rakishly at her. "No," she said. "I hired you to protect me, not cloister me like some nun." "And so within these walls you're not protected?" He sounded so calm that Callie wanted to throw something at him just to see if she could ruffle his demeanor. "Look," she huffed. "I don't know what kind of clients you usually take on, but I'm sure you don't shut them in their apartments for their own good." Jase's grin widened, and her anger deepened. "I want to go out. Go out for dinner or something." She raked her fingers through her hair. "I can't imagine someone would try to kill me at a restaurant." "You didn't imagine someone would try to run you down, either, Callie. Or try to shoot at you on Second Avenue. It's not your job to imagine what people would do, it's mine." Jase spoke quietly, but with authority in his voice. "Yeah, but," Callie said. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water, then shook her head. "I don't care. If you're good, then you'll protect me." She glared at him. Jase stood. His eyes held a predatory gleam in them, and Callie had to fight against the urge to gulp. He strode towards her, each step a precision exercise in muscular control. He stopped a few inches away and looked her straight in the eyes. His gaze smoldered. With his finger, he tilted her chin so she could look into his eyes. "I'm very good, Callie. But I don't think that's what you were referring to." He dropped his hands, but remained standing before her. Callie fought the urge to run. She had no doubts he was very good, excellent even, if his kiss was any indication. "I meant a good bodyguard," she said. Her voice emerged on a whisper. "I'm good at that, too," he said, then stepped back to give her some much-needed air. He leaned against the counter in a nonchalant masculine pose that did little to help still Callie's racing heart. "So, you'll let me go out." "We'll go out," he countered. _Like a date?_ She feared voicing the words aloud. She wanted to crawl back into her nice, tame research and her calm life. "You don't know where I

wanted to go," she said, trying to think of some sassy retort. "Wherever it is, I'll go with you." She thought about telling him she wanted to go lingerie shopping, but that seemed too cruel. Besides, knowing Jase, he had seen too much lingerie in his life already. "I was just thinking dinner." She sat in the chair, wondering why a spirit of defeat had crept over her. She'd won, hadn't she? Jase agreed to take her outside the apartment. He sat down across from her. Reaching across the table, he took her hands in his. "Look, Callie. I know this is hard for you. You're just doing your job and now someone wants to hurt you. You must understand that everything I do, I do for your protection. You've hired me to keep you safe from harm. I intend to perform my job to the fullest." He slowly released her hands. "If you want to go to dinner, I won't begrudge you that. What did you have in mind?" Jase's words touched her. She smiled. "I really didn't know. My only thought was 'out.'" He nodded. "My brother owns several restaurants here in town. Do you like Italian?" "I do, yes." She didn't know Jase had a brother, and to know that he owned several restaurants made her wonder about Jase's family. She knew so little about him. Yet, she didn't need to know much if he were just going to be her bodyguard. "Good," Jase grinned. "Let's go to _Venezia di Notte_. It's his newest one. The name means Venice at night." "It sounds beautiful. I need to change though." She looked down at her casual clothing. "I can't go in this." "I need to change, too. Can I borrow your den?" "Sure," she replied as she rose from the table. "Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll be ready." She walked into her bedroom feeling lighter than she had since realizing she needed to hire a bodyguard. **** Twenty minutes later, she sat across from Jase at _Venezia di Notte_ sipping a glass of white wine. She picked at her salad, a delightful combination of greens with a light vinaigrette dressing. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. It wasn't that the ambiance wasn't nice, for the soft music, the low lighting, all of it combined to produce a wonderfully

romantic atmosphere. Jase had them seated in a secluded table near the back where he could see the entire restaurant. It also placed her in very close confines with him. Glancing at Jase's bowl, she saw he had nearly devoured his entire salad. He looked completely at ease, while she was coiled tighter than a spring. "Everything okay?" Jase asked. He glanced at her partially touched salad. "Don't you like your salad?" Callie nodded. "Fine, thanks. I guess I'm a bit too nervous to eat." She speared a piece of lettuce and ate it, just to prove her words. Jase smiled. "It was your idea to go out." he said. "I know, but I guess I didn't envision a place quite this fancy." She felt nearly dowdy in her purple broomstick skirt and matching blouse. She wore purple suede boots to complete the outfit. Although she was dressed fancier than Jase in his jeans and polo shirt, she almost wished he had taken her to McDonald's instead. "My brother specializes in fancy restaurants," Jase chuckled. "When we were kids he used to scold me for eating with the wrong fork." Their waiter stepped up to the table. He laughed at the comment and looked at him. "Jase," he said, "don't be telling all the family secrets. I'm glad you finally came out of hiding to try my new restaurant." Callie looked up at the man and realized this must be Josh. He stood as tall as his brother, but where Jase had dark, brooding looks, Josh looked as if he belonged on a California beach. His blonde hair looked sun-kissed, and the white shirt and suit coat contrasted sharply with his deep tanned skin. Josh smiled at her. "This must be the beautiful lady who has kept you in hiding." Josh extended his hand. "I'm Josh Harrison, owner of this restaurant, and Jase's civilized brother." Callie shook his hand. She felt uncomfortable with the way Josh inferred a relationship with Jase, but said nothing. "I'm Callie Davis." "The past-life therapist?" Josh asked. "I've heard you on the morning radio shows. I found the segments quite interesting. Might I recommend the Capellini and Meatballs? It's one of our chef's specialties." "That sounds interesting. I think I'll try it. How about you, Jase?" She turned her attention to Jase. He looked at her, a dark expression on his face. Jealousy? "I'll try the Filet Mignon," he said.

Josh chuckled at his brother. "Trust you to order steak at an Italian restaurant. Enjoy your dinner." With a nod to Callie, he turned and walked towards the kitchen. Callie smiled at Jase. "He has a point, you know," she teased him. "Well, I was hoping you'd let me try some of your Capellini." He winked at her. "Josh might have fainted if I hadn't ordered the steak. He is always teasing me about my simple culinary skills." "Simple? You made some great eggs the other morning. Some mornings I can't even manage good coffee." She flashed a quick grin at him. "It has to take some skill to cook real food when you're not even fully awake yet. Besides, I probably would have done the same thing if Josh hadn't suggested the Capellini. My idea of good Italian food is a bowl of spaghetti or a pizza." Jase shared her laughter. "Mine, too, but don't let my brother know." "You sound like you're close." "We are close. He's younger than I am. A few years ago, he came back from California and his time on the beach volleyball circuit and announced he was opening up a restaurant. This is his fourth in the Des Moines area. He also has restaurants in Iowa City, Omaha, and Davenport." "Wow," she said. "It must keep him very busy." "Quite. Sometimes we go weeks without seeing each other, even though we live in the same building." Callie sipped at her wine. "Must be nice to have a sibling so close." "Only child?" Jase asked. "No, I have a sister, but she lives out of state. We don't talk much. She's busy with her life, and I'm busy with my career. You know how it is." "I do. Still, you should make some time to talk to her. Life is too short not to be close to the ones we care about." Jase fiddled with his napkin, then set it off to one side. Sorrow filled his eyes, and Callie wondered whom he had been close to that was gone. "You're right," she said, repressing the urge to ask him about who made him look sad. A woman? Something icy clamped around her heart at the thought of Jase with another woman, and she pushed the thought aside. It was really none of her business. They slipped into a companionable silence. Callie wanted to reach out to him, to share her knowledge of past lives, but she knew he wouldn't believe her. For her clients, and herself, it was comforting to know that a loved one would

return to the physical plane. Even if they didn't have all the memories of the past person, just knowing that they came back made the pain that much more bearable. It seemed that regardless of religion, people wanted to believe that once a person died, they weren't just gone. Josh emerged from the kitchen with two steaming plates. He set Callie's dinner before her, and the heaping plate looked so perfect it could have been on the cover of a food magazine. Then, he served Jase's steak, a huge cut of beef marinated in a garlic butter sauce. He finished by setting a bowl of breadsticks between them. "Let me know if you need anything else. _Bon Appetit_," he said. "Thank you," Callie replied. "It looks delicious." Her mouth watered at the rich scents wafting from her plate, and she saw Jase had already picked up his steak knife. "As usual, it looks and smells fabulous." "Only the best for my two favorite customers," Josh replied. "I'd linger, but I'm needed in the kitchen. We're short staff tonight. Enjoy!" Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back towards the kitchen. Callie picked up her fork and swirled a bit of the angel hair pasta around it. She ate it, closing her eyes at the ecstasy of the basil and tomato marinara sauce. When she opened her eyes, she saw Jase looking at her, a curious expression on his face. "That good?" he asked. Callie swallowed. "Wonderful." She immediately ate another forkful. "Is your steak good?" "Excellent, as usual." The two ate their meal in silence. Callie let Jase try a couple of bites of her dinner. Just as they were finishing the entrees, Josh returned and offered them desert. "I can't eat another bite," Callie protested. "But we're having Tiramisu," Josh said. He put a mock-hurt expression on his face. "How about taking it with you? On the house, of course." "Ooh, that's my favorite. That would be lovely, thank you. Would you like some, too?" she asked Jase. "Yes, thanks," he said to his brother, who efficiently whisked away their plates. He returned a few moments later with two Styrofoam containers. Callie and Jase thanked him and walked to her car. Outside the restaurant, Callie

noticed Jase becoming more alert. He scanned the parking lot, as if looking for cars out of place, and he walked just a step in front of her. At the car, he unlocked the door and helped her inside, then closed the door behind her like a perfect gentleman. A few moments later, he slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine. "Thank you for dinner," Callie said as he maneuvered her small, compact car into traffic. "First you agree to take me out, and then you insist on taking my car. I'm sure you don't drive around in something the size of a pregnant roller skate." She laughed at her own joke. "It may be little, but it's easy to maneuver in this traffic," he replied. "Besides, this way you didn't have to wait for me to walk back to my place, get my car and come back. Your car isn't all that bad." "Well, thank you, again. You probably drive some huge truck that I'd need a step ladder to get into, don't you?" "It isn't that bad. I have a Ford F-150, and I should be thanking you for saving me from my brother. Josh had been bugging me to go to one of his restaurants for a while now." Jase turned onto the on ramp and sped up as he merged onto the interstate. For being nearly ten o'clock at night, traffic remained heavy along I-235. Jase switched lanes to the middle lane. He appeared relaxed as he piloted the car towards the downtown exits and Callie's apartment. She watched his large hands gripping the steering wheel. A red sports car swerved in front of them, forcing Jase to slow down to avoid a collision. He muttered under his breath about stupid drivers, and Callie admired the easy way he resumed driving with the flow of traffic. Two exits later, a large black SUV pulled up in the right-hand lane. It pulled even with her small car, and Jase looked over at the driver casually. He switched into the left-hand lane, and the SUV driver followed suit, moving to the middle. Callie looked at the vehicle, wondering if the driver were following them. Remaining still, she stared straight ahead. Probably just a stupid driver. The truck moved closer to them, then swerved back into its own lane. Jase accelerated. The truck followed. "I don't like this," Jase said to her, his eyes never leaving the road. "Whatever happens, I want you to hang on tight, okay?" "Okay," Callie said. She gripped the armrest on the door. Her heart pounded so loud she feared Jase could hear it.

Their car slowed, and the truck followed suit. It swerved again, this time, driving Jase into the median. The car bounced as it hit the curb and drove into the grassy ditch. A scream formed in Callie's throat, and she bit her lip to remain silent. She tasted blood. The SUV followed, driving them down into the ditch where the small compact car would be stuck. At the last moment, the SUV drove back towards the interstate. Jase cranked the wheel sharply. The car swerved, turf flying from its tires as Jase directed it back onto the road. The bounce of the car off the curb and onto the pavement made Callie sigh with relief, and she released her hold on the armrest as Jase merged back into traffic. "Are you okay?" He asked a few moments later when he had exited the interstate. "Yeah," Callie said on a shaky breath. "Do you think they were after us?" Jase sighed. "It seemed too planned to be a drunk driver, though I wouldn't rule that out either." _A drunk driver. That's what it was. It had to be._ Jase parked the car in the parking garage, and she opened the door. The compact car, her pride and joy, which had seemed so practical for errands, now seemed like a death trap. She stood beside it, hands gripping the edge of the door. Her legs shook, but she slung her purse over her shoulder, refusing to let Jase see her weakness. Jase gave her a long, hard look. "Can we go inside?" she asked. "Yes." Jase led the way towards the elevator. Callie tried to read him, but his face seemed an impenetrable mask. For someone who had just saved them both from harm, he appeared completely calm. If he turned around and said, "I told you so" she wouldn't have blamed him, and in fact, wanted to say it herself. The elevator arrived with a small chime and they entered. The door slid smoothly closed. "I think they were after you, Callie," Jase said. "I think you ought to call the police." -------*Six* Callie shook her head. In silence, she rode the elevator to her floor, and then

stepped off before Jase could say anything. She rushed down the hall, Jase trailing behind her. She heard his muttered curses and knew that he would be furious with her. _Damn it._ She didn't care right now. The mocking laugher of the Chicago police rang in her memories. She'd been receiving prank calls, nothing more than some bored teenager's joke, she felt sure, and when she told the police, they laughed in her face. Told her they had more important things to worry about than her. The sting remained. She paused outside the apartment door. She heard the shrill ring of the phone. Fumbling in her purse, she pulled out the keys and jammed them in the lock. Behind her, she felt Jase's presence. "Let me," Jase said, wrapping his hand around hers. He stood on her threshold, his hand wrapped around hers. For long moments he gazed into her eyes. With a soft sigh, he leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers. The phone rang again. He pulled away and hastily unlocked the door. She followed Jase inside, glaring at his broad back. _What was that for?_ She heard the click of the answering machine, then silence. While Jase closed and locked the door behind her, she rummaged through her mind trying to remember who would be calling her at this hour. She knew of no one. A heavy weight settled itself in her chest. Callie dropped her purse by the end table. The flashing light on her answering machine mocked her. She wanted to answer it, knew that she needed to get the message if it were a client; however memories of being run off the road kept her pinned to the spot. Jase laid his hand on her arm. "You don't have to get that right now if you don't want to," he said softly. "Sit down, you feel tense." Callie wanted to sit. The need to lose herself in Jase's ministrations seemed like a heavenly answer, but she shook her head. "I can't," she replied. His kiss earlier in the day shoved the black SUV from her thoughts. Acutely aware of Jase standing beside her, she fought the instinct to bolt. Jase slid his hand along her arm until it rested on her shoulder. "Please," he said, stepping away from her and sitting on the loveseat. "You've been through hell, Callie. Why don't you let me give you a backrub?" Callie looked from him to the place on the floor he pointed to and with a sigh, seated herself between his legs. Deliberately she kept her back away from the edge of the loveseat, trying to at least mentally put some distance between them. Backrubs were her weakness, and if Jase offered, she wasn't refusing. As his hands rested themselves on her shoulders, heat spread through her.

She felt his fingers working, kneading each muscle, and shivers darted down her arms. "Mmmm," she murmured as he worked an especially difficult knot at the base of her neck. "What about you?" "What about me?" "Well, aren't you tense, too? After all, you were driving." She thought of his capable hands on the wheel and knew that if she were in his shoes, she would be a nervous wreck by now. Closing her eyes, she let her chin drop to her chest as Jase rubbed her upper back. If he said something macho like he was used to it, Callie thought she might scream. "I don't know. I guess I'm more analytical about it. After all, you're my client, and it's your well-being that I'm concerned about." Callie thought about his words while his hands worked magic on her back. She wondered if the kiss they shared was part of caring for her well-being. "Am I just a client to you?" Callie asked. As soon as the words left her mouth, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment. The words had slipped out before she could censor them, and she wished she could take them back. Jase's hands stilled on her shoulders. She heard his intake of breath. "You're a very special lady," he said. Callie sensed a "but" coming, the kind where the man says that he only thinks of you as a friend. Her heart plummeted, and she was glad she was sitting, otherwise her knees might have failed. "There's always a "but" to that phrase, isn't there?" Jase sighed. "For now there is. Right now you are my client, and my job is to see you safe from whoever wants to harm you. You're in a delicate situation." He gave her shoulders one final rub then pulled his hands away. "Why don't you head off to bed, Callie? Tomorrow will be a new day and we can look at things in a clearer light." Callie nodded, not wanting to turn around for fear Jase would see the sheen of tears in her eyes. She rose to her feet and started to walk to her bedroom. She waited for Jase to say or do something. He didn't, remaining sitting on the couch. Without a backwards glance, she went into her bedroom. As soon as the door closed, the tears began to fall in earnest. She held back the sobs, not wanting Jase to hear her crying. _I've done it again_. She lay on her bed, head buried in her pillow. _I've gone and cared for someone who doesn't care for me. As soon as whoever is

threatening me is gone, he'll leave without a backwards glance._ Jase's kiss earlier had sent electric shocks through her, and she felt appalled that it was only part of caring for her "well-being." With a heavy sigh, she rose from the bed and changed into her nightshirt. Indeed, tomorrow was another day. **** Jase sat on the couch and watched Callie leave. He thought he saw the marks of tears on her cheeks. Inside, he knew their relationship was more than a client-employer one. He wouldn't have kissed her had she been just another client. Closing his eyes, he remembered the feel of her lips on his, the touch of her body against him. His body hardened in memory, and he growled to himself. The blinking light on the answering machine drew his attention. In their discussion, Callie seemed to have forgotten about it. He hit the play button. Static crackled over the line, then a man's voice, spoken as if he muffled it with a cloth or his hand. "Not everything you're researching leads to a happily ever after. Stop your work now." A few more minutes of static and heavy breathing filled the line, then the message ended. Jase stared at the answering machine. The call obviously came in after the attempt on their lives. Her machine didn't have a time or a date stamp, but they'd heard the phone ringing while they were opening the apartment door. Jase swallowed hard. Had he not stopped to kiss Callie, she would have heard the message. Picking up the handset, he punched in star sixty-nine, then listened as the operator told him the number could not be reached. A busy signal, he wondered, or an unlisted number. He lowered the volume before playing the message again, trying to note any differences in the person's voice. If Callie inquired about the voice, he'd try to attribute it to his talking to himself. Aside from the fact that it sounded artificially altered, he heard nothing. The light had changed from a blinking to a steady red light, and Jase looked at it. He wondered if Callie would notice, then to be on the safe side, he pulled a tape recorder out of his bag and recorded the message silently. Then, he erased it. Should Callie ask, he would explain it was a hang-up, most likely a telemarketer. He didn't like the deception; however, he felt that Callie didn't need the undue stress. He listened for any sounds coming from Callie's room and heard nothing. No light shone from beneath her door, so unless she read with a small lamp, she was sleeping. He needed to know exactly what was in her files. Every time she told him, she glossed over pages and details that he felt certain were the key to the investigation. Rising to his feet, he walked silently down the hall and into Callie's den. She'd left the door open, and he did likewise, sitting on the desk chair in front

of her computer. Enough moonlight shone through the window that he could see the files, and he opened her filing cabinets and pulled out thick file folders marked with the name Norma Winters in bold, black markers. The other files he left alone. He carried them back to the living room and curled up on the floor with them. Flipping through the first file, he saw newspaper photographs of her and various stories about her singing career. The second folder had the subtitle of people in Norma's life, and this one, he opened. There, on top was what appeared to be a black-and-white photograph of himself, only dressed in a fedora and long coat. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips. The caption beneath read, "Dominic Graven keeps the press away from Norma Winter's dressing room before her concert." The date was well before he was born. Jase gasped. This person looked exactly like him, and if the caption were any indication, had the same career. He glanced at the bedroom door to make sure Callie still slept, and he turned the page. There, a longer news article talked about Dominic's involvement with the shipping business and how he started his own company, Graven International. The name sounded familiar, and the reason buzzed in the back of his mind like a gnat, but Jase couldn't quite remember. As he read the articles about Dominic and his friend, Vincent Castigilone, Jase's interest grew. Vincent, it seemed, worked in the warehousing business, operating as a landlord for many companies, including Graven International, who rented storage space from him. It seemed he also oversaw several small fish and produce markets in the city, and there was talk of extortion in rental fees the vendors paid. It seemed like the perfect match. Dominic hauled goods into the country, while Vincent stored them until buyers could be found. And Norma Winters, nightclub singer, was in the middle of it all, as Vincent's girlfriend. His hands shook as he replaced the documents in the folder. He placed them back in the filing cabinet and returned to the living room as quietly as he could. From behind Callie's closed bedroom door, he heard silence. Suddenly, he remembered why the name Graven International rang a bell. The company had just opened a satellite office here in Des Moines. The media cited it as an economic boon to the state, as Graven International would help ship more agricultural products overseas. He wondered if the company had any connection to the threats about Callie's research. It seemed he had a lead. Stretching out on the loveseat, he smiled to himself. He wondered how to broach the subject with Callie, and then decided not to worry about it. He could make a few discreet inquiries on his own, and if he needed her assistance, he would ask. Feeling better about the case than he had in days, he

