Page 2 of A Stop in Time

Where a man exists who could accept me for who I really am and be everything I secretly yearn for.

It doesn’t take long before I tip over the edge, my inner muscles spasming around his cock. With a wake of tremors still rolling through me, I press my thumb and finger together. It’s as though someone’s snapped their fingers, and he resumes moving once again.

His eyes flash open wide when he registers the wetness from my orgasm, only to skitter away from my face in the next instant. It’s as though my face is on par with staring directly at the sun.

He closes his eyes. “Fuck yeah, baby.” It doesn’t take but a few more thrusts before he empties himself into the condom with a loud grunt.

I slide off him, collapsing back on the motel bed, and stare up at the ceiling. His labored breaths mingle with the air-conditioning unit puffing cool air into the room.

Without turning to look at me even though my unscarred side faces him, he reaches for my hand and threads his fingers through mine. “Let me rest, and I’ll rock your world again. Sound good?”

“Mmm.” My noncommittal response evidently satisfies him because a moment later, his chest rises and falls in a steady, languid rhythm. Body relaxed, his mouth is parted slightly.

I wait for the guilt to set in, because I’ve used my ability for selfish reasons yet again.

It never happens.

2

DANIEL MADRANO

Palm Cove

Outside of Jacksonville, Florida

My dead sister’s body thrashes so violently it has me jerking back in alarm, but I’m unable to look away. A cloudy sheen covers her light green eyes as she blinks rapidly.

Georgia, my boss’ wife, immediately poses the question to Emilia. “Who killed you?”

Indecipherable sounds erupt from my sister’s mouth, and impatience and desperation have me stepping forward—to see if my voice will draw her from the incoherent mumbling and elicit an answer. But Georgia holds up a hand, silently signaling for me to hold on to my thread of patience that’s wearing thin.

As usual, she’s right, because Emilia coughs before her raspy voice emerges. “Pinney.” When my sister falls silent, I assume that’s it. Then, in a barely audible voice, she forces out, “Find Mac. At Freebird.”

Emilia’s entire body goes still once again, and silence descends over us.

That’s it. That’s all I have to go on, but I’m determined as fuck to find whoever murdered my sister and tossed her body aside like she was trash.

Georgia meets my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I clench my jaw against the grief raging inside me. “Not your fault. Thank you for doin’ that.” Georgia didn’t have to use her ability to briefly revive my sister, but she knew I’d want some answers. Clues, at the very least.

Casting one final look at the woman lying dead at our feet—at my estranged sister who only showed up days ago—I turn my attention to Bronson.

Bronson Cortez might be one of the most feared men around because of his reputation as leader of The Scorpions, but he’s been my best friend for years. Those who don’t know him well wouldn’t recognize the sympathy in his gaze, but it’s there.

He braces his wife, Georgia, from behind, and not for the first time, I experience that twinge of envy of what these two have.

Georgia’s face is drawn from the exertion it takes to briefly revive the dead. As much as I appreciate her asking my sister who killed her, shock and disbelief war within me that this is it. I’ll never truly get to know the woman my sister became.

I’ve just been handed fucked-up excuses for clues as to how my sister died. And I’m not blaming Georgia—no way in hell, especially after she used her ability, her gift, for me. But she did warn me that the responses from the dead aren’t always clear and precise.

Damn if she wasn’t spot on.

Even though I’m fucked up with turmoil, I force myself to maintain a stone face and address Bronson. “Gonna need some time off.”

He doesn’t hesitate even a second, and my throat tightens with gratitude. “Take all the time you need.”

With a curt nod of thanks, I stride to my car at a clipped pace. From behind me, Bronson gives orders to the other men. “Get her out of here. But be careful with her.”

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