Illicit Intuitions

Love could be their greatest liability. Sensory Ops, Book 3 Ava Malia knows three things. She was once a kickass covert operative. She will eventually adjust to her new team, the FBI Specialized Crimes Unit. And the only way to finally be free of her professional past is to solve her first case and get her hands on a game-changing technology. The only problem? Success rides on her ability to swallow her distaste for the persona she must adopt in order to earn the trust of a mysterious scientist. Dr. H escaped childhood captivity with three things. His sister. Complete control of his gift. And an engulfing distrust of anyone in the government. Adjusting to a life of freedom hasn’t been easy, but he’s found peace in solitude. The sexy woman auditing his empathic studies, though, has a way of getting under his skin that’s both arousing and disturbing. Plus, his psychic ability warns him of secrets so deeply buried in her psyche, they’d be better left alone. Yet their instant attraction strips away all their protective barriers, down to the foundation of a new, fragile trust. And a vulnerability that, when an old enemy opens fire, could blast away any chance of a future. Warning: If you don’t like mysterious heroes who can see into strong heroines, sexy love scenes, empaths, or quirky characters… Oh come on, who doesn’t like those things?

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Illicit Intuitions Copyright © 2012 by Nikki Duncan ISBN: 978-1-60928-640-8 Edited by Tera Kleinfelter Cover by Kanaxa All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2012 www.samhainpublishing.com

Illicit Intuitions Nikki Duncan

Dedication

To my readers. You make what I do possible and pleasurable.

Chapter One

Do you easily connect to a lover? Do you easily become aroused? “Do you easily orgasm?” Ava Malia—Ava Sebastian as far as Dr. H was concerned—flipped her heavy hair over her shoulder and offered up her most seductive smile. The one she’d mastered on her last case as a call girl. “Excuse me?” A dark and unexpectedly sexy Greek Dr. H glanced up from his piles of reports, graphs and charts on the desk before him. His glacial eyes remained as stoic as his face. “It seems to me you didn’t take this line of questioning as far as you could have.” She spoke low, not needing to raise her voice. She sat so near the PhD she’d been tasked to get close to that their knees brushed—and sent shocks of awareness up her thighs when they did. “I wonder why.” A dark man with a buzz cut and muscles straining his shirt sat six rows back in the classroom. He choked and shot a shocked gaze her way. She ignored him for the sake of keeping Dr. H fully engaged. “Your task here, Ms. Sebastian, is not to question me. Your task is to silently gather your data.” He didn’t need pretense. He didn’t rely on posturing. He didn’t try to appear powerful. He was powerful. “I am well aware of my task here.” To find out which Whitestone operative has been assigned to kill you, who likely is in this room. She’d wanted to take a direct approach and ask Dr. H for his help, but her boss, Breck, team leader of the FBI Specialized Crimes Unit, had demanded a

Illicit Intuitions

more clandestine advance. They had no hard proof Dr. H had the contact lenses Whitestone sought. And given his history with the secret arm of the corrupt agency and her former ties to them… Breck didn’t see Dr. H working with them. As far as Ava was concerned, the bastards at Whitestone had ruined enough lives. She was going to witness their fall. “Isn’t your goal with this questionnaire to get to know your study applicants? To find out what makes people tick and how deeply connected we are to our emotions?” “Your

point?”

His

smooth-as-butter

voice

whispered

across

her

consciousness like a gentle aubade, though lingering just below the surface was an almost indiscernible, adversity-forged superiority. “It just seems you missed an opportunity by not asking people about their orgasms. What could be more closely tied to a person’s emotions, their psyche, than how they react during sex?” “Sex is not…” He trailed off as his gaze locked on her like a targeted missile. The pulse at the base of his jaw thumped. “This is not a sex study.” Moist awareness bubbled in Ava’s throat, but she refused to swallow it down. Just as she’d been trained to always sit with a clear view of a room, she’d been trained not to react to certain stimuli. Dr. H tested her training. She’d conditioned herself to not respond to the cover name she hated and the memories it evoked for her. His slightly flustered response and the arousal pulsing through her body that was stimulated by nothing more than a hard-eyed look made response impossible. Maybe she was the one being engaged.

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“No.” From what she’d learned of Dr. H he studied emotions, their triggers and effects. He seemed to be on a quest to find genuine empaths, especially young ones, to help them master their gifts. “Then drop this line of pursuit and focus on your job.” He was her job and focusing on him was no hardship. “The questions make a girl think. They trigger internal signals…” She rested an elbow on the desk and moved her shoulders slightly forward. “And I don’t mean in the clinical ways of the posters in a gynecologist’s office on communicable diseases like, oh I don’t know…herpes.” Buzz cut dude barked out a rough laugh. The perky blonde two seats over from him giggled. Everyone else in the half-full classroom shifted in their seats and pretended to be focused on their questionnaires. Dr. H returned his attention to his papers. “Do your job, Ms. Sebastian.” For her plan to work, she needed him on her side. Needed him to accept her rather than reject her as a problem. She shrugged and did his bidding. Dr. H may think he’d kept a low profile since his escape from Eston White, a company she knew by their alternate name of Whitestone. He was cautious, and gaining access to his lab on short notice hadn’t been easy, but she’d gotten in. He wasn’t as safe as he thought. She would wait until just the right moment to point out his weak spots. After the study applicants had finished and left, Ava flipped back to the first page of the report Dr. H had passed her and skimmed through the data again. She’d had little time to prepare for this assignment, and didn’t want to disappoint her new team. Hoping she’d interpreted the information correctly, Ava jotted a few final notes in her journal and began packing up. “I hope you got everything you needed, Ms. Sebastian.” Dr. H shifted through the papers without looking up. “Call if you need something more.”

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Dismissed as easily as he’d swat away a mosquito. She rounded the desk and smiled. “I’ll be back. Soon.” Smooth and slow he lifted his head. “I think I have to hear this.” His face remained impassive, but his voice was humoring. She’d piqued his curiosity. “Hear what, precisely?” “Begin with what makes you so certain you will be allowed back.” She sat on the edge of his desk, allowing her skirt to fall open at the slit just high enough for him to glimpse the bottom edge of her tattoo. He scanned her quickly. Almost quickly enough for her to miss the thump of his pulse. The pulse point that had thumped earlier. The pulse point hiding beneath his sexy, five-day beard. He was intrigued. “I know more about you right now than you could know about me or my ‘empathic’ abilities after studying my questionnaire for days.” She used air quotes around empathic to attempt to irritate him. Humor warmed his eyes a tenth of a degree. “What could you know about me?” “You don’t stop thinking. Ever. Which makes sense considering your chosen profession. It also enables you to see all sides of an issue. While you can be objective, you have an experiential approach to life.” “Conjecture.” “I’m right. Just as I know you’ve likely received little support from family or mentors or whoever should have been there for you. So you’re independent. While you can cope with people being close—in your space…”

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She bent at the waist, leaning into the space she mentioned. He smelled of barely there, old-fashioned musk. His pulse thumped again. Her palms heated. “You’re most comfortable on your own—personally and professionally.” Thump. Thump. Thump. He controlled his responses well, but his heart gave him away. “You chose this field of study because it’s emotionally satisfying. This is the one part of your life you don’t have to question.” She drew air deep into her lungs, pulling in his scent and absorbing the answering flicker in her belly. “You’re a good listener and though you have a sense of humor, you conceal it beneath the need to accomplish your goals.” “You’re not as good as you think, Ms. Sebastian.” He eased back in his chair and rested his hands lightly on his thighs. “I’m better than you think I am.” Though she hadn’t pushed the envelope too far by sharing her speculations on his choice of cologne—a cologne which reminded her of visits to their shared native country even more than his coloring. For him, a seemingly modern man, it was likely a reminder of a simpler time in his life. Maybe it revived memories of a father or grandfather. Someone he hadn’t been allowed to know long enough. Telling him what she read from his face and body language wasn’t an intrusion. Allowing what she’d learned about him in her research to leech into the conversation was, though more than real data she’d found gaps and inconsistencies. Unless she missed her mark, his life had started tough and gone downhill. Beyond hell. In her line of work, both the past job as an undercover operative and her new position in the FBI Specialized Crimes Unit, there were some lines she could not—would not—cross.

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“But not as good as me.” His voice and stance remained as stony as the gauntlet he’d just dropped. And as sedately powerful as everything around him. Still, she’d scored his interest, or he wouldn’t attempt debating her observations. Whatever his ultimate goals were with his studies, he seemed to be on a quest for some unseen justice. She didn’t need to know every detail to understand the motivation. Similar desires had propelled her to this moment. What she needed to identify was what his brand of justice was and who he was working to help. “Really?” She lifted her right brow in what her mother had always claimed was a cocky show of bravado guaranteed to slap her into trouble. That trouble had almost killed her. Today would not be a repeat. “Then tell me, Dr. H, what you think you know about me.” “I will give you credit for bravery, Ms. Sebastian.” She was only three hours into this cover and already the name made her want to shed her skin like the disastrous sham which had created the identity. Paper trails could be wiped out with a cleansing fire, but no amount of scrubbing or attempting to forget could wipe away memories. Aidan, second in command on her new team, had been right. The greatest adversities sometimes provided the most organic covers. She couldn’t dodge what had been a very real part of her life, and she’d had no choice but to build on it for the sake of this assignment. “Is that all you’ll give me?” “You’re pushy. Or so most would think.” His gaze bored into hers, daring her to dispute him. “In reality, you’ve been conditioned with the need to stay in control of any situation you find yourself in. You’re more suited to a wait-and-

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see approach that gives you the full picture than one which requires you to act quickly.” Her stomach fluttered. The man was good, and damn if his power didn’t extend into sexual attraction. She shrugged. “Few people enjoy being out of control.” “True, but your need for control is as necessary to you as the ground beneath your feet. Interestingly though, it conflicts with your desire to respond to things emotionally. You think of yourself as independent, but somewhere in your outrageous shell is the longing for closeness. Intimacy.” “I’ll admit it. You’re pretty close.” Spot-on precise about everything. “But I didn’t come here for this sort of analysis.” “What did you expect? A study on empathic abilities that wouldn’t delve into the innermost workings of the psyche?” “Honestly, I had no expectations beyond completing a job.” And thanks to Tyler, the team’s tech guru, if Dr. H checked into Ava Sebastian, he would find an impressive background in science and accounting to back up her claim as an auditor. She hadn’t expected him to be as adept at reading people as she’d taught herself to be. Had his teachings, like hers, been based on the pursuit to survive? “Mmm. Maybe, but I’m not buying false properties today.” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on the desk. Moving-in-for-a-kiss close, their breathing stirred the air between them. “I see an idealist with a zealous outlook hoping to find a way to help herself and possibly others.” “Now that sounds like some promising real estate.” Ava met his aggression and tried to ignore the increasing flutters in her gut. His scent. His power. He was arousing. “Is it ocean-front property in the Kalahari?”

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Dr. H tilted his head, seeming to catalog her responses as if his mind was a database. “You’re keeping secrets.” “We all have them.” And she wouldn’t be keeping them if her partner Aidan had felt Dr. H had been forthcoming with information when he had visited days earlier while working to tie off the last strings of a previous case. Instead, Dr. H had claimed to know nothing about a company named Whitestone or their interest in a pair of prototype contact lenses. “I have no tolerance for secrets and lies.” Ava laughed and shook her head. “Are you telling me you have no secrets?” An unwavering intensity vibrated the air around them and set her arm hairs to tingling. She wasn’t empathic, but right now she was acutely attuned to Dr. H. She couldn’t read his mind, but she felt his power echoing inside herself with the allure of a predatory panther. Drawing her in. Captivating her. “This isn’t about me.” He studied her. Moved closer. His gaze intense. Unshakeable. “This is about your reasons for being here.” “I told you. I’m here for a job.” Beneath the strength of his stare, her chest and lungs constricted. Her life had often depended on her ability to convincingly play a role. He made her want to squirm. Yeah. He was powerful. “And I told you I have no tolerance for lies.” Dr. H stood and gathered his papers into one pile. “When you decide to lead with honesty, we will revisit the possibility of you being allowed back. If the audit isn’t complete, send someone else.” She’d followed the plan she and her team had come up with. Granted she’d taken a few liberties based on her impressions she’d gotten of him, but the plan

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wasn’t working. They’d been counting on her training to read people, but she was being booted from her one way into his life. That he was willing to let yet another auditor in evidenced how badly he wanted her gone. She needed something to shift the tidal waves back in her favor. Fast and solid and big. Not too big though, like that she knew his real name. Going too big would reveal all of her cards too soon. Sifting through the limited information she’d found on him, she grasped for the right ammunition. If he turned her away, like he had Aidan, she would fail. Yesterday’s briefing with her team and Ian Cabrera, the expert listener for the NSA, replayed in her head. Someone was going to infiltrate Dr. H’s study for the purpose of killing him. He needed protection until they could figure out who the infiltrator was and stop them. Before she could get access to the study participants, she needed to gain the man’s trust. From what they’d learned during their investigation, the first sign of his trust would be an invitation to call him H instead of Dr. H. She wouldn’t succeed with a hard sell. “Sorry to have wasted your time.” Ava slid her purse on her shoulder and headed for the door. “Clearly Channing was wrong.” She made it to the door and had her hand on the handle. “Ms. Sebastian.” He spoke quietly with a trace of remorse underlying his hesitancy. She looked over her shoulder, but didn’t turn her body to him. “Yes?” “This Channing you mention.” “Yes?” “What is his last name?”

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“Harris.” She felt bad using her new friend’s dead stepbrother as a tool in a case, but Kami would understand. Especially if it netted them more answers into why he’d been killed. “And how do you know him?” “He was a good friend’s stepbrother.” She turned fully and faced his challenge directly. The truth came easily, which felt odd when she considered her adeptness for lies while working. She didn’t miss his cue of present-tense words as he tried to trick her. “Unfortunately, he recently died.” “Tell me, what could a dead man be wrong about?” Dr. H picked up his papers and closed the distance between them. He didn’t pretend to not know Channing, though he hadn’t said he did either. An arm’s span separated them. Close enough to touch if she reached out. She didn’t, but as it had when she’d sat on his desk, awareness hummed in the air. His eyes drew her in so completely she could sit and stare at him for hours. His allure intoxicated her as effectively as shots of Patron Silver. His power could be detrimental if she allowed it to interfere in her case. “Why are you so intent on seeing me as a liar?” “Because you’re intent on proceeding with more evasions than answers.” “You’re a suspicious man, Dr. H.” Ava cocked her head and boldly scanned him with her gaze. Bubbles of desire burst in her belly. “That and the way you have insulated yourself within your one-letter name must make life lonely for you.” “On the contrary. It minimizes life’s complications.” His inexpressive stare dared her to show her real self. To turn his belief that she was a liar into a reality.