settled into the loveseat and fell quickly asleep. **** Callie woke with a start. She stared into the dark room, blinking her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Silence filled the rest of the apartment, and a quick glance on her alarm clock told her it was the early hours of the morning. Realizing she couldn't fall back asleep anytime soon, she rose. Sure, it would be earlier than she normally started her day, but at least she would have the apartment to herself for a while. She tiptoed into the living room and saw Jase sleeping on the couch. He still wore his jeans and shirt. A flash of white on the floor by the couch caught her attention. She walked over and picked it up, realizing it was a newspaper clipping from one of her files. Nibbling her lower lip, she tried to remember if she had read her files in the living room anytime recently. Her stomach sank. She hadn't, which meant that Jase was the only person who could have dropped the paper. She may have given him permission once, but it certainly hadn't been intended as approval to snoop around in her filing cabinets. She glanced at him, sleeping so soundly, and wondered if he'd done it after she'd gone to sleep. The light on the answering machine wasn't blinking either. Jase had screened her message. He'd invaded her privacy. Her stomach rumbled. She looked at the man sleeping on her couch and a white-hot anger filled her. "Damn you," she hissed, then turned and carried the newspaper clipping back to the den. "You're going to pay for this Jase Harrison," she said a bit louder than she intended. From the living room she heard a half-snort. Stopping in her tracks, she listened for any more sounds. Her heart pounded. She heard nothing further and chalked the noise up to a snore. If he heard her and was laughing, Callie fumed, he really would pay. Callie shoved the clipping into the file folder in a filing cabinet, noticing that the hanging folder sat crookedly on the tracks. She bit her lip to keep from growling at Jase, and with a heavy sigh, she went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. Fifteen minutes later, she inhaled the aroma of gourmet coffee. Sitting at the kitchen table, she stared at the dark liquid. The warmth from the cup seeped into her hands as she held them around the mug, and the smell started to awaken her. Jase had gone through her research. The thought sickened her. She had thought she trusted him. Callie sipped her coffee. She stared into the living room where Jase lay sleeping. He stretched, one leg dangling off the edge of the loveseat. It couldn't be comfortable, and she wondered if he slept there every night. Usually she went to bed before he did, and although she offered him the

privacy of her den, this was the first time she woke before he did. Picking up the mug she contemplated going into her den for more research. She was getting close to proving past lives as real, she knew it. Once she completed her research, she could help a few of her clients who had expressed interest with researching theirs. As soon as she had enough cases together, she could publish her findings. Giddiness filled her. She glanced again at the man sleeping on her couch and felt that joy sink a notch. She needed protection because of her research. Should her clients find themselves in the same predicament, Callie knew she couldn't live with herself. With a sigh, she set the mug of coffee down on the table and stared into its dark depths as if the liquid held all the answers she sought. "Morning, Callie," a deep, masculine voice said. Startled, Callie jerked her awareness from the mug of coffee to see Jase standing by the table. He grinned at her. "That coffee looks good," he said, "mind if I have some?" "Not at all." She took a hasty swallow and wrinkled her nose at the rapidly cooling beverage. She slid her chair back and stood, intending to top off her mug. Jase glanced at her. With a smile, he set his mug on the counter, and then took hers from her hands. He deftly poured a bit more coffee into it, then handed it back to her. As she took the mug from him, her fingers brushed against his. A jolt of electricity sizzled up her arm. "Thank you," she mumbled, then returned to her seat. She glanced at him, wanting to broach the subject of the message on her answering machine and the clipping she found, but not sure how to do it. "Sorry if I woke you," she sat at last. "Not at all. I'm usually up this time of day anyway." He glanced at her, his gaze taking in her bare legs beneath the hem of her nightgown. "Couldn't sleep?" She felt his gaze wash over her like a caress. Suddenly aware of her rumpled light blue sleep shirt with yellow ducks on it and her unruly hair, she wanted to cringe. "I couldn't," she said. She set the mug down on the table. "I should probably go shower and change." Callie shoved her chair back. Jase's hand shot out and caught the back of the chair, preventing her from moving. Pinned between the table and his arm, Callie looked at him. She saw him looking at her, his gaze intense on her face. Slowly, he released the chair and trailed his finger down the curve of her jaw. "You look cute in the mornings," he said.

Mortified, Callie rose to her feet and bolted from the room. She stopped once she had shut her bedroom door behind her. Leaning against it, she gasped for breath. Normally, she didn't emerge until she had showered and dressed for the day, and the intimacy of sitting at the table in her nightshirt with Jase sent her heart pounding. His words rang in her mind, and she shook her head, wanting to erase them from memory. _I don't look cute in the mornings._ She looked like a fright with her hair standing in all directions and her eyes still heavy-lidded from sleep. Jase looked adorable in the mornings, remembering the way his shirt stretched across his chest, and his mussed hair looked as if he had spent a restless night. She'd like to spend a restless night with Jase. The images of the two of them in her bed, spooned together rose unhindered in her mind. "Damn it," she growled as she walked to her dresser and pulled out an oversized t-shirt and jeans. She wouldn't succumb to his charm. She wouldn't. With that thought firmly in mind, she dashed into the bathroom to shower and change. Twenty minutes later Callie emerged from the bathroom. She felt much calmer, much more in control. She had washed and towel-dried her hair and, wearing something more than a sleep shirt, felt ready to face the day and Jase. Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and stepped towards the living room. Jase was doing push-ups. Callie stopped and swallowed hard. He'd removed his shirt and changed into a pair of sweat pants. The material hugged his firm buttocks and emphasized his long legs. The room seemed suddenly devoid of air. Bare to her gaze, Callie watched the play of muscles across his back and arms. She remembered the feel of those arms around her, of being held against his broad chest, and Callie couldn't take her eyes from him. "One hundred," Jase groaned, then flopped on the floor like a fish. He turned his head to look at her and grinned. Callie couldn't help but grin back, then realized she had been standing there staring at him. "Sorry if I'm disturbing you," she said, "but I wanted to let you know that I'm done with the bathroom." Without waiting for his reply, she turned and went into the den. Closing the door behind her, she decided there wasn't anything wrong with admiring a nice male physique. Surely Norma had done the same in her day. **** Jase easily rose to his feet. He stared at Callie's path of retreat. He'd known

she had stood there and watched him for a while, yet hadn't wanted to say anything lest he spook her. She seemed flighty since they had returned home from dinner, though with being run off the road and then the phone call, he certainly understood why. Grabbing his toiletries and a change of clothing from his bag, he stepped into the bathroom. Instantly reminders of Callie assaulted him. The lightly floral scent of her soap hung in the air and clung to the damp towel that hung over the rack. Her toothbrush stood drying in its cup, a small drip of toothpaste dripping down the tumbler's side. Closing his eyes, he could imagine her standing naked in the shower, water cascading over her body. His body hardened with the image. Jase quickly shed his sweatpants and turned on the tap, adjusting the temperature of the water. The more he tried to convince himself he was hired to do a job, the harder it became to try and separate his feelings for Callie from the job which she'd hired him to do. He wanted her. He'd made no pretenses of anything else when he'd kissed her, and if he wasn't mistaken, she wanted him, too. He stepped beneath the shower, letting the spray pound his flesh. If the water could wash his worries down the drain as easily as it did the dirt, he'd let it. Normally he had no problems around women. A bit of flattery here, a casual flirtatious comment there, and he had them eating out of his hands. Molly hadn't fallen for his wiles, and maybe that's why Callie was getting to him. Molly had made him work for her, and when he finally thought he'd won her, she joined the cult and died. He cursed under his breath. Rinsing the shampoo from his hair, he finished the shower with a business-like efficiency. Callie knew he'd gone through her files. The way she acted over coffee nearly confirmed it. He knew he'd need to face her and explain his reasons why. Knowledge seemed the key to this case. The possible link to Graven Industries seemed the primary motive for her threats. He couldn't imagine the company wanting its shady past to be made public. Jase turned off the shower and stepped onto the bathmat. It took him only a few moments to dry himself off and run a towel over his hair. As he stood in front of the mirror to brush his teeth, the phone rang. He heard Callie's footfalls as she walked towards the phone, assuming she must know who the caller might be. It seemed awfully early for a client to call, but he shrugged, not really knowing if she kept specific hours. He cracked open the bathroom door just enough to listen. "Hello," "Who are you?" Callie demanded.

Jase swung open the door and bolted towards the living room. She screamed. He raced to her side and ripped the handset from her hands. "Who is this?" He demanded, then heard only empty air on the other end of the phone line. Callie looked up at him, her skin suddenly pale. She trembled, and Jase wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to him. He smelled the faint herbal smell of her shampoo and willed his body to behave. "It's okay," he crooned. "I'm here now." Callie sagged against him. He didn't like to see her this way, preferring her feisty temper and determined will. Whoever this bastard was, he would pay and pay dearly. **** Callie leaned into Jase's warmth. His body still retained heat from the shower, and a clean smell enveloped him. Her heart hammered in her chest. The person on the other end of the phone had threatened her, and before seven o'clock in the morning, too. Panic rose within her. Trembling in Jase's arms, Callie wished it would all end, that this horror she had stepped into would be finished. Of course, if no one wanted to kill her, then Jase could go back to his life. She sniffed. He rubbed her back, his big hand comforting. Reaching up, he caressed the back of her neck, his fingers sending waves of reassurance through her. When her trembling stilled, he stepped away and helped her to the couch. Callie felt his reassuring presence beside her as she sat and buried her face in her hands. "He threatened me," she said finally. "The caller?" Jase spoke softly. Callie nodded. "He told me to stop my research. That he would -- he said -- " Her voice broke and she began to sob. The cries felt torn from her as if someone reached into her chest and pulled all her sorrow into the open. The man had threatened to kill her if she didn't finish her research, her life's work. Jase rubbed her back. "It's okay, Callie," he said. "We can go slowly, but it's important I know what the caller said to you." Callie sighed. She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting to relive the horrible experience. Taking a deep breath she looked at Jase. "He told me to stop my research. That I'd rather be alive and ignorant than smart and dead. Then he hung up." She twisted her fingers together trying to stop them from shaking. Frustrated, she clenched her hands together and put them on her knees.

"Why, Jase? Why are they doing this to me?" He hugged her tightly to his side. "I don't know, sweetheart. How did the voice sound? Young? Old? Clear? Muffled?" He glanced at her phone. "You don't have a speaker phone do you?" "I do in my den." She gasped, staring at Jase with wide eyes. "Oh my God, Jase. My clients. My clients call me on the phone." She shook her head. "I don't ever want to answer the phone again, not if that horrible voice is going to be on the other end of the line." Callie rose to her feet and began to pace the living room. Four steps across, turn and four steps back. She glanced from the phone to Jase and back again, wishing like hell that he had a magic wand and could waive it and make everything all right again. He couldn't. She knew that even as she knew she would have to answer the phone again for she had a client calling this afternoon. "How did the voice sound?" Jase asked again. "Older," Callie said. "Not very clear. Male. Definitely male. Kind of gravelly maybe." She shrugged. "I didn't listen to him long and frankly I don't ever want to hear that voice again." She slumped back down onto the couch. "Why call now? It's so damned early in the morning." "I don't know," he said, and Callie heard the frustration in his voice. "That's how the voice sounded on the message left on the answering machine last night." "So you did listen to my messages," Callie accused. She rose to her feet again, feeling like a pogo stick. The despair from the prank caller gave way to anger rising within her. She remembered finding the newspaper clipping by the couch and her fury rose. "I suppose you also went through my filing cabinets, too, right? There's confidential stuff in there, and you could have asked me, but no, you didn't did you?" She poked her finger at him. "Don't ever go through my stuff again. If there's a message on the machine, I'll get it." She glared at him. "Don't read my mail either," she added as an afterthought. Jase raised his hands in the air. "I wouldn't dream of it." He fixed Callie with a stern glare. "Seriously, though, I think we should discuss this call. You've had two of them now. I think you should go to the police." Callie shook her head. "I can't. They won't believe me." Closing her eyes, she remembered the taunts of the Chicago Police Department when she tried to report crank calls that happened when she lived there. Although those had been true crank calls, they still disturbed her, and she expected the police to take action. They didn't, and she knew the Des Moines police wouldn't either.

"Yes they will. It's their job." "They didn't believe me before, and they won't believe me now. The police will not help." She folded her arms across her chest. "What do you mean before?" Jase asked her. "Are you withholding information from me?" "I'm not," Callie said. "In Chicago I had crank calls. Real crank calls, you know, the kind with Homer Simpson voices and such. I went to the police because I was tired of receiving them and I wanted them stopped. The police didn't believe me. The detective looked me straight in the eye and told me he had homicides to investigate and didn't have time for my little problems. I did a radio show back in Chicago dealing with the supernatural, and I'm sure he recognized me from that and didn't take me seriously. I will not have the same thing happen here." "How do you know that will happen? I've worked well with the Des Moines Police Department on many occasions." "They won't. And I won't give them the chance to make fun of me, either." Callie glared at Jase. "Do you think you can't handle this? I can find someone else if that's the case." Jase rose to his feet. He crossed the living room until he stood directly in front of her. "I can handle it just fine. It's you I'm worried about," he said. Lightly, he skimmed his knuckles across the line of her jaw. "You look so fragile. I wish I could pack you away in cotton to keep you safe from harm." Callie's mouth went dry. No one had ever called her "fragile." Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and Jase's gaze followed the movement. For a moment, she thought he would kiss her, but he straightened up and breathed deeply. Taking a step back, he turned and walked into the dining room. Callie looked at his retreating back and wondered whether to follow. -------*Seven* In the end, she decided not to follow Jase. A maelstrom of emotions swirled inside her, and she knew that if she followed him they would only get into an argument. She didn't want that. He might decide not to help her after all, and where would that leave her? She knew where, the same place she had been in Chicago. Only this time, instead of teenage pranksters, someone really wanted to hurt her. She went into the den, closing the door behind her like a shield. Lighting a stick of incense, she let the fragrance fill her spirit. She heard Jase moving

around the apartment, the sounds of his presence comforting. She couldn't do this alone. Callie knew it in her soul that she needed Jase, just like Norma needed both Vinnie and Dominic. With a sigh, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She almost ran into Jase. "Easy there," he said, his hands cupping her shoulders. "I was just coming to talk to you. I think I have a lead." "Really?" Callie asked. "What is it?" "Dominic's last name was Graven, right?" Callie nodded. "Have you looked at Graven Industries? They just moved to Des Moines. It could be a likely connection." Callie snorted. "Some big-name company wants to murder me because I'm doing research into a past life." She tried to hold back the giggles that threatened to rise and failed miserably. Laughter bubbled from her like a fountain. "Like some big international conspiracy or something. I bet you read Tom Clancy novels, don't you?" "It's not as far fetched as it sounds," Jase countered, and Callie knew from his serious expression that he hadn't been joking. "If they are connected to Dominic, then they might not want his shady past coming to light." "And you discovered this from reading through my research, right?" The humor dissipated, leaving her with the fury left over from their argument this morning. "If you had asked, I would have shown you everything. What else did you search through while I was sleeping, my underwear drawer?" With her hands on her hips, she stared at Jase. This time, he chuckled. "I have no need to go through your underwear drawer, unless there's something in there you'd like to show me." The teasing light in his eyes dissipated to be replaced by a hunger far more insistent than anything Callie had ever encountered. She swallowed hard. "Well, you know what I mean." "Let's go sit down in the living room and discuss this rationally, okay?" Jase offered. "I didn't mean to anger you, but I have to know everything about this case." Callie sighed. She knew when she had lost a battle. "Let me get the research, and we can discuss it. Okay?" Jase nodded, and she turned back to the den to pull the papers out of the filing cabinet.

A few moments later she sat on the floor, reams of paper spread out before her. She showed Jase key pieces from her research, mostly newspaper accounts that corresponded with images she had gotten from her past life regression. Her meticulous notes showed that she had the regressions before she'd encountered the newspaper articles, and key details, such as location and dates matched. As she spoke to Jase about her research, she saw he appeared interested. He nodded at the appropriate times and asked good questions. She wondered again about his past exposure to work such as hers. It seemed he knew far more about past lives than he had ever admitted to her. Two hours later, she stretched and rose to her feet. "I have got to get out of here," she said. Her stomach rumbled, reminding both of them that they hadn't eaten any breakfast and it was now approaching lunchtime. "Look," she said. "There is a cafe just down the block. Do you want to go get some lunch?" "That sounds good," Jase replied. He scooped the last of the research back into the folder. "We can't think on empty stomachs anyway." Callie smiled. "Thanks. Let me grab my purse and we can head out." She walked into her bedroom and grabbed her purse. She took a few moments to brush her hair and apply some lip gloss, then staring at her reflection in the mirror, decided she looked fine. She stepped from the bedroom and saw Jase waiting for her in the living room. If he took notice of her improved appearance, he gave no sign, but gestured for her to lead the way. Callie paused as she stepped into the hall, the memory of Jase's kiss outside her front door resurfacing in her mind. She walked towards the elevator, trying to banish the image, but as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, the memory emerged with a vengeance. She pushed the button to the first floor and stared straight ahead. "Nervous?" Jase asked. She looked at him and saw that he studied her. If he misinterpreted her movements as nervousness, she wasn't going to correct his mistake. The kiss probably didn't even haunt him, she fumed mentally. "A bit, but I'll be okay." She pasted a smile on her lips, and as the elevator slid to a stop on the ground floor, stepped into the hallway. True to her word, the cafe sat only a block down from her apartment complex. At this time of day, few people dawdled over cups of coffee and plates of pie. She stepped inside, inhaling the familiar aroma of freshly ground gourmet coffee. A quick glance at the menu board showed the day's special to be gyros, one of her favorite dishes. She stepped up to the counter and

ordered. Jase had the same. Callie quickly paid for both meals before Jase could object. With a smile, she grabbed silverware and napkins, then found a table towards the front of the cafe where she could see people walking along the sidewalk. Jase sat across from her. "I used to like to come here," she said, "before everything started happening, and just watch the people go by." She sighed, as if reminiscing about a lost time. Jase glanced over his shoulder, the table put him with his back to the street, and frowned. "Why don't we sit over there?" he asked, gesturing to some booths that were against a wall and would allow Jase to sit and watch people entering. He shifted in his seat. "Why? You can see the door from here." "Yeah, but it's all this damn glass. I don't feel like I can watch out for you here." "Okay," Callie acquiesced and they moved their seats to the booth. He sat with his back to the wall, putting most of the dining room in view. When he was situated, she sipped her iced tea and smiled. "So, can I ask you why you took this case? You've got to admit it's pretty strange as far as what you're probably used to." Jase sipped his water and sighed. His gaze turned cold, as if no emotions resided within him, and Callie fought the urge to shiver. He looked at her and sighed. "You remind me of someone," he replied finally. "Who?" Callie asked. "I'm not trying to be nosy, but we really haven't had a chance to talk about anything." She pasted a fake grin on her face. "Frankly, if I hadn't been almost run over by that car, I would think this was all silly pranksters again." She kept her voice down in spite of the light crowd in the cafe. "It was a long time ago, Callie," he said. "I'll be honest with you. I don't know what to think of this case. I really think you ought to go to the police with the calls and let them handle this." Callie's heart sank. "So you're telling me you don't want my case?" She said in a soft voice. "No," Jase said harshly. "I just think we need some outside assistance." Callie noticed his eyes held an old pain, one that looked as if he had carried it with him for years. Callie reached across the table and laid her hand across his. "What happened,

Jase? What put such sadness in your eyes?" He looked at Callie and blinked, as if he had slipped from the moment. "Molly," he said at last. When he spoke her name, his voice held such anguish that Callie felt tears spring to her eyes. "Molly believed in past lives, reincarnation, magic, all of the things you are. She felt for certain she had been some royal person in a past life. When she met a man who had told her that he had been her king, she fell for him, hook, line, and sinker. She didn't heed Josh's and my warnings that this man was a con artist, that he was trying to use her. Instead, she joined his cult and three months later she died." Jase pulled his hand away to run his fingers through his hair. "Oh, Jase, I'm so sorry," Callie said. "I know," he replied. "I don't believe in all of this past life-hoodoo stuff. Even if we did have past lives, what bearing would they have on our lives now? I mean what's done is done, and dead is dead. Hell, I don't even know if there is a heaven or even a God anymore. We make our own fortunes. That's all there is to it." His words sounded hollow to Callie, and she closed her eyes, unable to imagine living in a world where the existence of God was questioned. Although she had no firm beliefs on the subject, she believed in a higher power, and she believed in reincarnation. Remembering Norma and Dominic, she wondered if they faced the same philosophical differences that she and Jase had at this moment. "What if," Callie said, "you loved someone in a past life, but circumstances kept you apart? Wouldn't you want another chance to see if you could make it right?" "I don't know," Jase said. "I really don't know." The waiter came with their food, preventing Callie from answering. She wanted to soothe the hurt from his gaze. He looked like a lost little boy when he spoke of Molly, and she wondered how long he had been beating himself up over something he couldn't prevent. She ate her lunch, thankful for the distraction of food. More patrons entered the cafe as the lunch hour neared. Callie was nearly finished with her lunch when an old man walked by their booth. He paused for a moment, an envelope falling from his overcoat. Seeming not to notice, he went on to one of the tables in the back and seated himself. Callie looked at the envelope lying on the ground. Without thinking, she bent over and picked it up, intending to return it to the old man. Jase kept eating; he appeared not to notice. The envelope was face down, so she couldn't see any addresses. Turning it over, she noticed her name written in big, block letters.

