A Cop and a Feel: Karmic Consultants, Book 5 Page 5

  “You had to go and make me angry, didn’t you? Shame on you, little girl.”

  Ronna dug her nails into the arm at her throat and kicked back, but he had braced his legs wide and her feet just swung wildly in the air.

  Pressure built in her chest. Her vision began to go black, but the images pouring into her from Cutter stayed as vivid and bright as ever. She was going to die with the thoughts of a murderer clouding her brain, corrupting her soul. In the darkness of her helplessness, one thought swam through the nightmare.

  Matt. She clung to the memory of those dark-lashed green eyes as the rest of the world collapsed around her. Matt, help me.

  Chapter Seven—Showdown at the O.K. Carnival

  Matt came to with the metallic tang of blood in his mouth and a wet trickle rolling down his throat. He choked and rolled to his side, coughing and spitting out a stream of blood. His nose felt like it had swollen to five times its normal size. His own blood drained down the back of his throat and poured across his face. He didn’t try to touch the source of the pain. He didn’t need to in order to know his nose was crushed, broken in at least two places.

  He blearily remembered getting a shot off but knew it had gone wide. Then the butt of his own gun had rammed into his face, and the world had snapped to black. Why had Cutter just left him here? Why not finish him off? It wouldn’t have taken more than a second to pull the gun from his limp grasp and fire a few shots into his head. Knives were Cutter’s weapon of choice, but that was just sloppy. Careless. Had he been in that much of a hurry, that reckless in his need to pursue Ronna?

  Ronna.

  Matt shoved to his feet, stumbling like a drunk but chased by a horrifying urgency. How long had he been out? The weight of his gun reminded him that he still held it. Ignoring knuckles that were already beginning to swell and the stiffness in his fingers, he raised the gun to the ready as he shoved through the jangling curtains.

  Half expecting to see Ronna’s body mangled on the ground, he staggered to a stop at the sight that crossed his blurry vision. She dangled from the arm barred across her throat, motionless save for the fingers clawing at the arm that held her.

  An icy calm flowed through Matt. He raised his gun even though the target areas on Cutter were blocked by Ronna’s body. “She dies, you die,” he vowed flatly.

  Ronna’s eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, locking on him with something that might have been relief. Don’t get ahead of yourself, honey. We aren’t out of the woods yet.

  Cutter lowered her to the ground, easing his arm away from her throat enough to allow her to cough and draw in a jagged breath. He didn’t release her though. Instead, he huddled his large body behind her small frame and pulled a switchblade from his pocket, flipping it open and raising it to rest against Ronna’s cheek.

  “Looks like we have ourselves a Mexican standoff,” Cutter said in a disturbingly cheerful tone.

  Matt didn’t have a clear target, but he wasn’t about to let Cutter walk away with Ronna, and if he touched a hair on her head, he was going down in a hail of bullets.

  If the task force hadn’t completely abandoned him, now would be a hell of a time for reinforcements to arrive, but no agents poured out of nearby booths to come to his aid. For all the crowds just an hour earlier, this part of the carnival was deserted now, an eerily festive ghost town.

  “What do you want, Cutter?” Matt called, easing subtly to the side to try to get a better angle.

  “What do I want?” Cutter barked with a laugh. “I want you to mind your own fucking business.”

  Ronna stared straight into Matt’s eyes, her own wide and oddly blank as she maintained a white-knuckled grip on the arm that held her. “He didn’t come to kill me,” she explained, her voice hoarse and strangely flat. “He was supposed to scare me into cooperating. He’s not allowed to kill me. It would look too suspicious. But he doesn’t see another option. You ruined everything. He’s scared.”

  “Shut up!” Cutter shouted, shaking her roughly, but Ronna’s eerie monotone continued.

  “He’s failing them. It isn’t the first time. He’s failed them before. With Singer and Martelli.”

  The hand holding the knife to Ronna’s face shook. “You can’t know that. No one knows that.”

  “Things have been bad since Big Joe left. Coretti does things differently. Doesn’t trust anyone. Doesn’t trust Cutter. He’s on the outside now. Any day they could decide he’s expendable. Too dangerous, too volatile. He knows too much.”