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He was doomed to disappointment. “And you see me as such a complication.” He smiled. It was little more than a minimalistic lift to one side of his mouth, but with it, his entire façade altered. His ruggedly appealing face brightened. Became approachable. One quirk of his mouth and he morphed in to the dark-haired man of danger with a soft inner shell women wove into fantasies. One quirk of his mouth and the temptation awakened to discover his taste and know the feel of his whiskers against her skin. One quirk of his kissable mouth turned him into a complication. “I see you, Ms. Sebastian, as a challenge.” She had him. He wouldn’t allow her to leave this room until he secured the opportunity for more answers. Until he was certain he would have the chance to figure her out. She turned fully and leaned her back against the wall. Calling on skills of seduction she’d learned from Madame V and her girls, Ava traced a fingernail down the center of his chest and continued until encountering the waistband of his shorts. “Professionally or personally?” “We will begin in the morning at seven a.m. Wear a suit.” Satisfaction had her smiling. What they would do in the morning didn’t matter. She’d won their first match. She’d gained access to the private Dr. H who had cut himself off from everything…including his birth name. He shook his head and reached past her for the door handle. His hand brushed her hip. A lightning-quick bolt of consciousness shot through her and fluttered in her gut with erotic reverberations.

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He canted forward, erasing the inches between them. A hand gripped her hip and pushed her against the door. His mouth descended. Her tongue swiped across her lips and brushed his. With a groan, he drove his tongue into her mouth and devoured. Buzzing erupted in her scalp. Hesitant desire that couldn’t be ignored and didn’t feel as if it belonged to her alone filled her. The impression overrode thought and senses until her vision blurred. Her body trembled as if her muscles had been overworked. Tongues brushed, lips pressed, bodies begged. Her panties were damp and she was whimpering when he pulled back. She’d gone from close to potentially too close. He wasn’t her lover. He hadn’t given her an orgasm. But he did arouse her.

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Chapter Two

He shouldn’t have kissed her, but damn if it hadn’t been amazing. Now, like a fool, he watched from behind the dark-tinted windows in his lobby until Ms. Sebastian got into her car and drove away. She hadn’t looked back with those brilliant eyes shining with intelligence or fidgeted or pulled out her phone to make any calls. She’d remained as relaxed as she’d been in his lab. He’d screwed up by kissing her, by inviting her back, but he had to know more about her. “Staring after her isn’t going to make you want her less, H.” “Who says I want her?” H turned to find his sister, Dana, leaning against the wall with a smug smirk on her pixie-like mouth. “You. With your body and your thoughts.” He shrugged and turned back to the window. Dana had been with him through the hell of Eston White. When they’d gained their freedom and he’d wanted to take an entirely new name to make hiding from Eston White easier, she’d asked him not to. She understood his desire to distance himself from their family name, but she wanted to hold tight to it. If he took an alias, she would have to as well in order to stay with him. The idea of being without his sister wasn’t acceptable. To keep her with him, but to put a layer of distance between them, he instead took the name Dr. H. He wouldn’t be as hidden as he might have preferred, but it hadn’t taken long to realize a delight in taunting Eston White.

Illicit Intuitions

They had robbed him of his childhood. They would not rob him of the last of his family. “You want that woman,” Dana repeated. “Like a love bug in lust.” He laughed. “I want to know what she’s hiding. She’s the second person to mention Channing to me.” Dana crossed to him and knelt, resting her hands on his knees. “I’m with you in the trust department. It’s hard.” Hard was mild given what they’d been through. “But, H, looking for deception in everyone we meet isn’t what we’re about.” She pushed up and kissed his cheek, likely softening a coming lecture on freedom meaning nothing without someone to share it with—not that she’d found someone. Rather than lecture, Dana moved toward the hall. “Check her out, but I think this is one of those times you’re going to have to rely on your intuition.” Which didn’t help. He couldn’t read Ava, and it bothered him. His intuition insisted he’d already misstepped. A movement in the trees lining the parking lot outside caught his attention. He lowered a shield he kept mentally erected to protect himself from reading too much from others. Filtering through his emotions, Dana’s, and those that lingered from study applicants, he sensed the area. An instant later a rocket of hatred blasted him with breath-robbing violence. Fuck. His shield shuttered back into place. Only one empath could project a violent enough hatred to penetrate walls. Janus, and by extension of association, General Scott were back. The need for answers multiplied exponentially. H headed to his office and called Channing’s company, Sirrahmax. “This is Maxwell Truman.”

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“Yeah, Maxwell.” H grabbed the receiver from the cradle to disengage the speaker. “This is Dr. H. I consulted with Channing on an experiment.” “I’m sorry. Channing is…” Maxwell’s voice wavered as he trailed off. “I know. I’m sorry for your loss.” He’d known Channing well enough to know Maxwell was Max, Channing’s life and business partner. Max’s pain rang clearly enough through the line for H to be grateful he couldn’t read people over the phone. “I respected Channing and wish I could’ve made it to the memorial.” He wasn’t afraid of meeting new people or dealing with society, but he didn’t allow people to get to know him. Attending the memorial of a murdered friend… He avoided funerals because of the emotions. Grief was the worst feeling he’d ever absorbed from another person. Multiply one person’s grief by ten or twenty or fifty and it could easily paralyze him. Or shatter his mind. A fact he’d had pushed on him shortly before gaining freedom. “Thank you.” Maxwell sounded a little stronger. “I don’t recall him mentioning you.” Channing always said Max was the business-minded one who preferred the travel and wheeling-and-dealing to spending time behind the desk or in a lab. Impatience for the mundane was likely the cause, was hopefully the cause, of the darkness leaching into his voice when he spoke again. “I believe you worked offsite.” “Primarily, yes.” Without Channing’s willingness to respect his need to work out of his lab in his own building, they wouldn’t have collaborated. Their work would have fallen into enemy hands. Eston White’s hands. “I had a woman come to me today,” H started. “She claimed to hear about me from Channing.” Max remained silent. Waiting. “I wonder if you have heard of her.” “What’s her name?”

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“Ava. Ava Sebastian.” More silence greeted him. One second turned into five. Five into twenty. “Yes. Ava. I don’t know her well, but she is a friend of Kami’s. Kami is, was, Channing’s stepsister.” “Thank you.” The woman had secrets, but she’d told the truth about that much. And as far as he knew she could be the threat Agent Burgess had hinted at when he had stopped by a few days earlier. H would keep her close until he knew more about the compelling brunette. “Dr. H?” Max’s voice stopped him from hanging up. “Yes?” “Were you working with Channing on the diagnostic contacts?” Channing had chosen to keep the details of their experiment quiet. The one time H had gone to Channing’s lab he’d recognized a lab tech as Jefferson, a man he’d been in captivity with. Only Jefferson had joined forces with their captors and turned spy. When he had voiced his suspicions, Channing had become even more resolute that the details be protected. Max seemed to know details. He couldn’t be the only one. Damn it. Who had he been talking to? “Yes.” “Had he successfully…?” Shit. H's heartbeat hastened. He was going to have to choose between the truth or a lie. The lie would fester in his gut, swelling into a softball-sized pustule of self-loathing. The truth could get Max killed. “Never mind.” “Maxwell…” He didn’t know Max, but could picture the man behind a large mahogany desk shaking his downcast head. Asking more questions seemed cruel, but he needed to know.

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“Forget I asked. Channing had his reasons for keeping details about his research private. I’m going to trust you to make the right decisions about whatever you know. Just be careful. I doubt either of us is without talking walls.” Max hung up with neither of them saying anything more. H rubbed his right eye and pulled in a few steadying breaths. His lab was completely secure, but Max’s remark about talking walls nagged. He needed more information. It seems to me you didn’t take that line of questioning as far as you could have. I wonder why. Ms. Sebastian’s taunt from earlier came back to him. Max had let the conversation drop and, like on the questionnaire, H hadn’t pushed that extra step. Had his decision kept him from learning as much as he could have? Shedding the doubts and suppositions lingering from the call, H settled in to work through some of the questionnaires before the youth control group arrived. His mind wouldn’t release thoughts of Ava Sebastian. Her insights about him had been dead center. A laser, accurate bulls-eye into his psyche. Did she have empathic abilities, or was it more? The longer he was free of Eston White the stronger his mental shields of protection grew. He was well blocked, but he wasn’t the only powerful empath Eston White had trained. There was the possibility she was powerful enough to shield herself and read him. He couldn’t get a clear read off her, aside from what he’d been taught to notice, but something was off. Something that had nothing to do with the outrageous red—and surprisingly conservative—dress hugging her slight curves, or the tattoo he’d glimpsed a hint of when the slit in the dress had raised high enough to tease. The woman knew how to use her sexuality to her advantage. Damn if he didn’t want to see more. To risk the danger.

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Every time he’d lowered one of his guards and reached across the room for an impression of her, he’d been met with a yawning span of nothing. No light. No dark. No good. No evil. A gray slate. Intelligence shone in her eyes, a brown so pale it was more like camel tan with shoots of army green radiating off the darker outer ring. She utilized every weapon. From long, slender legs—a particular appreciation he never indulged in—to a flash of her flirty smile and a flick of her long hair. She’d worn no jewelry and her bag had been a functional messenger-type bag rather than the high-dollar purses or knock-offs most women carried and coveted. If the woman he’d met was the real Ava, she didn’t play the game of competing with the female Joneses of the world. She lacked a well-developed brain-mouth filter, but seemed comfortable in her own skin. On the surface, she appeared to be what she claimed. “H.” Dana, the only other person who worked in the lab, stuck her head into his office. “The kids are arriving, and there are some men from the FBI here to see you.” Again? “You verify them?” Dana’s brown eyes darkened with her readiness to believe in conspiracies. “The one from before. The local Bureau office confirmed the other one.” Which didn’t mean the men were honest or trustworthy. He and Dana had seen their share of abused badges. More accurately, they’d seen government officials abusing their positions for personal or nefarious gain. Still, what could the FBI want with him now? He employed every precaution to avoid their triggers and it wasn’t working. He’d already told them he knew nothing about the case they were working. Clearly they thought he was hiding something.

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“Send them in.” He checked his watch and smiled at Dana. “Tell the children I’ll be there shortly.” They were his favorite group to work with. Their innocence reaffirmed his motivations to keep any of them from suffering abuse—either from other kids or adults mistreating them. Especially kids with real abilities. “You got it.” She disappeared only to return less than a minute later with two men. The new one presented his badge as Dana headed back out to be with the children. Agent Burgess stood back with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “I’m Dr. H.” H nodded to the serious, suit-clad man. “You look like a Fed.” And then to Burgess dressed in jeans. “You wouldn’t if you lost the coat and gun.” “Part of the job.” The man in the suit offered his hand. “Agent Breck Lawson. You’ve met Agent Burgess. We’re with the Specialized Crimes Unit.” “I know.” Aware of the hazards, he withheld the desire to read them. Readings were exhausting. Connecting to someone without consent or proper preparation often led to uncomfortable repercussions. Instead he gestured them toward the couch and chairs in the far corner of his office and relied on appearances and reactions for revelations. Few people knew what he was. None knew of his most recent abilities. Abilities that made reading the Feds too risky. Abilities that made him a bit of an outcast in a modern world he was still growing accustomed to. A world TV hadn’t fully explained. Shit, the new abilities made impromptu and public readings downright dangerous. Deadly. “I only have a few minutes. What can I do for you?”

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Agent Lawson raised a brow, either surprised they’d been invited to sit or that he hadn’t chosen the position of power behind his desk while leaving them the slightly uncomfortable chairs before him. It didn’t matter. H didn’t need posturing games. They’d only gotten this far to settle his curiosity. Once they’d settled on the sofa, Lawson dove right in. “We have reason to believe you’re in danger.” “What kind of danger?” After feeling the blast from Janus, he couldn’t claim surprise that a threat was coming. He was surprised the FBI knew or came to warn him. Lawson braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. Aware. Ready. Burgess took the more relaxed stance of leaning back into the cushions, but he was no less prepared to act like a lion ready to pounce on his prey. “We know only that it’s tied to the case Agent Burgess spoke with you about previously,” Agent Lawson, clearly the lead, responded. He met and held Lawson’s bold gaze. He didn’t need abilities to know they withheld information. Hell, the government excelled at secrets. “You mean that’s all you’ll share. You wouldn’t have come here, said anything, without having more.” “Do you know Channing Harris or Trevor Masters?” All right. That made twice in one day Channing’s name had been tossed out at him. Neither were coincidences. Calculating the time elapsed between his call with Max and now, he figured it was possible they’d been led to him. They could have bugged Max’s phone. Max could be an informant. There could be another spy within Sirrahmax—a replacement for Janus’s pet student, Jefferson. He wouldn’t put it past the government to claim he was in danger for the sake of planting someone to protect him only to get close enough to become the threat.

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H could find out if their intentions were dangerous. He could read the men. Even in the security of his office he was vulnerable, but he had to know more, and this was one of those times he was grateful for his gift. “Channing was a scientist. I’ve never heard of a Trevor Masters.” H shifted positions, casually angling his left side away from the agents to hide the coming color shift in that eye. He lowered the first of his guards. The peripheral view of his office changed, as if a pale blue sheer had dropped down. He reached out mentally to the men before him. Their thoughts wouldn’t become his unless he made a complete link. He only needed impressions at the moment, because he wasn’t going to risk being a tool in anyone’s kit again—willing or not. Neither of them radiated negativity or violence. Burgess’s emotions remained as steady as he did silent. Lawson nodded. Excitement and a sense of dread hummed around him. “During the course of a recent investigation, an expert listener analyzed a recording which mentioned you in regards to some work Mr. Harris was doing before his death.” “You could have led with that.” Not that he would tell them anything he hadn’t been willing to share with Max. “I’ve given you no reason to believe I would withhold information.” “Everyone withholds information.” “None more than the government.” His heart kicked with rage, but he suppressed the urge to show them the door. He would not move. He would not react. “Does this recording suggest what sort of danger I am in?” “We only know Mr. Harris was killed.”

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An unfortunately predictable confirmation. The only thing he’d worked on with Channing was the contacts. No one else had been involved, so how did Trevor Masters figure in? “And the Trevor Masters you mentioned?” Chills—relief—skated over him from Lawson. Lawson shifted his feet with a slight shuffle. “An attempt was made. He survived.” “Good. For him, as well as his family.” Lawson’s emotions reverberated through the room, bounced off the solid surfaces of doors, walls and windows, and settled inside H’s mind like an echoing greeting shouted across the Grand Canyon. A wave of profound peace and elation at the mention of Masters’s survival and his family. Interesting. He reengaged the barrier and moved to more fully face Lawson. Most government agents didn’t get so attached to their cases. “Now, if we could get back to your reason for coming… I’m late for an appointment.” “We would like to place someone here, in your lab, until we wrap the case up.” “For what purpose?” “Protection. Harris and Masters were targeted by a woman wearing DNAbased perfume. It short-circuited the self-preservation center of their brain and opened them up to suggestion.” “The perfume hypnotized them?” In some ways, science had made entirely too much advancement. But if they were right, Channing’s death finally made some sense. He wouldn’t have left Max or his love of research and development. Still, H didn’t need anyone else in his lab. Dana had been with him since the beginning. She had been subjected to the same tests as him. She was as capable of protecting herself as he was. Neither of them was susceptible to mind-altering substances.

