A Dance in Time (J.T. Leighton, Time Traveler #1)

A Dance in Time

(J.T. Leighton, Time Traveler #1)

By Catherine Wolffe

Copyright 2012 Catherine Wolffe

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Other Books by Catherine Wolffe

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Excerpt from The Lady in the Mist – A Werewolf Tale

A Dance in Time

(J.T. Leighton, Time Traveler #1)

Chapter 1

Use your southern charm on her. Ted’s mustache crooked up at the corner. Don’t you shit-kickers have a lot of that?

J.T. glanced at Ted with flat, unspeaking eyes. The man’s reference to his Texas heritage didn’t sit well with him at the moment. Still, what did you do when the guy was your boss? Besides, J. T. had a couple of pretty good references of his own for Ted. The man was so big that when he laughed, his belly shook like an earthquake. He reminded J.T. of a Pillsbury Doughboy stuffed in a cheap, pinstriped suit. All I have to do is observe, right? J.T. drawled in his best Texas twang.

Ted’s mustache twitched again. Yeah, that’s right. With a toothpick leftover from lunch, Ted picked at food still lodged in his teeth. Hey, why don’t you impress her with the story behind how the town and you have the same last name? Leighton, right? Without giving J.T. a chance to answer, Ted continued, "Your grand-pappy must’ve been the all-time shit-kicker, herding cattle from here to Kansas and all that crap. What a jerk! Ted chucked absently and his whole belly quivered. So you think you can manage this little job, Leighton?"

I can manage, J.T. answered blandly though he chafed under the strain of having to deal with Ted, the spineless prick! Leaning back in the leather seat of the Coup Deville he went over the plan. She’ll go in to buy the necklace and I’ll follow her when she leaves. You want me to happen upon her and use my charm to convince her to go with me to the ranch where you’ll be waiting. I got it.

Good, Ted said, wiping his fingers across his massive chest.

Oh yeah, he had it, all right. J.T. had also had about enough of his less than stellar traveling companion. Suddenly starving for fresh air, J.T. exited the flashy sedan. The car matched Ted’s suit color, he noted absently, pea green.

Ted leaned over and peered up at him through the passenger window. Don’t screw this up, Leighton, or it’s your ass.

Right. J.T. drawled, shoving his tightly balled fists into his jacket pocket, while he watching the car leave. Asshole! While he didn’t believe in playing dirty, he couldn’t help envisioning kicking Ted Burkett squarely in the balls. His new Agency boss was a lowlife piece of shit. He marveled at how the man had made it so far up the ladder in the elite group known only as the Agency.

J.T. had been recruited by Robert Leighton, J.T.’s uncle. He’d considered it a real break for his career in criminal investigation to be invited to join the secret society of retired military covert operatives. Robert had been J.T.’s commander when he had first arrived. Fresh out of the Marines and having just lost his father, J.T. found the work to be interesting. Keeping his mind occupied was something he needed at the time. The missions so far had been justifiable and legit, but there was something off about this one. Besides that, there were things Ted was doing within the Agency that didn’t add up. The whole thing stunk, making J.T. question the Agency’s legitimacy and his part in it.

The suspect, a twenty-nine year-old woman who grew up in the stellar town of Leighton Texas had left six years prior for the big lights of Broadway and New York City. Her name was Jessie Colter. She currently worked in an off-Broadway production. She’d returned to bury her parents after a mysterious accident had killed them both.

Regret hit J.T. square in the chest. He just didn’t feel right about his orders. Intrigued at first about retrieving stolen property, J.T. now found himself disquieted by the woman’s history and situation. He remembered the pain of losing his own father. She seemed harmless, but his orders were specific. Follow her until she buys the necklace; make contact and then smooth talk her into visiting his father’s ranch where Burkett would be waiting to take her in for questioning. He hadn’t been filled in as to why. His part in adding to her woes went against his code.

It made more sense to him to simply retrieve the necklace himself and leave the woman out of it. But Burkett insisted that they bring her in. Ted wanted the tag himself, J.T. mused. J.T. had already figured out that grandstanding and brown-nosing the hierarchy was Ted’s way of moving up the ladder.

The fact that John Thomas Leighton, the heir to the Leighton ranching legacy, had grown to hate his cover was inconsequential. J.T. had a job to do.

Chapter 2

J.T. had been a Marine and loved it until one fateful night in Iraq. There had been an attack by Shiits, a band of Muslim radicals, with blood in their eyes. As his men patrolled near the Kuwaiti border in Iraq, the unit had been ambushed. Having suffered shrapnel wounds that forced him stateside, J.T. remained in a coma for two weeks and remembered little of what had happened when the night erupted around them in Iraq.

The days had been long and lonely following his medical discharge. Too compound his pain, his father had died. They’d been planning a trip after his return from active duty. They never got the chance. Growing isolated and depressed, J.T. had seen a military psychiatrist, but the doctor hadn’t been able to help. Time, great chunks of it, went missing from his memory after the attack. The psychiatrist predicted that J.T. memory would likely return at some point. His reluctance to reconnect with the men in his unit had something to do with the loss of that time.

Then he had begun to see dead people. The final straw had come when he began to speak to them like he had Jessie’s parents. He’d always been realistic and rational, so seeing dead people had to have a logical answer. Telling himself, he wasn’t crazy, instead, he kept his focus on a solution for the situation. It was simply mind over matter. After deciding to treat the incidents as catalysts to solving problems, he got his private investigator’s license. So far, he’d solved two cases using the talent of seeing as well as speaking to dead people.

When Jessie’s parents had been waiting on him near their graves in the Leighton cemetery, J.T. hadn’t freaked like he’d have done before the Iraq attack. They had some heavy shit to tell him that night in the cemetery. Granted he had some doubts about a dark lord and black magic, nevertheless, their daughter was in trouble with the agency. J.T. decided he would protect her. So far, it had worked.

The Agency couldn’t find out he was working undercover. Besides, he’d decided it was about time to un-ass them anyway. This assignment had him doubting his own sense of right and wrong, because the agency instructed him to go against the law in bringing her in. She’d done nothing wrong as far as he could tell. Apparently, the Agency wasn’t concerned with her rights, only what they wanted.

It became more important to protect Jessie. The info he’d come by unexpectedly from her dead parents shed a different light on the woman. He glanced again at her snapshot that came with the Agency info.

Jessie’s picture didn’t do her justice, he decided, as he glanced up to watch her stroll down the street. Regal was a word to describe her gate. She held her head high with her nose tilted just slightly upwards. He smiled at her haughty expression. She was slender, dark and fiery with glowing eyes that pierced his restraint. Her long, slim dancer’s legs went all the way up. Having enjoyed a few long legs in his time, J.T. had to admit that those in front of him were mighty special. Feeling the warm tingle travel up his spine, he swore under his breath as he envisioned those legs entwined around his back.

Wearing black boots over black leggings and a thigh skimming dress, she made heads turn. Long, glossy black hair swung loose, cascading down her back. A man didn’t see kick-ass women like her in Leighton, Texas. She was all New York and had plenty of attitude to boot.

J.T. had stationed himself about a half a block away on a bus bench. On the outside, he remained cool behind his dark