"Jase," she said, her voice shaking. She set the envelope on the table. He glanced at it and swore, a single harsh word that seemed to sum up both of their feelings about the situation. "Don't touch it," he said. Callie looked at him quizzically. Through the thin envelope, she could see a small piece of paper, and she wanted to know what it said. If it was a threat on her life, and how could it not be, then she wanted to know what it said. She reached for it, and Jase laid his hand across hers. "Not here," he said. "There may be important information in that envelope. I want to know what it says," she said, her voice low. Jase shook his head. "Don't open it here. Let's wait until we get home. Are you finished with your meal?" He tucked the envelope in his pocket. He herded Callie out the door. As they walked back to her apartment, she thought he acted rather nonchalantly for having something as significant as the envelope just happen to them. Callie glanced over her shoulder, but saw no one following them from the restaurant. Her heart pounded, and Jase gave her a reassuring nod when she looked over her shoulder for the second time in as many steps. The sidewalks bustling with lunchtime crowds, usually Callie's favorite time of day, seemed filled with danger. Everyone who passed suddenly became a suspect, and when she stepped inside her apartment building, she released a breath she hadn't known she held. "What do we do now?" She asked once she stood waiting for the elevator with Jase standing beside her. "We go up to your apartment and read the letter. Then, we'll decide what to do." He spoke with such authority, Callie found herself reassured by the sound of his voice. The elevator arrived, negating the need for further conversation, and Callie stepped inside and pressed the button for her floor. Callie rode the elevator in silence. It slid to a stop on her floor, and she stepped out not checking to see if Jase followed. She felt his presence behind her, a brooding male presence that radiated displeasure. Callie sighed. The image of Jase slipping the envelope into his jeans pocket burned into her mind, and she wanted to rip the envelope from his grasp and read it. A thousand possibilities for what it said hurdled across her mind, none of them good. She paused outside her apartment door and unlocked it, then entered. Jase followed. Closing the door behind him, she whirled to face him. "Okay, we're back. Now what does it say?" Jase looked as if he wanted to postpone the inevitable. He sighed and pulled

the envelope out of his pocket. Gingerly, he opened it. Inside was a small piece of paper from a legal pad. Callie saw scratchy handwriting on it, but couldn't read the words through the paper. Jase unfolded it and began to read. "Stop the research immediately. I'm tired of playing games. Next time, I'll just stop you." Jase read. He looked up at Callie. She gulped. "Well, I wanted to know what it said. What do we do now?" "This is handwritten. That means there should be some fingerprints on it." He held the paper by the corners, as if to illustrate his point. "I say we call the police. This should be proof enough for them." Callie shook her head. "No. I want you to handle it. I will not be laughed at. They'll say I simply planted it. After all, does that mean that the person who dropped this was watching me?" Her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, Jase, it does doesn't it?" She began to tremble. "Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you demand to know why he was doing this?" Jase set the letter on a small table just inside the door and pulled Callie into his arms. "I couldn't, not in the restaurant. I'm just an investigator. I'm not above the law." Gently, he rested his chin on the top of her head. Callie shook in his arms. "I want it to go away." Tears threatened to spill. "I just want it to end." Silence filled the apartment. Callie felt Jase's solid chest beneath her cheek, heard the steady beating of his heart. Wrapped in his arms, she felt protected from harm. She didn't know what she expected, perhaps Jase tackling the man like something out of a detective show, but the waiting was getting to her. "I have a friend," Jase said, "that specializes in personal protection. He's in California now, but if he isn't on assignment, I think I can convince him to come and help." "I don't want another person. I want you." Callie spoke the words before she could censor them. Realizing what she had said, she looked up at Jase. His gaze burned with an intensity that sent a fresh round of shivers through Callie. "I want you, too," he said. _Then why don't you kiss me?_ Callie wanted to scream the words at him. She felt Jase pull away, and slowly he released her. "I can't," he said. "I was involved with Molly, too close to the situation, and my failure got her killed." Lightly he brushed his finger along the curve of her jaw. "I won't have the same thing happen to you."

Callie inhaled deeply. "I understand," she said, even though she didn't. For a moment, she pictured Dominic standing outside of Norma's dressing room, protecting her from harm. She wondered if they were doomed to live the same kind of life, but ended her thoughts before they go could any further. "Do you think your friend can help?" "I do," he said. "Marc is ex-military. He usually freelances as a bodyguard to the rich and famous. He runs a school out of California, or at least he used to, to train others to do the same thing. I need to investigate leads, and I can't be two places at once. I definitely want to check out Graven International, especially since I know the full story of what you're researching. I think Marc can be a big help here." "If you think he can help, then let's call him. You can use my phone." She gestured to the living room. "I'm sorry, but I need to be alone for a while." Without waiting for Jase's reply, she turned and fled into the den. **** Jase watched her go, his heart heavy in his chest. He knew he hurt her, and he hated doing it. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he looked at the phone sitting on the end table. The answering machine sat silent, no lights blinking to indicate a message, and he wondered how much his screening of the first call damned him in her eyes. It didn't matter now, for the one thing he wanted the most he couldn't have. He pulled his gaze to her closed door, where behind it, he imagined Callie working hard to try and put all of this from her mind. He wanted nothing more than to march in there, pull her across the hall to her bedroom, and make love to her until she forgot everything but the touch of his hands. _Sometimes, you can't have what you want._ He rose from the couch and stalked over to his duffle bag sitting in the corner of Callie's living room. Pulling out a slim planner, he flipped through it until he found Marc's number. The last number he had listed was in California. He thought for a moment about returning to his office to make the call, but decided against it. He could use her phone and reimburse her for the charges. Even though she probably hated his guts right now, he doubted she would want him to leave to make a phone call. From his bag he also pulled a small, black box that would alert him if someone had tapped Callie's phone. He took the Wire Tap Detector and address book back to the couch. Setting the items on the end table, he took a few moments to plug the phone into the box, then picked it up and checked for the dial tone. He checked the LCD display on the front of the box and watched the blinking lights. Satisfied the device worked correctly, he punched in the number. It rang twice, and Jase glanced at the clock, realizing the time

difference. On the third ring, he fought against the urge to curse. The fourth ring made him drum his fingers impatiently against the arm of the loveseat. On the fifth ring, someone answered the phone. "Hello, Coullet Institute of Safety. How may I help you?" A brisk feminine voice said. "Is Marc Coullet available?" He thought about flipping back through his planner to see if he had a cellular or home number for Marc. "Yes, sir, he is. May I tell him who is calling?" The receptionist sounded annoyed at something, and Jase wondered if she had taken many calls for Marc today. "Jase Harrison," he said, then added, "and tell him it's important." "Yes, sir." Jase heard annoying hold music that sounded like seventies disco being played by an orchestra and wrinkled his nose. "Jase, buddy, how is it going?" Marc said. "What can I do for you?" "Fine, thanks. How about you? I see you still have the school going," Jase said. "I do. You'd be surprised the calls we get for work out here. You should come join me. You'd make a million dollars within your first year." Jase rolled his eyes at the timeless argument Marc presented every time they talked. He snorted. "No thank you. I like the Midwest. Besides, you know I hate earthquakes." "Pansy," Marc said. He chuckled then cleared his throat. "So, what merits my receiving a call from you? I haven't heard from you in months." "Been busy starting up the business," Jase replied. He didn't want to blurt out Callie's situation. Marc took a cavalier attitude towards some of the people California produced, and he suspected Callie might fall into that category with his friend. "And how is business?" Marc asked, keeping up the verbal dance they went through every time one asked the other for a favor. "Going well, but I need your expertise on a situation." "I figured as much. What's up?" Jase pictured Marc leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on his desk, his usual thinking pose. "I'm doing some bodyguard work, but I need a

second man, and frankly, there's no one I trust more than you. This isn't just following a cheating spouse or checking out embezzling employees. I've got a life or death situation here. Someone is threatening my client. We don't know who yet, but we have an idea, and I think it's one of the big boys, if you get my meaning." "Loud and clear," Marc replied. "Where are you now?" "Des Moines." "Iowa? Hell, man, you choose the damndest places to set up house. I don't suppose this is one you'd want a long-distance consultation on either, is it?" Jase shook his head. "Not really." Jase thought for a moment. "But I did fly to England once to help you with a client. At least I'm only asking you to cross half the United States." Marc chuckled. "You have a point." Through the phone lines, Jase heard him shuffling papers on his desk. "I can fly out tonight. I don't have any classes set up for another month, and Ginger wanted to take next week off for vacation anyway. What number can I reach you at? I can call you from the airport." Jase gave him Callie's number, then after exchanging a few more pleasantries hung up the phone. Just talking to Marc made him feel better about the whole case. With the two of them on the case, he knew they would keep Callie safe no matter what happened. He'd bet his life on it. **** Jase sat in an uncomfortable chair listening to the flight announcements from the scratchy, overhead speaker. He stared out the large windows at the runway and the planes waiting for boarders or taxiing for lift-off. Glancing at his watch, he knew he had another fifteen minutes before Marc's plane arrived, and he couldn't help but sigh at the prospect of more waiting. His thoughts drifted back to the apartment. He'd left Callie in the middle of a therapy session, with a promise that she wouldn't open the door for anyone. He had a key; she didn't even need to check the peephole. She had said nothing to him about Marc's arrival since their discussion. She seemed resolved to his presence, as if she had no say in how Jase handled the investigation. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he stared at the latest round of passengers to disembark from the plane and knew she was right. No matter what Callie told him, his foremost priority was to keep her safe and he'd do anything to achieve his goal. Still, the idea that bringing in Marc might hurt her made him wonder if he were

doing the right thing. Jase closed his eyes and tried to shove those thoughts out of his mind. On any other case he had never second-guessed himself. Jase mentally wondered why now. "Flight one fifty three from Los Angeles has landed. Passengers will arrive through gate three F." The tinny voice announced the arrival of Marc's flight. Jase rose to his feet. He knew it would be at least another fifteen minutes before he could meet his friend. Fifteen minutes in which to turn himself back into the emotionless private investigator he knew, the way he had been prior to meeting Callie. He had little time to worry about it, for he saw Marc walking down the steps leading to the same concourse. Marc looked much the same as Jase remembered, short blonde hair and a deep tan. He carried a duffle bag over his shoulder, his only luggage, Jase knew from experience. With a grin, Marc threaded his way around a mother pushing a stroller and between a group of high school girls, then reached the main concourse and made a straight line towards Jase. "Jase," he said. "How has it been?" He set his duffle down by his feet and shook Jase's hand. He pulled his hand away and pulled him into a bear hug. "It's good to see you." Jase hugged Marc back. He hadn't seen his friend in years. Marc released him, and Jase stepped back. "Fine, thanks. You? It looks like California agrees with you." Marc nodded. "It does indeed." "Glad to hear it." Jase gestured to the duffle bag. "Is that your only luggage?" "I tend to travel light." "I know," Jase replied with a smile. "We can head straight for the car then. Parking isn't that far. One of the perks of a small airport." "Lead the way. I'm anxious to hear all about what's been happening." Jase heard the inflection in Marc's voice and knew, as usual, the man never discussed details of any case in public. Jase nodded and led the way towards the parking lot. A few minutes later, he turned onto Martin Luther King Boulevard and back towards Callie's house. "Tell me about her," Marc said. "I want to know all about this woman who has gotten under your skin." He grinned rakishly. Jase grinned back. "Callie hasn't gotten 'under my skin' as you say." Jase stopped for a red light. He sighed, thinking once again of Molly and how he

failed her. "Callie is a past life therapist. We think someone is stalking her because of some research she has been doing into a past life." He said nothing further, not wanting to go into too much detail until after Marc had met Callie and not wanting to dredge up memories of Molly. "I see," Marc said. "There are a lot of people who do that out in California. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for someone to want to harm Callie. Sometimes people don't like what they hear. I worked for a while guarding someone who hosted a national television show that dealt with such things, and several of my students have gone onto lesser jobs working with similar individuals." "I knew you would have the expertise I needed," Jase said. So, Marc was familiar with such things. Deep inside, a knife twisted when he thought of how callous he'd been towards Callie's occupation. "How do you feel about her?" Marc asked. Jase jerked as if he had been shot. Marc must have seen something on his face. Normally his friend didn't pry into his personal life any more than he pried into Marc's. "She's a client," Jase said, being careful to keep his voice even. "You sound as if you're trying to convince someone." Jase rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to growl in frustration. At the next stoplight, he turned and glanced at Marc. "I'm attracted to her. That's it and that's all there ever can be. She's a client." He turned his attention back to the road. "I won't let Molly's death be in vain," he said softly as the light turned green, and he sped towards downtown. "Have you ever stopped to consider that you might be in love with her?" Marc asked. "What?" He kept his eyes glued to the road. "I asked you -- " "I heard what you asked. And no, I'm not in love with her," Jase snapped. "Point proven," Marc said. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jase squealed his tires at the next green light. "You haven't even been in town an hour and you're giving me advice about my love life?" He snorted derisively. Marc said nothing. Jase turned towards Callie's apartment and wondered if Marc might be right. --------

*Eight* "Don't let the past prevent you from the happiness of the future." Marc's words echoed in Jase's mind as he pulled away from the curb of the Hotel Fort Des Moines. He stared at the stoplight and wondered if his friend might be right. He'd tortured himself over Molly for long enough. And, as Marc had so astutely pointed out, even if he had been there, he might not have been able to save her. He might have died, too. There had been a time when he had wished he had died right beside Molly, but he hadn't felt that way for a while. Eventually, the grief subsided enough to allow him to resume his life. He had his business, and he had a client to protect. Jase sucked in a deep breath two blocks later. It seemed almost odd to give himself permission to live, and to love again. It felt good. So good he laughed aloud, drawing a startled glance from a pedestrian walking towards one of the bars on Court Avenue. Yes, it felt good to live again. He kept that thought firmly in mind as he pulled into the parking garage beneath the apartment building. His thoughts drifted up, towards Callie's apartment, and he wondered how she fared. He sent a mental prayer that nothing had happened while he had been gone. She deserved so much better than the torment in which she lived. He parked his car and mentally ran over his and Marc's plan. Marc would stay at the apartment, guarding Callie wherever she went. Jase knew he would do it far less obtrusively than he would, and he felt Callie would be safe in Marc's care. Meanwhile, he would do research on Graven International. He opened the car door, his heart lighter than it had been in days. Fifteen minutes later, he walked down the hall toward Callie's apartment. The elevator had run late, burdened by people heading out to enjoy the nightlife downtown offered. Impatience gnawed at him, not from worry, but from a need to get to work. With a plan, he knew he could convince Callie it was for the best. Soon, they would have whoever was threatening them, and Callie would be safe. He let himself into her apartment, noticing the thin glow of the television coming from the living room. The rest of the apartment stood bathed in darkness. He heard a muffled sob and wondered if she could be crying. Moments later, he realized it came from the television. Stepping around the corner, he saw Callie sat curled on the couch. She wore a pair of lounging pajamas and a large bowl of popcorn sat in her lap. Her attention remained focused on the television; she hadn't heard him enter. Jase wanted to yell at her for her lack of attention. What if he had been a

burglar? He didn't though, instead watched the television over her head. A car chase screamed across the screen, and Callie sat, eyes riveted to the action. He recognized the movie, a thriller from the early nineties and smiled. They seemed to have the same taste in movies. "Callie," he said, when the scene faded to a commercial. She started at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly. "Who? Oh, it's you." Looking over her shoulder, she smiled. "I didn't hear you come in." "I noticed." He chuckled and glanced at the loveseat. "Room for two?" She nodded. Shifting position, she thoughtfully set the bowl of popcorn between them. "Did you have a nice meeting with your friend?" "I did. We did some catching up. It's been a while." "Sorry you had to meet over a case." Callie looked crestfallen, and Jase longed to soothe the frown from her face. He shrugged. "That's how we usually meet. I keep telling Marc if I ever go to California without there being a case the 'big one' would hit." He chuckled. "Seriously, I don't think Marc would know how to act if we met outside of work." "Well, okay then." Callie pursed her lips, then turned her attention back to the television as the movie began again. Jase watched it with her. It was one he had seen several times, but he enjoyed watching the reactions on Callie's face. Her eyes grew wide during a police chase, and she anxiously leaned forward in her seat as one of the actors sped away in a car. He could tell she rooted for the main character, and he smiled thinking he had the same reaction the first time he had seen the movie. The show ended. Callie turned on the light on the end table and turned off the television. "I've seen that movie a million times," she said, "but I still like it." Jase nodded. "Marc and I have come up with a plan." She stiffened in her seat and he felt like a heel for broaching the subject so abruptly. "We can talk about it later if you like." Callie shook her head. "That's okay." She sighed. "Might as well get it over with." "I want to do some looking into Graven International." Her eyes widened when he mentioned the firm's name. "There might be some leads there. If not, then I'll know we can look elsewhere. But, I need to get out and start tracking down some information." "Vinnie had a company, too."

Callie's voice was so soft, Jase almost doubted he had heard her correctly. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. "I don't know what it was called. It wasn't mentioned in any of the news articles I have about Norma. Most of them focused on her and Dominic." She frowned. "I always wondered about it, because, well, Vinnie and Norma were involved. Can you look into that, too?" She looked so worried he wondered how he could not answer her question. "I can, Callie. Thank you for telling me that." She looked relieved, making him wonder if something had happened while he was gone. He didn't ask though, knowing Callie would tell him in her own time. "Marc will be your guard while I'm researching those companies. He runs a company out of California that not only trains bodyguards, but he's protected some of the biggest names in show business." A flash of hurt crossed her eyes, so briefly there he wondered if he had imagined it. He thought she'd be flattered. She took a deep breath. He thought she might say something because she looked lost in thought, but Callie shifted position on the couch and stared at the double windows looking into the parking garage across the street. "I see," she said softly. Her stiff posture told Jase she didn't like what he said, and he raised his hands wanting to reach out and comfort her. Then, he laid them in his lap. **** Callie stared out the window trying to digest Jase's words. It sounded as if he didn't want to be around her anymore, that he had brought in his friend to watch over her while he did research. She snorted derisively. Graven International had nothing to do with her threats, she could have told him that. The multi-million dollar company had little to do with small-town past life interpreters. It seemed ludicrous for this huge company to be stalking her. "I see," she said again on a sigh. Jase reached out and laid his hand on her knee. She wanted to shrug it off, to call him a traitor, but didn't. Instead, she turned and looked at him. "So you do think I'm foolish," she said at last. Her fragile self-esteem felt wounded, and she wanted to make him see the hurt. "I bet you didn't even bring Marc in from California." She knew she sounded childish and didn't care. "What makes you say that?" He looked truly puzzled, and Callie reconsidered a moment his motives in not wanting to guard her. "Well, you brought in someone else to guard me while you go off and do god

only knows what. I thought you were bringing someone else in to do those things while you protected me. That's what I hired you to do, isn't it?" Her words sounded harsh, and Callie knew it. Jase leaned back. His eyes grew cold. "I'm only doing my job to the best of my abilities. I'm the one that's been discussing Norma's life with you. We'd waste time bringing Marc up to speed on things. Yes, I can, and I will keep you safe. I have the training to do that, but you know what, Marc's better. I thought you would be flattered." Callie opened and closed her mouth. She hadn't thought of it that way, only thought of how Jase might want to get away from her. "I'm sorry," she said with a sigh. "I thought you were trying to dump me onto someone else." She looked down at the floor. Jase reached out and tilted her chin so she looked him in the eye. "If I were to do that," he said, "it would only be for my own safety." He smiled a roguish grin. "You're dangerous girl, you know that?" Callie reddened. No one had ever called her dangerous before, and in fact, she hadn't even thought of herself in those terms prior to tonight. "Oh," she said. Jase nodded. Callie felt Jase's gaze on her lips, knew he wanted to kiss her. Excitement sizzled through her veins. She found herself aware of the rise and fall of his chest. Her chin tingled where he touched it, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers along the firm line of his jaw. A five-o'clock shadow darkened his cheeks, and her hands itched to feel the touch of his stubble beneath him. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and Jase's eyes followed the movement. Callie rose to her feet. "I think I ought to turn in for the night," she said, her voice not as steady as she would have liked. "Yeah," Jase said, his reply little more than a husky whisper. "I think you better." Callie turned and headed to the kitchen, walking a little faster than she wished. Once inside the darkened room with the comforting hum of the refrigerator, she allowed her heartbeat to slow to a more normal pace. She poured herself a glass of water, frowning at her shaking hands, and with a heavy sigh, started towards her bedroom. She glanced into the living room and saw Jase standing in the center. He had pulled off his shirt, giving Callie a view of his muscular back. She stood, transfixed, as he started to shove his jeans off his hips, then crept into her room and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, trying to block

out the image of tanned skin. She set her water on the nightstand, and then crawled beneath the covers to curl up with a good book. She wished she could curl up with Jase instead. Outside her closed door, she heard Jase moving around the living room, and she tried to shove the mental image of him stripping off his jeans and boxers. The idea that he may sleep nude nearly sent her flying into the living room to check. She restrained herself and picked up the book to read. Three frustrating pages later, she dog-eared her page and set it down beside her. She couldn't focus on the novel. Jase occupied her mind instead. She tossed back the covers, intending to go to the living room and see if he was still awake. Crack. A loud noise filled the apartment. Callie jerked. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat hesitantly. Pop. Bam. More loud bangs ensued, sounding like gunfire. "Jase?" Callie asked, heart pounding. Her cry barely carried to the closed door. A loud whistle, followed by a huge bang answered her. "Jase." Callie yelled again, her voice drowned out by a loud boom. She screamed. Suddenly, Jase threw open her bedroom door. "Are you okay?" He asked, rushing to her side. He stood in front of her, and Callie felt dwarfed by him. She nodded and released a shaky breath. "I think so. What was that?" "Fireworks. I think they're shooting them off at Sec Taylor Stadium." He knelt beside her and laid his hand on her knee. "I was watching them from your front window when they started." Absently, he stroked her knee and thigh. She looked down at him and realized he did have on a pair of navy blue boxers and nothing else. She drank in the sight of him, from his muscled arms to his long legs. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "I suppose it was silly of me to be scared. I'm sorry I bothered you." Instantly, Jase stood and sat beside her on the bed. He wrapped his arm around her, tucking her against his side. Callie leaned against him, reveling in his warmth. His hand lazily rubbed her back, and a sense of security washed over her. She wrapped her arm around his waist and felt his bare skin beneath her hand. "It isn't silly," Jase said, and she felt his deep voice rumble through her. "You've been through a lot. I don't think you're foolish. I probably would have been startled if I hadn't been watching them." Callie couldn't imagine anything startling Jase, but she didn't say so. "Thank you," she said. Her heart had resumed a more normal pace, more normal for sitting next to Jase at least.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" Jase asked. Callie looked at him. Snuggled in his arms, she felt so secure, so cared for, that she didn't want that feeling to end. "I'll be fine," she said, "but Jase, would you mind holding me?" Jase took a deep breath, and Callie sensed an inner struggle within him. He was attracted to her, he'd made that clear earlier in the evening, and Callie felt a little light-headed at the thought that he might be concerned about his control. "I can do that," he said, though his voice sounded huskier than normal. "Thank you," Callie replied. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, then snuggled beneath the blankets. As she settled herself, she thought she heard him groan. **** _She is going to kill me._ He watched Callie turn away from him. Although he was only looking at her, he felt himself grow hard at the thought of lying beside her. _Now behave, damn you,_ he scolded his unruly body and gingerly lay down beside her. He angled his lower body away from her so she wouldn't feel his arousal and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She sighed and inched her way closer to him. _This woman is going to be the death of me, but oh what a sweet death._ He suppressed a weary sigh and wondered how long it would take for her to fall asleep. **** Callie felt Jase inch into bed beside her. He lay stiffly behind her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. She wanted to burrow into his warmth, to feel his hard chest against her back, but she settled with a slight movement towards him. He made a sound that sounded like a shaky sigh. The slight brush of his breath against her hair made her want to test her powers of seduction. She licked her lips, trying to decide whether to slide closer to him or let him alone. Self-doubts returned to batter her esteem, making her wonder if he thought she might be fragile. She couldn't stand it if Jase thought of her as some wallflower ready to faint at the first sign of trouble. And what would he do once the mission was over? Callie tried to stop the thoughts hurdling through her mind and couldn't. The idea that this night might be the only night they spent in bed together tugged at her heart. Behind her, she heard Jase's deep, even breathing and realized he had fallen asleep. She repressed the urge to snort. Some protector he turned out to be.