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“Essentially. We have made arrests in the case, but we aren’t certain the threat has been eliminated.” Burgess leaned forward. “We have reason to believe you’ve been targeted. Allow us to assign you protection.” “Are you going to tell me everything you know?” “We can’t do that.” H shook his head. “I appreciate your concern.” But I can’t work with secrets and evasions filling the halls. “I can look after myself.” Lawson pulled a card from his jacket pocket and offered it. “Please call if you change your mind.” “Sure.” H showed the men to the outer door, as he had earlier with Ms. Sebastian. “By the way.” Lawson turned just before stepping outside. “Mr. Harris didn’t happen to give you some laser-powered contact lenses, did he?” His vision flickered with a surprise hit to his shields. Did they know about the prototype? Or were they trying to trick him? Channing had mentioned a government contract relating to the technology they’d worked on, but only he and Channing had known about the prototype. They’d been careful to create them and keep the notes away from Sirrahmax— especially after spotting Jefferson. His gut knotted. His heart hammered his ribs like a beater pounding a Chinese gong. “I worked with Channing on the concept. The laser required to see his vision to fruition proved to be too costly.” Too glitchy and unpredictable, but not as unpredictable as the customized acrylic used for the lenses. “The diagnostic tool Channing hoped to offer will never be available. Is that what this is about?” For a man who hated lies, he was treading awfully close to his own. But if Channing had been killed over the lenses, no way in hell was he admitting to

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having them. FBI or not, they had knowledge of things they shouldn’t. Even if he had sensed their honor and integrity, they wouldn’t be the first men power had corrupted. He’d been misled by the government before. The results had been deadly. “If you think of anything, please call.” H nodded, unable to voice the lie of agreement. Janus was back. Channing had been murdered. He was being questioned about the lenses. These were not coincidences, and he couldn’t share what he knew. Eston White was too securely connected to every government branch. As he had with Ms. Sebastian, H watched Lawson and Burgess head to their car. Unlike Ms. Sebastian, Lawson pulled a cell from his pocket to make a call. After a few minutes of head shaking and shielded looks back at the office, they got in and drove away. Dr. H grabbed a pad from Dana’s desk and jotted down the license number and car model. He wasn’t likely to forget it, but he didn’t take chances. As for the contacts, he was growing used to managing the risks. Still, he would learn from Channing’s murder and tighten security. The FBI knew something. So did he. Honor and integrity were not bulletproof.

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Chapter Three

Snap. Crack. Ava’s jaw popped with the force of her it’s-too-damn-early-to-considerbeing-up yawn as she fumbled with the adult-proof wrapper keeping her out of her energy shot. Tingles of lingering exhaustion vibrated along her skull and forehead. At least she hoped it was exhaustion. She hadn’t been able to dodge the headache since leaving Dr. H the day before. An inescapable nightmare she couldn’t wake from, seven a.m. had loomed and grown more daunting with each passing hour as she’d sat in her car outside Dr. H’s second-floor condo. She had called in for a relief team, but she should’ve called them in earlier so she could get some sleep. She’d instead stayed until long after he’d gone to sleep, because studying his habits at night would help her know how to relate to him when they were together during the day. And, after identifying potential study applicants as Whitestone operatives, she’d wanted to keep an eye out for other operatives closely monitoring him. Her team had hoped that alerting Dr. H to the threat caught on a recording from a recent fundraiser would encourage him to reveal what he knew about the lenses. They had failed in the direct approach though. Success relied on her, and for her that meant she needed to learn everything she could about him. During his casually intimate dinner with Dana and the night of watching his house, Ava had seen no one. Had the threat to Dr. H vanished with Breck’s arrest of Madame V and her cohorts a few weeks earlier, Whitestone wouldn’t have

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sent in an operative to apply for his study. And the study had been infiltrated by at least one mole. As capable as her new team had proven themselves to be in the past few weeks, Ava knew how Whitestone agents operated. She knew what to look for. Calling in someone less familiar with their methods sat like lead in her gut, but she’d promised Breck. Promised to work on trusting people on the job. Promised to utilize the group she’d joined. Promised to make an effort to work with them rather than settle into her instinctive habit to work alone. She’d pulled the phone out to call Aidan when Dr. H stepped in front of the giant window at the front of his place wearing only a pair of running shorts which showcased his leanly muscled body and powerful legs. She’d swallowed and dropped the phone into the seat beside her. She’d touched his body. Felt the strength chiseled from his workouts. Wondered what he’d be like in bed. He crossed his feet at the ankles and lowered himself into a meditation pose. The move had pulsed with peaceful power. She’d watched him sit with erect posture as his balanced breaths danced in his muscles with rhythmic ripples. The ripples had echoed through her with desire. The seriousness that had cloaked him earlier slid away as a shimmer of blue light settled around him. Probably a reflection of the nearby lamp light, but weird. His mini smile that had changed his face before had once again graced his mouth. A serenely sedate man sat in his place. His erotic power grabbed her from across the distance and had her fumbling for the phone.

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Now, almost four hours later according to the dashboard clock, she waited in her car in the parking lot of his lab where she’d come to escape the dreams attempting to overwhelm her mind like a plague. Neither the cold shower nor the drive-thru coffee had succeeded in clearing the gritty haze scrubbing her eyes with each blink or the fog in her brain. “Ugh.” Ava gave up on the losing battle of expelling thoughts of Dr. H from her mind. She abandoned the fight against wakefulness and dropped her head against the car’s headrest to rest her eyes for a few minutes. Despite the morning sun brightening the sky she slipped into dreamless darkness. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Ugh.” She grumbled and turned away from the rapping intrusion. Tap. Tap. Tap. “Ms. Sebastian.” Not him again. Like when she’d attempted to sleep at home, remembered images of him mostly undressed and his smooth voice invaded her mind’s deepest recesses. His power slid over her in streams of awareness and arousal. Teasing. Taunting. Threatening. Click. Screech. Groan. More vivid than in her dreams, old-timey musk swirled with morning mugginess through her car. Drawn in, with pulses of arousal sparking beneath her skin, she turned her head closer to the clean scent of him. “Ms. Sebastian.” His formality, his unyielding habit of calling her Ms. Sebastian rather than Ava, felt…intimate. Like he knew her. Knew her darkest secrets and saw her scars. She sighed and settled closer to the impression of him. She drew his scent into her lungs. “Mmmm.”

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Warm breath fluttered along her neck and the edge of her ear. She shivered. He cleared his throat. “Ms. Sebastian, when you are ready to wake up, we will begin.” “Huh?” She slitted open one eye and jerked back. Dr. H’s face, haloed by the morning light behind him, filled her vision. She’d not only fallen asleep, but she’d been snuck up on. Mistakes like that cost lives. “You’re late.” The stoic man from the lab was back. “I’ve been here since around six. I’m not late.” “You’re not ready to go either.” His face and tone remained blank of emotion, but intuition told her he was humored and a little aroused. Would he be if he knew who was after him? “You’re inhuman. Who willingly kicks off their day before nine?” She ignored the whine in her voice and instead turned away to find the energy in a bottle she’d apparently dropped when sleeping. He shouldn’t be so…awake. So ready to tackle the day. Especially given that his lights had still been on at four when Liam had shown up to relieve her from duty. “Looking for this?” He waved the small bottle between them. She reached for it. He pulled it away. “Hand. Over. The. Shot.” “You won’t need it.” He stuck it in the pocket of his swimming shorts and stepped back. With deliberate slowness, she turned in the seat and placed her feet on the ground. He took another step back. She concentrated on her core muscles and raised herself out of her convertible Mini. “Hand. Over. The. Shot.” She knew how to kill a man with her bare hands. If he thought he would get between her and her shot, the man was delusional.

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His only answer was a leisurely survey up and down the length of her. After a pause at her winged, messenger-hat shaped lapel pin, his gaze scanned up to hers again. He shook his head. “I said wear a suit.” She glanced from his ratty tank top, shorts and flip flops to her pant suit and heels, and back to his shorts. “This is a suit.” “Not for swimming.” “For… No.” She shook her head. “I’m not going swimming. We are not going swimming.” Where would she hide the gun currently nestled at the small of her back? How was she supposed to protect the man, keep him alive, if he insisted on keeping her unarmed? Okay, so he didn’t know what he demanded. But that didn’t matter. She was on a case. She had a mission. She could not indulge in a morning swim. Hunk in board shorts looking ready to surf for hours or not, she couldn’t do it. Especially when she only had an hour of sleep to fuel her. “Have a nice day.” He stepped back and she noticed the open-topped Jeep he’d driven the day before. Beach boy looks, a vehicle that said he enjoyed fun, an adeptness at meditation, a tense work mood, and a habit of speaking in short sentences. The man was a contradiction. “What? You said we were working…” The energy flowing through the air around him was waking her up, but not enough. “We would be if you could follow instructions.” Even in his sun-loving clothes he was somber. Seemingly one-track minded. “You said wear a suit. I wore a suit.” “A swimsuit.” She rolled her shoulders back. “That’s not what you said. And swimming has nothing to do with auditing.”

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“Well, it’s what I meant. And tantrums don’t suit you.” “I do not throw tantrums. And you’re no more psychic than I am.” Yeah, she was waking up, but her focus wasn’t what it could be if she had that shot. He was looking for any excuse to eject her from the study. She needed to stay alert if she wanted to keep up with him. Failure could too easily mean death. “And you can’t blame me for not reading minds.” He opened his mouth, but shut it again. Shaking his head, he closed the distance between them, coming close enough for the morning breeze to whisk his scent to her. Too close. Her pulse quickened. He pulled the bottle he’d confiscated from his pocket and with a quick twist removed the cap. Yes! Her brain screamed in anticipation. He was going to take mercy on her. He was going to… He upended the bottle, dumping the blessed, berry-flavored, focus-giving liquid on the ground between them. The gun holstered at her back pressed into her spine. The barrel would fit nicely into the groove at the bottom of his jaw. Not that she wanted to hurt him so much as make it perfectly clear standing in her way of an energy shot could be detrimental. Too late to change that circumstance though. “You don’t need this, Ms. Sebastian. We’ll check inside. I’m sure Dana has a suit you can borrow. A swimsuit.” Capitulation hadn’t struck her as one of his qualities. He confirmed it by arrogantly dumping her drink. Well, she wasn’t known for surrender either, but she would allow him his victory.

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Grinding her teeth, she locked up her car and followed Dr. H toward his building. His sister was a couple sizes smaller than Ava. Borrowing a suit from her… This wasn’t going to go well. Stupid damn need to keep him safe. Alive. “Dana’s your assistant?” “Yes.” “Just how close are you that you know she has a suit here I can use?” It hadn’t been difficult for her to learn Dana’s real identity. Despite gentle nudges, he seemed intent to keep it hidden. “Close enough.” He keyed a code into the panel beside the door and let her inside. Vague. Again. Ava studied his body as they headed down the corridors. He walked with a strut, the God-like strut so many doctors had. As if they could control everything and everyone around them. Knowing he swam explained the lean build to his body. Regardless, she needed a more accurate read off him. She couldn’t see through his granite façade. He headed into a dressing room with two sets of lockers sitting at a right angle to each other in one corner. A futon-type sofa sat against a free-standing wall in the middle of the room, and a large mirror dominated the other wall. A shower was likely on the other side of the divider. He pulled a red suit from a locker and offered it to her. “This should work. And if we’re going to work together you should call me H.” He’d given her the first sign of approval, but it faded in the glare of the barely there two-piece suit hanging from his finger. “That’s not a suit. That’s a bandage.” “You’re going to pretend shyness?” He straightened his arm, moving the bikini closer to her. “And it covers more than you think.”

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“Maybe on Dana’s two-sizes-smaller-than-mine body.” She met his hard stare. It wasn’t so much the idea of the small scraps that bothered her. It was more a matter of who would see her in the scraps. Him. “You’re out of your mind. And why are you assuming I’m some sort of tramp with no reservations? I’m here to audit records.” “Are you kidding? After yesterday?” “I did nothing yesterday to—” “Lead me to believe you’re free enough to willingly wear something like this?” He wiggled the fabric scraps and rolled his eyes at her. “You easily forget your line of questioning about orgasms.” “I forget nothing about orgasms.” He smiled his small smile that only hinted at humor, but damn her, he became more powerful each time he flashed a hint of the grin. Each time it made her ache to draw him deeper into the lighter side. She wanted to know what he would be like if he allowed himself to enjoy the world around him. Her head buzzed. Shit. She had no right wondering such things. Or assuming he didn’t enjoy his life. She clamped her mouth shut, closed her eyes and lamented the loss of the energy shot and its kick of focusing power. Power to focus on something other than H and orgasms. Her body hummed with awakening arousal. “I’ll let that lay.” Her eyes drifted to the futon. Lay where? She didn’t need to go there. She didn’t need to see how clearly amused he was. She didn’t need him to see her reaction to him. She needed to shut her mouth.

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“Take the suit, Ms. Sebastian.” She snatched the suit from his hand without meeting his gaze. “You can put your things in the far right locker.” He left without another glance her way. When she was alone, she went over and turned the lock on the door. She wasn’t a prude. She’d proven that on her last assignment. But no way in hell would she give him the chance to walk back in while she was changing. The man made no more sense than her reactions to him. He pulled at her and aroused her and aggravated her. She turned and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes widened. She expected to look enraged. Instead, she looked…soft. Doe-eyed and slackmouthed. The look had nothing to do with lack of sleep, but if he mentioned it she’d sure as shit claim otherwise. She didn’t do soft where men were concerned. Not anymore. Not since— No. She wouldn’t think about him. She would remind herself of her mission, limit her thoughts of H to those of a professional nature and curb the desire to bait him about anything sexual. This morning had robbed her of enough credibility for three jobs. Shaking off his impact, Ava turned away from the mirror. She unbuttoned her suit jacket, but stopped before slipping it off. Pressure built in her head, as if there were too many thoughts slamming into each other. The hairs covering her arms danced an attentive tango across her tingling skin. She twisted around. The room was empty save her and her reflection. Still, she felt his gaze on her. Watching. Studying. Waiting. Narrowing her eyes, she walked to the mirror and touched her fingertip to the cool surface. A space reflected back between her finger and its reflection. Not a double-sided mirror.

