Page 21

Chapter

Twenty-One

LOGAN

I smiled as I watched Bridgette at her workstation in the back of her shop.

She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Beyond her outward beauty, though, was an inner light that showed so brightly that I was in awe every time I looked at her. I still felt as if I didn’t deserve her.

My gaze traveled down her body, taking in the woman who regularly stole my breath with her innate sexuality. I didn’t think she knew how sexy and alluring she was.

I watched as her long red hair caressed her shoulders, making my fingertips twitch, wanting to be there, trailing over her soft skin just so I could see the goosebumps dot her skin. I loved it when her breath caught whenever I touched her, tasted her, and breathed her in.

I thought I was in love once. Finding this incredible woman who had been designed especially for me by Fate taught me, though, that I hadn’t known the meaning of the word.

In such a short time, my heart had fallen, landing directly at her adorable little feet. Words were inadequate to describe the depth of the feelings I had for her. The only reason I hadn’t said those three little words yet was because I was hesitant to frighten her.

I knew Bridgette was still struggling with our mating. She’d had terrible examples of men before I came along. The way she’d followed me to see where I had gone the day I went to visit Samantha made my heart ache. Not because she didn’t trust me. I knew I had fucked up that situation. I should have been more open with her. No, I was sad because it meant that she was still struggling with accepting me. When she’d asked if I still loved my ex, it was all I could do not to drop to my knees and beg her to see what was in my heart.

My little witch glanced over her shoulder at me again from where I was watching at the stairs. I tipped back my bottle of beer, set the empty bottle on the step beside me, and stood up, unable to resist the temptation of her seductive little smile.

“Oh no, Detective. No more distractions!” she laughed as she saw my intentions clearly on my face. I ignored her protests and stalked toward her, determined to steal another kiss. I watched as she spun around to face me, her palms up as if to ward me off. “The last time you interrupted, it took an hour, and I had to start over again from scratch,” she pouted.

“Only a kiss,” I lied, having no intention of stopping until I’d wrung at least one orgasm from her sexy little body.

“Liar,” she replied, her voice husky and her pupils dilating as she followed my every movement.

Her body jerked when I was only a few steps away. When her eyes widened in alarm, I froze in my tracks. “Bridgette?” Her arms jerked up, held straight out from her sides. “What the fuck is happening?” I demanded as I watched terror sweep over her face, turning her soft green eyes dark.

“Logan?” she choked out. As my name left her lips, bright red dots appeared on her cream-colored blouse, the color seeping into the fabric and spreading quickly. In my confusion, it took me several heartbeats to figure out what I was seeing. Horror consumed me as dark blood began to seep from an invisible wound on her chest.

“Fuck,” I choked out and darted forward, needing to stop what was happening but not knowing how. “Bridgette!” I bellowed in rage as I tried to get to her, but it felt as if I were walking through wet cement. No matter how much effort I put into reaching her, I was barely making progress. My mate and the love of my life was bleeding out only a few steps from me. I felt hopeless and enraged and more terrified than I had ever felt in my entire life. “Bridgette!”

As I struggled to get closer, to stop the invisible monster from taking her away from me, I watched, helpless, as the light that always shone so brightly began to dim in her eyes.

“Logan,” she mouthed, the words inaudible over the pounding of my heart. “Don’t let me go,” she pleaded.

“Bridgette!” I bellowed again. “Don’t you fucking leave me! Don’t you fucking dare!”

Her lashes fluttered as her eyelids slowly closed. The invisible hold on my mate released, and Bridgette’s knees bent. Her body crumpled, sagging to the floor as if she were a doll that had been dropped once done being played with.

“No!” I felt hot, angry tears fill my eyes. They obscured my vision, and I could no longer clearly see her. As I wiped them away frantically, a loud, disembodied laughter rang out around the room.

A scream filled the room, and I jolted upright in bed, my heart racing from a combination of the dream and the unexpected sound. I glanced over to see Bridgette already sitting up and panting heavily.

“Logan!” she cried and flung herself into my arms. “Mrs. Donaldson! You have to call her now. Right now! Please call Mrs. Donaldson,” she sobbed.

I held her close, not wanting to let her go. The dream I’d just had and the reality of the moment had crossed over into one waking nightmare. I’d just watched the woman I loved die and was incapable of doing anything to stop it.

“Please, Logan!”

I shook my head, trying to clear the images of the dream from my mind, knowing that I would never be able to forget. “Okay, little witch. I’ll call right now.”

With her still wrapped tightly in my hold, I reached with one hand over to the nightstand where my phone rested. I searched quickly through the contacts until I found the one for the officer who was currently stationed outside the Donaldson residence.

“Officer Moody here,” came the voice of the young police officer. He sounded alert, and though I was relieved, I wasted no time getting to the point.

“Officer Moody. This is Detective Storm. I need you to check on Mrs. Donaldson. Do not return to your vehicle until you have visibly checked on her welfare,” I demanded brusquely.

“Yes, sir.”

I ended the call, knowing that he would call back as soon as he had checked in. I turned to look down at Bridgette, who was weeping in my arms, her cheek pressed against my chest.

“Shh,” I soothed, running my rough hand over her arm. “They are checking on her now. Okay?”

Bridgette nodded, then abruptly stopped before shaking her head. “It’s too late,” she whispered hoarsely. “It’s too late.” She swallowed and then looked up at me, her lashes sticking together with her tears, and her eyes red.

Even distraught, she was still beautiful. I brushed back the hair that was sticking to her cheeks. I clenched my jaw, believing her. Somehow, the killer had struck again, and my little witch had sensed it from across town.

“I’m sorry, little witch.”