All thoughts fled as she realized his hand moved slowly against the edge of her breast. He made a contented sound, as if lying beside her was exactly where he wanted to be, and she suppressed the urge to shiver as desire began to unfurl within her. Her nipples hardened. She swallowed, not daring to move for fear she might break the spell. Her body ached with the need to roll over and touch him. She released a long breath, relief washing through her when his hand continued its sleepy caress. Heat pooled low in her belly at the thought of Jase making love to her, and it took all the willpower she had not to roll over and grab him. _This wasn't a good idea. I should have left him in the living room where he was safe._ She nearly laughed aloud at her own thoughts. No matter where he slept, Jase wasn't safe. His hand slid far enough to cup the fullness of her breast. Callie lay still. She felt him test the weight in his hands, then begin a rhythmic massaging that nearly made her groan aloud with pleasure. His other arm, thrown above his head, caressed her hair, and she couldn't stop herself from wiggling closer to him. He made a happy murmur and resumed his caresses. Her fingers itched to touch him. Whenever Jase was near, he made her feel special, cherished, and she didn't want to lose that feeling. It seemed natural for her to snuggle closer to him, so close she could feel his arousal pressing through the fabric of his boxers. With shaking hands, she reached up to touch the back of his hand as it caressed her palm. His hand stilled. "Callie," he said, his voice sleepy. He started to pull his hand away. Callie stopped him. She cupped his hand in hers, neither moving it towards or away from her skin. "Don't," she whispered. Behind her, she felt Jase go still. "Don't what, Callie?" She heard frustration in his voice, frustration and need. Swallowing hard against her fears and doubts, Callie realized that unless she said "no," she would make love with Jase tonight. Her skin tingled from where he touched her, and she knew it was only the beginning. "Don't stop," Callie said. "Don't stop touching me." "Oh, Callie," Jase groaned. He leaned forward, burying his face in her hair. He pulled his hand away and skimmed it down her side. Although she lay beneath the blanket, she felt his touch. She rolled over to face him. Looking into Jase's eyes, she saw desire. He wanted her, wanted her as a man wanted a woman, and the feeling made her heady. Reaching up, she

traced the line of his jaw, then skimmed her fingers over the edge of his neck. Slowly, she traced a path to his collarbone, her hand moving unerringly south, until she laid her palm flat against his chest. Beneath her hand, his heart pounded. He tossed the covers back. "Feel that," Jase said. "Feel what you are doing to me." She did, her own heart increasing its temp to match his. Leaning closer, she brushed her thighs against his, and she saw Jase close his eyes. He groaned softly. To Callie, it felt as if sparks jumped from his body to hers, the desire racing through her veins feeling like electrical current. She wanted to inch closer, to press her body along the length of his, but she held back, afraid of moving too fast. Jase moved his lips a fraction of an inch closer to hers. Callie knew he was giving her an out and the thoughtful action made her want him even more. She said nothing, for Jase moved his arm to wrap it around her waist and draw her hard against his body. She felt the evidence of his desire pressing into her belly. Before she could contemplate anything further, he bent his head and kissed her. He kissed her with all the passion thrumming through his body. His lips feasted on hers, his tongue moving sensually across her lower lip. Callie shivered as he swept his tongue into her mouth, and she clenched her hands on his shoulders, needing to hold onto something solid. Following his lead, she stroked his tongue with her own, and the moan that reverberated through his chest enflamed her. For long moments they kissed, drinking from each other. Jase insinuated a leg between her knees, and she felt him hard against her. He reached for her pajama top, starting to unbutton it. The back of his hand brushed her breast, and Callie moaned. When he released the last button, she sighed and helped Jase slip the garment from her. He dropped it beside the bed. She lay bare to his gaze, and even in the dark, she felt his hungry look gazing at her round, full breasts and her stomach. For once, she didn't want to hide her body, for the reverent caress of his hand down the middle of her chest, made her feel as if he wanted her. When his hand slid over her belly to return to her breasts, she knew that he had felt her flaws and they didn't deter him from his passion. Jase cupped her breast in his hands, gently kneading the flesh. Her nipple pressed against his palm, and he flicked his thumb over it, teasing her. Callie leaned forward, pressing her lips to his shoulder, and she kissed his neck, feeling his pulse beat beneath her lips. She felt his muscled thigh at the juncture of her legs, and Callie closed her eyes and pressed herself against

him. With his hands massaging her breasts, and his breath hot against her neck, she felt as if a carnal woman exploded within her. She wrapped her arms around Jase, feeling the muscles in his back move. Sliding her hands lower, she caressed his tight buttocks, and his sigh of pleasure, urged her forward. Her hand slid to his hip, caressing along his thigh, until he shifted and she slipped her hand between them. She cupped him in her hand, and his groan was pure, male satisfaction. Through the opening in his boxers, she reached for him. Running her palm along the length of him, Callie felt an urgency building within her. Jase tugged at her pajama bottoms, and Callie raised her hips to help him slide them from her. She kicked them towards the end of the bed, hearing them hit the floor with a satisfying whoosh of fabric. He stroked her hips, his hand moving ever closer to the core of her desire. Callie arched her hips. She wanted to feel his hand against her naked flesh. Leaning forward, she drew one of his flat, male nipples into her mouth. She swirled it with her tongue, feeling a shudder move through his body. His hand touched the edge of her womanly folds, and Callie closed her eyes. Her breath hissed from between clenched teeth. Ripples of pleasure darted through her body, and Callie thought of her other lovers. She couldn't compare this experience to them; none of them had made her feel as special as Jase. His finger slipped inside, finding her wetness. She arched her hips against his hand. She wanted more. He obliged, his fingers stroking her sex. "Jase," she said, her voice a husky cry in the dark. "Oh, Jase." Her hands tightened on his shoulders. She moved her hips faster, feeling ecstasy roar through her body. Her breathing came faster. She moved towards a single goal -- release. Pressing her face against Jase's chest, she felt a tear slip from her eye and slide over her cheek, so great was the pleasure rocketing through her. Finally, she came, feeling as if her body shattered into a million pieces that only Jase could put back together again. His hand stilled, and she felt his strong arms around her. "Callie, sweetheart," he said as he held her tight. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, against her nose, then on her lips. Although she felt his manhood pulsing against her, he brushed his lips across hers in a gentle kiss. Slowly, as if he wanted to drink from her forever, he kissed her. Callie opened her eyes and brushed her fingers across his cheek. Jase deepened the kiss. Rolling her fully on her back, he thrust his tongue into her mouth. He broke the kiss long enough to shed his boxers. When he moved between her thighs, Callie thought she might die from the extreme pleasure of it all. Jase balanced his weight on his arms. When he looked down into her eyes,

Callie wished the lights were on so he could see the expression. He dipped his head, kissing her, then flexed his hips. She felt the tip of him brush against her. Callie moaned. He paused. "Are you -- ?" Callie reached up and pressed her index finger to his lip. "Yes," she said. "Thank God," Jase whispered. He slid inside her slowly. Callie felt her body take him in. He moved at a measured pace, so slowly that Callie felt she might die from the pleasure of it all. Her body felt as tight as a bowstring. Arching her hips, she drew him fully inside her, and Jase's groan made her smile. He remained still, buried deeply in her warmth. Then, began to draw out as slowly as he had entered. The second time, he wasn't quite as controlled. Callie whimpered as he thrust a second time, then a third. She matched his pace, her body craving the touch of him. She whimpered, needing to feel him deep inside her. Running her hands down his back, she caressed his buttocks, using them to hold her close to him. Her body clenched around his, and she moved more quickly against him. Callie felt a second orgasm near, and she moved faster. She emitted tiny, kitten-like cries of pleasure, and when she came, she nearly screamed her pleasure. Clinging to him, her nails left half-moon furrows in his back. Moments later, Jase stiffened above her. She heard his exultant cry, and felt his body shudder. He collapsed, mindful to shift his weight so he didn't crush her. Callie lay in his arms. She felt the pounding of his heart and knew it matched her own. Silence, broken only by their ragged breathing filled the room. Closing her eyes, she let the after glow wash over her. She loved him. The realization slammed into her with the force of a truck. Her eyes flew open, and she stared at the dark shadows at the ceiling. She wanted to turn her head, to see if Jase studied her with his intent gaze, but she didn't. His arm slipped to her waist, and she lightly laid her hand over his. His deep, even breathing filled the room. Callie smiled. Promising herself not to think about it right now, she enjoyed lying in Jase's arms. Tomorrow would be another day. -------*Nine* Jase lay sleeping, his arm thrown over Callie. She lay beneath the comforting weight staring up at the ceiling. Beside her, Jase snored peacefully. He moved in his sleep, his hand brushing her breast, and Callie felt her body start to

respond. Before she could do anything, he flopped over, dangling the same arm off the edge of the bed. She shifted away from him. She tried to make it look as if she shifted in her sleep, and Jase didn't even stir. Taking a deep breath, she rolled to the edge of the bed. Her heart hammered in her chest. She almost felt guilty for leaving, but she needed the time to think. Making love with Jase complicated things, even though she knew it was what they both wanted. Realizing she loved him put her in even greater jeopardy than she was from the criminals. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She rose to her feet and crept from the room. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a loose shirt that lay on the edge of the clothes hamper, she carried them with her into the hall. She dressed in the hallway, then stepped into the living room. Moonlight spilled through the windows to illuminate the room. She walked over to the window. Standing there, she stared into the night. Few cars moved on the street below, and the streetlights changed, their rhythm independent of the cars driving past. It looked serene outside she thought, not filled with chaos like in here. She found herself torn by the need for solitude and the need to lie in Jase's arms. The night called to her. Forgetting her earlier reservations, it seemed far safer to be alone with her thoughts than inside with temptation, she crossed the room to grab her purse and car keys. Callie paused at the door, unsure if she were doing the right thing. From the bedroom, she heard Jase's deep, even breathing, so before she could change her mind, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. She slowly closed the door behind her, wincing at the loud click of the lock that seemed to echo in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she crept down the hall to the elevator. _It seemed too easy,_ she thought as the elevator slid to a stop in the parking garage, _to leave her house without Jase knowing._ Her heart hammered in her chest, though she didn't think it was fear. The bad guys didn't know she was leaving her house, she mused, so they wouldn't be there to harm her. A park just far enough away so she had to drive called to her as the perfect place to sit and contemplate the change in hers and Jase's relationship. The parking garage was lit with many pools of light from the overhead bulbs. The pools not quite touched, leaving a maze of shadow throughout the garage. Callie shivered. She took a deep breath. _I can do this._

She fought against the urge to dart to her car. The vehicle sat where Jase had parked it, and Callie quickly slipped into the driver's seat. She sat there in the car, hearing her heart pounding in her ears. "People want to harm me," she said aloud, nearly jumping at the echo of her own voice in the car, "and I'm driving into a park at the most ungodly hours of the evening." It sounded foolish even to herself, but the prospect of staying in her apartment seemed like a worse fate. **** Jase cracked open an eye when he heard the door close. He smiled, for he knew Callie always held more courage than she showed. He stretched, feeling his well-used muscles protest moving from their comfortable sprawl on the bed. At first, when he felt her rise, he thought she had needed a drink of water, but when she didn't return and the jingling of keys came to his ears, he knew she had other plans. He wanted to throttle her. If her safety were as important to her as she said, then she certainly wouldn't be driving out at -- he rolled over and looked at the clock -- 2:30 in the morning. Not after someone tried to kill her by running her off the interstate. He could have growled but didn't. Instead, he got out of bed and padded to the living room where he pulled on his jeans. Thank god he'd installed the tracking device on her car. When he went to meet Marc, he attached the tiny metal box behind her rear axle. With his GPS device, he could pinpoint her location anywhere she went, including across country. He didn't think she'd go that far, but to test his equipment, he walked barefoot into the living room and pulled a slim box from his duffle bag. He powered on the machine. A few moments later, a blinking dot showed Callie's location, just to the west of downtown. He watched with admiration as the dot moved farther from downtown. A measure of relief filled him as he realized she was traveling into a very low-crime neighborhood known for its old homes and gorgeous parks. As if she were reading his mind, she neared a park. The light remained stationary, and he knew she had parked the car. If only he had thought of a way to attach one of those devices to her body. Jase sighed. He thought about calling Marc, but decided against it. He knew if he followed her she would be furious with him. His presence in the apartment had probably been why she had left. He remembered the stab of pain he'd felt when he first heard the door close and realized she had left him. It recurred now, and he tried to force the thought out of his mind. Was he in love with her he wondered, then shook his head. He didn't need to be thinking about that right now. Taking a deep breath, he settled himself on the couch and decided to see exactly where Callie would go.

**** The park didn't look as inviting after dark as it did during the day, but Callie refused to be daunted. She turned off the car engine and stared into the park. Taking a deep breath, she opened the car door and stepped outside. Cool, night hair caressed her face. She shivered at the light breeze and the feel of dew in the air. A circle of benches sat just inside the entrance, but within full view of the parking area. The lone streetlight illuminated her car, and as she stepped into the park, she looked over her shoulder and saw it sitting surrounded by a pool of light. She paused by the benches, not wanting to sit. Her emotions for Jase, still new and raw, tugged at her. She circled the benches. Moonlight glinted from the metal poles of the swing set, and with a smile, Callie walked over to it. The idea of swinging in a park late at night held a certain, forbidden appeal. She chuckled to herself as she walked over to the swing, and choosing the highest one, sat down and began to slowly push herself back and forth. The motion of the swing helped her thoughts to settle. She should tell Jase about her feelings, she realized. He might work harder at protecting her if he knew she loved him. That, or he wouldn't leave Marc in charge of her care. She still bristled about that, not quite believing his story about Marc's expertise. However, if his passion this evening were any indication, then perhaps he was less distracted if he were away from her. Her lips quirked into a smile over that thought. He had to care. She refused to think that he didn't, not after the tender way he had made love to her. Had he not felt something, or only wanted to use her as a convenience, she felt certain it would have shown. Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingers to her closed lips. Thinking of Jase, she could feel the brush of his lips against hers. Another breeze swirled around her, and her nipples pebbled from the cold. She wanted to believe that he cared, that he loved her as much as she loved him. There, Callie thought, she thought it out loud. She loved Jase with all her heart. A forever kind of love that they sang about in songs. She nodded and pushed the swing a little harder. Cars passed on the main thoroughfare a block away and she heard the roar of their motors. The rhythmic idling of cars at the stoplight followed by a rush of motion as the light turned green soothed her. She breathed deeply of the crisp, night air. With a sigh, she rose to her feet. She heard a car drive down the residential street, and she watched as it cruised by the park. Her heart sped up, until she saw the lights on top and realized it was a police cruiser. The car slowed, as if

it were seeing who was in the park, then continued driving. She felt oddly relieved at the sight of a patrol car, as if the presence of the police would keep her safe. She snorted at her fearful behavior of just a few days ago and decided to be a bit more adventurous. After all, she reasoned, if Marc were better at protecting her than Jase, then she could have more mobility. It didn't feel right though, to do things without Jase, and she hoped whatever part he would play in the investigation wouldn't keep him away for too long. She started to return to her car, a yawn making her realize how tired she really was. It seemed foolish to think over things out here when she could do as much in the apartment. Deciding to return home, she got into her car and prepared to drive home. **** Jase saw the light blinking again as Callie backed out of the parking space and moved into the flow of traffic. He smiled, watching that little light and thinking of his Callie. She had guts, his Callie did. He glanced up at the moonlight filtering through the living room windows and wondered when he had started thinking of her as "his Callie." The thought sobered him. Taking a deep breath, he decided to get something to eat. Nothing like watching some late night GPS tracking to get him hungry. He remembered the activity before and smiled. Callie had been so giving with her loving that he almost felt like a heel. He had no right to ambush her like that, though she did ask him to hold her. He had pushed too hard too quickly, he realized. He thought of her return to the apartment and wondered what he would say to her. His body hardened at the thought of seeing her again, and the possibility, no matter how remote, of another chance to make love. Releasing the breath he had been holding, Jase walked to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He held the cool vessel to his face, feeling the sweat form on the sides of the glass. Beads of water slid onto his face, and he felt them slide down his cheek. He'd hoped the sudden coldness would take his mind off of other thoughts, but it didn't. Instead, he envisioned those same drops of water sliding down Callie's face. A few bold drops would slip down her neck to plunge beneath the neckline of her shirt. Closing his eyes, he thought about licking the liquid from her skin and feeling her heat up beneath his touch. Jase shook his head. He tried to shove the mental images of Callie from his mind. He dragged his fingers through his hair, a ragged breath escaping his lips. Once he'd touched her, he knew he couldn't go back. His palms itched to caress her skin, and his body ached to be sheathed within hers once more. Jase closed his eyes. He thought about calling Marc in on this case, turning it over to his friend for objectivity, but Jase knew he couldn't do that. With a

wry shake of his head, he settled himself more comfortably on the couch to watch the GPS system. **** Sitting at the stoplight, Callie tried to calm her racing heart. She wondered how she would slip back into the apartment, and if she did, should she tell Jase about her outing. Nibbling on her lower lip, she waited for the light to change. _I'll do whatever I want to do._ The freedom she'd found in her nocturnal escape buoyed her. _Jase will just have to live with it._ She smiled, the bold woman within her taking hold. She turned onto Grand Avenue. At this time of night few cars shared the main thoroughfare with her. Business signs lit both sides of the streets, adding shadows to darkened store windows. A car full of rowdy teens drove by, the bass shaking her inside her car. Callie kept her eyes straight ahead. Never having ventured out like this before, she had no idea if these were gang members or innocent children. She shook her head as the car roared to life when the light turned green. Just her imagination running away with her. Ahead, she saw a shape in the road. It looked like a board, not knowing if it was anything more, she easily swerved to straddle the object. Her front tires passed the obstruction easily, but she heard the sickening thump of her back tire running over the board. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, and hoped the board didn't have any nails sticking out of it. Streetlights illuminated the construction work happening on either side of the street, and she growled under her breath, thinking that the board must have fallen off at truck. Her car seemed to ride smoothly. It seemed that no damage had been done. Callie released a breath. No sooner had the air left her lungs when she heard the distinctive thwap-thwap noise of a flat tire. She cursed under her breath, shocked that such foul words had come from her mouth. Thanking the lack of traffic she pulled over to the side of the road. **** Jase stared at the GPS. He scratched his chin as he watched the dot swerve to the right then stop. It blinked rhythmically, and Jase wondered what Callie was doing. He tried to remember what was at the corner of that intersection, but couldn't recall anything other than a vacant lot and a construction site. He growled in frustration. This device did well to track her, but it couldn't see into the car. Was she okay? A need to go to her thrummed through his veins, and Jase tried to hold it in check. A lot of things could happen, he guessed. Maybe she found another park. Maybe the mob got her. He tried not to think too hard on the latter. ****

Callie looked around at the darkened street. Here, the streetlights were less frequent on the road, and the vacant lot across the street didn't look very promising. She had pulled up next to a construction site, and she shivered thinking of the homeless people who might have made their beds there. Although it didn't have a lot of big city problems, Des Moines did have homeless people. Taking a deep breath, she knew she couldn't walk home; she was too far from her apartment building for that. The tire had to be changed. Thankfully she had the jack and a spare in her trunk. Before she could change her mind, Callie opened the car door and glanced both ways before stepping into the street. She quickly walked around the car, opened the trunk, and began to pull out the tools she would need to change the tire. She had pulled over beneath the pool of light cast by a street lamp, but even so, it took her a few moments to hook the jack into the notch in the bumper. She began to raise the car, and in a few moments, had the flat tire spinning freely on the axle. It took a bit longer for her to loosen the lug nuts. Once she did, the rest of the tire changing went easily. She actually smiled as she slid the spare onto the axle. A car approached, and Callie heard it slow. She looked up from her work. Her heart pounded as the car slowed even further, then she recognized the telltale outline of a police car. The cruiser pulled in behind her. The door opened and the cop rose to his feet. "Everything okay?" he asked as he walked up behind her car. Callie looked up at him. "Just fixing a flat tire. There's a board in the road a few blocks back that someone may want to remove." She twisted the lug nuts onto the bolts. "I've got it here though. Almost done." He nodded. "Okay. Do you want me to wait until you are finished?" Callie thought about his statement. Reaching for the lug wrench, she wondered if she did. She would feel self-conscious finishing up changing the flat with him watching, though she knew she would feel safer. It seemed like an affront to her earlier bravery to have a police officer waiting while she finished changing the tire. "Not necessary officer. A few more minutes, and I'll be back on the road again." She grunted as she tightened the last bolt on the tire. She stood and picked up the flat. "See." "Okay, ma'am," he said. The radio on the shoulder of his uniform crackled, and he frowned, then spoke into it. "I need to go. If you're sure you'll be all right."