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She scanned the room for cameras, or likely places to hide cameras. The pressure in her head eased. “Stop it, Ava.” He’d given her no reason to suspect him of being a member of the Asshole Clan. His background, what she knew of it, didn’t support the theory. Regardless, she’d needed to get closer. She’d asked for this assignment. She may as well make the best of it. She loved the water. She could find pleasure in it, even with him. And then they’d get to work. Hurrying through the task of changing, she stowed her clothes and gun in a locker. In the shower area she found a large towel to tie around her waist. At least she could hide some of herself from his view. Every little bit helped. On the way to the door, she stopped before the mirror and checked the suit. It was small, but not quite as small as she’d thought it would be. The bottom worked if she remembered to not fidget with it. She checked herself to make sure the essentials were covered and sighed in relief that she’d shaved that morning. This could have been profoundly more embarrassing. She adjusted the two triangles barely covering her breasts and nipples. Feeling silly, she executed a quick roundhouse kick to see how the suit behaved. Nothing vital came uncovered, but if she’d been one cup size bigger she’d be in a universe of hurt. Way more skin showed than she liked to reveal in public. Her near nakedness and the seclusion with Dr. H—a man she barely knew, was incredibly aroused by and couldn’t quite figure out as well as she needed—mixed with her lack of a gun and coalesced into a glob of dread deep in her gut. This was not going to end well.

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She tied the towel around her hips and laughed. She’d worried about losing credibility when her mouth had run away from her. One strong wave would turn her into the subject of a song. It wasn’t yellow polka-dotted, but it was a teeny-weeny bikini. With a last lingering look at the locker holding her weapon, she flipped the lock and pulled open the door. H reclined against the opposite wall. The hand gripping a water bottle halted halfway to his mouth. A blast of hazy, blue heat radiated from his unblinking gaze and washed over her. Arousal filled her and looked for an outlet. She clamped down on her bodily yearnings and tilted her head. “Ready?” At least she sounded normal. None of the breathiness she felt wavered in her voice. None of the insecurities pushing to the surface showed. He nodded once—a sharp, jagged move of his head—before heading deeper into the lab, leading her to a back door. She checked the towel and swim top, making sure her now-puckered nipples were covered. A look had been all it took for her body to snap to attention. The starkness of her vulnerability snapped at her with the destructive force of swarming piranhas.

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Chapter Four

Of all the fuck-ups in all of the labs in all of the world, he’d given her that bikini in his. And damn if she hadn’t found a way to cover the tattoo. Her tattoo had floated through his dreams, shifting constantly from one shape into another with the multitude of possibilities. The bottom edge he’d glimpsed had looked like feathers. Something soft and sexual to taunt him as vividly as the sensual dare coating her voice when the conversation turned to anything remotely sexual. Sensuality which tempted him into making stupid choices. Choices like Dana’s suit, a suit he would never again be able to see on Dana. She stayed behind him as they left the building and headed down the path he’d had designed to cut through the thick foliage. The beach wasn’t far away, but the tall palms and bushy landscaping he’d had put in around the lab hid it from view of the building. It had been a move he’d taken hesitantly, but in the end his focus during working hours had improved for it. “You know, a little warning we’d be going for a hike would have been nice.” “We’re almost there.” It was a short walk, easy enough when you got used to it. She handled it well, but her occasional grunts and muttered curses slapped at him with the sting of an electrode. He lowered a mental shield and reached out to her. The water ahead became a richer blue while the trees adopted an unnaturally bright vibrancy. Frustration and a sense of conflict were all he picked up before she went blank, as if she’d shut a door to her thoughts.

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He risked a glance over his shoulder to check on her. She was adjusting the fabric over one perfectly shaped, palm-sized boob. He turned away, but not before glimpsing a flash of her puckered, perky, rose-pink nipple. She smelled of the gardenia and eucalyptus oils he put in a bowl of water each night for the soothing properties of the concoction. He hardened instantly. The calming and protective qualities of those scents would never have the same impact on him again. Yeah. He’d screwed up. What had started out as an exercise to test her in a relaxed environment, because he had a hunch she had empathic tendencies, had whipped around with a vicious backlash that instead tested his protective barriers. Barriers he’d spent his life building quaked with the desire to drop. A desire he couldn’t give in to. “Where precisely are we going? And is anyone else joining us?” “There’s a private beach Dana and I use often.” Blocked off from the main part of the beach by a steep wall of rocks combined with more precisely placed foliage. “And no.” “A private beach in this part of Miami?” “Yes.” It was doable when you had the right connections and money. His connections happened to want his silence more than they wanted to hang on to their precious dollars. Or they had. If the Feds were right, if he’d read the situation clearly yesterday, Janus would be making an appearance soon. H’s gut knotted. He’d fortified his shields and security. He hoped it would be enough when the time came. “Our work can be stressful. We need our breaks.” “Mmm-hmm.” She misunderstood his relationship with Dana. Most people who met them did, but until the right person came along they wouldn’t worry about correcting misconceptions. When he and Ms. Sebastian stepped onto the beach, with the

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calm waves lapping at the shore and the sand just warming from the sun, instant peace moved over him. “So this is a break, rather than work?” “Sure.” “I don’t work that way.” A perk of his job was calling the shots and enjoying his work. “You do if you work with me.” His entire life had been tests and work and demands. One misery after another. One reminder of who was in charge followed immediately by another. They’d misstepped and allowed valuable information to seep into his mind. When he’d put the scrambled bits of information together in his mind, the power had shifted. Finally, he’d had what he waited twenty-five years for and after a little planning and research, he’d made his demands for freedom. The demands had been met without question or hesitation. When the funds and his release had been secured, he’d chosen his spot and designed his lab. The first time he’d stepped onto this stretch of sandy land he’d known he was home. Like every other day, he kicked off his flip-flops as he walked straight to the wet sand. The first wave rushed over his feet. He dug his toes into the shifting sand and lowered the remaining shields around his inner eye. The fears and worries and dark emotions he’d absorbed in the last twenty-four hours flew through a blinding vortex to the forefront of his mind. The world misted. As closely connected as a man could get with the earth and the cleansing properties of the sea, he envisioned the darkness swirling in his mental vision being carried away. He compressed the destructive powers of the negativity and

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fears he inadvertently absorbed during a day until they were no larger than particles of sand. With his face lifted to the sky, he channeled his breathing down restorative paths. Using his mind, he expelled the gritty emotions from his body like sweat through his pores. Ms. Sebastian had been chatty the day before, almost too much so. The idea of sharing his morning communion with her had bothered him, similar to burning indigestion. But curiosity had won. And she hadn’t made a sound since stepping onto the beach. Her ability to stay silent surprised him. Pleased him. Visualizing tendrils of thread woven through the mist of his vision, he again sent his mind out in search of her. He wasn’t as interested in reading her as feeling how she reacted to the tranquility of the water. Empaths needed the cleansing powers of water. If she was empathic, the air would shift around her. Clouding the perception of peace in the perfect setting was the lingering impression she was conflicted or confused or fundamentally troubled. As she stood there, digging her toes in the sand as he had, she settled—fractionally. Seemed more content. “You’re edgy, Ms. Sebastian.” “In a place like this?” She cleared her throat. “Not possible.” “Glad to hear it.” Liar. He erected his barriers, waited for the world to return to a normal view, and turned to her. He skimmed his gaze over her body. His dick twitched and as sure as hell was hot, he knew he had to taste her again. With luck, the swim would calm him. His gut clenched with worry. He didn’t get aroused so easily. Hell, he’d dated several great women. They hadn’t been too dull or too ugly or too mundane. Nope. They simply hadn’t appealed to him on a sexual level. The lack of his attraction had contrasted so violently with theirs he’d thought

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something was wrong with him. The potential lack had led to the sexual line of questioning on the questionnaire. Logic dictated empaths would experience stronger connections with their chosen partners. He’d implemented the adult study to partially test his theory, but to also see how many adults had natural empathic abilities and unwittingly suppressed them. The connection he’d thought he should feel with women slammed into him with Ms. Sebastian. That bikini and the desire to glimpse the tattoo gracing the side of her precisely toned thigh had little to do with it. No, he was drawn to her on a more basic level. Her mind intrigued him. “So. Are we just here to swim?” “Yes.” She didn’t want to be with him now any more than she’d wanted to take his bait in the dressing room and accept the bikini. She’d given in on both counts. Admiring her apparent dedication, he yanked his shirt off. Her throat bobbed before she slipped the tie of the towel free and let it fall. Just like the moment she’d pulled open the dressing room door, he struggled to not swallow his tongue. The top half of the suit was nice. The bottom half, the part showing off her flat stomach and gently curved hips was more remarkable. Not quite as remarkable as the slamming urge to see her long legs wrapped around his waist. Her tattoo teased him. A majestic Phoenix, mid-flame, graced the top of her thigh and had him wondering why she’d chosen the famous bird. “Ready when you are.” Well-honed restraint held him in place when the horny-guy part of his brain screamed for action. Begging him to drag her to the ground and feel her body against his. Pleading with him to get her out of those tiny scraps of fabric.

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“When I’m finished with you this morning, you’ll wonder why you ever needed those artificial vitamins and enhancements to get you going.” He grabbed her hand, turned and ran for the water. He didn’t release her until the gentle waves hit him low on the chest. He pulled a huge gulp of air into his lungs and dove. Deep. Deeper. He swam straight down into the cooling depths. The compression of the water on his body minimized his stresses, and the sand-grit emotions he’d expelled were brushed away in a trail of flurries along with his arousal. He dove until his lungs began to ache with need for life-affirming air. Flipping, heels overhead, he changed direction and propelled his body upward. A flash of red caught his periphery just before he broke the surface. Gasping the oxygen into his lungs, he treaded water and watched Ms. Ava Sebastian. She’d shed her inhibitions and swam with a practiced experience. Her lean legs and powerful arms sliced through the water. She hadn’t exactly resisted him before, at least he didn’t think she intentionally blocked him, but neither had he gotten beyond her barriers. Barriers he wanted to understand. Were they self-erected? She flipped onto her back and changed to a backstroke. With each alternate path she changed her stroke. One on her stomach, one on her back. Stomach. Back. Stomach. Back. No wonder she was so toned. She moved with a skill that spoke of years spent swimming. Possibly competing. She certainly had the competitive spirit in her. He dropped a barrier, reached across the bouncing blue waves and probed gently into her mind. The more used to feeling him in her mind she became, the more quickly he would gain her trust. He needed her trust if he hoped to learn her secrets.

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Happiness as pure as a child gifted with a highly desired toy flooded through him. This woman loved the water, and she didn’t mind sharing it with him. In fact, she’d ostensibly forgotten he existed in the same space. Perhaps it was a little wicked, but he wanted to know how she would handle surprises. What happened to her guards when she got caught by surprise? He lowered his first mental barrier, grinned and dove below the surface. He slid through the water toward her, timed his attack and approached her from behind. Just as she prepared to turn so she would be on her stomach, he grabbed her waist and lunged deeper. Rather than fight or struggle, she fitted her back closely to his chest and synchronized her moves with his. Two kicks later, she curled her body and propelled herself upward. His hands slipped from her waist. The gliding contact of their bodies broke before he was fully able to register how she’d so fluidly and rapidly matched her moves to his. His heart slammed against his ribs as he broke the water a second time. His shields slid into place as the water cascaded off him. She was treading the bouncing water, waiting for him with a sexy smile. Her long hair floated around her shoulders and rhythmically moving arms. “Tell me, H. What part of your morning plans includes trying to drown a woman?” He cut through the water until he was close enough that his legs brushed hers as they kicked to stay afloat. After a few kicks they were moving again in unison, their bodies instantly matching the tempo of the other. Connecting. “I was curious to see your reaction.” “Curious to see if I would freak out.” She laughed—an illicitly lilting rhythm that danced along his spine. “Sorry to disappoint you. I’ve spent too much time in the water to be thrown by such amateurish moves.”

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Nikki Duncan

“That sounds almost like a challenge.” He circled her. Rather than follow him, to command they maintain eye contact, she continued facing the horizon. He stopped behind her and allowed the grin teasing his mouth its freedom. “How far will you trust me out here?” “I have enough skill and stamina to save myself. Whatever games you play will have no impact on my safety.” He moved closer so the fronts of his legs brushed the backs of hers. The hard-on he’d banished before sprang back to life. If he moved any closer she would feel his desire. “Who says I’m referring to physical trust?” “No one. Were I in trouble, I would trust you to handle yourself well enough to help. In the water.” “Yeah?” “Sure.” Her arms drifted back and forth just beneath the water. “I watched you swim. I know how long you can hold your breath before surfacing for air. You’re competent.” Competent? Ha! She was challenging him. He moved closer and allowed his tented shorts to brush her ass. She shifted her legs. Surprisingly, she spun around and braced her hands on his shoulders. Habit had him wiping the grin off his face before she could see it. To the outside world he didn’t know how to have fun. She was part of the outside world, even in his sanctuary. Nothing could prepare him for her hands on his body or the lust filling her gaze. “I’m good in the water.” She drew out the word “good” and added a sexual inflection that had his dick jumping for attention. He reached through his barriers into her mind again, gently. He wouldn’t get a clear read, but she may feel him. Feel something. “How good?”

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“Better than you can imagine.” She smiled and with a single blink the door he’d accessed earlier slammed. Interesting. She was actively blocking herself. Maybe she didn’t do it intentionally. Maybe her ability to feel an intrusion was unwittingly innate and the blocks were an automatic response. Maybe she had true abilities she’d learned to protect. Regardless, and auditor or not, with her ability, he wanted to study her. To work with her. The trick would be keeping her off guard long enough to figure out the basis of her power. To earn her trust so she would willingly allow him access to her mind. To her emotions. “You’re also awake and more fully focused than you would have been with that energy shot.” “You can’t know how those shots make me feel.” She shoved him down into the water and flung her body in the opposite direction. Before he could grab her in retaliation she’d put several feet between them. He caught up to her easily, but rather than pull her below the surface again, he ran his hand up her side and over her tattoo to come up alongside her. As soon as they were in shallow enough waters, they stood. He traced a fingertip over her tattoo. “Interesting tat. Had it long?” “Thank you.” She smiled as she walked up the beach and grabbed her towel to wrap it around her waist. “Yes.” He grabbed his shirt and flip-flops as they headed back toward the path. She added nothing more. She’d been open and approachable, aside from morning grumpiness, but the first hint at personal questions shut her down. Point taken. He would use a different approach. “How long did you swim competitively?” “Ten years, give or take. I almost made the Olympic team once.”

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Nikki Duncan

He pulled his gaze from her hard, pebbled nipples and allowed her to move past him. She didn’t seem like the kind to quit easily. “Why didn’t you try again?” “It wasn’t meant to be.” Simple acceptance suffused her tone, but somehow he suspected the matter had been a difficult one for her to grasp. They remained silent the rest of the way up the path. Just as they crested the top of the hill a gunshot rang out. His shields evaporated, clearing the path for heightened impressions. Sub-arctic hatred iced through him. He grabbed Ava’s waist and pulled her to the ground. The bullet smacked into a palm tree. Janus. They landed hard in a flurry of sand and tangled limbs. A second shot popped into the ground by Ava’s head. She didn’t move. “Shit!” H grabbed Ava’s arms and dragged her unconscious body deeper into the brush at his back. They would likely get scratched up but the alternative was considerably less desirable. If Janus was anything, he was methodical. He wouldn’t shoot blindly into the bushes in hopes of scoring a hit. H had been so sure he’d be ready for his old tormenter, he’d been braced for a mental assault, but Ava had distracted him. Now she was hurt. Damn. The shots had come from behind them at fairly close range. They had walked right past the bastard. If he’d had his shields down… No. That was part of Janus’s game. Think about that later.

