“God, I haven’t gone walking in the park since...since all this started.”
“The attacks, you mean. But you weren't following them, until the vision."
"No. But the last time I walked in the park, it didn't feel safe anymore. I haven't been back." She suppressed a shiver, pasted a smile on and said, “I’ll be safe enough with my own cop in tow.”
“Damn straight you will. How are you set for footwear?”
“Pumps,” she said with a frown.
“You must like me, if you broke out the heels.”
“You do have sisters, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Well, I only went for the two-inch ones. It is a first date, after all.”
He grinned at her, flashing the dimple that made her stomach flip-flop. “Maybe next time you’ll wear the stilettos?”
“You play your cards right, cowboy, I might even wear the open toes.”
He sucked air through his teeth and pressed a hand to his chest.
She laughed out loud.
“My sister Shelby left a pair of flip-flops in my car,” he said. “One size fits most.”
“You’re ready for anything, aren’t you?”
The waiter returned with the credit card and the check. Sam added a tip, signed the bottom, and put the card in his wallet. Then he got up. “Ready to try on the new shoes, Cinderella?”
“Ready.”
He cradled her elbow in one hand as he guided her around tables and waiters to the exit. The car was waiting out front, but he only opened the trunk and fished out the flip-flops. She kicked off her pumps, realized she was wearing stockings, and got into the car.
“What’s wrong? Change your mind?”
“Stockings,” she said. “They have to go. Flip-flops have that toe thing.”
“Ahh.” He stood there in the doorway, and she thought about telling him to turn around or close the door, but decided to play instead.
She slid her skirt up to the top of the stockings, and pushed them down her legs, one at a time.
He was mesmerized. She couldn’t remember when a man had looked at her the way he was looking at her. And it wasn’t all that revealing; the stockings only went to midthigh. She noticed he only took his eyes off her once, and that was to make sure no one else had the view he was so obviously enjoying. He blocked the doorway with his body. And he whispered, “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“You’d see more than this if I wore shorts.”
“Then next time, wear them.” She left the stockings on the seat and slid the flip-flops on. He took her arm and tugged her out of the car, and this time, he held her hand as they walked down the block, around the corner, to the sprawling, grassy Pinedale Town Park. It was minuscule in comparison to the sprawling state park nearby, but perfect for an after-dinner walk with a handsome man.
They entered one of the walking trails and followed its meandering course through the woods, until they reached the park’s centerpiece, a perfect little pond, currently home to several wood ducks and a pair of swans who were permanent residents. The moon had risen; it hung low in the sky, huge and lopsided, nearly full.
They moved to the benches near the pond, and Sam took off his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders.
She turned to face him. “This is nice. You’re good at this dating thing.”
“So I’ve been told.” Did he look a little guilty when he said that? “You want to sit awhile?”
“No. I want to know if you’re as good at first kisses as you are at first dates.”
He held her eyes, slipped one arm around her waist, and cradled the back of her head with the other hand. It made her feel delicate and cherished. He pulled her to him, bent his head, and brushed his lips across hers lightly, softly, repeatedly, before finally parting them and covering her mouth for a kiss that took her breath away.
The flash hit just as she was starting to reconsider her earlier promise that he wasn’t getting any tonight. It hit bright, hard, and fast. She went stiff in his arms. And by the time he lifted his head away, it was gone.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Two things. Most importantly–the killer. He’s in the park. Here. Now. I saw you chasing him, wearing just what you’re wearing tonight. So it has to be–”
Before she finished the sentence, the night was split by a woman’s scream.
“Stay close to me,” he told her, and gripping her hand, he took off running.
Sam tugged her along behind him, and she surprised him by keeping up without any trouble, despite the flip-flops, the dress, and the darkness. It elevated her a notch higher in his estimation that she didn’t stumble or complain or ask to stop. Though after that kiss, it would have been tough to lift her much higher.
He spotted the struggling couple in a wooded area off the trail: a larger form straddling a small one. The small one lay on her back, and the bigger one had her pinned and was pounding her face.
“Police! Get off her, you sonofabitch!” Sam released her hand, veered off the trail and went crashing through the brush toward the pair. He pulled his gun, but the attacker was already on the run. He'd rolled off his victim at Sam’s first shout, sprung to his feet, and was racing through the underbrush.
Sam glanced back at Megan. She was already crouching beside the battered victim, her phone in her hand, her face stricken. She looked his way, as if feeling his eyes on her. Hers were intense, damp, powerful, and furious. God, she was something else.
“Stay here, stay with her,” he said.
She nodded. “Go get that bastard,” she said. “Be careful, Sam.”
He didn’t believe in her powers, he reminded himself. So why did that warning send a chill right up his spine?
Chapter 5
Megan knelt there, half afraid to touch the young woman, but knowing she had to. The victim was frightened, traumatized, probably in shock. She needed to know someone was there, that she was safe, and Megan didn’t think words alone could do the job.
She put a gentle hand on the trembling shoulder. “It’s okay. A cop is chasing him, and help is on the way. He’s not coming back. You’re safe.”
Her eyes–one wide with fear, the other split at the corner, swollen, and bloody–fixed on Megan. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, probably younger. “H-h-he h-hurt me.”
“I know. An ambulance is coming. You’re going to be okay.”
A twig snapped, and the woman’s hand shot to Megan’s like a cobra striking, and squeezed tight.
“It’s just a bird. You’re safe,” Megan began, but then the flashes came, rapid-fire, blinding, far more vivid and potent than anything she’d ever felt before, and she knew she was experiencing what the girl on the ground had just gone through.
She was running, her feet hitting the path, a satisfying burn in her muscles, and the rush of chilled air in and out of her lungs.
An arm like a steel band snapped around her neck from behind. Can't breathe! He yanked her off balance, slammed her into the ground. Something hit her face–her cheekbone exploded in pain.
What’s he hitting me with? God, is it a hammer?