Page 38 of Knight of the Sword

Mr. Smith checked his watch. “I wonder where she is.”

A strange tingle began at Michael’s nape as tiny bits of violet light started to sparkle along his side vision. “Something’s not right,” he said, just as the phone rang.

Chapter Eleven

Sophie wiped her brow and adjusted the setting on the air conditioning as she eased into the traffic on I-30. The day certainly had turned hot. She felt tiny bumps on her skin, almost like a heat rash. Turning down her visor, she checked her face in the mirror. Her cheeks looked flushed, but she didn’t feel feverish. Lifting the visor, she concentrated on the traffic. As usual, it became denser the closer she got to Dallas.

Slipping in a golden-oldies CD, she began to hum along with “Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” smiling at the irony of the song. She had been perfectly satisfied not to get satisfaction since her divorce. Life was simple without a man in it. Until Michael had shown up, that is.

What was it about him anyway? Oh, sure, he was sculpted like a Greek god, with muscles in all the right places and his rakish grin, longish hair, and dark, penetrating, bedroom-sexy eyes. But Sophie hadn’t thought about bedrooms—other than for getting a sound night’s sleep—in a long time. And she certainly wasn’t taken in by cover model good looks either. Robert had those as well, and she knew how that turned out.

But…she couldn’t remember Robert ever making her skin tingle, with every nerve ending on edge, as it did when Michael merely brushed his fingers against her cheek. Even just his closeness as they sat in his car, sensing his body heat and unique male scent was enough to bead her nipples. And the fantasy dream they’d shared—she’d never had that strong a climax in her waking life, ever.

Sophie felt her face heat even more at that thought and rubbed at her eyes. They were beginning to burn. The ozone level must really be high today. She gave herself a little shake and focused on the traffic.

Yes, life had been so simple before Michael. No dragons flying through the sky or residing in her home. No media blitz. No mythical swords to find and no demons lurking out there to destroy the world.

Not that she believed in omens or superstitions, but she wondered now how coincidental that meeting had been at the Palo Pinto clinic when Michael had stopped in with the strange request to rescue a wolf that couldn’t be found.

She rubbed her eyes again as her vision began to blur. Had some sort of chemical been released into the air? Pulling out the CD, she turned on the radio. Blinking her eyes, she fiddled with the dials to find a news station.

A horn blared beside her. Too late, she looked up, realizing she had drifted into the next lane. She jerked the wheel to her right, over-correcting, and felt the truck spin out of control. Air-borne momentarily, it landed heavily on its side on the sloping shoulder of the road.

Dazed, Sophie lay there, wondering why everything around her was still reeling. Vaguely, she heard brakes squealing to a stop and footsteps running towards her. A swarthy-faced man with a patch over one eye appeared in the window. He looked like a pirate, but the last thing her befuddled mind wondered about before darkness enveloped her was why he was dressed in a suit and tie.

****

Morgan watched as Allison put down the phone, a shocked expression on her face. “What is it?” she asked.

“That was Parkland Hospital. Sophie’s been in an accident.”

“How badly is she hurt?”

“Concussion. Broken leg. Pretty bad slash on her arm from broken glass.” Allison gathered her purse and car keys. “Thank God some good Samaritan stopped and put a tourniquet on it and waited until the ambulance came.”

“Do they say what happened?”

“Apparently she swerved lanes and over-corrected. No other car was involved. Cancel the rest of the appointments, will you? I’m going over there.”

“Of course.” Morgan waited until she heard Allison drive away and then went into the tiny kitchen and picked up the coffee mug Sophie had used earlier. She gave it a good sniff, satisfied that no trace of her special herbs lingered.

“Where did Allison go?” Janie asked from the doorway.

Morgan nearly dropped the cup. She’d forgotten the girl was still here. “Sophie was in a car accident.”

“Oh, no! How bad?”

Morgan related what she knew and Janie shook her head. “That is so odd. Sophie is an excellent driver. She doesn’t text or even use her cell phone when she’s on the road. Why would she get distracted enough to drift into another lane?”

“Who knows? Maybe it was just heavy traffic.” Morgan put the mug back on the shelf and busied herself cleaning the sink. Had her herbs had anything to do with it? She had meant for Sophie’s face to break out in blotches and a rash so Michael wouldn’t find her so god-damned attractive, but sometimes vision was affected. She paused, her blood chilling. Adam very much wanted the bitch alive. He’d told Morgan that. If he ever found out that Morgan might have anything to do with causing the accident—but then, why would he? There was absolutely no reason for him to find out. She forced herself to breathe in. She was safe.

“I guess I’d better call Michael,” Janie said.

Morgan whirled around. “Why would you call him?”

“He’ll want to know.”

“Why, exactly, do you think that?” Morgan asked, keeping her voice neutral.