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“Ava.” He kept his voice low and checked her over. A nasty gash sliced across her temple where a purple knot was already plumping up. Smooth. He’d taken her down to save her only to slam her head into a rock like she was a coconut he needed to crack open. Placing his fingers over the pulse in her neck, he timed her heartbeat while simultaneously dropping his shields to search the area. Nothing came to him. It seemed Janus had only been toying with him—a favorite method of his. Still, he’d be cautious. “Hang tough, Ava.” Fear he’d never allowed himself to feel for anyone aside from Dana crept in. Fear he’d never allowed to eke its way inside edged closer. Fear he’d never allowed to rule him settled in his consciousness. Rather than think too much or give Janus time to reposition for a better shot if he was still around, H scooped Ava into his arms and cut through the bushes toward the lab. The blood seeping from her head soaked his shirt and coated his skin with sticky warmth. The rougher terrain jostled her form against him. It would be easier if she’d only injured a leg and could move beside him or support herself by holding on to his neck. She weighed maybe one-thirty, but the longer he held her the more weight she gained. He ran hockey stats in his head to pull himself under control. Now was not the time to be aroused or think about how she felt against him. She was injured and would be hurting when she came to. She could easily have a concussion thanks to him. Then again, she could have been shot if he hadn’t moved quickly. Still mentally unshielded, he scanned the area one more time before leaving the cover of the foliage. Nothing.

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Nikki Duncan

Janus liked to play with his victims. Maybe that’s all this morning was—a fucked-up game. He doubted it. Certain enough to risk crossing the unprotected space between them and the building—maybe a twenty-foot dash—H stepped from his hiding spot and jogged to the building. He leaned toward the door, using the hand beneath Ava’s knees to reach for the security pad. He coded in and opened the door. He hustled inside and turned to push the door closed. A second gunshot popped. A bullet blasted into the side of the building. Ducking, he reengaged the locks with a humming swish of promised safety. Glad he’d invested in bulletproof glass and that he’d changed access codes and installed an auto lock-down failsafe on the doors, he carried Ava down the hall to the dressing room. If anyone tried to get in without the correct code, backup locks would engage. The room shimmered in a red-tinged blue haze. Ava’s pain contaminated the air. His lungs shrank to the size of raisins with an inability to catch a clear breath. He needed to scan her. First, he needed to stop her bleeding. After laying her on the futon, he shot off a quick text for Dana to stay away for a bit, and then grabbed some hand towels and dampened them in the sink. Checking the clock over the door, he did some quick figuring. From the lab to the beach was a five-minute walk. They’d been at the top of the hill before he’d taken her to the ground. He couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to get them inside. She was breathing, but the longer she was unconscious the more probable it became her injury was more severe than a bump and cut. He rung out the towels and returned to her side.

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He wasn’t calling 9-1-1. He didn’t want to deal with cops and medics; the fewer people buzzing around his lab the happier he was. Especially when some of those people would be Feds asking questions about his enemies. Gently wiping the dirt and blood from her head, making more trips for fresh towels, he worked until the bleeding stopped. He’d never needed to apply first aid before. He’d heard head wounds bled more than others. It was true. Ava bled profusely until, finally, on the fifth towel, he was able to staunch the flow of metallic dread overtaking his olfactory senses. Checking the clock again, he saw it had been ten minutes since he’d laid her down. She’d been unconscious for close to fifteen minutes. The chances of a concussion, or worse… His belly banded into intricately woven knots. Sitting beside her on the futon, he steadied himself. The redness of her agony spanned his vision like a spidery web of busted vessels, almost entirely obliterating the calming powers of the typical blue mist. Braced, as ready as he could be, he used his mind and fully activated the lenses fused to his eyes. The layers of Ava’s head slid away one by one until he saw into her like a full-color, three-dimensional x-ray machine. Below the surface wound and the bruised and busted blood vessels, he confirmed his fears. Ava was bleeding into her brain. The leak was a small trickle, but if he didn’t help her she may not wake up. Taking her brain bleed into himself wasn’t wise. Aside from one forced experiment… He’d only ever eased surface pains for Dana, but turning away from Ava, away from the responsibility to fix an injury he’d caused… It wasn’t in him. He had no choice.

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Nikki Duncan

Blinking, he deactivated the lenses and had his shields bounding back into place. He hated cutting her off, but needed to prepare himself if he was to succeed. He couldn’t prepare her any further than he had with the gentle probes on the beach. H raised her eyelids. Her pupils were equal in size. A good sign. But she’d been out too long. Her face was soft, eerily frozen and lifeless, without her spunk. She might look peaceful in sleep, but somehow he suspected even then she would appear more lively. More vital. She needed major help. He couldn’t call any in. Damn it. Most of his life he’d vacillated between viewing his talents as a gift and a curse. But when he could help someone the outlook definitely swung toward gift. This time, if he pushed too far, the gift could get him killed. He’d never gone all the way in. Even partial healing probes required Dana to pick him up after the effort drained him. Connecting as closely as he needed— without Ava’s willing acceptance—was dangerous for them both. The possible side effects were fatal. She needed him. He couldn’t ignore that. Settling onto the floor before the futon, he crossed his legs in the meditation pose he practiced often. He rested his left palm over her heart. The beating tempo pulsed against his hand, slid up his arm and into his heart. Three pumps later, their heartbeats synchronized. Claiming neither his beat nor hers, but forming instead a new cadence. A cadence unique to their dualities. Dualities that may be closer to commonalities than he’d anticipated.

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He placed his right hand over her temple and closed his eyes. Channeling his energy and visualizing a wormhole connected to her mind, he lowered the first shield and sought the access that would allow him to help her. Flashes of primary-colored lights strobed like a psychedelic disco in his mind. Connections. His body to her body. His mind to her mind. His heart to her heart. They were connected. The roots of his hair tingled and stabbed as if each strand were a jaggedly frozen ice pick slicing into the fire-hot intensity in his head. Pounding and growing and swelling. He focused on the lightness he’d felt in the water while swimming with her. It was light that shored up his strength and offered more endurance. Endurance that may abandon him before this ended. He carefully lowered the next shield. And then the next. One by one by one he opened himself again to her suffering. Each pulsing beat of his heart slammed through his head and echoed through his body to the pit of his stomach. With each layer lowered, he pulled some of her pain into himself and suppressed the damage from her body into a ball within himself before shoving it into his gut to be eaten away by the acids. Little by little, he opened himself more and more to the gravest of her injuries and their tearing anguish. Pulsing in time with their matched heartbeats, her memories surged and swirled. He tried to grant her the privacy she deserved. He tried to slip unnoticed into the pain center of her brain. He tried not to absorb her memories.

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Nikki Duncan

Snippets flashed in bleeps of sound and light. In no order or context. Most he discounted, some seemed to lodge themselves into his brain. Super-spy eye contacts. No! Please don’t. Not again. Ava moaned and curled into herself protectively as her unspoken plea cried out. He couldn’t stop now. He was hypnotized. Now he’s dead. Her mind pushed against him. Against his intrusion. He hadn’t meant to shoplift her memories, but he couldn’t dodge the flying snippets. Years of practice, of honing his perceptions to razor-sharp points, had him zeroing in, slipping her memories to the side in his pursuit of her injuries. She knew about the contacts. Considering the recent visits from the FBI and his experiences, the lenses were likely why she’d shown up, but he needed to think about that later. Later he would determine precisely how she was deceiving him. At the moment, her injuries took priority. He’d already gone too far with his unforgiveable trespass, and he’d get a better idea of her as a person if he waited to see what she would do next. In the meantime, he would stay close, very close, to this enemy. If she rejected him now… Hoping to ease her suffering, he dropped the final barrier between them. Vulnerable and exposed, he signaled her body to release serotonin in a few small bursts. She gasped and arched off the bed. Her eyes rolled behind her closed lids as she angled closer to him. H pulled himself back from Ava’s memories and used mental suggestion to subdue her. He worked as quickly as he safely could given the intimacy of their

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bond. Sifting through the bruising in her brain, he carefully pulled her injuries into himself. His own serotonin levels boosted. His skin hummed. His vision blurred and then sharpened. The red haze was pushed back by the blue, similar to waves washing away lines in the sand. The muscles in his back seized, squeezing his spine in a crippling vice. Her agony had knocked him back. Mini-bursts of emotions and impressions rocketing through their bodies ripped through him with a stranglehold of fears and regrets. His gut clenched and roiled with nausea. Ava gasped. Stars exploded across his vision. He collapsed.

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Chapter Five

Ava pushed through the unnatural salve-like web of suffusing her brain and jolted upright. Silvery mist danced along the edges of her vision. Her head pounded. Instinct kicked in and carried her past the cobwebs of confusion. She reached for her gun. It wasn’t there. A heartbeat later she was dismayed to find herself back in H’s lab. In the room where she’d changed. Unarmed was bad. Worse was the loss of time. Her temple throbbed. She reached up to rub it but winced and yanked her hand away. What in the hell had happened? How had she gotten back into the lab and onto the futon? Where was H? Having more questions than answers in dangerous situations helped no one. Intent on retrieving her weapon, Ava swung her feet off the bed. Her bare toes collided with solid and slightly hairy warmth. She leaned forward. H lay at her feet, unconscious and looking more like a green Martian than the man she’d gone swimming with. “Shit.” She dropped to his side. Dizziness swarmed—either from the injury or the odd feeling she was coming off a sex high that left her weak. She shoved the thoughts and dizziness back and checked his vitals. His body temperature scalded her hands. She needed a thermometer, but he was likely well beyond the safety range. “H?” Blood stained his hands and shirt. Smears marred his shorts and legs. None of it seemed to be his, which indicated he’d doctored her. Talk about role reversal. She was supposed to protect him.

Illicit Intuitions

His pulse was erratic, but strong. Lifting an eyelid, she found his pupils to be hugely dilated. She needed her phone to call the team for backup. To call for an ambulance. How had she gotten inside and what happened to him? Why was her skin tingling with awareness? Struggling against a rising queasiness and pointless questions, she positioned herself behind his head to lift his torso off the floor. She slid her arms under his and bent over to lift him up. She could hold her own in the gym, but he had to weigh two hundred plus, of complete, lean muscle. And her grip was slippery against his sweaty body, making it tough to hold on. A triangle of the swimsuit top shifted and showed off half a nipple—a stiff and tender nipple. What the hell had they done? “You start to wake up and I’m gonna knock you out again.” Ignoring her near nudity—wishing she could dodge the feeling of an aftersex glow shrouding her—she stood behind him and bent at the waist to maneuver him up to a sitting position. She looked from him to the futon, unsure she could lift him up enough to get him on the bed. She had to try. “What did you do to him?” Ava looked over her shoulder to see Dana blocking the doorway. Rage and fury like that of a momma lioness protecting her cub rumbled through the air. But she didn’t come closer. “I did nothing. I found him on the floor unconscious.” Ava adjusted her feet to keep from dropping him. “How did you get in?” Dana surveyed her with an untrusting gaze. Her raised brow and pursed lips as she took in the sight of Ava in the malfunctioning suit indicated more clearly than words what she thought.

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Nikki Duncan

Funny, Ava would’ve expected similar opinions during her last assignment as a call girl. Then again, instead of a caught-with-your-pants-down moment this was

a

caught-with-your-boob-flopping-around-the-unconcsious-and-clearly-

aroused-man’s-head moment. I need to remember how I wound up here. “He let me in.” “Then you couldn’t have found him that way.” “Look. Dana.” She shifted a leg to ease the strain on her back. “I didn’t do this to him. Could you help me get him on the bed? Grill me later.” “You did it.” Dana moved over and positioned herself between his feet. “Though judging from your own injury I’m not sure how much help you’re going to be.” “Guess we’ll have to find out.” She wasn’t sure what Dana meant by insisting Ava had injured him, but now wasn’t the time for debates. Her muscles were screaming and the pounding in her head was ramping up in volume and intensity. Too much more of this and she’d be the one needing to be picked up from the floor. Again, if her suspicions were correct. “Yeah.” Dana lifted his legs and together, with much grunting on both their parts, they moved him onto the futon. The instant he was settled, Dana shoved Ava away. “You wanna help? There’s a freezer with ice in the next room to the right. Get some towels, fill them with ice and dampen them. The colder the water the better.” Dana bustled around H’s prone form muttering and shaking her head. “We have to get him cooled off.” Adjusting her swimsuit top, Ava floundered in a moment of uncertainty. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

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“No!” Dana’s hand flew. She grabbed Ava’s arm, digging her short nails into her sand-covered skin. “No ambulance.” Ava’s head screamed. The added pain, while not tremendous on normal circumstances, nearly floored her. She stumbled back, breaking the contact. Her mind settled. Dana’s eyes widened while her brows furrowed in apologetic concern. Then again, maybe it had been Ava’s imagination. “Fine. But if he doesn’t improve and wake up very soon I’m making the call.” Whatever had happened outside, he had taken care of her. She would see to it he was taken care of in return. For now, that meant humoring the sister she wasn’t supposed to know about, so she hustled to the kitchen and grabbed three towels from the nearest counter on her way to the freezer. She laid the cloths flat on the small table, yanked the tray of ice out and emptied the tray into the towels. Folding the edges up, she knotted the towels into loose ice packs she then ran under cold water. They would cool him off and wake him up. She would get rid of Dana and ask him what the hell had happened. Then she would make her exit and report to her team. She needed someone out there checking the area. And she needed to do it all without Dana or H finding her gun—or catching on to who she really was. Ava pushed back into the dressing room in time to see Dana pull her hands away from H’s head and heart. Sweat still coated his forehead and dampened his short-cut hair, but a little of his color had returned while some of Dana’s had bled away. What was going on with these two? “Here.” She rushed to Dana with the ice packs.

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Nikki Duncan

“Thank you.” Dana sounded suddenly tired, where before she’d been snappish and strong. “Put one under each of his armpits, pressed against his sides, and one below his neck.” Ava did as she was told while noting the changes in Dana. She’d missed something big. Dana’s background was as empty as H’s on paper. In fact, if paper trails were to be believed, they hadn’t existed until a few years ago. Like they’d just appeared, complete with degrees. Ava needed to know what she was missing. While Dana went through her ministrations, Ava went to the other side of the wall to get a towel to wipe away his sweat. On the floor, dropped hurriedly from appearances, was a heap of bloody towels. She caught her reflection over the mirror. A lump the size of Texas was just over her temples with a long gash slicing through it. A gash that should have needed stitches judging from the bloody towels. Surprisingly, it was mostly closed up. Though now she understood why she had a massive headache and was fighting dizziness. And damn it, her eyes looked blurry like she’d just had crazy sex. Several times. She adjusted the suit, which had slipped off her boob, and rinsed out the bloody towels. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be helping H. She did, but she got the distinct impression Dana preferred being alone with him. She would maintain a little distance since the other woman saw her as an unwelcome intruder. Ava wrung out the last towel and draped it over the side of a nearby hamper where she’d placed the others. Turning back, she moved too quickly. Dizziness swept over her and silvery splinters serrated her vision.

