Shattered Souls Read Online Free Page A

odor of stale booze, checked her clothing for blood, her knuckles and skin for signs of a struggle, did his anger surpass the fear that first gripped him. He hadn’t wanted her to be involved, not as a witness, victim, or a possible suspect, but he’d dragged her into the investigation anyway.
    Intellectually, the action made sense. Emotionally, he knew he was treading along a dangerous path. The attraction was still as strong as ever…at least on his side.
    After he’d reassured himself she was safe, he’d hovered while she slept, drinking in the familiar landscape, pausing to stare at the slight curves of her breasts, the taut indentation of her narrow waist, and the fleshy swell of her lush hips—even though not touching just about killed him. Her legs, bared beneath the hem of her T-shirt, were still as trim, still as leanly muscled as he remembered. He could still feel their fierce grip, strong and feminine, around his waist.
    He’d been rough with her, but he’d handled her that way out of self-preservation.
    But shoving her under cold water had nearly done him in. Her nipples had spiked hard, the rust-colored areolae visible beneath the transparent material of her T-shirt. He’d been careful to keep his face free of expression. If she’d known how aroused he’d become, they might not have made it out the door.
    Sex had never been an issue between them. The slightest encouragement would have caused their surly passions to explode like an arsonist’s match to an accelerant.
    Ruthlessly, Sam pushed away the memories. He got out of the car, turning away to adjust himself because his groin felt heavy and throbbed uncomfortably. Then he circled the car to her door. She faced straight ahead, and he wondered if she’d nodded off during the drive. He knocked on the glass. “Come on.”
    Her chest lifted and her cheeks billowed as she blew out a deep breath. But she opened the door and stepped out onto the curb. “Sure you don’t want to wait outside?”
    Not willing to repeat himself, Sam gave her a steady stare. He’d play the asshole for now and hope the anger he displayed would sink deep and kill his arousal.
    She sighed and trudged to the door of the shop. A bell tinkled as she pushed it open and entered the dim interior.
    The smell of incense and candles permeated the air. The shop was deep but narrow. Shelves of New Age and voodoo kitsch lined the walls to the left. To the right stood a long counter with more shelves filled with apothecary bottles and jewelry—amulets, beaded bracelets, silver-wrapped crystals—sitting alongside displays of colorful voodoo dolls. Behind the counter was a doorway covered by strands of purple beads. A hand parted the beads, and a woman stepped through.
    Sam nearly snorted. She was dressed in a caftan in an African print of red, gold, and black. Her long black hair hung in stiff curls past her shoulders. Large gold hoops dangled from her ears.
    She wore her age well, only a few deep wrinkles creasing the corners of her large brown eyes as she smiled at Cait and swept around the counter to embrace her. “’Bout time you come see me, little girl,” she said in a deep, musical voice.
    Her words were flavored with chicory and island patois. Sam guessed she’d followed the Mississippi northward from New Orleans.
    Cait accepted the embrace but was slower to lift her arms and return it. “Good to see you, Tante Celeste,” she said in that gruff tone that meant she was moved more than she cared to admit.
    Sam’s gaze sliced between both women. This was a long acquaintance. A nearly familial one. And his curiosity was piqued. Cait hadn’t shared a damn thing about her past other than infrequent mentions of her police officer father in all the time they’d spent together. Until this moment, he’d never met a single soul she’d known before she entered the force.
    Celeste’s brown gaze rose above Cait’s shoulder. “You brought a friend, ma petite ?”
    Cait dropped her