RetroCog (a Power Up! story) (5 page)

“You okay?” Lara covered his hand on the table with her own. The minute they touched, he felt a spark rush through him—familiarity, need, desire.

“Just tired, I guess.” He refused to let her sever their touch and grabbed her hand when she would have withdrawn.

She froze.

He slowly turned her hand over and rubbed his thumb over her palm. The startled expression on her face turned to one of arousal, and it was all Noah could do to keep his calm. Every instinct he possessed demanded he take Lara back to the inn and possess her. Fuck her until she pleaded with him to stop, then pleaded with him not to.

He frowned, not liking this loss of control. He didn’t hurt women, not even when they begged him for it. Not anymore.

Oh, I’ll beg you for it, sugar. I promise.

Lara ripped her hand away and dug into her plate with sudden gusto.

Noah ignored the pounding of his heart and waited until Lara had relaxed. He finished his dinner, finally sated. In one way, at least. “That voice. I heard it before.” He studied her worried reaction, sure now she’d heard the same. More of the past seeping into the present, no doubt. But how the hell had Lara heard that? “You a psychic?”

“
What
?”

“A legitimate question. People out here see a lot of strange things.”

“Arizona’s like that, yeah. But I’m not psychic.” She wouldn’t look at him, but he could see the sense of unease she couldn’t quite hide. “I just, maybe… There are rumors a few places in town are haunted. I chalked up the odd talk to ghosts.”

“What kind of odd talk?”

“The—I don’t know.”

“Ghosts?”

She raised her gaze to his and glared. “This whole discussion is ridiculous.”

“Not to me. I need that painting. You look exactly like her.” He pointed to the picture. “And we both just heard a voice no one else did. Explain all that if you can.”

Lara withdrew a few bills from her jacket and tossed them on the table. “I need to get back to the inn. Enjoy the rest of your dinner.”

“We’re not done talking about this, Lara.” He watched her, wanting to know what drove her, scared her, aroused her…

She scurried from the table. “I’m done talking. I have to get back. Frank’s waiting.” She darted out of the restaurant in a blur of motion.

Noah saw nothing of ghosts or the past as he watched her go. He had eyes only for Lara. A mystery within a mystery. And a puzzle he had every intention of solving. The sooner the better.

Lara whipped down the dark and surprisingly empty street, knowing she’d made a fool of herself by mentioning ghosts. God, when would she learn? Her family had never believed her odd experiences during her childhood, and they’d tried. What made her think a man she’d just met might?

Growing up labeled the neighborhood mental case hadn’t helped her attract many friends. Even after she’d suppressed those ghostly voices, when she’d finally convinced herself they’d gone for good, she was never quite sure. Leaving home had been painful because she loved her family, but she’d wanted to leave behind her freakish past to start fresh. Away from home, she’d focused on her future. A degree in hotel management, internships, learning and adding to her experience while striving to attain a new goal. She’d found success and a new beginning.

She’d drifted from place to place until Brownville. The Lady Fine Inn had intrigued her from the first. Ida planned to sell it in a few years, and the place provided Lara with the opportunity to run it from the ground up. An artsy town, nice friends, and even a few attractive, single men who acted interested. All of it made for a bright future.

If she bought the inn, her business would flourish with the incoming tourists. Especially with the town’s fascinating history centered on the infamous love affair between a bank robber and a madam. Her first night in the hotel had been incredible. She hadn’t heard one ghostly voice during her stay. Ida had hired her on the spot. She’d made a true friend in Frank and learned to like the small, artsy town.

Just when she’d thought she’d put the literal ghosts of her past to bed, she’d heard the voice. Proof she’d never be normal. But here in Brownville, she might just fit in. The artistic bunch liked quirkiness. And the voice that spoke to Lara was naughty but not cruel, and gone as much as she was there. Lara had started to think she could make a go of things. She’d be known as a successful business woman, not a crazy lady who thought she heard voices.

Then Noah had to show up, asking her if she was psychic. The beginning of the end. No, no, and no.

She wondered what he might really be after and intended to Google the name Emilio Vala. She knew little about art, but if this artist existed, he’d be on the Internet.

Lara hugged herself, shivering despite the temperate breeze, aware of the strange emptiness of the street. A sudden urgency to return to the inn hit her, and whether she could attribute that to the voice or her own odd instinct, she didn’t much care. She hastened her step. As she raced past the last alleyway before the inn came into view, a hand reached out to grab her.

She shrieked and ran to the Lady Fine, unsure if her imagination played tricks with her or if someone really had been there. On days like these, she wondered if she’d finally gone around the bend. It seemed like no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t outrace misfortune.

Entering the inn, she noticed the thinning crowd.
Thank God for small favors.

“Lara, you okay?” Frank took her coat from her. “You look weird.” His eyes narrowed. “Mr. Sexy, he do something to you?”

“Not a thing. And keep your voice down.” She tugged him aside for privacy. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything, honey. You know that.” Frank kissed her on the nose, and she hugged him, glad for the friendship they shared.

“There’s something strange with Noah.” She told Frank about the painting and her likeness to it, but when she mentioned Emilio Vala, he started.

“Emilio Vala is real. He was a genius with portraits. A skilled artisan known for his work even back in the mid-nineteenth century. You’re saying Noah showed you one of Vala’s portraits? That thing would have to be worth a lot of money.” Excitement colored his words. “Think what we could do with the cash.”

