Feel the Heat (9 page)

Abruptly he pulled from her mouth. She looked at him, stunned.

“Did—did I do something wrong?”

“No, baby, you did everything right. It’s me. I’m so aroused with you I want only to be inside you.”

Her smile was tremulous. “That’s good then.”

“Damn straight.”

He fished a condom from the pocket of his jeans, thinking how smart he’d been to stick it in there that morning. His hands actually shook slightly as he rolled it on, and then he was back between Lauren’s thighs, his hands sliding beneath her butt to lift her to him. He paused for a second, his gaze locking with hers, then he rolled his hips and drove into her.

Shit! She felt so damn good, her pussy like a hot wet fist clenching around him. He looked directly into her eyes as he thrust into her, slowly, steadily, until she tightened around him even more, her eyes glazed with desire and those sexy little moans burst from her mouth. He accelerated his pace, driving into her harder and harder, loving the liquid feel of her, the heat that flushed her body, the sound of her breathing as it grew more ragged.

When her body signaled him that she was close, he rocked into her harder and faster, driving both of them up to that peak and over it. When he came, when he pumped into her, he cried out her name as if it was a prayer. He felt as if he were caught in an explosion of fireworks, blinding him with its myriad colors. Tossing him like a whirlwind, Lauren’s body convulsing beneath him again and again.

And then at last they were still. He rested his forehead on hers, his breathing as rough as hers and he wasn’t sure whose heartbeat he heard, his or hers or both of them. Finally he kissed her, gently, softly.

“I’d try to tell you how great that was, but I don’t think I can even find the words.”

She smiled, a slow, tempting curve of her lips. “Same goes.”

He eased himself from her body, then managed to lift her in his arms.

“I think a hot shower sounds good about now, wouldn’t you say?”

* * * * *

Reid McFadden looked at the woman sitting across from him in the coffee shop. She looked exactly like the picture he’d been given. Gayle Hauser could have been one of a million other middle-aged women, neatly dressed in slacks and a sweater, dark hair streaked with gray and pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, except for two things. Her posture was that of someone defeated by life and her face was lined with anxiety and distress.

Olberman had given him the woman’s cell phone number, but he knew she had to keep it turned off in the hospital. But during the two days he and Fred Bonner had taken turns watching the building, looking for an opening, they’d seen her come out periodically to check her messages and return calls. Eventually she’d returned his. He’d used an alias, as Olberman had instructed. Whatever happened, there could be no trails leading back to his boss.

He watched now as she fiddled nervously with her cup of coffee.

“You said you could help me. What did you mean?”

“Exactly that.” He kept his tone of voice even. Comforting, even. That’s what would get her.

“That’s the only reason I agreed to meet you,” she told him. “I still don’t understand why you couldn’t come to the hospital. If it’s about helping my husband, wouldn’t that be the best place to meet?”

Convincing the woman to meet with him had taken all of his persuasive skills.

He’d had to work hard to get her to agree to meet him, phrase his words just right—enough to tempt her into squelching any misgivings about a meeting with a stranger. “I represent a man who demands no notoriety or recognition. If word got around that he was giving out huge sums of money to strangers, you can imagine what a circus his life would be. His only reward is helping others. There are too many chances for exposure in the hospital. Too many people to overhear a conversation and gossip.” And Reid also didn’t want anyone there to see him and remember his face.

Even then, she’d told him ahead of time she didn’t quite trust him. Good. That showed intelligence on her part. People shouldn’t trust too easily. But she had an Achilles’ heel, and that’s where he’d hit her to get her to accept his offer.

“You said you could solve all our problems.” She took a nervous sip of her coffee, set the cup down carefully. “I don’t see how you can do that. Our medical insurance has run out and we’re over our heads in debt. Not that anything has done any good. The doctors have tried everything to set my husband on the road to recovery and I get the feeling they’ve about given up. Nothing seems to work on the infection that’s set in. His condition seems to have them baffled.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, obviously trying to maintain her composure. Reid hoped she didn’t burst into tears. He wasn’t much good with crying women.

