Shifters’ Captive(54)

“You want to know about your father? I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can help you with that. My visions are erratic, to say the least,” Anna said. “If I had any control over what I perceive, I’d have been able to identify Evan Blake as the attacker. But I only see what the Spirit chooses to reveal to me, sometimes seemingly random, useless flashes—although they usually make sense later.” She’d held Sherrie’s hands across the tabletop in her kitchen, such a mundane room for a psychic revelation, what with the lingering smell of coffee and burnt toast in the air. Anna closed her eyes and Sherrie did too. Then she waited. Minutes ticked past. She tried to relax and open her mind so Anna could see whatever she was looking for.

Sherrie started when Anna finally spoke. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m just not getting anything.” Sherrie had opened her eyes, blinking and focusing on the other woman. “That’s all right. I’ve gotten by this long without knowing who my father is. It’s not that big of a deal. Thanks for trying.” Although she’d been disappointed, Sherrie had meant what she said. It really didn’t matter. She knew who she was, with or without a father. Mostly it was her unsatisfied curiosity about whether or not she had shifter blood that bothered her. Only time would tell about genetics. If she bore a child who howled at the moon, that might be a clue. On the other hand, considering the way her relationship with John was escalating, she might very well have a half-breed child anyway. That opened another whole avenue of things to consider.

Sherrie glanced at John, standing beside her in the Coxes’ living room, and a warm glow spread through her. Just the sight of him could do that. She poked him in the arm. “You going to play DDR? With your reflexes, I bet you’ll be a great dancer.”

“You don’t have to play with Liberty,” Brian said. “Perhaps you’d rather sit and have a drink on the front porch, before dinner.”

“No. It’s cool. I want to play,” Sherrie said. “So does John.” Soon they were all taking turns at dancing, even stuffy Brian. After John’s turn, he collapsed onto the sofa beside Sherrie and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Why, because I dance so good?” she teased.

“Because you instinctively know what people need and how to bring the best out in them.” He nodded at Cox clumsily trying to match the computerized dance moves on the color-coded mat while his daughter danced as light as a pixie on her own mat.

“I know what you need, and I’ll show you later,” she murmured.

Dinner at the Coxes’ table was much more pleasant than last time. Everyone talked and laughed and shared memories. Sherrie learned more about the people of Browning in one hour than she’d learned all week from John.

“What about your family?” Lydia asked. “Were they worried about you when you disappeared?”

“I have a sad answer to that question.” She smiled. “No. My mom didn’t happen to call those days, so she never knew I was missing. My friends wondered why I wasn’t answering my cell, but figured I’d turned it off for some reason. My manager at work was mad when I didn’t show up for my next shift, but he wasn’t worried. So, no one realized I’d been taken.” By her side, John moved restlessly. She knew he hated the fact he’d kidnapped her.

“I quit my job and called my friends to tell them I’d met someone and was moving. It was amazingly easy to pick up and leave. It only took John and me a couple of hours to clean out my apartment.”

“Well, we hope you stay here awhile.” Lydia smiled, and her brown eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Yeah, you can spend the night if you want.” Liberty took her mother’s invitation literally. “You can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor in my sleeping bag.”

“Sorry, Lib, I can’t sleep over,” Sherrie said. “John would miss me too much. But I’ll come back again. I promise.”

Later, after their goodbyes, as they climbed into the Blazer to drive home, John turned to her before starting the engine. “I would, you know.”

“Would what?”

“Miss you too much if you spent the night with Liberty.” He smiled and leaned to kiss her.

She tasted a trace of the strawberry pie that had ended their dinner and, beneath that, the taste of John himself, sweeter to her than the berries.

“I’d miss you too. Even for one night. Your snoring lulls me to sleep.” He nipped her chin before pulling away and revving up the vehicle.