  “Shut up, you crazy bitch!” Cutter screamed, nicking Ronna’s cheek ever so slightly with the blade so that a drop of blood formed like a tear on her face. Matt considered adding his urging to Cutter’s that she shut up. Whatever the hell Ronna was doing, it wasn’t helping the situation, but she didn’t look like she would hear him. Her face was blank, like she was lost in a trance. She hadn’t even reacted to the knife slicing into her cheek.

  Matt remembered with a jolt what she’d told him earlier. Sensing things from people. Truth. Futures. It was real. She’s for real.

  “He wants to kill you,” she continued doggedly. “Maybe if he kills you, I’ll do what they want me to. I’ll tell Henderson that Coretti is a saint. Cutter will be rewarded. He’ll get the respect he deserves.” Ronna blinked rapidly, like someone waking from a dream and her eyes focused on Matt’s again. “Give him what he deserves.”

  Matt sighted down the barrel of his gun, ready for any shot that presented itself, but Cutter wasn’t giving him a target. In spite of his reaction to Ronna’s rant, he hadn’t poked his head out from behind her once. They were exactly where they had been. At an impasse.

  Every hostage scene from every movie Ronna had ever seen battled for dominance with Cutter’s frantic memories in her mind. The “shoot the hostage” moment from Speed stuck out in Technicolor detail, but as much as she trusted Matt, she wasn’t about to suggest that particular brand of insanity. She could have a dozen bullet holes through her and Cutter would still hold her up like a human shield. No, there had to be some other way.

  Cutter was panicking. His body was calm, but his mind was chaos. Through his touch, she felt him scrambling for a solution, a way out. Matt’s eyes were sharp and clear with resolve, his stance firm and unyielding, even though his nose was a swollen purple mess and blood drenched his face and the arm where Cutter had sliced him.

  God, Matt looked awful, but Ronna had never seen a more gorgeous sight than when she opened her eyes to see him standing there, battered, bloodied, determined and alive. The light in her world had suddenly switched back on.

  She’d merged her mind with Cutter’s, searching for some clue, some hint as to how to outsmart him, but there was no plan to reveal. He was panicked, reacting, his thoughts a careless jumble, moments of decision mixed with flares of fear and frustration.

  Fuck it. Just kill the bitch.

  Ronna knew a fraction of a second before the knife descended that he was going to lay her throat open. Fear flared her eyes wide. “Matt.”

  He didn’t have a shot. She was going to die. He was going to watch her die, those gorgeous green eyes filled with shock and horror at his helplessness. The look she’d seen in her vision…

  No.

  Ronna squeezed Cutter’s arm, hanging on tight. She took every image that had poured into her from his brain, every violent horrific death, and saturated it with her own terror, throwing the nightmare back into his mind. She reversed the flow for the first time, forcing him to see, to feel, to be every victim he had ever tortured, trapping him in a hell truly of his own device, laying his mind open with the fear he loved.

  Cutter jerked, a strangled gargling noise issuing from his throat as his body stiffened and arced, his mind bare and defenseless against the assault, his own assault. Ronna flung every horror into him, pushing them through the touch. His long, unbroken scream blended with hers, high and wild, until they were both cut off by the explosive crack of a gunshot.

  His body jerked
again under the force of the bullet, the knife in his hand jumping close to her skin before tumbling from his lax grip. He collapsed, Ronna falling with him in the prison of his arms.

  Before she could twist and struggle away, Matt was there. He lifted her off Cutter and set her behind him, training his gun on the killer again. But Cutter wasn’t moving. The hole Matt had placed between his eyes made sure of that.

  Ronna’s hands shook. They didn’t feel like hers, but as if someone had taken away her hands and put heavy, swollen weights on the end of her arms where they should have been. She had killed him. Matt may have fired the bullet, but it was Ronna’s touch that had done it. The shot had just put him out of his misery. She had thrown insanity into him, and even if she had only done it to save herself, even if he deserved it in ways she could never even begin to imagine, the horror of having done it made strangers of her hands.

  Matt crouched and picked something up, turning to her with a grim look in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  It was a lock of her hair, she realized, watching him rub it between her fingers. Neatly sheared. Cutter had cut her after all. The thought didn’t make what she had done better or worse. It simply was.