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Images and memories flashed through her mind like jumbled clips of an unedited movie. Images and memories alien to her. Images and memories innately H. Her knees buckled and slammed into the tile floor with jarring force echoing through her skull. Channing handed him the contacts. His hair had been shaved and electrodes were stuck to his head. Dana curled against his side. Him putting the contacts in a safe. “What did you do, Dana?” H’s usually steady, now shaky voice pulled Ava from the images. He sounded exhausted. “Where’s Ava?” “What did I do?” The dominant snap was back in Dana’s tone coated with a healthy dose of abhorrence. “I didn’t do anything to your hussy girlfriend. What did she do to you?” “Stop it.” He sounded a little stronger as the bed creaked beneath his weight. “She didn’t do anything. Where is she?” “Are you kidding? You didn’t see you.” “It had to be done.” What had to be done? What had he done? Why did it feel like he was more in her head than before? “Not alone. Never alone.” “This was different, Dana.” He sounded stronger by the second. The controlled man from the day before was back. “Where is she?” “Over there. What’s she doing here and why is she in my suit?” Ava imagined Dana was glaring hate-filled holes through the wall. The woman certainly seemed to detest her.

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“She didn’t have her own.” He left the first question unanswered. Why? Dana mumbled something Ava couldn’t make out. He spoke back, again too quietly for her to hear, and a minute later the door opened and closed. As soon as Dana left the room a little of the pressure in Ava’s head eased. Weird. “Ava. Are you okay?” When had he taken to calling her Ava? When he’d done whatever he’d done to put his memories in her head? No, that wasn’t possible. She was imagining things. “I’m here.” She pushed off the floor, careful not to move too quickly again. “I’m fine.” Maybe. “Come here.” Yeah, the bossy man in charge of the study was back in control. She moved forward on shaky legs. One trembling foot in front of the other, she walked around the wall to the futon. He was sitting up. More color was in his cheeks, but the aura of vibrancy—of power—that had surrounded him had been damaged. A single gunshot outside and a tumble to the ground couldn’t have been so disastrous. “How’s the head?” Her hand fluttered up and brushed the knot. She winced. She needed to remember not to attempt touching it. “Hurts like maybe Pudge used it for batting practice.” His head popped back. “You know baseball?” “A little.” A lot. She shrugged. “I know Carlton Fisk through some family connections.” “I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

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“Proof that appearances aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Besides, it’s not uncommon for athletes from different sports to migrate to one another.” She’d actually been at the party to celebrate Carlton’s Baseball Hall of Fame induction. A super cool night. “No. They’re not.” His gaze locked with hers, as if he had a new and profound insight. He flattened his hand on the cushion beside him. “Come here.” Warning! Hazardous danger ahead. Maybe sex. She sat beside him, accepting the gauntlet. His thigh brushed hers. His hair tickled her sandy skin and awakened her senses. Chills coursed across her skin, leaving bumps in their wake. Aware. Aroused. She couldn’t think about that. She needed intel. She needed him away from her before she called in her team. “What happened to me? To you?” “What do you remember?” Aside from shit I shouldn’t have in my head? And memories of what feels like a wicked orgasm? “A gunshot and then you pulling me to the ground.” He ducked his head in an apologetic shrug. “Sorry about the head.” “It’ll heal.” Her dad had always said it was made of granite anyway. “What did I hit? A titanium boulder?” “Sorry to say just a regular rock. I took us down hard and fast.” “I guess you get points for having good reflexes.” She tried to recall more details. It only made her head ache worse. “Any idea who shot at us?” He hesitated. Not long, but it grabbed her attention. “I dragged you into the bushes and hauled ass back here, but they took more than the one shot.” Another evasion. “Did you call the cops?” “I was more concerned with…your first aid.”

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Nikki Duncan

She appreciated the sentiment, and almost argued with his logic considering the very real possibility one or both of them could’ve been killed. She couldn’t risk breaking her cover. Instead, she would go to Breck with the snippets of what she’d seen in her mind. He would decide where to go next. She was thinking the time had come to tell H what they knew. Maybe then he would accept help. “What kind of first aid did you perform?” “The kind involving mopping up copious amounts of blood from your head.” He cocked his head and studied her head. “We should get some ice on you.” “I’m fine.” “Been dizzy?” “Some.” “And you were unconscious for almost fifteen minutes.” He grabbed her shoulders and shifted, pushing her to the mattress beside him. “Lay down.” Why waste words when he’d already forced her down? He grabbed one of the ice-filled towels she’d brought in and moved it toward her head. She moved away, raising a hand to block him. The steady pulse in her temple combined with the pressure of the mattress against the back of her head shot fire-hot agony lancing through her skull. Her hair, even her teeth, wept. “No. Please no.” She would not be able to stand his touch or the pressure of the ice. “The swelling needs to come down.” He moved the ice closer. “No.” She’d wanted to kill him when he’d dumped her shot. If he touched her… “You probably have a concussion, so I’m giving you two options.”

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He leaned over her and had her wondering when he’d turned around to face her. Shit. If she was losing time again so soon, she had more than a concussion. “What?” “Play this my way, or go to the hospital and have them poke and prod.” His gaze bored into hers hypnotically. “Trust me, my way is easier. And less agonizing.” She should resist. She wasn’t sure she could resist. Or that she wanted to resist. H leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers. Firm and warm and enticingly he kissed her. Aroused her desires. Tender. Empathetic. The silvery web from before slipped down and cocooned Ava. Lacking the strength to struggle, she sighed and sank deeper into the cushion. He shifted and stretched out beside her. He traced invisible patterns over her body, his fingers rubbing against her skin as soft as an evening breeze. Too numb to move her limbs, she returned his kiss. H’s body moving over her, hard and solid, lulled her. Filled her with bliss. They didn’t hurry. He didn’t grab at her or attempt to move to the next level of intimacy. She was content with his touch. His caress. The heat in her head cooled. Her pain eased to a mild discomfort. Whatever magic this man possessed, she wanted more despite professional, and personal, hazards. He used their attraction, the intensity of the chemistry he’d discovered during their swim, to sidetrack her mind. Little by little he soothed her pain, drew the worst of it into himself.

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She beckoned him like a murderous siren. The smell of the sea on her gardenia- and eucalyptus-scented skin teased him. Reminded him of the oasis he sought on the nearby beach. He’d gone farther than he’d intended and the intrusion had ended in a virtual mind rape. He could only hope this moment, this genuine and physical connection could ease the sting of any memories lurking in her brain. He wasn’t sure it would help him. It didn’t make sense and it wasn’t entirely welcome, but he cared for her. She intrigued him. Tugged at him. Awakened something within him. He moved his mouth over hers and sent a mental salve to her wound. He invited her to open for him. To trust him, even if she only offered the gift subconsciously. As she relaxed into the mattress, releasing her body to his, he eased the ice to the bump on her head. He was enjoying the feel of her moving against him, as much as he’d thrived on the feel of her in his mind. The illicit connection was profoundly erotic. Ava Sebastian had secrets he wanted to discover. Secrets she secured in vaults only she could open. Vaults she might open if she learned to trust him. A first for him, he wanted to rush into those vaults to discover how much she knew about the contacts and his work with Channing. Had she been the one to bring attention his way? Attention he’d avoided since his release. Or thought he had. Rushing and pushing himself back into her mind wasn’t safe. Their now shared brain traumas weakened them. He hadn’t fully replenished his strength from the earlier drain. Ava had too many blocks in place and her wounds were too severe for another exploratory intrusion. And Dana, who was no doubt lying on the couch in her dark office

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trying to replenish her energies, would filet him if he attempted another connection with Ava so soon after being pulled back from the ledge. When he finally sensed he’d done all he could, including reducing the swelling on her head, he eased back. She blinked up at him, dazed. As if she was moving through water, her hand sort of floated to her head. After a brief hesitation, she touched the knot. Her brows furrowed. “What did you do to me?” “I distracted you long enough to minimize that lump.” He sat up and dropped the mostly melted ice pack to the floor. “You’re still going to have a headache, and I don’t think you should be alone when you go to sleep tonight.” She slowly straightened and edged away. “So, what are you diagnosing me with, Dr. H?” “I’m not that kind of doctor, Ms. Sebastian.” She wanted distance from what had just happened. Fine. He couldn’t deny the logic. “But you sustained a nasty hit to the head. One you yourself compared to the equivalent of at least one hit from Pudge at bat.” “Your point?” She pulled her knees to her chest. He’d watched her in that suit and felt her body against his. He’d lie beside her without claiming her for his own. He’d shoved his desires into the darkest caverns of his being in an effort to help her. Her knees drawn up wouldn’t block the heat racing through his body now that the necessity to heal had passed. “Do you have someone to spend the night with you?” “No.” “You do now.” He stood and headed toward the door before she could argue. “I’ll leave you to get dressed and will see you tonight.” “Excuse me?” She got to her feet.

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The rigid set of her spine was a blatant broadcast she did not like taking orders. This could get fun. “It’s been a rough morning. Take the day off. I will be by tonight to keep an eye on you.” He scanned her scarcely covered body one last time before meeting her gaze again. Rage flamed in her eyes and the flirty smile he’d come to enjoy was nowhere in sight. Her temper burned as hot as the fire required to wipe out the mythical bird on her leg, but she battled it back with her delicate jaw violently clenched and a rapidly thrumming pulse beating the satiny skin of her throat. “I will be just fine on my own.” Her voice whipped harshly through thinned lips. “No napping until I get there. Understood?” “My job here does not extend to you inviting yourself to my home.” “Then call a girlfriend and make arrangements for her to sleep over.” He angled his chin forward, knowing her type well enough to know she would recognize the challenge. “I want to speak with her beforehand.” She advanced on him, looking more murderous than when he’d dumped her shot. That had been comical. This wasn’t. Allowing her to win this argument could endanger her health and even if she was in his life with ulterior motives he couldn’t let that go. “I will do no such thing simply to satisfy your God complex.” “You have a headache. You’ve lost consciousness.” “You knocked me to the ground.” “Have you felt confused? Had trouble walking?” “You’re a pain in the ass, Dr. H.”

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“And you are not answering my questions, Ms. Sebastian. I will take the evasion as a yes to all of the above and will see you this evening.” He stepped out and closed the door behind him before she could formulate another rebuttal. Now all he needed to do was find a magical elixir to deaden him from the waist down. No way could he spend the night watching over her and it not lead down detrimental paths. Hell, he’d already traveled those paths in her mind. She may think he’d been an un-moveable ass, but the hardest hits he’d saved for himself. He’d wanted to unravel the mystery of her, but had instead taken advantage like a low-level ass. He’d screwed up and as soon as she stopped to think she would no doubt figure out what he was and what he’d done.

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Chapter Six

He’d expected a former Olympic hopeful to come from a moneyed background. He’d expected her to live in an urban loft meticulously decorated to suit whatever mood the designer had been in, or a quaint little townhouse off a lushly landscaped courtyard. He’d expected anything other than the modest home in a conservative suburb, a few minutes walk from the water, with minivans and base-model SUVs parked in the driveways. But the audacious burgundy trim and front door—proud and prominent among the varying shades of blue and yellow decorating the other homes—suited her to perfection. She may have removed herself from the hustle of society, but conformity wasn’t in her nature. H found himself wondering if she’d chosen the house using logic, or if she’d been called to it, to the water nearby, like he had when he’d chosen the land for his lab. He’d been able to heal her because, on a level she wasn’t aware of, she’d connected back with him. A non-empath, while able to understand the feelings of others or even able to bond with another, could never forge a two-way link with someone. He rang the doorbell and waited. Nothing. Two minutes later, he rang again. He’d told her to stay awake. She could have passed out. Shit. He shouldn’t have thought so highly of his abilities. He should have insisted she go to the hospital for a head CT. If she’d started bleeding into the brain again…

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Ava opened the door, diverting his thoughts to a new track. Well, not new so much as less climactic. Standing before him in a T-shirt and tight exercise shorts, with her hair damp from a recent shower, she looked well. Her color was normal. No dilation or unevenness in her pupils. Positive signs. The knot had gone down a little more, and aside from the blackish-purple bruise covering her temple, part of her forehead and the outer edges of her eye, she looked good. Too good. Tempting. His remaining survey stalled at her shirt. Her perky boobs and pointy nipples were unbound beneath the garish gold T-shirt with Hermes, messenger of the gods, soaring across her chest. His proclamation—The Titans are Coming!— curved along the bottom of the graphic over her tight, nicely ripped belly. H narrowed his eyes. That morning she’d worn a lapel pin depicting Hermes on her business suit. What was it about this woman and her fascination with the Greek god? Maybe it was a shared kinship. Her name was Greek, but what was it with the Hermes stuff? If she was trying to prove something, he didn’t appreciate her method of delivery. It was a bit humorous, but if she was taunting him he would set her straight. The implication of her knowing what no one should be able to know was bad. “Hello, H. Do you come with good news or bad?” Was his imagination infusing her voice with suggestions when she said his name? If she knew his name… If she was one of General Scott’s plants, she would regret coming into his lab. “You look well enough and seem lucid, so clearly the news is good.” “Excellent.” She moved to close the door. “You can be on your way.”

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He blocked the door with his foot and leaned in. His gaze locked with her unwavering camel tan one. “Did you go to the hospital for tests?” “No.” She held her ground, refusing to open the door farther. Her face remained impassive, but her eyes swirled with questions. “I’m fine.” “Do you have a friend or a neighbor here for the night?” “No.” Her teeth grinded. “I don’t need a babysitter.” “You’re not a baby. Anything but.” He skimmed her body and brushed his lips with his tongue remembering the taste of the sea on her. He pushed the door wider, unwilling to struggle more than necessary with her. “I’m staying the night.” She huffed out an exasperated breath and stepped back. “The couch is lumpy.” He stepped into the foyer of her open floor plan. “Better than a concrete floor in a windowless room with no lights.” Her head jerked back in surprise but she didn’t ask if he’d been serious. “I don’t cook.” “I’ve become well versed in local delivery.” “I’m not making you coffee.” “I don’t drink it. If I did, I know where the nearest coffee shop is.” She frowned and closed and locked the door behind him. “Does anything bother you? Faze you?” “Plenty.” He sat the book he’d brought on the table behind her clearly-notlumpy sofa. “What?” He took himself on a brief tour through the living room with matching and supremely comfortable-looking sofas and accent chairs facing a big screen television. The dining area was small and quaint with the white tiled floor

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continuing from the living room. A bright blue and burgundy area rug sat beneath the table complimenting the pale blue walls and place mats on the table. Two wide, arched doorways entered the kitchen from opposite ends of a rounded bar with a few stools settled before it. The kitchen itself was bright and airy, with a large window looking over the darkening backyard. In the distance, he saw the flicker of the fading sun on the water. “What?” “Have you lived here long?” The place was obsessively tidy with few personal touches beyond the seafoam green knitted blanket tossed on one of the sofas. “Long enough.” She headed to the kitchen and pulled a soda from the fridge. Popping it open, she turned and leaned against the nearest cabinet. “What bothers you?” “Different things.” The way you’re watching me, as if you know who I am. What I did. She couldn’t know. And she wasn’t the type to lambast him for trying to help her. Even if he had stooped to skeezy behavior. “Have you had dinner?” “Yes.” He nodded and rounded one end of the wraparound bar. “Super. Then I don’t have to share the loaded New York–style pizza which will be here soon.” Her stomach grumbled loudly, but she didn’t retract her claim. She stood, unmoving and almost unblinking while he pulled a soda from her fridge. “Did you screw me?” He froze with the door open and his index finger below the aluminum tab of the can. Slowly, he raised his head and met her solemn and confused stare. She couldn’t know what he’d done or so he’d hoped. He didn’t have the ability to wipe her memory, but she’d been out cold. “Pardon?”