"Yes, officer." She rested the tire on the edge of the trunk. He turned and walked back to his car. Callie eased the tire into the trunk. As she did so, her hand brushed a small box on the inside of the rim. She glanced at it, but in the thin light from the trunk lamp it looked just like a small, black box. She frowned at it. She heard the officer pull away from the curb, and she looked at the box again. A green light blinked steadily on the side of it. A bomb, she wondered, then chided herself for her foolishness. She grabbed the box, pulling at it, and much to her surprise, it pulled off the rim. She held it up, realizing that a strong magnet had attached it to the tire. It looked high tech, as much as any small, black box with a blinking green light could, and muttering a curse under her breath, decided to ask Jase. Callie tossed the box onto the seat beside her, then started up the car. A few moments later she pulled away from the curb. Quite satisfied with herself at changing the tire, at night, in downtown Des Moines, she whistled a tune under her breath, and decided she definitely would tell Jase. **** Jase watched the green dot shift horizontally on the screen. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips. The dot moved so slightly, he could have dismissed it for the car's movements; however, the dot had little forward motion. _Callie must have discovered the tracking device._ The marker moved forward again, and he couldn't resist chuckling to himself. **** Callie pulled into the parking garage. Still whistling to herself, she pulled into a parking space. She grabbed the small black box, which still hadn't blown up, from her passenger seat. She tucked it into her purse, and sliding the strap over her shoulder, opened the car door. A few moments later, she stood in the lobby waiting for the elevator. For once, the elevator was waiting on the ground floor, and the doors slid open with a small chime. She stepped inside, pushed the button for her floor, then pulled the box out of her purse. In better light, she saw that along one side had been etched serial numbers. After a long number were the letters "GPS." Callie pursed her lips. The elevator slid to a stop on her floor, and she stepped into the dimly lit hallway. **** Jase heard the footsteps in the hall and the jangling of keys. It had to be Callie. His nerves felt on edge. He wanted to strangle her for going out at night, and cuddle her close, for fear of what might have driven her outside her apartment. He glanced at the GPS with the light still moving and smiled. She had

discovered his device, and knowing Callie, she wouldn't be happy with it. **** Callie paused just outside the door to her apartment. No sounds drifted into the hallway, and she hoped that Jase still slept. She slid the key into the lock, wincing at the loud snick of the bolt being drawn back, then opened the door slowly. It creaked. She grimaced, afraid that any noise might wake Jase. Gently, she closed the door behind her. She blinked her eyes, adjusting them to the darkness. Moonlight filtered through the living room windows, and she stepped forward. Her bedroom door stood open, and she peeked inside, but couldn't see anything. She thought about stepping in to see if Jase still slept, but decided that might wake him. Instead, she crept towards the living room. "Boo!" Callie shrieked. Her heart pounded in her chest. She dropped her purse, and the small, black box tumbled to the floor. Holding her hand to her chest, she saw Jase sitting on the couch. "Oh my God," she said, "you scared me." She chuckled. Jase reached over and turned on the lamp sitting on the end table. A pool of light flooded them both, and she saw Jase sat on her couch dressed in only a pair of jeans. Her gaze seemed fastened to his broad chest. She remembered sliding her hands over his skin, and her eyes followed the very same trail her hands had taken earlier in the evening. Callie swallowed hard. She pulled her gaze away and picked up her purse. The box had fallen a few feet from it, and she picked it up as well. She held the small object out to Jase. "Do you know what this is?" She asked. Jase looked at it. She thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his lips, but his expression turned neutral. "Where did you find it?" he asked. She walked over to sit next to him on the couch. "It fell off my car." Deliberately, Callie lied. She wanted to see Jase's reaction, without his getting over protective over her flat tire. Jase looked thoughtful. "So that's what that was," he mumbled. Callie heard his words. "What? What do you mean, 'so that's what you that it was.'?" Jase looked at her. "It's a tracking device, Callie." He sighed, giving Callie the feeling that he didn't want to continue. "I was afraid you'd do something like this, and I wanted to know your movements." He reached over to the end

table and held up the receiver. The green light blinked steadily. "This shows where you are in location to streets and significant objects." Callie looked from him to the box in his hands. "You were following me?" "Sort of." "But why? How?" Callie sputtered. She stared from the box in Jase's hands to the reciprocal device in her own. "When did you have time to do this?" "When you were sleeping," Jase replied. He grimaced, as if he didn't like having his methods questioned. "Look, Callie, I knew you were going to try and sneak away sooner or later, all my clients test their freedom in that manner. I wanted to be sure I knew where you went. That way, if you didn't return, I'd have a last known location for the police." "What?" Callie shrieked. She rose to her feet and began pacing the living room. "A last known location? You were expecting something bad to happen to me?" Fury rose within her, overshadowing her sense of accomplishment at changing the flat tire on her own. If Jase had been trailing her, then did he know about the flat tire, and if so, why hadn't he come to help? It hadn't exactly happened in the best of neighborhoods. Jase released a deep breath. He followed her movements with his eyes. "No, Callie. I'd be livid if anything happened to you, but what you did is a natural reaction. When people are confined for a long period of time they want to test their boundaries. I'm actually surprised you didn't try it before now." Callie stopped pacing. He sounded so calm, as if this really was a part of his job, and she shrugged. She knew nothing about what private investigators did, and his words sounded reasonable. _Damn. There isn't any fighting with a reasonable man._ "So what is it?" She winced at the snide tone in her voice. "It is a Global Positioning Device." Jase held the receiver to show her. "Look." Callie did, seeing that a grid ran across the screen. A few of the main thoroughfares were marked, and she easily picked out the green light as the location of her apartment. Pursing her lips, she handed the box back to Jase. "Is this it? You couldn't see what I was doing?" Jase shook his head. "No, but were you doing anything you don't want me to know about?" "Not at all," Callie replied, "though it would have been nice if you had known about the flat tire. I changed it all by myself." Her chest puffed up with pride.

Jase rose to his feet. "Flat tire? Where? At this hour of the night? You could have been hurt." He stopped in front of her, his hands on her shoulders halting her pacing. Callie looked into his eyes and felt her anger melt away. "Yes. There was a board in the street. I accidentally hit it, and a nail punctured my tire. I was fine. A police officer stopped and offered to help, but I was almost done by then." She shook her head. "I had nothing to worry about." _Nothing, except you._ She backed away from his touch. Jase nodded, satisfied, but not quite happy with her answer. "Can I ask why you did go out?" He stood between her and the door, as if he were afraid she might bolt before answering. Callie swallowed hard. The idea had crossed her mind, though she knew Jase could stop her flight. She wondered what to say, what words would answer his question without revealing the true depth of her feelings, a depth she didn't even know herself. "I needed to think. Alone." She said at long last. "About what, Callie?" His voice softened into a husky caress, and Callie couldn't help but think that he had used his bedroom voice on purpose. "Us, Jase." Once the words were out, Callie didn't feel quite as shy about speaking her mind. "I was thinking about us." "What about us?" He stepped forward and caressed her cheek with his hand. "I hope you don't think it was a mistake." Callie closed her eyes. Jase couldn't have known how much she needed to hear him say those words right now, and she wanted to throw herself into his arms. He must have misinterpreted her silence for he asked, "You don't think it was, do you? I'll admit, I probably shouldn't have seduced you while you were still recovering from the shock of the fireworks, but I wanted to, Callie, oh, I had wanted to since I first laid eyes on you." "No!" she said vehemently. "I don't think it was a mistake at all." She pondered his words, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. "I'm not exactly innocent in this either," she said. "I could have just as easily kicked you out of my bed." Jase chuckled. "I bet you could have." "It's just that we have a business arrangement right now. What's going to happen once the bad guys are behind bars?" She winced at the naivete of her words. "I don't know." Jase sighed, and Callie wondered if he had been grappling

with that very same question. "I honestly don't know, but we can enjoy what we have together, or we can analyze it to death. I know which I would choose." He stepped forward again so that he stood directly in front of her. Callie smelled a hint of his aftershave. Raising her hand, she laid it against his chest. His heart beat beneath her palm. For a moment, she wanted to haul him back to her bedroom to finish out the night together, but she couldn't. Not with the future so uncertain between them. She had enjoyed her moment of insanity in his arms; she wouldn't regret it for as long as she lived, but she was a woman in danger and he her protector. She'd read too many novels to know how that one would end. Callie smiled a wistful smile; she knew how it had ended before, because she had been Norma and he, Dominic. With a sigh, she tugged her hand away from his chest and balled her fists at her sides, lest she give in to the temptation to touch him again. She turned her back to Jase, and taking a deep breath, wondered if the price of her safety would include her heart. -------*Ten* Blinking her gritty eyes, Callie stared at the ceiling. She lay in bed, the covers tangled around her legs a testament to her troubled sleep. She'd left Jase in the living room, staring out the windows so intently she almost wondered if he had seen something outside. His face had been an impenetrable mask. She wondered what, if anything, he thought about her. Callie closed her eyes against the sudden sting of tears. He had to understand that she couldn't just have a fling and then move on with her life. Her heart didn't work that way. Already, she feared she loved him and the image of Norma Winter's death haunted her. Countless times since realizing the depth of the relationship between Norma and Dominic had she wondered how he had reacted to news of the singer's death. She'd never know, for he vanished mysteriously soon afterwards. Callie shoved the covers away. In the kitchen, she heard the coffee maker making a fresh pot of coffee, and she wondered if that were Jase's first or second pot. A burst of masculine laugher filled the room, the voice belonging to someone else. Jase's friend? She rose from the bed and hastily bundled up her clothes and donned a robe. If it were his friend, she wanted to face him when she didn't look like a sleep urchin. She darted to the bathroom, wondering what they were discussing. **** Jase saw Callie's form as she rushed into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, and he winced as the slam echoed through the apartment.

Marc arched an eyebrow and glanced at Jase. "Is she always this congenial in the mornings?" he asked, and Jase could tell Marc was trying not to snicker. "She's a little upset," he replied drolly. The coffee finished, and he busied himself with pouring two steaming mugs. He set one in front of Marc. "She discovered the GPS device I had affixed to her car." "Ah," Marc replied. The one word spoke volumes from the seasoned bodyguard who had been known to infuriate clients with his methods. "I'm sure she'll come around." "Yeah," he said, then slumped into the chair. "But if it hadn't been for me, she wouldn't have left anyway." He drank a long swallow of coffee, feeling the burn of the hot liquid all the way down his throat. He deserved that, he supposed, some sort of punishment for hurting Callie. He clearly heard the shower and the image of her naked body beneath the spray made his body harden. Had Marc not been here, he might have tried the door, and if he found it unlocked, shed his clothing and slipped inside to share the morning shower with her. He dragged his fingers through his hair and tried to pull his thoughts onto safer topics. Thankfully, the patter of water against the tile ended. "I think you ought to tell her how you feel," Marc said. He drank his coffee, and Jase looked at his friend, knowing Marc wanted to say more, but was keeping quiet. "Ah, yes," Jase said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I did read the latest relationship book to be written by the infamous -- " Marc waved his hand at Jase, cutting off his friend's words. "Seriously, buddy. Tell her. She can't be mad at you if she knows." Jase risked a glance towards the bathroom, but saw the door closed. He turned his attention back to Marc. "Look, my love got Molly killed. I won't let it happen again." **** Callie opened the bathroom door to hear Jase tell Marc that his love had gotten Molly killed. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest. For a moment, she wondered if he felt more for her than he had admitted last night, but she shook her head. She refused to delude herself about relationships. She hung the towel over the rack and feeling much better after her shower, decided to join the boys in the kitchen. Silence filled the kitchen when she walked in to see Marc and Jase sitting across from each other drinking coffee. The morning paper laid spread out on the table between them, and she wondered if Marc had brought it from his hotel. She glanced at the headline, nothing out of the ordinary, and went to the

coffee maker to pour herself a cup. She filled her mug with the last of the coffee, then began another pot. Callie seated herself at the head of the table, between Jase and Marc. A part of her wanted to confront Jase about his remark, but she kept the words tucked inside. "What is on the agenda for today?" She asked, acting as if she hadn't overheard any of their conversation. She looked up at the man sitting across the table from Jase. "You must be Marc. I'm Callie." "Marc Coullet. It's nice to meet you," he said. "Jase didn't say anything about you joining our discussion." "I hear you guard superstars." Marc shrugged. "When I'm not working at my school, yes." He turned his attention to his friend. "But Jase isn't half bad either. I could tell you -- " Jase held up his hand, silencing his friend. "It's okay." She sat down at the table, not quite missing the strange look Marc gave Jase. "I think we need to check out Graven International. I have a few thoughts of my own, which I want to check out, and I think Jase has plans as well." Callie nodded. "What kind of plans?" From Marc's words it sounded as if both of them were going to be leaving, but she didn't think Jase would leave her alone. After all, the reason why Marc had flown out from California was so she would have someone to guard her. "I want to see the records for Graven International. I still think they might be behind your threats to stop your research." "I see. Please let me know what you find," she said, then mentally cursed herself. They were speaking like business-partners, no emotion in their voices whatsoever. _Is this what Jase wanted?_ Callie tried to keep the traitorous thought from surfacing, but failed. She turned to Marc, feeling almost like a game show host. "What about you?" "I let Jase know about a small group. They're established in California, and I don't know if they've made it out to the Midwest or not, but they're fanatical against anything new age. I want to see if they're here, and if so, if they're involved in the threats. They call themselves the Church of Eternal Light." Callie shivered. "I hate intolerant people like that. Thankfully, I haven't encountered many, and very few since moving to Iowa." She chuckled to herself. "But then again, I'm a recluse." She glanced at Jase to see his reaction, but he stared at a news story in the paper. "What about me? I thought one of you was going to stay here to guard me at all times."

"You stay here." Jase spoke harshly, and Marc gave him a cross look. Callie smiled at the vehemence in his voice. Apparently, he didn't want her taking any more midnight strolls. "I do have clients to help today. I think I'll stay in." Marc gave her a smile, and Jase frowned. He folded the paper and rose from the table. "I hope to be back in the early afternoon," Jase said. Without waiting for a reply, he left. A few moments later, Callie heard the front door close with more force than was necessary. She glanced at Marc. He rose to his feet and shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry about it, Callie," he said. "Give Jase time to deal with things on his own. He'll come around." With a wink, Marc carried his and Jase's coffee cups to the sink. "I brought my laptop over. I can do most of the research I need on the internet. I'll be in the living room if you need me." He didn't wait for an answer, but walked back into the living room. Callie sat alone in her kitchen staring at a rapidly cooling mug of coffee. She felt the bitter sting of tears in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to try and forestall them. Taking a deep breath, she decided that she, too, needed to get to work. "I don't believe this," she grumbled as she walked into the den. "I feel like I have a baby sitter. At least I had two phone lines hooked up when I moved in here. We won't be fighting over the internet, at least." She muttered under her breath as the computer booted up, and a few moments later, she began to work. Soon, the possibility of past lives being real and her client's concerns drowned out her own worries about Jase, and she lost herself in work. **** Jase had pulled everything he could on Graven International from his sources, including the library, and now, he sat in the parking lot of the company's West Des Moines operations staring at the monolithic-building. The huge cement and steel building looked as impenetrable as a fort. Thankfully, he didn't need to be inside the building. Not yet. On the surface, the company looked harmless, an international shipping company that wanted to open operations in the Midwest to capitalize on the agricultural markets. He doubted, really, that the company had anything to do with Callie's stalker. Published documents revealed a profitable company, nearly squeaky clean with regards to the law. A bit of insider trading by one of its executives a few years ago seemed to be the company's only brush with the law.

A brief news story published about seven years ago detailed the company's founding by Dominic Graven and hinted at his connections with the mob in post-depression times. A national business newspaper had just run an article about a proposed takeover of the company, and there, in national media, the CEO had been asked about the connections. The CEO had laughed it off, and nothing more had been made of it. No, if the company wanted to keep its unscrupulous beginning a secret, it wouldn't have had it published in a national paper. Deciding his investigation may be a dead end, Jase decided to return home. **** Callie rose to her feet and stretched. Staring at the computer screen, she decided she'd had a productive morning and decided to take a break. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that the coffee she drank wasn't solid food. A few moments later, she stood in the kitchen fixing a sandwich. The memory of Jase's words haunted her. His love had gotten Molly killed. He'd told her about Molly, about how she had died in a cult, but Callie knew he hadn't told her the entire story. She decided to enjoy her lunch in the living room, taking in the view of downtown Des Moines. Glancing towards the window, she saw a white piece of paper stuck to the glass. With a frown, she crossed her living room and opened her window. She easily reached out and grabbed the paper. At first glance, it looked like a piece of trash, perhaps a memo accidentally dropped or blown from a stack of papers. Several law firms bracketed her apartment building, and she wondered if it might have come from any of them. "Hey, did you see this?" She asked Marc. Window washers worked not far from her porch. "See what?" Marc looked up from his computer. "There's a note taped to my window." Before Marc could stop her, she pulled the paper inside and closed the window. In bold, block letters someone had written her name. A small piece of double-sided tape had affixed the paper to the window. Callie shook. "Oh my God," she said, "Another threat?" Swallowing hard, she turned over the paper. Another piece of transparent tape held the paper closed, and with shaking hands, she unfolded it. "I warned you." A scream bubbled its way up her throat. She flung the paper away from her. Sinking into the chair, she covered her face. She didn't fight to contain the sobs, instead letting her cries flow freely. Another threat, and this one was taped to the window of her apartment. When had it been placed there? She never noticed the window washers before, usually working in her den until evening. Had it been one of them? What if this had been going on longer than

she thought? With a shaking breath, she realized that it had to have been placed while she was working. She didn't want to be left alone in her apartment ever again. Callie swallowed hard. She wanted to call Jase, but had no idea where he was. She stared at the piece of paper on the floor as if it might attack her, then rose to her feet and closed her curtains. Marc reached over and picked up the paper. He studied it carefully, then carried it into the kitchen. Callie sank into the couch, missing Jase's tender caring. Marc acted as if this happened all the time, and perhaps in his world it did. Swallowing hard, she realized that it wasn't the first time she had been threatened, and she suspected it wouldn't be the last, either. "What are we going to do?" she asked. "I'll show it to Jase when he gets back. And you need to stay out of sight and away from the windows, all right? As long as they can't see you and can't get in, you'll be safe." "Okay." Callie sighed heavily, thinking of the open curtains in her den. She trudged back to close them and forced herself to trust Marc. With the curtains now closed, she sat down at her desk. The feeling of eyes staring at her back persisted. Callie shivered. _So much work just to scare me._ "Get back to work, Callie," she mumbled to herself. Her voice seemed to echo in the den, and Callie shook her head. She knew she wasn't going to be able to work; her mind was whirling too quickly. Taking a deep breath, she booted up her computer and watched as the screen whirred to life. Two hours later, Callie found herself engrossed in a news article online about Norma Winters. She'd discovered the story by following an obscure web link, and the writer seemed to have an uncanny ability to get inside Norma's mind. She noticed at the bottom that the writer had a book released a few months ago, and she quickly went over to an online bookseller for further information. The book was still in hard cover, and Callie couldn't quite justify spending money on the book. The topic seemed to drift away from Norma, whom the author must have just encountered in research, to the more political climate of the era. Callie shrugged. She had all of that kind of information that she needed. The phone rang. Callie jumped in her seat. Marc must have finished his research. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she stared at the slim, black phone sitting on the edge of her desk. The phone rang again. A quick glance at her desk calendar showed she had no appointments for the next two days, so the call wasn't business. She debated on letting the answering machine or Marc take the call.