“That’s why—”

“I can’t imagine what you have to offer,” she went on, overriding his words. “My husband is desperately ill and getting worse every day. I shouldn’t even be away from him this long. While I’d appreciate and be so grateful for the money, as you obviously know, what I really need is a miracle cure.”

Okay. Now was the time to spring it on her.

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing, Mrs. Hauser. Someone who can work miracles.”

He steeled himself against the sudden look of hope in her eyes. He hoped Olberman knew what he was doing. Reid himself was not given to sentimentality, but neither was he as brutally cold as his boss. If Lauren Cahill couldn’t work her magic on Gayle’s husband, he didn’t want to be around to see the emotional fallout.

He watched the look of hope change to one of suspicion.

“What kind of line are you feeding me? And if you’re right, why didn’t you just give me the information over the phone?”

This was the tricky part. “This is a very delicate situation. The person I’m going to tell you about demands absolute anonymity. When word leaks out it becomes a feeding frenzy for the media, and she is a very private person.”

“She? Is this a woman doctor?”

“Not…exactly a doctor.”

“Exactly what, then?” Gayle Hauser pushed.

He’d practiced this part of his conversation, turning it over and over in his mind, yet he still wasn’t sure how to present it. The concept was so foreign to him he had to make himself believe it first. Oh well. Olberman paid him incredible wages to do shit like this so he’d best get to it.

“Have you ever worked with a healer before?”

The woman’s eyes widened. “A healer? You mean like a faith healer? Like in those tent revivals?”

Reid shook his head and did his best to keep his expression calm. “I represent a benefactor who wishes to remain anonymous. He’s heard of your situation and is aware of a young woman who is a psychic healer.” He held up his hand as Gayle opened her mouth to object. “Just hear me out. This woman has had fantastic results.”

Gayle frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t put much stock in stuff like that. I’m not even sure how it works.”

“As I understand it from the benefactor, in the type of healing this young woman does the psychic ‘builds up energy or life force’ internally and then transfers the same to the patient. She’s able to identify by touch where the spots are that need healing and places her hands over them.”

The woman took another sip of her coffee, although Reid could tell she was just doing it to take a moment to pull herself together.

Listen to me.” She leaned across the table, pinning him with eyes filled with misery. “If this is some kind of scam—”

He held up a hand. “No scam. I wouldn’t be that cruel.”

“You know I’m really at the end of my rope in trying to help Clark. But this?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. Although I suppose I really have nothing left to lose at this point.”

He watched her silently, letting her turn things over in her mind. If he rushed her she’d become suspicious again, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“And the money?” she said at last. “Do you have any idea how much we owe that the insurance didn’t cover? Not to mention other debts that keep piling up.”

Reid nodded. “The same benefactor is offering you a gift of five hundred thousand dollars, no strings attached, to help with all that.”

This time her eyes really popped wide. “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of joke?” She shook her head. “I don’t know what kind of thrill you get out of playing with people’s lives like this but—”

“This is no joke, Gayle.” He made himself smile. “May I call you Gayle? Just think of this as a new twist on that old television program,
The Millionaire,
where a very wealthy man gave himself pleasure by making anonymous gifts to deserving people.”

“But why us?” she persisted. “How does he even know about our situation?”

“He keeps his fingers on everything going on in the world. He looks for people like you who are in a bad situation. He’s amassed a fortune and it pleases him to be able to help others. In fact, these days it’s his main goal in life.”

More silence. He could almost see her brain working, the combination of suspicion and desperation battling each other inside her. The research on the Hausers had been very thorough. Olberman had chosen them out of dozens of other possible candidates because they lived in the same city as Lauren Cahill. He was banking on the fact the desperation would win out over everything else.

“All right,” she said at last, hope warring with skepticism in her voice. “Who is this young woman and how do I go about getting the money?”