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She slammed the can down, splashing soda onto the ivory counter. She didn’t cock her hands on her hips, but she may as well have. The furious indignation she’d shown during the energy shot fiasco shrouded her once more. “Did you polish your disco stick in me?” His finger jerked on the tab. The can popped open with a slopping whoosh. He jumped and dropped the drink. Dark, syrupy soda splattered Ava and spewed across the pale cabinets when it slammed onto the white floor. “You did.” Her mouth gaped open. She looked down at herself, soaked, and then at him. “You had sex with me when I was unconscious.” “It wasn’t…like that.” “Trust me.” She shook her head and moved toward the doorway. “This is a simple question. You did, or you didn’t take advantage of me.” “You want simple?” There’s nothing simple about any of this. He slammed the door to the fridge closed with a clanging rattle and invaded her space. He backed her to the counter and brushed his body along hers. Towering over her by nearly a foot, she was forced to look up. “Yes.” Her throat bobbed in a swallow. Her pupils flared. “Too late.” She was aroused. The connection they’d had earlier had played a larger role in her orgasm than the serotonin he’d released into her body. That had only heightened the experience for them both. Not that he could explain to her without revealing everything else about himself. He couldn’t admit to anything he’d done. He had to lie. It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was close enough. The reality slithered with a grimy stench coating his insides. Her gaze darted back and forth across his face, jumping between his eyes and mouth. “H.”

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His frustration fizzled. He stepped back and grabbed the neatly folded towel from beside the sink. “No. I didn’t have sex with you.” “But I…” “You what, Ava?” “Nothing.” She dropped her head and mumbled. “Never mind.” “Good.” He had done what he had no tolerance for. He’d violated her trust, but rather than admit the truth, he was leaving her with confused memories in her head. He was jumping from one asshole move to another, and didn’t like the feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he would sacrifice his beliefs. “You have more towels? Some cleaning stuff? This is gonna be sticky.” “Yeah.” She went through a nearby door and came back out with a spray bottle and a handful of towels. He took the bottle, covering her hand with his and holding firm for a moment. His gaze eased slowly up her body, over the shorts covering the head of the Phoenix and the shirt clinging wetly to her braless chest. She would fit like perfection in his palms. If he kissed her now, she would taste syrupy sweet like the soda. His body tensed and hardened. Ready and willing to feel her against him again. “You’re going to be sticky. You want help cleaning up?” “No.” She jerked her hand away and moved to the door leading to a hallway and the bedroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” In what way? “If you insist.” “I do.” She spun on the ball of her foot. As she walked away, her workout shorts hugged her tight ass and begged him to abandon the task of cleaning up the mess to follow her instead. To help her strip off her T-shirt and wipe away the stickiness. His tongue was wet. Or he could help her shower. Maybe hold her hair.

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His shields wavered. A blue mist settled over the room. He adjusted to ease the pressure on his dick. “Hey,” he called after her. Her feet slapping the tile floor halted just out of view. He imagined her glancing up to the ceiling for patience or control. The image had him smiling with the desire to needle her. “What?” Yeah, her voice confirmed it. So did the waves of arousal bouncing through the air. She was frustrated, and not entirely by his goading. She may not remember his healing her, but she remembered the sensations of him inside her. Her body remembered his as vibrantly as his recalled hers. “You’re conscious now. Let me know if you’re in a polishing mood.” “Only if it involves hot wax and a scraper.” “You mean like on a board? I could get behind that.” He suppressed his chuckle so she wouldn’t hear. He didn’t move closer where he could get a better feel of her. A clearer impression of her arousal would only incite his rising temperature. “You did claim earlier you’re good in the water.” “I would be concerned you would wipeout prematurely.” He laughed. An all out laugh that rose from deep in the gut quaked his abs. He hadn’t laughed in too long. So few things in his life had been laugh-worthy, but however long Ava was around he would enjoy her. He would continue looking for answers lurking in her mind, but now he had a new plan. A plan for seduction.

She’d known from the moment he’d invited himself over there would be trouble, just as she’d known Breck would forbid her to tell H her true identity.

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The bizarre part for her was how disturbing his presence was and how she’d anticipated it all day. She’d been told to get close. She’d succeeded. Too well for peace of mind. Ava stepped into her bedroom on gelatinous legs, closed and locked the door and eyed the drawer beside her bed. He’d barely touched her, but the suggestions in his smooth voice, the heat in his almost eerily blue eyes and the all-too-clear memory of his mouth on hers had her body humming. The hairs on her arms danced. Her scalp tingled—something it had been doing a lot of since meeting him. Her pussy pulsed with an awareness so acute she would swear he was in her. She headed to the bathroom, stripping off her shirt on the way. The wet fabric scraped against her stiff nipples, shooting a jolt of arousal through her stomach. How had he gotten to her so easily? Ava stopped at the door and looked back to the drawer once more. Her gaze flitted to the bedroom door and back to the drawer holding the gag gift a college friend had sent for her last birthday. She’d admit it. She was a healthy woman. She enjoyed sex. And sure, there had been occasions when she’d tried to pleasure herself after a rough day to relieve the pressure. It was just as normal for a woman to take care of her own business as it was for a man. It just never worked. An erotic book might get her close, but even the hottest ones failed to get her wet and ready. Nothing was capable of pushing her over the edge. Especially after the things she’d been subjected to undercover as a call girl. So how was it ten minutes with H had her body snapping at the tethers, begging for release?

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Ava shook her head and went into the bathroom. It didn’t matter what he’d done or why her body responded so readily. She was not going to bust out that finger nubby for the first time with him in the next room. She dropped her shirt on the floor and turned on the shower to warm up the water. Nope. The toy was staying right where it was. She pushed the shorts over her hips. Already they clung to her. Sticky. You’re going to be sticky. You want help cleaning up? His words, smooth and erotic, reverberated through her head as clearly as if he stood behind her. She tripped herself stepping out of the shorts. The tangy scent of her own arousal reached up and slapped at her. Her knees quivered. Her body wept, excreting more juices to slide down her inner thigh. “Oh hell.” She moaned as she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were heavy, and not from sleepiness. Her cheeks were flushed in red blotches as the heat of anticipation rose. As the need for sexual release rose. “No freaking way.” She wasn’t using that thing with him no more than a few walls away. Decided, she pulled back the shower curtain and stepped beneath the lukewarm spray. Every drop of water was a fire burst of awakening. Each drop struck her skin with the seductive caress of his lips on hers. His hands on her body. His mind and body melded with her. Steam rose in the air and had nothing to do with the shower. Hot. She was too hot. Moisture ran down her thigh. Her sex ached and clenched. She needed relief. Her vision blurred. Her knees buckled. The water pounded and by the time she turned the knobs to stop its flow, her body was a mass of raw nerves. She had never been so aware of every nerve

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on her body. Whatever was happening to her went beyond a need for sexual release. If she didn’t release some pressure, fast, her mind was likely to break. Her lungs constricted and silvery blue lights sparked in her vision. She tried to stand. Her legs were too weak. Desperate, Ava crawled out of the tub and into her bedroom. Barely able to hold herself upright, she jerked open the drawer and grabbed the package holding the nubby. Sensing the coming relief, her hips jerked forward. The hard plastic package slipped beneath her wet hand. She pulled it out and ripped it open. The watch-type battery fell onto the carpet. And damn if her hands didn’t shake as she twisted off the end of the vibrator, popped the battery into place and slipped the little bullet thingy into the rubbery sleeve. Her finger—practically having a life of its own—dove through the ring. What was happening to her? She wasn’t herself. Hadn’t been since that morning in H’s lab. With a flick of the switch, her finger jumped to life beneath a low hum. Ava fell to her back on the floor, spread her legs and placed the nubby on her clit. She flattened her free hand over her chest and grabbed her breast, squeezing. Flicking her thumb over her nipple, her need bumped up a notch. Long and low and luscious, Dr. H moaned in her head. Encouraged her to touch herself. She ran her hand down her chest and over her stomach. Her back arched, as if it was his hand on her body. Her body pulsed. Release flooded through her. “Ohhh-ooooohh.” She rolled her head. Her hips jerked and sought more. She’d been so ramped up that once wasn’t enough. Her skin heated and hummed with the alertness she’d felt when he woke her that morning in her car.

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He’d invaded her space. Now he invaded her mind. He shared the raw bliss of her agonizing pleasure as intently as if he was at her side. His moans in her mind egged her on. Enticed her to take herself higher. She pressed her vibrating finger a little harder against her clit. The moisture of her arousal slicked her fingers. She licked her lips, picturing his tongue. His hands. His body, wet from the ocean. Quaking. Contracting. Quivering. She moved at a frenzied pace, rubbing her clit, pinching her nipple, taking herself higher. Her scalp tingled. The pulse in her temple assaulted her wound, but she couldn’t make herself care. Mmmm. Let go. Her eyes widened. If she wasn’t so certain she was behind locked doors, she’d swear that had come from him. She came again and collapsed with her hand to her side. He wasn’t with her, but he was there. He had propelled her to the finish. Orgasm without a partner, let alone multiple ones, was a new experience for her. Hell, they’d never been easy with a partner. She needed to figure out what magic Dr. H possessed.

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Chapter Seven

He’d fought to keep his shields in place against the sparking assaults. He’d fought to not feel her increasing arousal heat his blood mercilessly. He’d fought desperately to stay out of her head and not experience her orgasms, withholding himself from his own. The power of her skyrocketing emotions slamming into H, even from several rooms away, battered his defenses until he’d lost the battle. She’d unwittingly connected with him, and it wasn’t like him accidently walking into a room. He couldn’t quietly back out unnoticed. No. To avoid reopening her wound, he had no choice but to stay with her. Heat coursed through his veins. Prickling pulses of pleasure skated across the skin of his chest in a searing caress. A caress that wasn’t real. His dick swelled and pressed against his zipper. After a life of being told how to dress, he always wore baggy shorts and sandals for comfort, but his shorts weren’t baggy enough when Ava was around. He didn’t make it to the sofa before his legs buckled. He settled for the support of the wall leading into the hallway. Her moans rumbled through the walls and tormented him. Hums of excitement sighed through his head. Flashes of blinding light and glimpses of rapture exploded. Red. Green. Blue. Orange. Moans and groans. In an attempt to restrain himself, H gritted his teeth, biting the insides of his cheeks until he bled. He hadn’t been invited to share this with her. He nudged

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her mind, hurrying her along. He couldn’t intrude so completely as to go to the finish line with her. He couldn’t hold off much longer either. Finally, with one last violent shove against his mind, she backed off. Her tension eased off. His body hungered for the physical satisfaction he’d denied himself. His mind whirled. Sighs and lies. She was empathic. Whether she knew it or not, she had abilities very similar to him, or she wouldn’t have been able to reach out to him. More interestingly, he’d bet she’d been feeding off his arousal too. Short of him using his healing abilities on her, this last connection had been as strong as the one in his lab. Instead of draining him, it left him energized. Maybe they connected so easily because he’d done it earlier and she was susceptible. It could also be a sort of chemical reaction, making it fairly easy for his brain to talk to her brain. His gut told him there was more to it. There was more to her. If he’d wanted proof for his study that some lovers connected more intensely than others, he had it. They may not be lovers in the traditional sense and he wouldn’t be noting his observations about this experience in his study journals, but his own body, thrumming and pulsing and rushing toward completion along with hers was his proof. It didn’t make sense to him how a mysterious woman he barely knew could defeat the shields he’d spent his life building. She’d done in less than a day what General Scott and his team had failed to do with years of practice. She had to have some natural abilities. Abilities she’d learned to suppress. Abilities he wanted to test more thoroughly. Now. He pushed away from the wall and headed toward her room through the shimmering blue haze suffusing his line of vision.

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No woman had incited him so intensely that self-combustion seemed like a very real possibility. Ava Sebastian made him curious. As a scientist. As a man. She created questions he’d never thought to ask and had him itching to run tests he’d sworn never to run. Ava had just exhibited one of the abilities he’d originally been taken for. The difference was, while he wanted to know how she’d kept her ability hidden her entire life, he wouldn’t attempt to find the answers by hooking her to brainscrambling machines. He stopped outside her room. They’d just shared a supremely intimate act. He craved more, but if she hadn’t intended to call to him, she would be more alarmed than excited by his presence. If she had no idea of her power, telling her under these circumstances would have her reaching for the nearest weapon to skewer him with. He sank back against the wall, carefully erected his weakened shields until his vision returned to normal and then stared at the white panel separating them. The inner sanctum. Her bedroom. Her bed. Her door opened and she stumbled to a halt. “H.” Her post-orgasm tone slipped over him. His mind surged forward, propelling him to reach for her. Years of conditioning gave him the power to stay still. Dressed in shorts and another outrageous T-shirt—this one lime green with Hermes holding his hands up in surrender, shouting “Don’t shoot the messenger!”—she was more fully covered than when she’d exited the dressing room in the red bikini. She was more staggering now with her flushed cheeks and dilated eyes. “Ava. I heard you…” He swallowed, needing to sound less…horny. “You all right?”

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The flush tinted the tops of her ears. “I’m good.” “Good.” Neither of them moved. “What is it with you and the Hermes stuff?” “Are you kidding? Messenger of the Greek gods? God of travelers.” “God of commerce, thieves and sports. I know who he is.” He knew very well who Hermes was. “What’s with the T-shirts and the lapel pin?” “I’m Greek. My brothers and I have this joke where every birthday and Christmas we see who can come up with the most outrageous shirt dealing with the gods.” She tugged at the hem of the one she currently wore. The move pulled it tighter around her breasts. “This isn’t even one of the bold ones.” “I take it Hermes is your favorite.” She shrugged and skimmed her gaze over him. “Are we gonna have sex?” He swallowed. His dick jerked. “Excuse me?” “You’re here. You’re hot. I’m in the mood.” As easily as that she was offering him the completion he hadn’t taken earlier. “Really? What are you up to?” His skin hummed and his gut trembled at the idea of joining her in body and mind. Of driving her to orgasm with his hands on her. “Men aren’t the only ones capable of no-strings-attached sex.” Ava shrugged and traced her fingers along her collarbone, sending him a come-and-get-it look. “I have a feeling you’ll be good.” His brain stalled, as if a reset switch had been hit and he wasn’t booted back up. He wanted to figure out her secrets, and sleeping with her was a guaranteed way to slip behind her barriers, but he couldn’t justify it. He couldn’t view her as simply a means to an end. She appealed to him on the most basic level. “I’ll show you good.” He stepped forward, tangling his gaze with hers. “I’ll take you to heights you can’t even have imagined.”

