Gideon turn
ed his gaze to the street again. “Yeah.”
Hope leaned back slightly. “So how did you know?”
“How did I know what?”
“You tackled me before the shot was fired, Raintree,” she said. “Not by much, but somehow you knew.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Complaining?”
“No, but I’m definitely curious.”
“Dangerous stuff, curiosity.”
She wanted to ask about the sparks she’d felt, but what if that response had been one-sided? Maybe she really had imagined the lightning bolt, and it had just been surprise and maybe even her reluctant physical attraction that had made her tingle from head to toe. Then again, maybe she’d felt sparks when Gideon landed on her because it had been two years since any man had touched her.
“I live for danger,” she said, half-serious.
“Let’s save this conversation for later.”
Even though she hated saving anything for later, she nodded and left him alone. She owed him that much, she supposed. “Okay. Now what?”
Gideon looked up and down the sidewalk. “Someone saw something. It’s broad daylight, middle of the day, and if the shooter got out, he must’ve left here at a run. Somebody saw.” He looked at her, and damned if she couldn’t feel that lightning again, even though they were nowhere close to touching. “Let’s find out who.”
FIVE
Gideon walked down the block from the apartment building where the shots had been fired, his new partner right beside him on the sidewalk. Today was the first time he’d seen Emma outside a dream. Her appearance had told him that she was indeed more than a fantasy. The little phantom had saved his life, or Hope’s, or both. He wasn’t sure who would have been hit if Emma hadn’t warned him to get down and flailed vainly at Hope, as if she were trying to push the woman out of the way.
She wasn’t a ghost. He was convinced that she was exactly what she’d claimed to be all along: an entity that had not yet come into this world, a spirit between lives. The amount of energy it had taken to appear to him as she had was considerable, and he could no longer write Emma off to bad dreams of a life he didn’t dare to ask for. She was Raintree, all right, or one day would be.
They passed by the doorway to a corner bookstore. An older woman stood behind the counter near the window, her curious gaze turned to the street. If the shooter had come this way, she would have seen him. Gideon nodded through the glass to the nosy woman. “Why don’t you ask that sales clerk if she saw anything?”
Hope, who’d been thoughtfully quiet since they’d left the building, said, “You don’t want to question her yourself?”
“I need to make a phone call. Family stuff,” he added, so this partner he didn’t want would know he wasn’t trying to leave her out of the loop. She hesitated, but finally went into the bookstore and left him standing on the sidewalk alone. He snagged his cell and hit the speed dial.
Dante answered on the second ring.
“How’s everything?” Gideon asked—loudly, since there was a lot of static to talk over. Damn cell phones.
“Royally screwed,” his brother answered.
“I can sympathize, trust me. I won’t keep you, but I have to know. About three months ago you sent me a piece of turquoise.”
“I remember.”
“The blasted thing was gifted, wasn’t it?” Unconsciously, he fingered the cord that hung around his neck. It was hidden by his dress shirt and tie, at the moment, but he was always aware of the power of the talisman. The silver charm that hung there carried the gift of protection, a blessing from his brother. A newly gifted charm arrived every nine days by overnight carrier. Big brother insisted, since Gideon’s job came with potential dangers. The turquoise that was sitting on his bedroom dresser had obviously carried another kind of power.
Dante laughed. “I’m surprised it took you this long to figure out.”
“What was the gift, exactly?”
“A glimpse of the future.”
“Near future or distant?”
“It wasn’t specific.”