The phone rang again. _Damn it. She wasn't going to be scared into hiding._ Callie swallowed hard. Her hand shook as she reached for the receiver. "Hello," she said, her voice sounding more hesitant than she would have liked. "Don't hang up the phone." The male voice sounded as if someone muffled it with a rag. "I want you to listen to me. Did you get my earlier warning?" Callie nodded, then belatedly realized that the caller couldn't see her. Or could he? She glanced nervously around her den. She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it, not knowing what to do. _I should hang up or call Marc, but what if by hanging up I lose some valuable clue for Jase._ "Your silence tells me you did. Bring all your research to this address 1818 Abercross Street. Be here in an hour." "I don't know where that is," Callie replied. Her heart beat in her chest, and she glanced at the reams and reams of papers for her research. Surely the caller couldn't mean for her to bring it all. It would take her nearly an hour to load the car without an extra set of hands to help her. Jase. She sucked in a breath, not knowing if Jase would be home and what about Marc? "It's just off of University." He gave her a few more directions that helped her to pinpoint the location, and her heart sank. The part of town the caller wanted her to go to wasn't one she would voluntarily go on her own, even in broad daylight. "Come alone and bring all of your research. If there's anyone with you, especially that _bodyguard_ you hired, you're dead. If you don't show, lover boy is dead. Got that?" The voice went quiet, and a few moments later the phone clicked. Callie listened to the nasal voice telling her if she wanted to make a call to please hang up and try again. She started pulling file folders out of her cabinet, trying to decide what to take and what to leave. The caller had said to bring all of her research, but the idea of turning over everything seemed abhorrent. She had computer files, notes of her regressions and the corresponding research, all with notations of exactly where she found the information. At least, she thought to herself, if I turn over all the paper, I'd still have that. She put three bulging file folders into an old paper box she had stacked in the corner of her den. Tears stung her eyes when she thought of the hours of work she had placed into those slips of papers. "I have to do this," she whispered aloud, blinking back the tears. She walked out to the kitchen and pulled open the drawer. Before she had a chance for second thoughts, she grabbed a steak knife. It wasn't the largest,

or the sharpest utensil she had in the house, but it was something. If she were going to meet the enemy, she didn't want to do it unarmed. She wished now she had a gun, then shivered at the thought. Even without knowing how Norma died, she hated guns. Back in her den, she sat at her desk and tried to figure out how to get past Marc. "Who was that on the phone?" Marc's voice floated through the wall. "Everything all right?" "Just fine. A client wanted to make an appointment," Callie replied, proud that her voice didn't shake. "Good." Callie rose to her feet and walked out to the living room. "Look, do you mind if I go down to my car. I won't leave, I promise. I have a bag of stuff to take to goodwill, and if I don't get out of here, I'm going to go crazy." "I'll take it for you," Marc offered. He frowned. "I really don't want you to leave. It isn't safe, you know." "I know." She put on her best puppy-dog eyes. "Look, I know this isn't fun for you, but it's for your own safety. Jase told me to stay here and watch you. That's what I'm going to do." "All right," Callie said as she turned and walked back to her den. Once inside, she shut the door behind her and tried not to pace. _I've got to get out. I have to meet him if Jase is to live. If I tell Marc, then he'll rush out..._ Callie grinned, then quickly stifled it. She walked back to the living room. "I lied," she said. Marc looked up from his perch. "Oh?" "Yeah." Callie sighed. "The call. It wasn't a client. Some guy wanted me to bring my research and meet him in an hour. He said that -- that he'd kill Jase if I didn't. I was going to try and do it myself, but I can't." Her voice wavered. Marc bolted to his feet. "Where?" "2139 Colden Road. He gave directions. It's up by Drake University." The false address spilled easily from her lips. "Thank you. Stay here! Don't go anywhere." Marc glanced at the clock. "Jase should be back soon. I'll go check it out. An hour he said right?" Callie nodded, wide-eyed.

"You did the right thing, Callie. I'll be back." Marc reached into a duffle bag sitting beside Jase's and slipped a shoulder holster on over his shirt. He grabbed the keys to his car and started for the door. "Stay right here, Callie. I mean it!" He muttered under his breath about Jase returning soon, then with a click, left. Callie breathed a sigh of relief. _I can go alone now. Neither Marc nor Jase will be hurt because of me._ Squeezing her eyes closed, she took deep breaths to steady her heart. _I better wait to be sure he left._ Ten minutes later, Callie looked around her apartment one, last time, then deciding she had everything, placed her purse in the box and walked towards the door. "I hired you to protect me, Jase. I wish I didn't have to do this by myself, but it's for your own good." She shook her head. Jase had said he didn't want his love getting her killed. At least if she did this on her own, he wouldn't have any reason to blame himself. The need to have this nightmare over drove at her. She didn't care how, or why, but she wanted the torment to end. Picking up the box, she vowed that whatever happened, she wouldn't be bothered again. Twenty minutes later in the parking garage, Callie's resolve wavered. She breathed deeply as she shoved the box across the car seat. "I can do this," she said to herself. She thought fleetingly that she should have left a note for Jase, but she didn't want to take the time to return to her apartment. A glance at her watch told her she had thirty minutes to get to the location the man had given her. Her palms began to sweat. With the box stowed safely in the car, Callie knelt by the right, front tire of the car. With her flashlight, she looked for any more tracking devices Jase might have placed on the car. She didn't see any there or on the back tires. On the left, front tire, her light caught the steady blinking of a green light. "Damn it," she cursed, knowing Jase had set the box before he had left. She pulled at the device, grunting as the magnet refused to give up its hold. Finally, the magnet released, sending her backwards onto her rear. Callie quickly glanced around to see if anyone saw her, then rose to her feet. "Damn you, Jase," she growled and rolled the box towards the back of the parking garage. It clattered away. "I don't want you getting killed." she growled under her breath as she slipped into the driver's seat. She started the car, and a few minutes later, merged into downtown traffic. Callie sped going up Second Avenue. Her watch showed twenty minutes to reach her destination. She didn't want to know what would happen if she were late. As she stopped for a stoplight, she drummed her fingers against the

steering wheel. A school bus stopped to let off passengers just beyond the intersection, and Callie cursed. When she stopped for the second stoplight in as many blocks, Callie growled under her breath. It wasn't that she was in a hurry to get to the rendezvous point, but she wanted to be there. She didn't want to be late, didn't want to give them any excuses to harm Jase. If she could just give the man her box and leave, everything would be just fine. Callie shook her head. She knew it wouldn't happen that way. Taking a deep breath as the light turned green, she tried to steel herself for the possibility that the men might want more than her research. She shook her head. It still made no sense that these men were after her past life research, and she hadn't done anything that anyone else in her position wouldn't do. She crossed over the interstate, and once officially out of downtown traffic seemed to move much easier. Callie shook her head, wishing for a stoplight, anything to keep her from inching closer to her destination. She debated about turning the car around; after all, they wouldn't know that she had been almost there before losing her nerve. Sucking in a deep breath, she knew she couldn't. If she turned around, Jase might be home, and then she'd have to explain to him what she had been doing. He would find out about the threats, and he wouldn't be happy with her for lying to Marc and leaving. _I don't want anything to happen to him._ Nibbling on her lower lip, she turned onto University Avenue and began to look for the street. The street lay closer to the east side than she thought. The neighborhood changed from houses to buildings, then finally to industrial complexes. She shivered, thinking of the warehouses Vinnie used to work in, and if she were getting herself into the same situation. Too late now, she thought as she turned the corner to Abercross Street. The street numbers began in the hundreds, so she kept vigilant for 1818. Finally, she saw it. A huge warehouse dominated the corner. No company names covered the front. Once again, she wished she could have talked with Jase. He was researching the company, perhaps he will have this information already. In fact, she hoped Jase might already be there, bad guys already captured, and ready to chastise her. Callie shook her head. That sort of thing only happened in movies, and her life was far from a movie script. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she said aloud as she pulled into the parking lot. "Well, I'm here. There's no turning back." ****

Jase pulled into the apartment parking garage. He looked for Callie's car, but didn't see it. He hoped Marc had moved it. _If she left..._ Jase didn't finish the thought. She infuriated him at times, more so now that he realized he cared for her than when she was just a client. Clients did silly things, that's why they usually had to hire a bodyguard. He growled under his breath at the thought of her placing herself willingly in danger. Feeling frustrated by his lack of solid evidence, he hoped Marc had better luck with his research. To think that between the two of them, they still had no leads about the threats against Callie burned in his stomach. If these men were that good, then perhaps Callie should have called the police. He didn't want to fight that argument with her again. The elevator arrived, and he stepped inside, automatically pushing the button for Callie's floor. He smiled. Maybe he could send Marc out to check up on some new leads his friend might have found, so he could distract her away from her work. His body tightened when he thought about how responsive she had been last night, how good she had felt in his arms. He wanted more of that. He was greedy; he admitted to himself, he wanted Callie in his bed -every night. The elevator slid to a stop, and Jase stepped into the hallway. It never ceased to amaze him that although he stood in an apartment building he heard no noises coming from behind the closed doors. Unlike the apartment buildings he was used to, he couldn't hear children crying, or loud televisions. It almost seemed eerie. As if no one besides Callie lived on this floor. He shrugged. All the doors had names, he'd once walked down the hall to check, and so he had to assume people lived there. Very quiet people without children. Jase stopped in front of Callie's apartment door. He tried the knob and found it locked. "Good girl, Callie," he thought to himself as he fished the keys out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and opened it. Silence filled the apartment. Jase stepped inside, then locked the door behind him. "Hello," he called. "Marc? Callie?" He paused in the foyer, and glanced into Callie's study. He didn't see her in there working, didn't hear the click of her keys on the keyboard. He peeked into the bedroom, but she wasn't there either. The rumpled covers reminded him of making love with her last night, and he closed his eyes to try and stop the memories from rushing through his mind. Jase stepped into the living room. He didn't see Callie in the kitchen, nor was she in the living room. "Damn it, Callie. This isn't funny," he said aloud. No one answered. "Marc, where the hell are you?" The dining room table had been cleared off, not even the morning paper cluttered it, and he didn't see a note. Grumbling under his breath, he glanced at

the phone. No blinking light to indicate a message, either. "Callie," he yelled, his voice growing more frantic. It wasn't like her to leave unannounced. He darted to his bag and pulled out the GPS device. He had placed the tracker back on her car, so if she had left, he would know. The light blinked steadily, showing the device's location as still in the apartment complex. Her car must still be in the garage. Fear hammered at him. "Callie, damn it, answer me." He darted from room to room, not seeing her anywhere. He couldn't deny it. Callie was gone. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he paced the living room. He took deep breaths, trying to decide why she had left. The library, he wondered, thinking that Callie liked to walk the few blocks it took her to reach the downtown library. Perhaps she went out for lunch. Why would she do that though, without leaving a note? And where the hell had Marc gone? He'd left Marc with her. She was supposed to be perfectly safe with Marc watching. Unless she had been taken. "Oh God," Jase groaned as he slumped onto the couch. His mind whirled with a hundred different possibilities, none of them good. "I did this," he said, the echo of his words in the empty apartment taunting him. "I let her get caught." He tried to stop the onslaught of pain, and couldn't. His gaze fell on the end table. There, a single piece of paper sat where one hadn't been there before. The paper looked like typing paper and gently Jase unfolded it. He noticed a piece of double-sided tape at the top, and Callie's name written in black marker on the back. His blood ran cold. He didn't want to turn over the paper, but knew what he would find. Three words mocked him. Those same three words he had been hearing ever since Callie had brought him into this project: _Stop the Research._ Jase shook his head. He still had no idea still why anyone would want Callie to stop her work. For all anyone knew, she was eccentric, trying to prove the existence of something that didn't exist. Sure, he could think of fanatics, nut cases who might want her work stopped, but this seemed far too elaborate for anyone but the most hardened criminals. His blood ran cold. He had to operate on the assumption that both Marc and Callie were taken. Jase took a deep breath. The first thing was to decide if her car was still here. If it was, then he could deduce she was taken. If not, then she went somewhere. Jase closed his eyes. If he found out that she had willingly gone to whomever was making the threats, he'd kill her himself. Rising to his feet, Jase cursed. A few minutes later, he stood in the parking garage. The GPS device couldn't

pinpoint in what spot her car had been parked. All he knew was that the tracker was still in the garage. He stared where he had seen her car parked this morning, working outward from that space. Nothing. He didn't see her car, or any car that remotely resembled hers. He moved to the next row, now three rows back from where she had parked. As he walked, his foot kicked something on the ground. It clattered beneath a jeep, and Jase thought he saw a blinking green light. He cursed. Getting down on his hands and knees, he searched under the car for the device. The green light mocked him, and partially wedging himself beneath the car, he grabbed the box. Pulling it out from beneath the car, he held it under the light. It was the tracking device he'd affixed to Callie's car. -------*Eleven* Callie stared at the exterior of the warehouse. The windowless dark brown metal siding hid any signs of life. The deserted parking lot made her want to turn the car around and go home, but fear froze her in place. Feeling as if someone else were controlling her body, she put the car in park and turned off the ignition. A single door, a lighter shade of brown than the building, sat on the wall facing her. The glass window held no clues as to the interior of the building. Callie swallowed hard. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she swore she heard it echoing in the tiny interior of the car. "I have to do this," she whispered to herself. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to muster the courage to get out of the car. With a shaking hand, she wrapped her fingers around the door handle. A quick flick of her wrist opened the door. The box of papers sitting on her passenger seat mocked her. Taking deep breaths, she managed to calm her racing heart. _I can do this._ Her hand shook only a little as she opened the car door and rose to her feet. She saw no one as she opened her passenger side door. Slipping her purse over her shoulder, she tucked the car keys in her jeans pocket, then pulled out the box. She rested it against the car as she closed the door. The mundane chore seemed to reassure her, and she tried to keep thoughts of the mob and threats out of her mind. She knew Jase would be furious if he knew what she was doing. Taking a deep breath, she knew this would be the only way in which to find out who her stalkers were. She glanced around, noticing for the first time the cornfields that stretched out on either side of the building. A beer distribution plant sat on the lot beside it, and a lot full of

garbage trucks sat across the street. For a moment, she regretted not leaving Jase's tracking device on her car, then shook her head. She could handle herself; she'd proved that last night. Callie walked across the parking lot, new asphalt she noticed, to the door of the building. She searched behind the window, trying to see any sign of people inside. She saw none. The door remained closed, even as she neared it. Perhaps no one is here. She turned around to look back at her car. Maybe she could leave without anyone noticing her. Callie glanced away from her car. She stepped onto the sidewalk, just a few feet away from the door. She forced herself to breathe evenly; after all, she had information they wanted. Two steps from the door, it opened. The door swung in, giving Callie a glimpse of the empty interior of the warehouse. Lights from overhead fixtures illuminated the building, but it felt cold to her. She saw no one inside. Vinnie worked in a warehouse. The thought came unbidden to her, and Callie paused on the sidewalk and closed her eyes. When she opened them, the building looked as unwelcoming as it had moments ago. Swallowing hard, she stepped forward. An image flashed through her mind of Norma stepping hesitantly into a warehouse. She saw the woman's fur coat, a gorgeous mink that felt snug on the chilly winter night. Snow swirled around her boots, and Norma shivered thinking what an awful place Vinnie had picked for a meeting with an investor. Doctor Grazziani loved jazz, Vinnie had told her, and he wanted to meet in the warehouse down by the dock. Towards the center of the building, she saw a table with three men sitting around it. Dominic and Vinnie she recognized immediately, guessing the third man to be Doctor Grazziani. Cigar smoke hung like broken haloes over the men's head, and Vinnie and Mr. Grazziani had glasses filled with amber liquid. Vinnie's glass contained clear liquid, either vodka or water, Norma guessed. She halted just inside the door. "Hi, boys," she said, her husky voice echoing in the warehouse. "I'm here." A hand grabbed Callie's arm, pulling her out of the regression. She blinked her eyes, seeing a single folding chair flanked by four men. For a moment, she wondered if she dropped her box and mimicked Norma's actions if she would get a response. She doubted it, for each of the four men were dressed in black and standing at attention, feet shoulder width apart, arms crossed across their massive chests. She tried to get a good look at the men's faces, but the dim lighting made that difficult. A man stepped up to her side, stopping her just inside the door. He slammed it behind her, and Callie jumped. The papers in the box rustled.

"So nice you could join us," he said. The man's voice sounded familiar, almost like the phone calls, but too crisp and clear. "Who are you?" Callie demanded. She glanced to her right, trying to see the man who held her, and couldn't. He stepped behind her, just outside the range of her peripheral vision. She turned to look behind her, the man was always just one step outside her range. She whipped her head to the left. The man held up his hand, the side of her face smacking into it, and Callie gave a cry of surprise and hastily looked forward again. Her cheek hurt from where it collided with his hand, and she wondered if she would have a red mark. "That doesn't matter," he said. "Walk." He shoved Callie forward, and she stumbled. The box tipped precariously, papers sliding towards the edge. She righted the box and took a few, jogging steps forward to try and outpace the man. Behind her, she heard derisive laughter. Callie shivered. Fear rose within her, uncoiling like a snake ready to strike. The men standing by the chair stood still, not even a hair moved. They weren't hired for their brains. Their faces were expressionless masks, and she knew, deep in her soul, that they wouldn't hesitate to kill her. She slowed her steps, and the man behind her, prodded her in the back with a blunt object. The barrel of a gun? She stopped in front of the chair. "Drop the box," he said. She set it on the ground, then straightened. The man poked her in the back. "Sit!" Immediately, the man on her left went to work, binding her feet to the legs of the chair. He left her hands and mouth free. "What do you want?" Callie demanded. "Why did you torment me?" She looked up at the man who had been behind her, getting a good look at him for the first time. He was tall and lean, without being muscled, and she had him pegged for someone who paid others to do his dirty work. He wore a charcoal gray suit, immaculately pressed, with a matching tie and handkerchief in his pocket. His shoes looked expensive, and he moved with the air of one used to getting what he wanted. Callie kept her gaze focused on him, though she wanted to run and hide. "You are Callie Davis, right?" He asked. Callie nodded. Her mouth went dry with fear, and she didn't think she could force any words past her parched lips. The man stepped forward. He caressed her cheek, his hand feeling like a worm against her skin. "They didn't tell me you were as beautiful as you are intelligent," he said. An emotion, as cold as the cement floor beneath her feet, danced in her eyes, and Callie couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her.

She tested the bindings that held her legs, but found them tight. "What do you want with me?" she demanded. The man stepped closer, yet careful to be sure he was out of range for her hands. Callie's fingers itched to wrap themselves in the lapels of his coat and shake him. A need for violence ripped through her, and she wanted to harm this man, this bastard who had caused her so many sleepless nights. She wondered what Jase would think of her ferocity. "I want to know what you know," he said, his voice low. "If you answer my questions, I'll let you go. If I don't, then you'll feed the catfish in the Des Moines river." "Sounds kind of melodramatic to me," Callie drawled. A memory of an old gangster movie tugged at her mind. "All you mob types like to drown people don't you. It's easier. Not as messy. Don't like blood do you?" "Bitch," the man growled. He slapped her, the back of his hand colliding with her cheek. Callie cried out as the blow whipped her head around, and she tasted the metallic taste of blood where she had bit her cheek. "I think you've been reading too many books." He emphasized the reading too many books part. "How close am I to the truth? Tell me who you are and what you want with me." She gestured to herself. "I'm just a past lives researcher. Most of society thinks I'm a flake. Why do you believe what I've discovered?" Her lips hurt, and she closed her eyes. The man grew fiercer. "What have you discovered, Ms. Davis? What do you know?" He bellowed, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse. He stepped forward, grabbing the shoulders of her shirt. He shook her, slamming her back against the metal folding chair. "What do you know?" Callie reached up and locked her hands on his arms. She tried to shove him away, but he wouldn't budge. Leaning forward, she bit him. The sleeve of his suit jacket muffled the effect of her teeth. Curling her fingers into claws, she went for his face. She had short fingernails, a fact she hadn't worried about until now, and her fingers did little damage. "What do you know? You will tell me, or I'll kill you." She felt no loose skin on his face, and Callie reached up to grab his earlobe. She twisted. The man yelped with pain. He shoved her back, hard enough to topple the chair, then scurried away from her like a mouse from a fox. Callie cried out as the back of her head connected with the cement floor of the warehouse. Stars swam in front of her eyes. She lay there, like a fish out of water. Beside her, the men remained at their posts. Apparently, they weren't

supposed to move until the other man gave the order. Her back hurt where the edge of the chair had bit into it, and her left hand had gotten pinched in the legs of the chair. "Set her up," the man ordered. "And tie her hands." One of the men stepped forward. He effortlessly tilted her chair back to an upright position. Then, another man handed him a roll of duct tape, and he taped her wrists together behind her. The motion wrenched her shoulders and sent a dull throb through her arms. The threatening man stepped forward. "Now, you are going to answer my questions and answer them well. He doesn't want you dead, but I'm sure he'll forgive me if I slip and kill your loverboy anyway." Callie shuddered. Taking a deep breath, she tried to shove thoughts of Jase from her mind. She did this for him, to keep him safe. A part of her wished that he would track her down and save her, but that would only put him in danger. She didn't want him in danger, not because of her. "Who are you researching?" The man asked, drawing her out of her thoughts. "Who are you?" Callie said. "I want to know who I'm talking to." Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw one of the guards smirk, his expression quickly neutralized. "It doesn't matter what my name is," he said, then smiled. "but you can call me Vincent." Callie bit her lip as a wave of nausea washed through her. "Okay, Vincent," she sneered his name, "why do you want to know about my research?" Vincent paced in front of her. He ran his fingers through his short, blonde hair that looked as if it had come out of a bottle. "It interests me," he said. "Isn't that why you're doing the research? Because you're interested." _That's one way to put it._ "You could say that," she replied. "Good." Vincent stepped back. "So, who are you researching?" "Norma Winters, a night club singer from the forties." Callie replied. She slumped in her seat as much as her bonds would let her. No use lying to the man, she realized, he probably knew as much about her research as she did. Plus, the sooner she told the truth, the sooner he would let her go.

