Page 1 of I Do, or Dye Trying
JOSH ANDIHADthe most amazing week in the Bahamas to celebrate his birthday and our future. We spent our time swimming, sunbathing, eating, and making love. I soaked in every second we had alone because we both knew things would get crazy once we returned home.
Broadman’s pretrial hearings were scheduled to start, we also had a wedding to plan, and a mini-mansion to buy. The changes to our lives were huge and overwhelming, but so fucking amazing. I couldn’t wait to start our new life together and raise a family. In fact, we treated Josh’s birthday vacation like it might be the last time we got to go away alone as a couple for a very long time. I thought trips to Disney might be in our future instead of a romantic getaway for two. Some couples were lucky enough to do both, and I thought it should be our goal also.
“That was the most amazing week I’ve ever had,” Josh said as I pulled down our street. “Thank you for so many wonderful birthday surprises.” He was talking about the little gifts I gave him daily to celebrate him taking another trip around the sun. Those were nothing compared to the surprise I had for him at home. I knew the moment he saw his special gift.
“Oh! My! GOD!” He squealed and danced in his seat as I pulled in the driveway. The car hadn’t even come to a complete stop before he jumped out and ran to his Princess. “Racing stripes! You bought me racing stripes!” There was more dancing followed by a kiss fit for a hero. I seriously debated painting some temporary racing stripes down the front of my body to see what kind of reaction I would get from him. “You shouldn’t have spent so much money, but damn I’m so in love with them.” He ran his finger lightly over one of the silver stripes.
“I’ve seen the way you lust after Emory’s stripes, or at least I hope it was just the damn stripes,” I grumbled.
“Shut up,” Josh said, slapping me playfully on my arm. “Oh, speaking of Emory, here he comes. I bet he wants to talk about my new stripes.”
I could tell by the expression on Emory’s face when he neared us that he wasn’t there to admire the stripes. In fact, I was positive that I didn’t want to hear whatever Emory had to say.
“I’ve had a vision,” he said somberly. “I know why I’m here in Blissville.”
I automatically reached for Josh and pulled him close. I didn’t have to be a psychic to know that it was bad news. “Why are you here, Emory?” I asked him.
“Someone’s looking for you, Gabe. A man.” He replied so solemnly that it was almost funny.
“Should I be worried?” Josh quipped, never one to miss an opportunity to snark. I looked down into his hazel eyes and was surprised that I saw concern there instead of the humor I expected. I remembered how unsettled Josh was about Emory’s appearance in our lives and how hard he worked to convince himself that everything was going to be okay.
“Honestly,” Emory said then paused for effect, “yes.”
“Whoa,” Josh said softly, every ounce of happiness he’d felt moments before was gone. I knew I needed to act fast to get it back.
“Emory, do you know anything more specific than a man is looking for me. I mean, that could be anything. What makes you think we should be worried?” I asked our friend.
“It’s hard to explain,” he said, but he could tell by the expression on my face that he was going to need to try. “There was an aura of danger in my vision.”
“A feeling?” I asked. I wanted—no, I needed—something more concrete than a feeling. I was a cop and worked on facts, not premonitions.
“More than that,” Emory said in frustration. I could tell he was struggling to find a way to explain things to me. “Sometimes my visions have colors around the edges, and sometimes colors surround the person in the vision. I saw a red aura, which can be several things, among them is anger, resentment, and even danger. This man—or whatever he represents—could be dangerous to you.”
“Did you get a good look at his face?” Josh asked. “Believe it or not, we have a sketch artist on the task force.”
“I remember,” Emory said. “Your work with the artist brought a killer to your door—the same man whose negative energy I sensed in my house when I first moved in.”
“Well, did you see his face?” Josh asked, urging Emory to answer his question. I was curious to hear the answer myself.
“It wasn’t a clear vision of the man; it seldom works that way. Hell, if it did I could prevent…” His words broke off as a look of complete devastation washed over him. I wondered if he was talking about his husband’s death, but hadn’t I read that his abilities startedafterRiver died? I also noticed he spoke in future tense—not past—like he wanted to prevent something that hadn’t happened yet, but knew he couldn’t. “Never mind,” he said, shaking his head. “What I see are fragmented pieces of events like snapshots, and sometimes they’re nothing more than vague impressions. In your case,” he nodded to me, “I saw an outline of a tall man appearing before you and his aura was so dark black that…”
“I thought you said it was red,” Josh said, cutting him off.
“Gabe’s aura was red,” Emory clarified patiently. “The stranger’s aura was black, which usually indicates the inability to forgive, repressed anger, and bitterness.”
“Emory, why don’t we go upstairs and talk about this,” I suggested. “You can tell me exactly what you saw.”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, but his tone indicated that he’d rather not. “I guess the least I can do is grab a suitcase.”
“You’re reading my mind again,” Josh told him, trying to inject some humor into the situation.
Once upstairs in our apartment above the salon, Emory sat sipping a can of Coke that Josh handed him while we greeted our fur and feather babies. Adrian had sent a text when we were on our way home that said he’d drop Buddy off, so that he could be waiting for us when we arrived. He couldn’t decide if he was happy to see us or pissed because we left him in the first place. Someone abandoned him once, and I always worried he felt left behind when Josh and I left him for an extended time.
“You’re such a good boy,” I assured him as I rubbed his belly. “Best boy in the world.”
“Bite me, asshole! Bite me!” Savage squawked as he flapped his wings angrily and rocked his little swing back and forth. “Asshole!”
“Somebody’s jealous,” Josh said, nodding his head toward the bird. “Let me take over here while you calm the bird down.”