“Easy.” He took a slip of paper from his pocket with Lauren Cahill’s name and phone number on it. “First you contact the person I told you about. You’ll have to plead your case with her. She demands absolute privacy and anonymity, but occasionally someone will leak information and the media hounds her. That happened with her last patient and she’s still dealing with it.”

“Maybe she won’t take my call, if she has all that going on right now.”

“I’m going to keep checking her house to see when the media is finally gone. Then I’ll let you know it’s time to call her.” Reid gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “She’s very kind and very sympathetic. If you present your circumstances to her, I know she’ll agree to see Clark.”

Gayle frowned. “If your—benefactor—knows of this young woman why doesn’t he just contact her himself?”

Reid smiled. “I told you he’s obsessive about anonymity. Even more so than Lauren Cahill. Your story touched him and he just wanted to help. He doesn’t like to intrude himself into a situation.”

“He must be a wonderfully selfless person.” She twisted a paper napkin in her fingers. “I just can’t imagine someone doing this and not even wanting any credit for it.”

“Yes. He’s an unusual person.” That’s an understatement, Reid thought. “You call her and when the arrangements have been made, call me at this number.” On the back of the slip of paper he’d just taken out, he wrote the number of the burner phone in his pocket. Once she’d called, he’d throw it away. “Once I get your call that the appointment is confirmed, I promise you the money will be transferred immediately into your bank account.”

“Why do I have to make the appointment first? Is this some kind of trick? If she won’t come we don’t get the money?”

“It’s part of the gift.” Jesus, all he needed was for her to harp on that. “They just go hand in hand.”

“I hope you’re telling me the truth.”

“One more thing,” he added. “No one is to know anything about this except an anonymous benefactor decided to help you. Understand? The name of the healer and the gift of the money came to you anonymously and that’s that. Don’t discuss it any more than you have to, no matter how many questions people ask you.”

“I understand.” She gathered her purse and slid from the booth. “I have to get back to the hospital. I’ve been gone too long already.”

Reid paid for their coffee and walked her out to the parking lot.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” She was facing him and for a moment he worried again that she’d burst into tears. But she took a deep breath and pulled herself together. “But you know how much I appreciate it. If this all actually happens please tell your employer for me that he’s saved us. Really saved us.”

“I’ll convey your feelings.”

He watched her climb into her car to head back to the hospital. Olberman was right. It was ridiculously easy to manipulate someone who was desperate. Well, he’d done all he could. Now he could only wait, banking on the predictability of people.

* * * * *

The day had been a busy one, despite the chaos that continued outside. Mark and Dan spent better than an hour at the house, going over everything until they were satisfied things were to their satisfaction.

“I’m still amazed at the abundance of articles on psychic healers,” Dan said. “Andy, our tech, tapped into more than a thousand items from both newspapers and magazines.”

“And I bet not too many of them flattering.” Lauren couldn’t help the edge in her voice.

Dan nodded, his mouth a grim line. “Most of it is because of ignorance,” he told her. “But that doesn’t lessen the impact.”

“Were you able to narrow all that down to something manageable?” Troy wanted to know.

“I had Andy do some runs with specific parameters. Healers who are women. Healers in a certain age group. Those who have received threats. We eliminated all those who charge a fee for their service. Then we ran a list of those in areas where you actually left here to attend a patient.”

“I usually keep my travel limited.” Lauren rose to refill her mug, aware that she was guzzling far more than her usual allotment of caffeine. “I suppose if someone called and was truly desperate, I’d go. But usually I recommend someone closer. Someone I trust.”

“What else?” Troy asked.

“We ended up with about two hundred possibilities when we filtered everything else out.”

Lauren frowned. “I know I haven’t worked with that many people.”

“That’s right,” Mark agreed. “But every one of your patients has relatives and close friends. Even when you’ve been successful there could be people who resent what you do. Who thought calling you in was just too much black magic. Any number of reasons we can’t even begin to imagine.”