"Anyone else?" Callie bit her lip. "Norma Winter is the primary focus of my research," she said, trying to hedge around the question. "But did your research turn up anyone else?" He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. "Lots of people," Callie flippantly replied. "Stage hands. Club managers. Is there someone you were looking for in particular?" Vincent arched his eye brows. "You know who, Ms. Davis. Did your research uncover information about Dominic Graven?" "It did, though not much," she said. Her heart plummeted. Jase had mentioned Graven Industries as the possible source of her tormentors. The idea that the multi-million dollar company wanted to torture her made goose bumps rise on her arms. "Just how much, is not much?" Vincent asked, and Callie gulped. **** "Damn it," Jase growled as he paced Callie's living room for what seemed like the millionth time. He dragged his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe she ditched you. I never thought Callie would do something that stupid." He paused and released a sigh. "Look, I was the one who went after her information. The letter was taped to the window, then she tried to hide the phone call from me. Neither one of us knew." He leaned back into the couch. "The best thing for us to do now is to look for her. This could have happened on anyone's watch. It doesn't do you any good to play "what if". Not right now." Marc leaned forward and fixed his friend with the cold, hard stare he had perfected in his line of work. "We'll find her. Even if it means searching every building in this town, we will find her." "What if she's dead?" Jase asked in a harsh whisper. "Oh God, what if I have failed her like I failed Molly. Damn it." With a groan, he resumed his pacing. "Think," Marc said. "The tracker is still here. Either she removed it from her car or someone else did. Either way, her car is very traceable. We've already got the police looking for the car, and for her. What else do we know? There's no sign of struggle. Not in the apartment. Not in the parking garage. She wasn't harmed when she left. Those are both good signs, Jase." Marc rose to his feet and crossed the living room. He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "We'll find her. I'll move heaven and hell to find her, and so will you." Jase sighed. "You're right." He walked over to the table. His gaze rested on

the phone, the source of so many of her previous threats. "Christ, Marc. I nearly overlooked the biggest clue." He picked up the phone and punched in star sixty-nine. A feminine voice listed the number of the last incoming call, and a smile spread over Jase's features. He stared at the number, then smiled at his friend. "The last threat showed up as an unknown number. This time we got something." Without waiting for Marc's reply, he ran into the den and booted up Callie's computer. A few moments later, he logged onto the internet and launched a website for reverse phone number lookup. A few moments later Jase growled. The number couldn't be found. He tried a few more websites, cursing each time an address couldn't be found with the phone number. Still, he knew it was a local number, and one that looked as if it had come from the east side of town. There had to be a way to find it. Jase shut down Callie's computer, then emerged from the den. "What did you find?" Marc asked. "Nothing. The number looks as if it is on the east side though. That has to be something." Jase replied. Marc nodded. "Yeah. Shall we split up to look for Callie's car?" Jase folded the paper into a tiny square and shoved it into his pocket. He balled his hands into fists and fought against the urge to hit something. Frustration pounded through him. Callie had hired him to protect her, and he had failed her. Just like he had failed Molly. **** Callie kept her gaze pointed at the ground. Sweat beaded on her brow, and a vicious urge to urinate seized her. Vincent had grilled her for nearly an hour now, never quite happy with any of her answers. The guards had come and gone once during the hour, presumably for smoke breaks, for the scent of tobacco clung to their clothing when they had returned. She licked her dry, cracked lips, wincing at the taste of blood. "What more do you want?" She growled at him. "I've told you everything I know, and you still don't believe me." She had tugged at the bonds holding her wrist in the last hours, the duct tape affixed firmly to her flesh. She winced as the tape pulled her tender skin yet again. Tears stung her eyes, tears of frustration and pain, but she refused to give in to them. She didn't want to give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "What are you going to do with the information you found?" Vincent asked for what seemed to be the twentieth time. "I'm going to publish a novel on past lives," Callie said. The fib didn't bother

her, not that she figured this man would understand the implications of her research. "Nothing more. These people are just research subjects." "Why them?" "Why not?" Callie countered. She noticed that Vincent had moved the box off to one side, as if now that he had her captured the papers she had spent years accumulating meant nothing. It infuriated her. Not that she wanted him to steal her work, not at all, but that he could toss it aside so carelessly. The warehouse door opened. Callie raised her attention from the floor to the man entering. For a moment her heart leapt, thinking it might be Jase here to save her. But as she saw the long coat with the expensive suit beneath it, she knew that wasn't the case. This man radiated power the way a heater gave off warmth. He glanced at Vincent, a scowl that spoke vehemently about his opinion of the underling, then at the guards standing on either side of Callie. He glanced at Callie's bloody face, then at Vincent. "You fool," he said, backhanding the man as easily as he could have swatted a fly. "I told you not to hurt her." He spoke with a slight eastern accent, that alone piquing Callie's curiosity. She remained silent. She would know soon enough, she assumed, who this new person was. He moved like a tiger stalking his prey, and she swallowed hard to think he might have been over these people. "Move her car. The police are looking for it." he growled to Vincent. Vincent gestured to one of the guards. "Go move Ms. Davis' car." "Yes, sir," the guard on her right said, then walked towards the door. The man waited until the guard had left, then grabbed Vincent's collar. "Can you screw this up any more badly?" He asked, shaking the smaller man. "The police are looking for her car. They know she's gone. She's tied up like a turkey, and you've bloodied her. That's kidnapping and assault charges at best, attempted murder at worst. I just wanted you to get information on her research. What does she know?" Vincent shook his head. He stared at the man, obviously afraid, and Callie tried not to shake. "I can't tell, sir. I think she's lying." Vincent's voice shook. He released Vincent, shoving him so he stumbled away from them, then turned and strode towards Callie. "Is he telling the truth?" the man asked, glaring at her. Callie tried not to squirm beneath that intense gaze. "Are you lying to him?" He bent down so his lips were inches from Callie's ear. "If you are, I will kill you. You know too much."

Callie's blood ran cold. She was dead no matter which way it went, she realized with a jolt. Swallowing hard, she stared at the man. "I am not lying." She spoke deliberately. "If you untie me, I will, however, tell you all that I know. Once you tell me who you are." She forced her voice to remain steady and her gaze strong. To appear weak would only make her more so in the eyes of these men. "My name is not important, the fact that I could kill you is," he said. "I will not untie you, but you will tell me everything you know." He ran his finger along the side of her cheek, making her wince as he encountered a bruise Vincent had left. "Why do you want to know about my research?" Callie sobbed. Her heart felt as if it were being wrenched from her body. She thought of Jase, somewhere looking for her, and a stab of pain pierced her heart. _I was only trying to keep him safe, and now he's probably out looking for me and in even more danger. I thought all they wanted was the paperwork._ "I don't have any information you guys want. I don't know anything. All I did was research a historical figure. I don't know anything about what you're doing or what you want with me." She sobbed openly, not caring that tears ran down her cheeks, the salty liquid stinging her cuts. A sense of defeat filled her. _I hired Jase to protect me, then my own damn stubbornness is what is going to get me killed. I'm sorry, Jase. I'm sorry I failed you._ The man knelt down, the patronizing look on his face like one he might give a child. "Why don't you tell me how it all began and what you know? I'll be the judge of whether I need the information or not." He sounded so sincere, that Callie started to retract her earlier doubts about her safety. "My wrists hurt," she said. "Can you untie me?" The man shook his head, apologies in his eyes. "I can't do that, Callie, but if you tell us everything you know. I'll make sure you're set free, okay?" She believed him. God help her, but she believed him. Taking a deep breath, she told him about the first past life regression and just kept explaining. **** Jase turned over in his mind the facts he'd accumulated on Graven Industries. According to what he knew, the company operated completely on the west side of town. All their operations were in West Des Moines. Jase turned the car around in the main post office's parking lot at the corner of Second Avenue and University Avenue. He growled under his breath. A

thorough search of several streets revealed no sign of Callie's car. Releasing a pent up breath, he pounded the steering wheel with the palm of his hand in rage. It would take the police days to search all of the streets and parking lots in Des Moines. He doubted they would find her car anytime soon. Glancing at the cell phone sitting on the passenger seat, he debated about calling Marc. He decided against it, knowing his friend searched another section of the east side. He had just spoken with Marc fifteen minutes ago. His friend doubtless hadn't found anything during that time. Jase took a deep breath. He pulled into a parking lot, to gather his thoughts. "Face it," he muttered to himself, "you wanted to break into the building, bust open the door, and play the hero. Well, you're not going to get the chance." He had failed Callie just like had failed Molly. Beautiful, sweet, precious Molly, whom he had loved more than life itself, had died for his failure. Had he not been in love with her, he might have seen the signs, might have interpreted her behavior differently, and warned her about the cult. Closing his eyes, he remembered her bright, shining eyes when she had told him about the leader and his path for enlightenment, how she had felt she had finally come home. She should have felt that way in his arms, and slammed his hand against the steering wheel again in frustration. If he loved Callie enough, he should have been able to protect her. The thought startled Jase. Opening his eyes, he stared at the empty parking lot. If he had loved her enough, this would never have happened. Jase sighed. The same thought happened to everyone who had tragic things happen to their loved ones, and he could have kicked himself for already thinking that he had lost her. He tried to pull his thoughts back to the investigation, back to what they could do. If Callie had loved him enough, she wouldn't have left. The thought hammered through his mind, pinning him in his seat. Staring blankly ahead, he wondered if Callie really did love him. He thought so, felt it in her body when she had made love with him, but he really didn't know. The thought scared him. Until that moment, he hadn't thought about the future, nothing except the day-to-day activities of running his investigation. He had to admit to himself that his actions seemed pitiful in comparison. He sighed. Perhaps Callie had a right to leave without his consent. He'd done damned little to ensure her safety, and now he sat in an abandoned parking lot whining to himself because he realized he loved her. The idea didn't sit well with him. The ringing of the cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and Jase answered the call. The display showed Marc's number. "Find anything?" he asked. "Negative," Marc replied. He sounded as disappointed as Jase felt.

"I'm going back to her apartment. I want to see if I can run some more checks on that phone number." "I'll stay out here and keep looking. And Jase," Marc said. "we'll find her." "I hope so. Man, I hope so." Jase clicked off the cell phone, then backed the car out of the parking place to return to Callie's house. **** Callie licked her dry, cracked lips. The man who replaced Vincent had kept her talking almost nonstop about her investigations, her research, why she was researching it. He seemed to take everything in stride, even her explanations of the past life research. When she mentioned Norma Winters he seemed to perk up, asking more questions about her methods and how she verified if things were true. Callie took a deep breath. "I see," he said, pacing in front of her. "That is quite fascinating, Ms. Davis." He stared at her like a piranha stared at a goldfish. "Thank you," Callie replied, unsure of what to say. "Can I have a glass of water?" "I have one more question for you, then yes, I'll let you have a glass of water. Have you encountered any ties to modern-day organized crime?" Callie nearly slumped in her seat from relief. Not only might she have a glass of water shortly, but also he finally asked her a question she could answer. "I have confined my research to the era of Norma Winters. I have not found any connections to modern day organized crime." "I see," he said, and gestured for one of the guards. "Get the lady some water." The guard nodded, then turned and walked towards the back of the warehouse. In the guard's absence, the other three having left some time earlier, she found herself sitting alone with the man. "So, you have not done any research, past, say 1949?" he asked. Callie shook her head. "No, I haven't." "You have this wealth of information, all of which dates back nearly seventy years, and you're not going to tie it into the modern day? Pardon me, Ms. Davis, but I find that hard to believe. After all, you do need to prove these 'past lives' are real, don't you?" He narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he walked forward. He trailed his hand along her cheek to cup her chin. "Ms. Davis, I don't like liars." Callie swallowed hard. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, it wouldn't

matter what she told him. He wouldn't believe her. She'd die, and she would die without telling Jase she loved him. -------*Twelve* Movement out of the corner of her eye kept Callie from answering the question. The guard returned with a bottle of water, and he looked to his boss before handing it to her. The boss nodded, and the guard uncapped the bottle and held it to Callie's lips. She drank three large swallows of the water. She never thought bottled water had tasted so good. Unfortunately, the drink of water reminded her that she hadn't relieved herself in some time, and the urge returned. "I'll ask the question again," he said. "You are making no plans to draw conclusions from your data to the modern day activities of this same group of people? I find that very hard to believe." "You can believe whatever you damn well want," Callie growled. The water had refreshed her, and the knowledge that she would die invigorated her. She refused to go to her death a simpering fool. Taking a deep breath, she glared at the man. "Can I at least have your name?" He arched his eyebrows and glared at her. "John is sufficient," he said, and Callie knew he wasn't telling her his real name. "You sound quite sure of yourself for someone whom I could kill with an order. Are you sure you don't want to tell me the truth." "Look, John," Callie sneered. "I am telling you the truth. It is not my fault that you don't want to believe it. I am not planning on drawing any modern day parallels, save for my own personal work, which has nothing to do with anything outside of my past life regressions and what I found out. If you don't want to believe it fine. Go to hell. I don't care." John stepped back. "I don't think you understand." He nodded to the guards, and she noticed them moving into the shadows, away from the two of them. He stepped forward, his strides smooth with confidence. Reaching behind her, he began to tear the tape away from her hands. The adhesive burned where he ripped it from her skin, and Callie cried out in pain. Her hands free, she dropped them to her sides, letting the flow of blood return. Her fingers tingled, and Callie slowly tried to flex them, grimacing with the pain. She lifted her hands into her lap, and rubbed at them, as the pins and needles sensation diminished. "There, you see," he said, "I am one of the good guys. You understand that I can't let you get up and walk around, but at least perhaps you'll understand

that I don't really want to hurt you. I just want to know what you have inside that pretty little head of yours." Callie frowned at him. "What do you want?" She asked. "I've told you everything I know." "Everything you believe you know," he said. Callie shook her head. "Look," she said, starting to get exasperated with the process. "Just take my research." She gestured to the box sitting forgotten off to one side. "Everything is in there. If you think I'm lying, take it, and let me go." "That would be too easy," he replied. Callie wanted to scream her frustration. Fury rolled through her. She clenched her hands into fists, fighting the urge to walk up to him and punch him in the jaw. She hated this man and hated what they had done to her. Callie rose to her feet. "Take the box, you bastard. Isn't that why you brought me here?" John swaggered towards her at her defiant yell. A smirk lingered on his lips, and she wanted to wipe it off with her fist. When he came too close, she shoved against his chest. "Take it!" John reached out and grabbed her upper arms. Callie struggled against him. She writhed in his grasp, trying to pull away from him. She tried to kick. The ropes around her ankles had loosened, and her foot connected with his shin. She smiled as a quick grimace of pain crossed his features. She screamed. Her throat parched and sore from the sheer volume she maintained. She lifted her knee, slamming it into his body. John turned, the knee caught his upper thigh, but he still stepped backwards under the impact. He slapped her. Callie's head whipped around with the force of the blow. She felt a trickle of blood from the corner of the lip, and the shock of it pulled her into silence. "Stop that noise, or I'll kill you." Callie didn't care. He wouldn't kill her, not when he was so close to getting what he wanted. And even if he did, would it matter anyway? Callie leaned her head back and screamed again. John clamped his hand over her mouth. Callie bit him. He yanked his hand away with a savage growl and slapped her again. This time, Callie braced herself for the impact. She opened her mouth to scream again. In her peripheral vision, she saw the guards moving from their post towards the back. They walked single file, the lead man, holding something in front of him. A gun. Callie shut her mouth. The guard pointed a gun straight at her. She glanced

from the guard to John, who stood there with a sickening smile on his face, then back to the guard. "What the hell," she muttered to herself, and screamed. A loud crack filled the warehouse. _Oh my god. He shot at me._ Then, she lost herself to the blackness that threatened to overwhelm her. **** A loud crack filled the air. Jase slammed on the brakes, parking in front of a lot of garbage trucks. He craned his neck, trying to listen above the steady purr of the car's engine. He turned off the car. Across the street from him sat a large, brown building without any identifying signs. The parking lot sat empty, and he listened for any more noise. Had to be a gunshot. He had heard plenty of them over his career, and nothing made the harsh noise of a gun. Silence filled the air. He glanced at the warehouse once more, then picked up the cell phone. "Marc," he said. Static returned his query, then a few moments later, his friend answered. "Yeah." "Possible gunshot. Abercross street. Warehouse district. Can you get the authorities up here?" "Can do. Watch your back." With those parting words, Marc was gone. Jase stared at the warehouse. A part of him wanted to run up to the door, burst inside and save Callie, but he didn't even know if she was inside. **** "There's someone sitting in a car outside," the guard intoned. "Want me to take care of him?" John shook his head. "Just make a diversion." He glanced towards the back of the warehouse. Callie groaned. The back of her head ached where she had hit the concrete. Stars swam in front of her eyes, and she cursed herself for being such a fool. The bullet must have missed her. She heard the footsteps of the guard moving towards the back of the warehouse, and she wanted to sit up, but feared moving. The back door of the warehouse slammed with a loud bang, sending a fresh round of pain through her head. A wave of nausea washed through her, and she swallowed hard to keep from giving in to the sensation. A few moments

later, the sound of a sputtering motor drifted into the warehouse, and she heard the vehicle drive around the building. Her ears followed it to the front, where it seemed to hover in the front parking lot. She wanted to bolt to her feet and see what was happening. Fear kept her rooted to the spot. Jase, oh Jase, don't let them hurt you. Darkness encroached on her vision, and she gave herself back to its comforting hold. **** Jase watched the forklift drive around the building. The engine sputtered, and he wondered if the noise had just been a balky engine. The forklift came around to the front and appeared to go back around the building. It seemed odd. Jase sighed and started his car again. He still had more places to look for Callie's car, and he didn't see it here. He drove away slowly, the nagging feeling that something wasn't right with the forklift and the building. He tried to console himself with the idea that the police were headed towards this section of town, so if anything was amiss, the professionals could handle it. **** For the second time, Callie came out of the darkness to the sound of men's voices. "Do you think he bought it?" the guard asked. Callie blinked her eyes. Bought what, she wondered, trying to focus on John and the guard standing not far from her. "I think so. He pulled away, anyway." Callie's heart sank. If it were Jase out there, and she had no doubts that it was, then he had just left, and with him, her chance of release. She worked herself into a sitting position. John turned his head and saw her. "Decided to join us?" he sneered. Callie fought against the bile rising in her throat. "Let me go," she said, "you have my research." "Why would I do that when this is so much fun?" John replied. He chuckled, as if to illustrate his point. "Then can I at least go to the bathroom," she growled. John laughed a hearty, belly laugh that turned her cheeks even redder. He nodded to the guard. "Help our guest to the facilities," he said.