  Dazed, Ronna shook her head. She was not all right.

  Matt stepped toward her, concern etched in his face. “Where are you hurt?” he asked urgently.

  “Don’t touch me!” Ronna stumbled back away from him. What if she couldn’t turn it off? What if, after having launched that nightmare, she would hurt everyone she touched?

  Matt froze, his expression suddenly wary. Closed. “Ronna,” he began, then seemed to think better of it. He took a step back and holstered his gun, hiding it beneath his jacket as if the sight of it offended her. How little he understood. The problem wasn’t the gun. The problem was her hands.

  He slid a cell phone out of his pocket. “I need to call this in. Can I call anyone for you?” he asked, cautiously keeping his distance. Ronna didn’t blame him. She didn’t trust herself to touch anyone.

  “Karma,” she heard her voice say in some faraway place. “Call Karma.”

  Chapter Eight—You Can’t Always Get What You Want

  “A palm reader. Of all the crazy bullshit.” Lieutenant Grey, the bastard in charge of the entire op, shook his head ruefully. “How did you know, Holloway?”

  Matt gritted his teeth as an EMT laid surgical tape across the bridge of his newly set nose to help keep it in place. “Call it a hunch.”

  The EMT stepped back. “That arm needs stitches.”

  “Later,” Matt said curtly, shoving his bandaged arm back into the bloody sleeve of his jacket. He’d just as soon have gone without the bloodstained coat, but he didn’t want Ronna being reminded of what had happened by the gun underneath it, and he needed to see her.

  She sat in another ambulance, being treated for shock and reacting hysterically whenever anyone tried to touch her. Matt knew the shock was almost entirely his fault, but he couldn’t just leave her. Even if all she saw when she looked at him was a killer. The man who had shot someone she’d been touching at the time.

  He’d never had to fire his weapon in the line of duty. He’d sure as hell never killed anyone before, but he couldn’t make himself regret it for a second. He would pull that trigger again in a heartbeat. Cutter had given him the shot, just for a split second, and he hadn’t hesitated. Matt had needed to protect Ronna with a ferocity he couldn’t even begin to explain. The only shot had been a headshot, but even if he could have gone for a wounding instead of the kill, he wasn’t sure he would have.

  Cutter had threatened Ronna, terrorized her. If ever a man had needed killing…

  If only he could make Ronna understand that. Matt couldn’t blame her for being frightened of him now, even though the sight of that wide-eyed panic in her dark brown eyes made him sick.

  He knew he should just leave her be. Let the EMTs take care of her until her boss Karma arrived, but he needed to verify with his own eyes that she was still whole. Hysterical, but safe.

  At Matt’s side, the lieutenant rocked back on his heels, an annoyingly smug expression on his heavily lined face. “Impressive hunch, Holloway. There’s a spot for you on the task force if you want it.”

  Five hours ago, those words would have been a triumph. Now… “Where the hell were you?”

  The lieutenant blinked. “What was that, officer?” he asked icily.

  “Where the fuck were you guys? I could have been killed. Ronna was nearly strangled and stabbed and you were where? Listening to some tunes over in the main pavilion?”

  “We had no reason to suspect Cutter wasn’t in the main pavilion area—”

  “Did you string me out as your front man in case he IDed me? In case it was a setup?”

  The lieutenant was silent for a long, telling moment. “Strategically—”

  “I don’t need to hear more. My answer is no. Thanks, but I’ll stay where I am.”

  The lieutenant’s face was tight with irritation, but he said coldly, “You’re not thinking. It’s been a helluva night.” He pulled out his card. “Take some time. Sleep on it. Let me know what you decide in a week or two.”

  Matt took the card, but he knew he wouldn’t change his mind. This one night had been all the action and deception he needed to know he didn’t belong there, on a career fast-tracking task force with people he would never trust.

  “Where is she?” a strong, throaty female voice demanded. “Where’s Ronna?”

  The tall, slim woman in a business suit cut a swath through the crime scene, determination in high heels.

  Matt placed himself in her path. “Karma?”

  “Officer Holloway.” She spoke his name flatly, as if she was already certain who he was. “Take me to her.”

