Kathleen Creighton - Danger Signals

"Whoa," he said as he steadied her, holding her firmly by the arms.

Heat and strength enveloped her, and a rich masculine aura filled her senses, and she felt safe…protected. It was what he'd felt, she realized, as a child and in his dreams. It felt so wonderful, for a moment she wanted to weep like a child herself, a child finding shelter in loving arms.

"What's the matter? Something happen, or did you just pick up on somebody's crisis?"

She struggled to shake off the emotions, gulp back the threatening tears, and managed to achieve a semblance of calm. "Where is he? The man with the camera-where did he go?"

"I don't know-moved on, I guess. Why? Did you-"

"Yes. We have to find him. Wade-I'm almost sure he's The Watcher."

"You're sure about this? No mistake?"

Tierney gave Wade a quick glance and said jerkily, "I know what I felt." She was out of breath from walking rapidly, trying to keep up with him as they'd scoured every inch of the rose garden.

She'd long ago taken off her shoes and was carrying them in one hand, dangling by the heel straps. As she lifted the shoes in order to wipe the back of her hand against a trickle of sweat creeping down her forehead. Wade eyed the shoes and frowned.

"Look, there's no point in running all over the place. He's gone by now anyway."

She halted and let her shoulders slump. "Wade, I'm sorry. I should have-"

"Not your fault." It was the same thing he'd said the first eight or so times she'd apologized. And she still didn't believe it.

"I picked it up when he shook your hand. I could have said something then, but there was that family wanting me to take their pictures. I should have just told them no, or I didn't understand, or something."

"Forget it. We've got his name, anyway-assuming he gave us the right one. Cory Pearson-jeez, a journalist? And you're sure he's the one. You didn't just pick up somebody else's emotions that happened to be floating around? You did say they have weddings here. The whole place is probably lousy with love."

She lifted her hand-and the shoes-again, this time in an unsuccessful attempt to catch the bubble of laughter that burst from her lips.

Wade threw her a look and said. "What's funny?"

She shook her head, still smiling, knowing it would be pointless to say. "Nothing." Knowing she couldn't possibly tell him how ridiculously happy it made her feel that he believed in her gift.

Although…it was a happiness so fragile that even recognizing its existence was enough to destroy it. What was she thinking? To let anyone's opinion of her matter so much was unwise. To allow any man's belief or disbelief to have the power to affect her happiness was just stupidity. To let this man's acceptance mean so much was both of those things to the nth degree. It was lunacy. Dangerous. Sheer insanity.

"It's just funny to hear you say that," she said as her smile grew wry, "as if you actually believe me. A couple days ago you felt quite a bit differently about me, I think." It was a compromise, of sorts.

He seemed to accept it, gave his own short bark of laughter, then frowned as he thought about it. "I'm still not sure about the psychic stuff, frankly." he said in a gruff, half-embarrassed tone. "You've got something, though- good instincts, people smarts-I don't know what it is, but I'd be a fool not to use it."

Which was a load of bull…whatever. He did believe. He believed in her. It was that simple.

Or that complicated.

"And speaking of that…have you got a few minutes?" He barely waited for her nod and murmured assent before putting his hand on her elbow and steering her toward the rose garden's exit. He glanced at the shoes in her hand and his frown deepened as he experienced an insane desire to pick her up and carry her. "Would you mind stopping by my place…see if you can pick up anything from the guy that was watching my apartment this morning? I don't live too far from here. Just take a minute."

"Okay, sure. Shall I follow you in my car or…"

"No sense in taking separate vehicles. I can drop you off here on my way back to the shop."

It was the most logistically sensible solution, he told himself, and had nothing to do with any reluctance he may or may not have felt about parting company with her.

He was careful to keep his vague sense of guilt blocked, but it accounted for the edge in his voice when he spoke to her, and the silence in the car on the way to his place.

It's police business, he told himself. He needed her in the car with him so he could get her impressions on the spot. But as he pulled up to the curb across the street from the Hofmeyers' 1930's style bungalow and parked in the approximate spot where the watcher's car had been this morning, he looked up at the windows of his apartment and his mind insisted on putting Tierney Doyle in the room behind those windows. In his bedroom. More precisely, in his bed. Naked. With her hair tousled on his pillow and her cheeks flushed and rosy and a very satisfied smile on her kiss-swollen lips. And her body…

He swore silently and earnestly. Shifted in his seat and twitched his suit jacket around to hide his growing discomfort as he looked over at Tierney. "Well? You getting anything?"

Damned if her cheeks weren't flushed and rosy, exactly like his daydream version, except she wasn't smiling. Her hands were knotted together in her lap and the shine in her eyes looked more like embarrassment than sexual fulfillment. Lord help me, he thought. I tried to block it, I really did.

"Um…I'm picking up some really strong emotions." Tierney said, "but I don't think they're from The Watcher." She cleared her throat and flashed him a small, tenuous smile. "I think somebody must be-" She put a hand over her eyes and muttered. "Lord, this is embarrassing…um, making love-really close by. Because all I can pick up is-"

"Yeah, yeah," Wade growled, "I get the picture." He did, too-all too well. Evidently some emotions were just too powerful to block.

"Wade, I'm sorry. I'm not getting anything else. That one-it's just that it's one of the most powerful emotions-"

"Yeah, right up there with killing." he said dryly as he reached for the ignition key.

He felt her eyes on him. "It's true. I hadn't thought about it, but yes…two of the most powerful human emotions involve the creating of life, and the taking of it. But I do wish-"

"Forget it." Please! "It's not your fault."

Which was putting it mildly. He was pretty sure the idea of cavorting naked in his bedsheets would be the furthest thing from her mind.

And if he wasn't careful, thoughts like that could get him in a load of trouble. Charges of sexual harassment, at least. He'd have to watch himself from now on. He'd let himself get too damn comfortable with her today.

Picnicking with her, for God's sake. Couldn't let that happen again.

He drove her back to the Rose Garden to pick up her car with his elbow on the windowsill and his hand covering his mouth, angry with himself. And even though he remembered to block it, he knew from her troubled silence that Tierney still felt the anger and believed it was directed at her.

What the hell - it's better this way.

So why did he feel sick, sorry and sad, as if he'd just been involved in a lover's quarrel?

Wade had just draped his jacket over the back of his chair and was in the process of taking his cell phone and weapon out of their holsters when Ochoa and Washburn, the Robbery-Homicide twins, surrounded him. Ochoa dropped a short stack of papers on his desk, then hitched one hip onto a corner while Washburn took the visitor's chair beside it.

"What the hell's this?" Wade was in no mood for cryptic.