The guard sneered. He walked over and extended his hand to help Callie to her feet, not even bothering to pull the tangle of ropes away from her feet. She rose, swaying a bit with the sudden change in direction. A few kicks and she freed herself from the chair. She hadn't eaten and found herself getting light headed. The guard helped her over to a darkened corner of the warehouse where a five-gallon bucket with a toilet seat on top sat. Callie grimaced at the primitive facilities. "Is that it?" she asked. The guard nodded. "It's all we got. Use it or go in your pants. I don't care." Callie sighed. She looked for a curtain, a partition, anything that might block her from view, but saw none. "Will you at least turn around?" she huffed. The guard chuckled to himself as he turned his back to her. Callie glanced around, and not seeing any one else, undid the button and zipper on her jeans. She went as quickly as she could, then stood and refastened her jeans. "Are you done?" The guard asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Yes," she said. She glanced down at the cement floor, away from the bucket. Nothing she had ever done before, not even speaking in front of thousands in an auditorium had embarrassed her as much as this act of nature. "Good. You can go dump the bucket." "What?" She stared at the door, realizing that if she went outside there might be a way to escape. She'd do anything, even dumping a bucket of her own urine, to feel the sun on her face and smell fresh air. "I don't think John would allow it," she said, as she noticed him walking over to them. She stepped forward. "Do you know what this -- this -- Neanderthal wants me to do?" She growled at him, hoping that he would take the bait and let her go outside. "I don't want her leaving this building. You do it," he ordered the guard. The guard made no reply, simply growled at Callie, then picked up the bucket and walked away. John pulled a length of rope from his pocket. "Hold out your hands, Ms. Davis," he said. She held her hands fast to her sides, not wanting to be tied up again. Stepping back, she yelled, "No!" She saw guards moving in from behind and started to run backwards. She tripped, sprawling on the hard, cement floor. "Damn it," she cursed, bringing a chuckle from the guard nearest to her. Her shirt had bunched up when she fell, and Callie felt the cool cement against her back. A strip of white flesh

showed, and a guard straddled her. She kicked at him, but a man behind him grabbed her legs. In a few moments, the men had her bound and gagged. She fought against the strip of cloth in her mouth. Then, a hood shut over her head. Callie gasped. She saw nothing, the dark material blocking all light. She could breathe through the fabric, though it was difficult, and she started to suck in air, feeling the cloth slide into her mouth. A scream caught in her throat. She tried to kick, but her legs were tied, her hands bound above her head. She felt her bindings, rope wound tightly around her wrists and ankles, and tried to struggle. The men must have moved away for her blows fell on empty air. She felt herself being picked up, and she ceased her struggling, afraid of falling again. A shoulder bit into her stomach as she was thrown over a shoulder. Blood rushed in her ears, and her headache grew. She felt the man carrying her. Forcing herself to move with his gait, she found herself swinging in a hypnotic sway against his back. Once again, bile rose in her throat, and she struggled hard to keep from vomiting. Suddenly, her hood seemed bright, and she realized he must have stepped outside. They hadn't walked far, for the man stopped. She heard the creak of a car door or a trunk lid opening. Her blood ran cold. Shivers ran through her. Panic welled, blossoming into a full-blown terror as she felt herself being dropped into something. She heard what sounded like a trunk lid slamming down, and there was darkness. The car started, and Callie felt herself moving. Through the gag, she tried to scream, the sound coming out as a muffled croak. **** Jase parked in front of the warehouse. It looked deserted now, no forklifts doing turns in the front parking lot. He drove into the lot and saw a gravel alley leading towards the back. He followed it, seeing a second lot behind the building. The lot looked nearly deserted, except for the two forklifts parked behind the building and one, large truck. He pulled ahead, seeing another vehicle behind the trunk. A small, white car. Jase threw the car into park and darted outside. Callie's car. He was sure of it. He peered in the interior. It looked as if there hadn't been any struggle, everything looked as it had the night he drove her to dinner. He pounded his fist on the roof and cursed. He glanced at the back of the building and saw a door leading into the warehouse. He ran to it, certain the building was empty. No lights shone

through the single safety-glass window in the door. He stopped, his back against the wall. Reaching over, he tried the doorknob. It clicked. Locked. He peered into the windows and didn't see anything, but that didn't deter him. The lock looked simple, as if nothing of worth were stored in the building. He didn't see any alarm system, and really didn't care if it activated. Callie's car was parked in the back parking lot, which meant that she had been here. Once. She might still be here, and Jase kept that thought in mind as he slipped a small pick into the lock. It clicked, and the door swung inward. He saw nothing. "Callie," he called out, his voice echoing in the empty warehouse. "Callie?" He rushed inside, quickly realizing the building was empty. He ran back outside to his car. Sliding behind the wheel, he picked up the cell phone. "Damn it, Marc," he growled. "We lost her." "What?" "Where the hell are the police I told you to send? We lost her, damn it. We lost her." Jase pounded his fist in the steering wheel in frustration. "Where are you? How did we lose her?" "Behind that warehouse. Callie's car is here, but she isn't. Shit, Marc, they moved her!" "Wait a minute," Marc said. On the other end, Jase heard static, then the sound of voices. "Someone just reported strange noises coming from the trunk of a car. A brown 1988 Mercury Grand Marquis. License plate is Iowa, 982 AXJ, Polk county. Last seen on Euclid Avenue, traveling east. The police are on it." Jase breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Marc." "Don't worry," he replied. "They'll find her. I'm sure they will." Jase didn't reply. He switched off the phone, the plate number committed firmly to memory. Surely, they couldn't have gone far. He knew of another industrial area just off of Euclid close to the interstate. Acting on a hunch, he pulled out of the parking lot and headed in that direction. Unless they were taking Callie to a residential neighborhood, he felt certain that had to be their destination. **** Callie felt the car stop. She had no idea how far they had driven or where she was. Her head roared from the exhaust of the car rattling just beneath her ear. She kept her eyes closed, trying to control the nausea that rolled through her.

The car had made so many turns she couldn't fathom their direction or even where they had been. For all she knew, they had circled around a parking lot. It certainly had felt like it. The slam of a car door vibrated the trunk, and Callie pinched her eyes closed more tightly. In her chest, her heart hammered. She tried to listen for footfalls, but heard none. Someone pounded on the rear fender, by her head, and she winced at the torment. She wanted to cry out, but her mouth felt gritty and her throat too parched to make any noise. "Sure was fun when we killed her boyfriend, eh boss?" The man's voice carried through the car. Callie heard guffaws and laughter. "Get back in the car," John ordered. "I've changed my mind. We're not killing her here. Damn fools!" The roar of the engine as the car started again drowned out her captor's voices. Cold fear slid down her spine, and she shivered. _Jase._ Pain ran straight through her. _My stupidity got you killed. Oh my god._ She did begin to cry, salty tears making tracks down her cheeks. She tasted them as the tears dripped across her lips and moistened the fabric of her hood. She didn't care if the men had heard her. The rumble of the tires over pavement put Callie into a half-trance. She saw herself, dressed in a cotton nightgown, lying in bed. Bullets flew through the walls. _I'm going to die. Dominic. Oh Dominic where are you?_ The car hit a bump. Her head smacked against the floor of the trunk. The vision disappeared, leaving Callie even more desolate. Not only had he failed to save her once, but now he was dead. He had failed again. The car stopped, and she steeled herself for what might happen next. A creak and a sudden influx of light told her that the trunk lid was open. She smelled the Des Moines River, a fetid stink of decaying vegetable matter and dead fish. The roar of cars on the interstate filled her ears, and she knew she must be outside. Fear made her breath come in shallow gasps. _This is it, this is the end of me._ She tried to breathe normally and battled the rising fear within her. She heard the rustle of fabric that told her one of the guards leaned over, and moments later, she felt herself being swung into the air and slammed down

over his shoulder. The shoulder hit her in the stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. She hung, head down, and tried not to vomit. Callie tried to listen for any sounds that would tell her he was carrying her away from the river. The men's footfalls, the roar of the dam, those were the only sounds that met her ears, and neither one increased nor diminished with any intensity. She tried not to shake. Taking deep breaths, she worked to calm herself. After all, they couldn't just unceremoniously dump her in the river could they? Her body would float, making it easier to catch the villains. _Well, there's one good thing about being overweight. Fat floats._ She snorted, choking back hysterical laughter. One moment she felt the sun beating on her back, the next air conditioning blasted her. Callie shivered at the sudden difference in temperature. Realizing she was inside a building, relief flooded through her. She slumped against the man carrying her. "Hey," he growled. She felt him stop in place. "Where do you want her boss?" She heard mumblings, presumably the boss deciding on where to put her. "There," John said at last. Her carrier stepped forward. She grunted as he dropped her to the floor. Pain lanced through her arm. She shifted position so she could move her arm; she had landed on it. Gently moving it, she realized it wasn't broken, but it hurt. She kept silent. A part of her wanted to yell, scream to do anything that might bring attention to her and to the building. She had no idea what part of town she was in, though she knew downtown that several warehouse-type buildings weren't far from the river. She smiled, thinking that just a few blocks away on Court Avenue sat the police station. She heard someone kneeling beside her. The person fumbled with the ties on her hood, then yanked it off. Callie blinked her eyes against the sudden influx of light. "Sit up," John growled. Callie complied, moving awkwardly with her bonds. As the spots in front of her eyes faded, she saw John and his four guards standing across from her. All four men, she realized, wore guns. She swallowed hard, but kept her gaze firm. "I'm tired of this game," John said. "I want you to tell me the truth or I'm going to kill you." The guard stepped forward. He pulled his gun from its holster, holding it

loose in his hands. He looked comfortable with the weapon. Callie couldn't help the involuntary shiver that darted through her. She tried to work her mouth around the gag, but nothing coherent emerged. "Ungag her," John ordered. He glared at Callie. "Scream, and I'll kill you. You're staring to bore me." His words frightened Callie enough that when the guard removed the gag, she sat mute. "Now, tell me what you know about Norma and Vinnie's modern day counterparts." Callie shook her head. "I don't know anything," she breathed deeply. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears of frustration and tears of pain that Jase was dead. She hadn't allowed herself to think of the men's words, but now, sitting here, staring at the five of them and knowing she would join him, she refused to halt the tears that slid from her eyes. "I don't know anything. I only researched those three individuals from the forties. I've told you the truth. I've given you my box of research. Don't kill me. I have told you everything I know." She sniffed. John shook his head. "I don't believe you." **** The cell phone rang, and Jase answered. "Yeah," he growled. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, impatient because he hadn't yet seen the car that had been reported. Every moment of failure meant another moment Callie was in the hands of those men. "We found the car," Marc's voice came over the phone. "Oh my God!" Jase breathed a sigh of relief. "Where?" Marc rattled off an address just off of Grand Avenue by the river. "I'll be right there," Jase replied, already shifting the car out of park. "Wait for the authorities. They're on their way," Marc cautioned. "All right," Jase groused, then tossed the cellphone back on the passenger seat. He pulled into traffic, not caring that he was going ten miles over the speed limit. He braked hard as a cement truck lumbered out in front of him. Traffic kept him boxed behind the truck, and when a stoplight turned red, and he found himself waiting behind it, he cursed under his breath. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He had the Glock in the glove compartment. Extra ammunition sat in a box in his trunk. Going through

his mental checklist, Jase realized he was ready. He turned onto Grand Avenue from Hubbell, taking the corner a little faster than he should have. _Hang on Callie, I'm coming_. **** "I say we just kill her." The guard who spoke must have been the one who carried her, for he was the most muscled of the four men. "I'm tired of this, and if we slip up and get caught, my parole officer isn't going to like it." He frowned at John. "Shut up," John growled. He knelt in front of Callie. "As you can see, my men are getting restless. Now tell me what you know. I had men tailing you at the library. The research you did was pretty thorough. You can't tell me that you didn't do any research into modern day connections." "Look," Callie sighed. "I didn't. Both Vinnie and Norma died back in the nineteen forties. Dominic Graven died of old age in the seventies. I had no reason to research anything past when Norma and Vinnie died. An article mentioned Dominic's death spoke of a family friend who took over Graven International. When the company came to Des Moines, all the news media ran stories on them and said that the gentleman who took over then retired about five years ago. I can't remember who took over, but it was totally unrelated to my research, so I didn't care." "Graven International cares," John said. "What?" Callie shrieked. "You mean to tell me that all of this is because some multi-national company wants to know what I knew about its founder." She snorted, though remembered that she and Jase had bantered around that exact same theory. "That's crazy." "Not to Graven International." John said. "Officially they don't know about my little investigation, but when I turn over potentially damning evidence that you have and were ready to make public, I'm sure they will reward me handsomely. Graven International would never want it known that they were founded by a high-profile member of the mafia. They'll thank me for saving their corporate image." John chuckled. "Oh yeah, they'll thank me for it all right." "You're crazy," Callie said. "For God's sake. Take my computer. I don't know anything about Graven International except for what I just said. Nothing. Nada. Zip. If you kill me over this, that's murder, and the company will like that even less." "Shut up," John yelled. "Just shut up." Callie looked at him, fear rising within her. He appeared mentally unbalanced,

and his guards did little to try and stabilize him. She glanced from the guards back to John, who now stood, shaking. John whirled and faced the smallest of his guards. "You told me what you saw that day in the library. Damn it." John stepped forward and grabbed the man by the lapels and shook him. "If you gave me false information, I'll kill you. So help me God, I'll kill you." "I -- I -- She was looking at pictures of Dominic Graven. How could I know what she was doing?" The guard shook. "Kill him," John ordered the guard standing next to him. "Nooooo," the man cried, going down on his knees, but the guard raised his hand and shot him. The man fell over, jerking, then lay still. Blood ran from a wound in the back of his head. Callie gagged. She averted her eyes, but a trail of blood crept towards her. She tried to move back, scooting along on her butt, but the bonds made it difficult. "Now the girl," John ordered. The guard stepped forward. He grabbed her, holding her still, and pressed the gun to her head. The metal felt cool against her temple, and Callie closed her eyes. _At least, I would be going where Jase is now._ A car door slammed outside the building. The man jerked her against him, but didn't pull the trigger. "What's that?" the burly guard asked. "Check it out," John ordered, sending the burly guard jogging across the building. Another car door slammed outside, and John gestured for the men to back against the wall. The guard hauled Callie with him, dragging her so that she leaned against him in a shadowed corner. The large guard halted outside the door. The door burst inward. Jase stood in the doorway, gun pointed towards the guards holding her. Callie's eyes went wide when she recognized his form in the doorway. "Callie," he bellowed. "Oh my God," she sobbed. "You're alive!" The large guard burst from the door and grabbed Jase, hurling him to the floor. Callie screamed.

-------*Thirteen* Jase grunted as the large guard slammed him against the concrete. He grabbed the man around the throat, squeezing, until he let Jase go. A quick right hook, and the large guard staggered out the door, and into Marc's arms. Jase looked for Callie. A man dressed in a suit pulled a gun. He fired at Marc, not seeming to care that inside the building a bullet could ricochet. One man already lay on the floor, and a second guard flanked the man in the suit, firing at the officers as well. "Callie," Jase yelled. He moved to the wall, trying to avoid the firefight. **** Callie felt the gun cold against the back of her neck. "You're going to follow me and not say a word, okay?" He jammed the gun even harder against her skin, and Callie nodded. She felt the man start to crawl backwards, his vice-like grip on her arm hauling her behind him. They moved along the wall, Callie wincing at each shot from John and his guard. Marc fired. John ducked, the bullet missing him. The guard moved, but not in time, for the bullet caught him in the arm. He cried out and fired wildly. Callie saw a shadow moving along the wall. She tried to look, but the guard yanked on her arm, sending her sprawling onto her back. She felt like a flipped-over turtle, the guard growling at her to move. She inched along, following the guard, and when she looked again the shadow was gone. More gunshots filled the air. The injured guard sprawled on the cement, landing with an ominous thud. John jerked, looking as if a bullet had hit him, but he remained standing and fired two quick rounds. In the corner, a man emerged, and Callie stifled a scream. Jase stood there, nearly across the warehouse from where the guard was trying to haul her away. "Jase," she yelled at the top of her lungs. The word echoed in the warehouse, and suddenly, the gunfire ceased. "Callie," Jase called. "Here," she screamed, and then grunted as the guard clamped his hand over her mouth. She bit him, the action instinctive, and he pulled his hand away. "Ow, bitch." He hit her on the side of the head with his closed fist, the blow

hard enough to make stars form in front of her eyes. He clamped his arm around Callie and stood, hauling her against him. She felt the cool metal of the gun at her temple and tried not to shake. "Anyone moves, I'll kill her," the guard said. Everyone in the room remained still, even John. She saw him glance at the guard and shake his head. _It doesn't have to end this way. I did this to myself. Oh God, if I die please don't let Jase blame himself for it._ **** Pain pummeled Jase. He stared at Callie, held with a gun to her head, and mentally kicked himself for being a fool. He never should have left her there alone. _I love you, Callie,_ mouthing the words with his lips, but in the dim lighting, he doubted she could see them. He gauged the distance between himself and the suited man. He dared not glance around for Marc. His friend would be here to help, though he wasn't sure where. Jase held his weapon trained on the closest guard. Don't be trigger happy, he prayed, knowing he would die if anything happened to Callie. It was a standoff, but Jase refused to believe it would end in tragedy. **** Callie watched with morbid fascination as John raised the gun to his head. What secrets, she wondered, would die with him, and a part of her wanted to keep him alive, if only so she could seek justice. She felt the gun wavering against her temple. _I should do something._ But fear froze her in place. Then her gaze fell on Jase. Tears filled her eyes. Whatever she did, she had to be sure it wouldn't get Jase killed. John pulled the trigger. The crack of pistol fire echoed in the warehouse. John fell to the ground with a dull thud. His eyes stared lifelessly at her, and Callie turned her face away. Jase bolted across the warehouse. "Stop," the guard said, increasing the pressure of his arm against Callie's throat. "I'll kill her." Jase stopped instantly. "Let her go," he ordered, his voice low. The whine of sirens sounded distantly through the open door.

"I must follow orders," the guard said. He sounded lost, as if he couldn't believe that John had shot himself in front of everyone. Callie felt the hand holding the gun shaking, and she stared at Jase as if she could will him into action. Neither one of them seemed to have any interest in moving. She frowned. Now, she thought, would be the time when the white knight would crash through the building, rip the bad guy from her and beat him up. She had her white knight standing in front of her, and he wasn't moving. She decided to help. She shoved back with her elbow, hitting the guard in the ribs. He grunted, loosening his hold on Callie. She elbowed him again. He bent forward. As he did so, he released her, and Callie scurried towards Jase. Callie saw a blur moving behind her, and she turned, seeing that Marc had knocked the man to the ground. He hit the guard with a quick right-hook, then punched the man in the stomach. The sound of flesh pounding against flesh filled the air, and she hurled herself at Jase. He caught her easily, enfolding her against his chest. She felt his hands caress her back. "It's okay, Callie," he said. She heard people moving behind her, then sirens growing louder. Turning in Jase's arms, she saw Marc step away. Blood dripped from a cut on his knuckle. Marc stepped forward. "Thanks Callie," he said. "You gave me the opening I needed." "Someone had to," she smiled at Jase. "You guys were just standing there." She shook with the memory and felt Jase wrap his arms more tightly around her. "If we charged him, he might have shot you. He was backing down. I heard it in his voice." He spoke with the authority of one who had handled such situations on his own, and Callie tried not to doubt his words. "You weren't the one standing there with the gun pressed against your head." Her voice broke on a sob, and she swallowed hard to keep them contained. She didn't want to cry, not yet, but a profound relief washed through her. He looked up at Jase. "You have a special woman there. Don't let her get away." He said no more, simply turned and headed for the door. Police cars squealed to a stop outside the building. Jase still had his arms around her, and she was content to stand there with her head against his chest. "Can we get out of here?" Callie asked. Jase pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We can go outside. I'm sure the officers are going to question us." He lightly cupped her chin and tipped her

head back. "But first, I want to do this." He gave her no chance to resist. His lips came down, crushing against hers in a kiss that spoke of all his fear. His hungry kiss told her more than words how worried he was that he might loose her. As he moved his lips across hers, Callie pressed her hand against his chest. When his tongue swept along her full, lower lip, she opened her mouth to allow him access. Suddenly, it didn't matter that they stood in a warehouse; it was only the two of them, locked in an embrace. Slowly, Jase pulled away. "I thought I'd lost you," he said, his breathing ragged. "God, Callie. I love you." The words emerged in an emotional rush. Callie curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. Tears dampened her eyes. "You mean it?" She asked, then when he nodded, exhaled the breath she had been holding. "I love you Jase. I think I have from the moment you saved me from the bullet. I was so afraid that, when the threat was over, I'd lose you." As if to allay any fears, he kissed her again. Behind them, the sound of a clearing throat brought them out of their kiss. "Sir, ma'am," the female officer said. "We need to ask you a few questions." Jase pulled his lips away. He looked down at Callie. "We can do this," he whispered. Then he looked at the officer. "I expected as much, Officer. Shall we talk outside?" She nodded and led them to a bench in the parking lot. Jase laced his fingers with Callie, holding her hand throughout the entire questioning. Callie tried to answer the queries the best she could, and soon, most of the officers had left and dusk began to fall. "What do we do now?" Callie asked Jase when the last of the officers had left. Marc had gone back to his hotel hours ago. Lightly, Jase kissed her. "We go to my place." "Your place?" Callie protested. "Mine is closer." He smiled. "Just checking to see if you noticed." He caressed the side of her cheek. "We will have to go to my place eventually, though." "Really? For what?" "To see which room you would like as an office. I own that entire building, you know," Jase smiled at her. "Callie Davis, I don't know what magic you worked on me, but I love you. I don't want to spend another day without you by my side. I want to wake up beside you every morning and sleep beside you every night." He paused, then spoke softly. "I want to know you want these

things, too." "I do," Callie said. She wrapped her arms around Jase and hugged him tightly. "I want all those things." "Thank God," Jase replied. He kissed her then, a kiss to seal a pact or from which to start a future. As Callie wound her arms around Jase's neck, she had the feeling that somewhere in fate's web, tangled lives had wound themselves into a lifetime of love. *Meet Mary Winter* Mary lives in Iowa with her menagerie of animals, including an opinionated horse and a cat who thinks he is a dog. She has been writing for over a decade and hopes to write for many more years. Her advice to aspiring authors is never to give up on your dreams. ----------------------Visit www.Fictionwise.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.