  Matt led the way to where Ronna was perched in the open back of an ambulance shivering under a scratchy wool blanket and cowering away from all attempts to touch her skin. Karma planted herself directly in front of her shell-shocked employee.

  “You see?” she said with icy precision. “This is what happens when you moonlight.”

  Ronna trembled beneath the blanket, her eyes locked on Karma like she was the Holy Grail of sanity. “It’s just palm reading,” she protested, her voice hoarse and raw.

  “Just palm reading, she says.” Karma made a show of rolling her eyes. “Did it ever occur to you, my dear, that I might have a very good reason for keeping you under wraps? I.e. so things like this can never happen to you?”

  “No one knows me as Madame Ramona.”

  Karma’s exotically slanted eyes narrowed. “Yes. And Jake is looking into how they could have found out, but in the meantime, do you think you could put your palm-reading career on hold and focus on your real job?”

  Matt’s hackles were rising higher with every word out of the condescending Karma’s mouth. Ronna had been through hell tonight. The last thing she needed was a lecture on how disappointing her behavior was. Matt’s urge to snarl at Karma increased exponentially when Ronna gave a teary sniffle.

  “I’m not sure I can do it anymore,” she said wetly.

  Karma waved away the complaint with a flip of her long, scarlet-tipped fingers. “Of course the reading tomorrow for Coretti has been cancelled. Tonight’s events have certainly confirmed his character to our client’s satisfaction. You can take a day, two if you insist, and then get back to work.”

  “No, Karma,” Ronna protested, a little more strongly, though just as tearfully. “I don’t think I can do it again ever.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Karma said, so sharp and unsympathetic Matt wanted to punch her, and he was not in the habit of punching females.

  “I can’t, Karma,” Ronna sobbed. “I broke that man. I pushed into his mind every horrible thing he had ever done. I drove him so mad death was a relief.”

  Karma tipped her head to the side speculatively. “So you’ve learned to project, have you? I hardly see that it is a problem. Seems an excellent defense mech
anism to me. Provided you have someone on hand to shoot the lunatics after you’ve sent them round the bend.” Her gaze flicked to Matt. “Handy bit of teamwork.”

  “What if I can’t control it? What if I can never use my gift again without pushing that awful hurt into the people I touch?”

  “Ronna. Get a hold of yourself.” Karma stepped forward, reached under the blanket and grabbed Ronna’s bare hands, trapping them between her own and hanging on tight when Ronna cried out and tried to pull away.

  Matt stepped forward, ready to defend Ronna if necessary, but the next sound out of her mouth was a jagged sigh of utter relief.

  “Oh, thank God,” she moaned, tears streaming smooth and clear down her face. “I thought I’d never be able to… I was so scared I’d lost it…” She gazed into Karma’s face, a kind of wonder passing over her own. “You’ve never let me read you before,” she whispered. “You’re so proud of me. Wow, you were so worried. You worry about all of us. All the time. We…”

  Karma cleared her throat, visibly unnerved by Ronna’s unwavering eyes. “Yes, well. You see? Nothing to worry about. You aren’t projecting a bit.” Her eyes flicked to the side, landing hard on Matt. “I should have a word with the investigators. Here.” Karma grabbed Matt and shoved his hands where hers had been around Ronna’s so quickly he didn’t have time to react. Then she was walking away, her stride long and confident.

  Matt hesitated, knowing he should pull away, but Ronna threaded her fingers through his, hanging on tight.

  “I’m sorry,” he began, knowing he had a laundry list to apologize for, but Ronna didn’t seem to hear him.

  “I was so scared,” she confessed in a low, raw voice, her eyes locked on their joined hands. “I didn’t trust myself not to hurt you.” She lifted her gaze and it connected with his, clinging as strongly as her fingers were. “I didn’t want to think about the possibility of hurting you.” Her hands tightened fractionally around his as she grew absorbed with something only she could see. “It was never you I was afraid of, Matt,” she said softly. “How could I be? You saved me. Just like I knew you would. Even when I thought he had killed you, I knew you would come for me.” Matt couldn’t speak, humbled by the unswerving faith in her eyes. “I love you, Matthew Holloway.”