True Colors Part 7

Maybe it'd even be a nice change of pace. He'd never tortured a man. He normally practiced his art on women. Something about the way they screamed and begged made the act all the more sweet. They bargained, too. He imagined a man like John Logan would threaten to kill and maim. Give a man a gun, and he thought he was f.u.c.king G.o.d, charged with deciding who lives and who dies.

But a woman, ah, yes, a woman had something to trade. He loved that look they got when he let them think they had a choice in offering themselves to him. Power zinged through him every time with that first heavenward thrust, because he knew that when he was done, after he geysered into them like a high-pressure fire hose, the edge would be taken off and the real fun could begin.

Swallowing hard, Butch carefully steered his brain away from such distracting thoughts. Now was not the time to get off track. He had vengeance to wield.

As soon as John Logan arrived home, he'd get started.

And if he got really lucky, John Logan would have a girlfriend.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Are you okay?" Alex glanced sideways as Charlie steered the small SUV into the beach traffic and couldn't think of a thing to say. Fatigue burned in her bones, in her brain.

"It gets better," Charlie said. "I know that seems impossible now."

Alex had to laugh. Either that or weep, and once she started to laugh, she couldn't stop. Soon, she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. It really was hysterical when you thought about it. Empathic postcognition. Touch a friend and get thrust into their worst nightmare in high-definition, 3-D, surround sound. But wait, there's more! Afterward, their aches and pains, their bruises, are yours. Maybe even their gaping wounds. And the psychological torment that followed? All yours, too. Scars on the inside. Scars on the outside. The deal of the century.

She buried her face in her hands, and as the laughter subsided, the weeping started, because, oh, G.o.d, she couldn't bear all the pain that other people carried with them, couldn't imagine closing her eyes to sleep tonight only to relive having her wrists bound and a psychopath stalking her or a hard hand squeezing her throat while a monster ripped away her clothes.

She'd know now. She'd know what tortured the people she cared about. Know their pain, their torment, their fears. She'd know what they hid behind sunny smiles and warm laughter. The worst thing that had ever happened to them would happen to her. She'd live every detail.

She couldn't live like this. She . . . just . . . couldn't.

Slowly, she became aware of the hand on her back. Stroking and soothing.

The car wasn't moving anymore. Alex wiped her eyes and raised her head, saw that they were parked behind her Jeep in Charlie's driveway.

Charlie handed her a handful of Kleenex and said nothing as Alex blew her nose. She'd cried for a long time, and Charlie hadn't said a word, driving in silence while Alex's world crumbled.

"I'm sorry," Alex whispered, her voice thick and ragged.

Charlie blew her own nose, and Alex realized she hadn't been crying alone.

"How do you do it?" Alex asked.

"I try to avoid contact as much as I can. You'll become more aware of your personal s.p.a.ce and learn how to antic.i.p.ate what other people are going to do so you can protect yourself from unexpected contact. You'll get used to it."

"You're so casual about it. How is that possible?"

"I've had some time to adjust," Charlie said. "You'll adjust, too. AnnaCoreen sent me to a friend of hers, a doctor. She prescribed some drugs that help blunt some of the more . . . intense stuff."

"I don't want to take a bunch of drugs."

"I know. Neither do I." Charlie paused and took a breath. "Alex, you need to pay close attention to how you feel after an . . . episode."

"Episode," Alex repeated with a disbelieving snort. "That's a nice way to put it. Like it's a TV show to look forward to. Next on My Empathic Life: Our distraught heroine jumps off the nearest bridge only to be rescued by a firefighter who's recently recovered from being nearly burned to death in a fire where he failed to save a family of four."

"That's a disturbingly detailed scenario," Charlie said dryly.

Alex gave a hollow laugh that choked off at the end. "I can't do this, Charlie. I really can't. Even with drugs. I'm . . . I'm . . ." She couldn't think of a word strong enough.

"What?" Charlie prodded. "You're what?"

"Tired." That wasn't even close to describing the leaden weight of exhaustion that bore down on her, but it was all she could come up with. "I'm just really, really tired."

"That's probably your version of flash fatigue. You need to sleep and recharge."

"Recharge, huh? So I can be drained all over again like a battery?"

"You'll get through this," Charlie said. "I get through it, and you're a lot stronger than I am. Trust me."

That surprised Alex. "Why would you think I'm stronger?"

"You just let yourself fall apart while I sat right next to you. That took more strength than holding it in would have."

"Your ability to spin my blubbering breakdown into something positive is astounding."

Charlie shrugged. "Your ability to form a coherent sentence after what you've been through today is astounding."

Alex clenched her fist around the balled-up Kleenex, and the small cut in her palm twinged. "AnnaCoreen. Something . . . terrible happened to her."

Charlie gave a grim nod, her lips drawn tight. "I kind of figured."

"You were right about her, though. I'm sorry I was so skeptical."

"The first time I went to see her, I was just as dubious."

"Does Noah know?" Alex couldn't imagine how Logan would react. Like Noah, he was an a.n.a.lytical cop. Everything had a reasonable explanation. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself anyway. Maybe she and Logan would go out once, and that'd be it. He'd never have to find out.

"Yeah, Noah knows," Charlie said.

"And he's okay with it?"

"He doesn't have much choice, really. It's part of me. Are you worried about Logan?"

Alex nodded.

"Have you gotten empathic hits off him?"

"Only once that I was aware of. Right after he saved the girl in that wreck."

"So it was an immediate trauma that you flashed on. That's similar to what happens with mine. Maybe your empathy reacts differently to different people. I mean, that makes sense, right? No one's body chemistry is exactly the same. With Logan, maybe you'll flash only on recent stuff that happens to him. There's going to be a learning curve for you both, but if he loves you, he'll adjust."