“Frank, focus. The painting was stolen.”

“According to Noah. What do we really know about him?”

“Good point.” She chewed her lower lip. “You research Vala. And see what you can find about Lady Fine. I’m starting to wonder if the painting might be of her. Odd coincidence it’s here in town and looks just like Finn’s descriptions, not to mention me.”

“You could be a direct descendant, because what are the odds you’d look exactly like her or that you’d move here, of all places, to manage her old bordello, now a profitable bed-and-breakfast?”

“Inn,” she corrected, preferring the loftier term.

Frank rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Okay, I’m out of here. I’ll get to work on Vala.”

“I’ll check out Noah.”

“I’ll just bet you will.”

Frank made a few more lewd comments, teasing her mercilessly. His banter eased the panic that had been building inside, and she relaxed in the comfort of being home.

Then Noah returned to the inn, glanced her way, and continued up the stairs to his room.

Frank had made a suggestion that haunted her well into the night. “Why not seduce the truth out of him? Use those luscious lips to make him beg, then get him to fess up? Between that rack and that ass, he’ll be dying to tell you everything he knows.”

She didn’t like the temptation to say yes to everything. And that bothered her more than the damn voices.

* * *

He watched her walk down the corridor to the room in the back. Lara’s private quarters. While the rest of the guests were free to retire to their rooms for the night, Lara relaxed in the back, always prepared to help if needed. Just one call would have her up and moving to assist a guest.

He liked that about her. Her willingness, the sweet submission she tried so hard to hide but couldn’t. Not from him. He’d known it the moment he’d first seen her. The moment he’d known he had to have her.

Leaving her, though he wanted to stay, he felt safe in the knowledge that she wouldn’t sleep with the new guy. Not yet. Lara liked to think of herself as progressive, but she had an old-fashioned sense when it came to men. He’d seen her attraction to the bastard, the wary looks and subtle body language. He didn’t like it. But he had something else to attend to.

After driving back to the house, he quietly entered through the front door and walked to the attic. There, in the center of the room, he lit the candles that gave off the perfect light to illuminate his future. The gilt frame, the curled edges of craftsmanship that no one these days could match. All of it centered on perfection. No monetary value could match what the painting promised, what it pointed to.

The dark brown eyes promising forever. The sultry lips beckoning for a kiss. The timeless portrait of femininity just waiting to be tamed by the right man…

A noise downstairs reminded him he’d left company waiting.

He leaned close to the frame, softly caressed the oiled canvas, and knew the time had finally arrived.

He left the attic as quietly as he’d arrived. Downstairs in his bedroom, he joined his new girlfriend. “Now, sweetheart. Don’t be so hasty. We have all night. And then some.”

She squirmed and tugged at her restraints, no doubt chafing at the need to touch him again. She liked to pretend to discourage him, in order to arouse him. And it worked, but only because she had the look. Dark hair, dark eyes. Large breasts and a bountiful ass. Such a narrow waist made prettier by the bruising lash of his crop.

The tears sparkling on her cheeks were a nice touch but not necessary.

“So eager, aren’t you, my love?” he crooned and removed his clothing.

He wanted to hear her, but he knew from experience that her screeching was a pitch higher than it should have been, and it ruined the mood. So he left the gag on.

He leaned closer. “I’m here, and it’s time.” A soft stroke over her hair, a bit coarser than the feel of Lara’s earlier, when she’d raced past him in the dark. “Soon, Cecilia. Soon we’ll be together again. But for tonight, a small sample of our pleasure, hmm?”

She danced for his whip, but when he brought out the knife, the fun really started.

Lara didn’t see Noah at all for the next three days. She disliked the fact that she’d looked for him and chalked up her interest to wanting more explanations than she’d been given.

She’d done her research. Noah First existed. He had family in Maryland, if they were the same Firsts she’d tracked through the Internet. His driver’s license was legitimate. Of course, getting that news had meant trading favors with Mike Buckman, the pushy deputy who thought himself God’s gift to women. Not that Shelly seemed to complain.

The inn’s cleaning woman and sometime cook, Shelly currently sat with Mike at one of the dining tables. Most of the guests were eating dinner in town at this hour. Since the inn served evening coffee every other night, Lara had the opportunity to simply relax.

“Free coffee and treats for a whole month, hmm?” Shelly batted her eyes and flirted with the deputy.

A vain but pleasant enough girl who had no idea what she wanted to do with her life, Shelly seemed stuck in limbo, wanting to leave town but with nowhere to go. At twenty-two, pretty but with no prospects on the horizon, she seemed as likely to get knocked up as she was to get fired if she didn’t soon change her attitude. More than one rumor had alluded Shelly did her best work flat on her back. She apparently had her sights set on the large man in charge of the law.

“Yep. Lara promised to make homemade doughnuts too.” Mike bit into a cookie Shelly had earlier sneaked him and hummed his approval. “Law appreciation month.” He winked at Lara. “Lucky me, surrounded by the prettiest women in town.”

Shelly quivered like an eager puppy, and Lara turned away in disgust. She admitted she had a thing for a man taking charge, but acting like a doormat annoyed her. Shelly had a tendency to say yes to everything with a penis.