Her lip trembled, and a large tear fell down her cheek. “I was dreaming,” she began. “You and I were downstairs. I was making potions.” She stopped and swallowed as my heart started racing again. “You were walking toward me, teasing me. Or I was teasing you, I don’t know. Then something, some entity, arrived. You froze in place, and I couldn’t reach for you, no matter how hard I tried.” A sob escaped from her as my chest grew tight. “The wards in the shop woke me up again,” she whispered. “And I knew...”

“Shh,” I said again. “You’re alright. I’m here, and you are alive.” At the moment, I wasn’t sure if I was trying to soothe her or myself. Hearing her tell me that we’d shared the same dream was somehow more terrifying than the dream itself had been.

My phone rang next to my leg, where I had dropped it after the call, making both of us startle. She looked at me expectantly, hope shining in her eyes as I answered.

“Detective Storm.” I listened briefly as I stared down into my mate’s face, watching as the hope died and the tears welled one more time. “Thank you, Officer Moody. I will be there in about twenty minutes. Call the crime scene techs and Detective MacKenzie.”

I clicked off the call and set my phone down with a heavy sigh. I turned to face Bridgette again and reached out to hold both her upper arms. “Listen to me,” I demanded, and waited for my girl to look at me. When she brought those reddened eyes back to mine, I wanted to tear the world apart until I found the monster who had killed a woman tonight and broken the spirit of my sweet girl. “You do not blame yourself. You couldn’t have prevented her death.”

As she broke eye contact to look down at her lap, I wanted to howl at the moon in frustration. “Don’t,” I demanded as I gave her a slight shake to get her attention. “Look at me, Bridgette! You are not to blame. I swear, I will find out who is doing this and put a stop to it. Do you hear me!”

She nodded her head slowly, but we both knew that my determination was less to do with finding a killer who had already taken the lives of three innocent witches and more to do with the fear that my mate was next on the list.

Bridgette collapsed in my arms with a sob, and I held her close. I whispered promises into her hair until she pulled away and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “You need to go,” she whispered. “Tomorrow we’ll go over all the pictures and figure out what we have been missing. I know there’s something there that I haven’t caught yet.”

“Okay, little witch,” I said gently. “Try to get some more sleep. We will talk about the case in the morning.” I kissed her forehead and helped her lie back down. She reached for my pillow and hugged it to her chest, and let out a heavy sigh.

“Stay safe, Logan.”

I walked over to the dresser where my clothing was stored and pulled out a pair of jeans and a long sleeved Henley to wear under my leather jacket. It was going to be a cold ride in the middle of the night on my bike.

I took one last look at Bridgette, who looked small and alone in the bed we had been sharing for over a week, and my heart ached to climb back in and hold her close. With a sigh, I turned away and carried my clothes down the stairs to get dressed in the dark. I had a murder scene to get to. The sooner I solved the case, the sooner my mate would be safe.

I was at the Donaldson residence in less time than it should have taken me. As I was walking up the path to the front door, I saw headlights and turned to look. Mac’s familiar black SUV pulled to the curb next to my motorcycle and cut the engine before opening the door to step out. His expression was as grim as I felt.

“Hey,” he called, already popping a piece of gum into his mouth. “Mind telling me how you knew to check on our victim?” He stepped up beside me and clapped me on the shoulder. “How’s Bridgette?”

I ran a hand through my hair and had the fleeting thought that I needed to make time for a haircut. “Not good. She sensed it, I guess. She woke up crying and begged me to check on Mrs. Donaldson.”

“Fuck,” he muttered. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah,” I replied and looked toward the open door. Together we walked up to the porch and walked inside the warm, inviting family home. The Donaldsons were in their forties and had two grown children. Luckily, both were away at college and hadn’t been in the house.

When I stepped into the living room, I took in the carnage. The blood was still fresh, and the room smelled of the candles that were still burning, slowly melting into the carpet. The scent of blood was easy to recognize over the candle wax, though. Loud sobs could be heard from the direction of the kitchen, where I guessed Officer Moody had taken Mr. Donaldson to keep him away from the crime scene as well as to spare him from having to stare at the dead body of his wife.

The scene was identical to the previous two. All the furniture had been moved aside to make room for the killer to work their magic. The circle was drawn with what I would bet was chalk, the same as before. Bundles of herbs were placed in strategic locations along with the same type of stones. I had the brief thought that all of the items used for the gruesome ritual could have come from Oohs, Ahhhs, and Orbs, and Bridgette might have never realized the things were missing.

“Has Bridgette checked her inventory to see if any of this shit came from her shop?” Mac asked me as he looked around, just as I was.

I blew out a breath and ran my hand through my hair again, yanking on the strands. “I had the same thought. It’s a possibility that the killer has been in to buy this fucking shit. They could have been face to face with her and she never fucking knew.”

“Hey,” Mac said, walking over and placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’s safe at home, right?” I grunted in confirmation. “Then try not to stress out. We’ll have her look first thing in the morning. She can check receipts. If the killer did purchase their stuff from Bridgette’s shop, hopefully, they paid with a card, and we can track them down.

I didn’t think for a second it was going to be that easy, but agreed. I scanned over the body and looked for anything that was different from the other murders. Every single thing seemed to be identical down to the position of the body.

Movement at the door caught my attention, and I straightened. I lifted my arm to shake the head tech’s hand. “Sorry it’s so late.” I received a grunt and a nod, not expecting anything more. The crime techs were known for their quiet, antisocial demeanors.

Mac and I stood back, watching the techs work and listening to the mournful tears of a man who I expected had lost his soulmate. I crossed my arms and looked out the window, the dim rays of a first-quarter moon shining through the glass.

“Detectives,” one of the techs called out. “I found something.”