If he loves you. Wouldn't that be something? Just thinking about the possibility made her heart skip. "Did it take Noah long?"

"No. He had the advantage of knowing about our cousin's ability."

"Our cousin. That's still unbelievable."

"I know. We've spent our whole lives thinking we had no family beyond each other and Mom and Dad." A tiny pause. "And Sam, of course."

Alex's eyebrows shot up as it hit her that their oldest sister might also be . . . "Do you think-"

"I have no idea. She hasn't returned my calls since after we knew you were going to pull through the shooting."

"Oh." Alex studied Charlie's clenched jaw. "You're ticked at her."

"We can talk about Sam later. Our focus right now is you." Charlie captured Alex's hand and gave it a squeeze, a small grin playing at the corners of her mouth. "There are perks to the curse."

Alex arched an eyebrow. "Yeah? Like what?"

Charlie's grin turned sly. "I can't ruin the surprise. Just trust me."

Twenty minutes later, Alex parked her Jeep in the garage, then waved good-bye to Charlie, who'd insisted on following her to make sure she arrived home safely. Alex let herself into her house and received the exuberant welcome of half a dozen mutts who acted like they hadn't seen her in days rather than a few hours.

As she scratched ears and murmured endearments, she realized she wanted nothing more than a long nap. First, though, she needed some food. She hadn't eaten since the doughnuts with Logan this morning.

The surprisingly subdued dogs followed on her heels, not making a sound while she looked in the fridge for something to eat. She c.o.c.ked her head at them, smiling slightly when they c.o.c.ked their heads back, their eyes intent on her, as though they knew she'd changed in some fundamental way.

"Right," she muttered, then raised her voice and said, "I'm empathic."

Doggy ears p.r.i.c.ked, and adoring eyes blinked.

"Not just regular empathic, either. If there is such a thing. But mega I-can-relive-your-horrible-past empathic."

Not one pooch raced howling from the room. A good sign?

And then it hit her that she'd rubbed the ears and patted the bellies of living beings who'd endured terrible, painful tragedies. A broken then amputated leg. A bad back. A damaged eye. A missing tail and ears because of burns sustained in a fire.

Thank G.o.d her so-called empathy didn't kick in when she loved up her kids.

She decided she didn't have the energy to eat.

Within another minute, she hit the sofa and instantly dropped into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Logan rang Alex's doorbell for the second time, wincing at the cacophony of barking that responded. No Alex, though, which was obvious after the first time he'd rang, but he'd wanted to be sure.

He balanced the bouquet of fresh daisies on his forearms while he checked his cell phone again. Maybe she'd left a message that he'd missed. No messages. No missed calls. Had she stood him up for their first date? He couldn't imagine that she had. She simply wasn't wired that way. Must be a miscommunication. Or something unexpected had come up.

Still, he had an uneasy feeling, so he walked around the side of her house and to the detached garage. Cupping his hands around his eyes, he peered through one of the dinner-plate-sized square windows in the garage door. Her Jeep Liberty SUV sat inside.

Okay, now he was worried. She could be out for a run, he thought, as she had been when he'd dropped by unannounced this morning. But tonight he wasn't unannounced. And it was almost dark. Would she go running in the dark?

Deciding he'd rather look like an idiot now than find out later that something was wrong and he'd done nothing, he opened the gate that led to her back door. He discovered the door was unlocked and eased it open, calling her name at the same time. "Alex?"

Several mutts on a tear barreled into the kitchen, and he quickly stepped inside and blocked them before they could bowl him over and escape outside.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Sorry, but I'm not your dinner, guys."

As they calmed down, he bestowed some head pats and ear rubs. "Do you know where your mom is? We have dinner plans."

And how stupid was it that he was asking half a dozen animals as though they would actually answer?

"Okay, well, if it's all right with you, I'm going to take a look around. I promise not to do anything uncool, okay? I just want to see if your mom is here." He'd set the flowers on the kitchen table when a thought struck him. "Does anyone need to go out?"

Phoebe and Artemis ran to the door and took turns woofing, which struck Logan as the doggy equivalent of the pee dance. He opened the door, checked to make sure he'd latched the gate, then waited while four of the six dogs shuffled out into the backyard.

With the remaining two dogs-Gus, the beagle-bloodhound, and Dieter, the German shepherd-trailing in his wake, he walked into Alex's dim living room and felt along the wall for the light switch and flicked it up. His heart stopped dead when he saw her, out cold on the sofa.

"Alex?"

She didn't stir, even as Gus and Dieter each nudged her arm with their noses and whined.

Logan fought panic as he crossed to her. She'd slept through frantic barks, two ringing doorbells and at least two phone calls. No one who wasn't seriously ill snoozed that soundly.

"Alex? Hey, Alex."

He had his palm on her forehead and two fingers pressed to the pulse point in her throat when she snapped her eyes open on a gasp. He twitched back as she sat up so fast their heads almost knocked together. At first, she didn't seem to recognize him, her dark eyes huge and startled in her pale face.

Logan raised his hands, palms out. "It's just me."

She focused on him after a moment and blinked slowly, as though having trouble getting oriented. "Hey."

"Hey. You okay?"

She started to respond, but then Dieter reared up and landed his front paws in her lap while Gus plopped his b.u.t.t on the tile floor and let out a high-pitched yip. Alex gave Dieter a quick, distracted hug before gently pus.h.i.+ng him off.

Logan spotted the bandage. "What happened to your hand?"

"I broke a gla.s.s." She sounded terrible. Like she had the flu. The shadows under her puffy eyes added to his alarm. Had she been crying?

"Are you sick?" he asked.

She ran both hands back through rampant curls. "No. I'm . . ." She trailed off, as if she had no clue what to say.