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She scanned his body again, hesitating at the erection pressing against his zipper before moving her gaze up his body. “I have a pretty vivid imagination.” “Not vivid enough.” He took a few more steps. She backed into the room. Her throat bounced. The pulse at her temple thundered. Crossing the threshold of the room he’d seen in her mind, he barricaded himself mentally deep inside the walls surrounding his ability. He didn’t want to influence her feelings. He wanted to know the desire she felt was her own for him. He would see how far she could go before her mind sought his again. He would test firsthand the connection between lovers. Ava ran her hand over his arm. A fire bolt of arousal surged through him, radiating from the spots she touched. His skin shrank, thirsting. He forced a swallow past his dry throat. He stepped closer, bent slightly and swept her into his arms. Her breathing stalled. Her pupils flared as she gazed up at him. No woman had ever aroused him with a look or a simple touch. He somehow knew the same was true for her, just as he knew no man had ever attempted to sweep her off her feet. She wasn’t other women. He wasn’t other men. He carried her across the large room, set her on her feet beside the bed and knelt before her. Intensity thickened the air as he flattened his hands against her legs before edging them up to grab the waist of her exercise shorts. He’d planned on seducing her. He hadn’t counted on the wanton part of her making it so easy. She surprised him, just as she’d surprised herself a short while earlier. He didn’t talk or rush or touch her beyond the gentle pressure of his hands brushing her legs as he lowered the shorts.

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He knelt where she’d laid earlier, wriggling and pleasuring herself while thinking about him. Some of her body’s warmth soaked into his legs and spread through him. His cock jerked. His palms burned with the itch to hurry. Ava stepped free of the shorts and brushed her inner thigh along his arm before putting her foot back on the floor. For a brief moment lasting no longer than a long, warm breath—his long, warm breath—her crotch was close to his mouth. He could have swiped at her, tasted her. He dropped the first of his mind barriers to feel her. Aroused and wet, her legs trembled with the power to wait for whatever he had planned next. Her control wavered. Her desires charged free. She’d expected him to taste her. She’d wanted it. He stood, trailing his fingertips over her skin and grabbing the hem of her Tshirt on the way. Aware that his eyes were pulsing an electric blue, curious to see how she would react, he locked his gaze with hers until the shirt easing over her head broke the contact. He glanced at the shirt and shook his head before tossing it to the carpet. He didn’t need an admission or a peek into her mind to know she’d worn her Hermes gear to goad him with something she shouldn’t know. At the moment, he didn’t care what she knew or how. Nude and vulnerable and aroused to the point of trembling, Ava swayed before him. Her nipples stood erect, begging for his mouth. Her boobs bounced lightly with her nervous shifting. The few treasures she’d hidden beneath the bikini scraps were now his for viewing. For touching. His vision brightened as a shield slipped for a second. A groan rumbled up from deep in his chest, but his touch remained as soft as a whispered caress.

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Her tummy rippled with her breaths. She closed her legs and shifted a little. He nudged his knee between her legs to stop her from rubbing herself. He ached. She ached. He’d waited. She could wait. “You’re still dressed.” She cleared the huskiness from her throat and reached for his shirt. One quick shake of his head halted her. She dropped her hands to her sides, fidgeting, needing something to touch. He eased his shirt over his head and dropped it on top of hers. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as she looked at him. She’d touched his body that morning. An exploration in the buoyancy of the water would’ve been…spectacular. Even there he preferred more privacy. And a bed. That they’d been snuck up on when his shields had been lowered had been a reminder that no place was entirely secure. This was a better bet though. He slipped the button of the shorts loose and lowered the zipper. His shoulder muscles protested the tension he’d been holding in as he pushed the cotton to the floor. Ava hadn’t shown up with plans to hurt him, but more supremely than a pane of sliver-thin glass dropped from three stories high shattered, his belief that he’d been safe erupted. Janus and Eston White weren’t his only dangers. Lean and sculpted, she stepped forward. H shook his head and pointed to the bed. “Lie down.” She swallowed and did as he commanded. The mattress dipped lightly beneath her weight as she moved onto the bed and settled against the pillows. Intent, he scanned her body until she shifted and her hands fluttered at her sides beneath the weighty instinct to cover herself. “I have condoms. In the drawer.” Her hand fluttered above the bed. “You never know when you’ll have… Not that I… I’m not some kind of…”

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He raised a brow and smiled. Sexual freedom didn’t make her undesirable. Hell, her experience meant he didn’t have to deal with bashfulness. The fun part was watching her unravel more from his silence than his touches. When he did finally begin exploring her, touching her and tasting her, she would be defenseless. “What are you going to do?” Yes. The mystery would nag at her. She didn’t need a blindfold to heighten her awareness of him. Her mind was taking her there. He reached for the drawer, watching her, pulled it open and reached inside. Finding more than condoms, he grinned. It was his turn to play with toys. Her stomach collapsed and froze as she sucked in a nervous breath. Fear and anticipation and excitement thrilled through him. Her fear and anticipation and excitement. When he lifted the condom, she breathed a sigh of relief, but a touch of disappointment whispered over him. She’d been worried he would find her toy, but she’d wanted him to also. He grinned and moved to join her on the bed. He knelt on his knees at her side and imprisoned her with his gaze while he sheathed himself. He wouldn’t rush even now, but neither would he take unnecessary risks. With a finger flick her toy sprang to life. A light buzz incited their temperatures. Her passion rose in his blood as surely as his own. Her hips thrust upward, begging him to hurry. He brushed his vibrating hand over her boobs. Her eyes snapped to his. Ferocious excitement gleamed in the tan depths. She closed her eyes, but they immediately opened and returned back to his. Selfpreservation instinct urged him to close his eyes before he lost control over his shields and revealed more than was safe.

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He was captivated. Mesmerized. H compelled her with a look to obey him. He ratcheted up her desire to a fevered pitch by running her toy down an erogenous path to the destination she’d shot straight for. He skimmed over the top of her clit, not quite going there for her. Her legs fell open. She writhed. Moisture ran from her body soaking the bed. She dug her head into the pillows. Her hips bucked upward, rotating, seeking him out. His cock surged forward, burning to answer her beckoning call. He ran his vibrating hand down a leg to her knee and then back up the inside of her thigh before skating across her quivering center to repeat the path on the other leg. Over and over, with his eyes locked steadily on her, with his mind battling for control over his abilities, he took her higher and higher until her body bucked. Her lids drifted closed and the chorded lines of her neck stood out with her exertion to hold herself back, but an almost strangled moan vibrated free. He knelt between her spread legs. When he finally rubbed the nubby over her sex, he slid his fingers through her dripping arousal. He licked his lips, eager to taste her. His pupils flared. The blue shroud over his vision intensified and electrified in an unnatural blue. He battled the slipping barriers back into place, reclaiming control and minimizing the blue glow in his eyes. Finally, with her body begging and weeping and clamoring for completion, he slid up the length of her and thrust home. “Ahhh!” Her body quaked. She grabbed his shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as her inner muscles pulsed seeking a fast relief. Hell no. Not happening.

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He ignored the gripping tension at the base of his spine, embraced the tightening of his balls and awarded her two quick, hard thrusts that hammered her g-spot. She cried out again and simpered when he slowed his pace. His scalp tingled and his vision blurred. His body thrummed with the predatory need to conquer. To take the offered completion. Not yet. “Please let me come.” She groaned and raised her hips, thrusting when he slid away gently. Desperation thickened her voice and echoed through him. “Please.” He retreated, almost to the point of withdrawal. He grunted and drove home. She arched off the bed, her body going flush with his. A pleasured scream ripped through her. She contracted her muscles and milked him until he threw his head back and moaned with his own release. Hermes. His name, the name he’d long ago given up, whispered through his mind.

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Chapter Eight

H stared at the back of Ava’s head while she sprawled across his chest. Tenderly he pulled her heavy hair away from her marred temple. Their breathing had long ago settled and his shields were solidly in place, but his mind replayed the repercussions of their rapturous connections. He’d allowed her too close, and whatever physical threat she posed, the biggest was to his emotional security. She made him wonder. She made him yearn. She made him desire the things he’d accepted as dead. She awakened long-forgotten dreams. Ava shifted against him, her silken body sliding against his. She traced invisible patterns across his chest. He bit his lip and calculated how long they’d lain quietly. Seduction had been his plan, but he’d miscalculated the depth of her impact on him. She’d nearly pulled him into an abyss of impossibilities he’d battled his way out of once before already. He needed to put distance between them, but cuddling a little longer would prevent their lovemaking—damn if he could call it anything different—from turning into a badda-boom-gotta-vroom bedroom hit and run. “You confuse me.” Satiation slurred her voice. “How so?” “Different ways.” She brushed a patch of his chest hair down, her touch reawakening his desire. “Why do you only go by H or Dr. H?”

Nikki Duncan

Pained regrets gripped his lungs in a vice grip. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the necessity of drawing air into his lungs. Little by little they expanded and forced the agony to loosen its grasp. Each time he’d allowed himself to think back, to draw forth the lightness he’d felt with his parents, the more desolate he’d felt. His heart trembled, a fearful shell of the little boy he’d been. The shadows of his memories darkened. “My name reminds me of pain and loss.” She shifted and propped her chin on his chest to look at him. “Will you tell me if I guess?” “I don’t like games.” He searched her gaze, but found only sincerity and curiosity. Still, she could be laying a trap. “So the H does stand for something.” He almost lowered his shields to read her, but this close and without the excitement of arousal humming through her body, she would realize the shifting colors of his eyes wasn’t a trick of her mind. No. This would be handled as a man, not an empath. “Come on. Let me try to guess.” She wiggled against him. He gripped her shoulders and stopped her. “Dr. H is a little formal. Even H is formal for certain situations.” “You won’t guess.” At least he hoped not. She grinned, her perfect teeth flashing behind her tantalizing lips. “Sounds like you’re worried I might.” “No.” Hell, yes. “Not worried.” Disturbed. Profoundly disturbed. “Interesting.” She rolled away and scooted off the bed. “There are far more interesting things to do in bed than play twenty questions.” He pulled the covers up to his waist and leaned against the

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headboard. The entire situation was still more intimate than he’d have chosen for this trail of conversation. “Don’t you trust me?” “I hardly know you.” She grabbed her T-shirt from the floor and slipped it on. Hermes mocked him. Her unspoken knowledge mocked him. “But I know that sly tone of voice shouldn’t be trusted.” “Why not? This isn’t like a pool game where you can be hustled.” Ava flipped her hair over her shoulder. “And yet, it feels remarkably so.” He’d been hustled from the beginning, but had been too blinded by figuring out her abilities and pinpointing why she intrigued him so intently. “Fine. You get three questions.” She jerked back, clearly surprised he’d conceded. “What’s the catch?” The lady got points for being sharp. “I get three questions.” “About what?” He smiled. She narrowed her eyes and considered his proposition. If she agreed he could ask her anything. He had so many mysteries surrounding her begging to be solved he struggled for the best starting place. “Deal.” “Ladies first.” He didn’t want his name out there. Not even between them. The implications she might actually know who he was… He hoped like hell that anything she knew ended with his name. There were more deadly things for her to learn about him. “Are you a real doctor, or is that a nickname?” “Technically two questions, but yes. The diplomas on my wall are real.” Money and politics were powerful tools. Thanks to Eston White’s string pulling

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he’d been granted credit for his life studies. Who better than the test subject to become an expert on empathic studies? H watched her, cataloguing her every move and gesture. “Did you know Channing personally?” She lifted her chin and jutted it out a fraction. She paused for so long he was positive she’d lie. “No.” Not the answer he’d expected. Whatever he’d picked up from her mind about Channing and the contacts hadn’t come from an association with Channing. She folded her legs behind her and pulled at the hem of her shirt. It barely stretched past the curve of her hips. “Do you have any family?” That was hitting close to home, but unless she went farther on her next round, or had a magic mirror showing the past, he could be safe. And whether or not he had family wouldn’t get her closer to guessing his name or his reasons for dropping it. “People define family differently, but yes.” “Hmm.” She rubbed her fingers along her jaw and chin. “Tell me, Ava, your role in my lab… Are you really there as a regulatory auditor?” He’d almost asked about sex, but passing up the chance for real truths… He couldn’t do it. “If I didn’t know better I would think you saw a conspiracy everywhere.” Ava’s gaze scanned his body. Her tongue wetted her lips, teasing him. With her penchant for blatant and raw approaches, she expected him to be easily distracted. She came close. “Answer the question, or the game’s over.” She shifted, hunching her shoulders forward a little defensively. “Yes. I was sent in as an auditor.” “Interesting choice of words.” An expert evasion.

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“If you say so. I have one more question before guessing your name.” Her mouth widened in that flirty smile capable of setting his stomach fluttering. “Do you have a caduceus?” Clever woman. “As in the recognizable symbol of medicine? No. I don’t own one.” She knew. She knew his name and was using the symbols of the Greek god to taunt him. Her chosen questions were carefully selected to confirm he was who she thought him to be. But why? Who was she? Why did she need confirmation of his identity? If General Scott or Janus had sent her in there would be no mystery on her part. An icy chill sliced through him, reminiscent of the one he’d felt during the shooting. “It’s your turn, H.” “Yeah.” She was going for the shock factor with him, hoping to catch him off balance. It wouldn’t work. She’d miscalculated, as had he in regards to her. It was a mistake he would not repeat. Narrowing his left eye to obscure the shifting color to come, he lowered his first shield to feel for the truth behind her coming answer. “Are you Ava Sebastian, as you claim?” “Yes.” Her voice wavered with her lack of conviction. Hmm. She believed her answer, even as she refuted it with disgust slightly crinkling her nose. There weren’t many reasons for her to have two identities. She’d been sent to take him out or act as a distraction while someone else came at him from another direction. “Now.” She scooted forward and rubbed her hands together. “I get to guess your name.”

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It was like a really fucked-up version of that fairy tale. He reengaged his shields for all the protection he could get and braced himself. “Go for it.” “Is your name Hermes Vamekes? As in the young boy who was kidnapped with his twin sister at the age of eight?” A sledgehammer to the solar plexus stole his air. Time halted as his mind reeled. He couldn’t have braced for that. Though looking back he should have. Any fun in their game had ended. Knowing who he was meant she wasn’t just an auditor. Dana had kept their last name, but he’d hoped to keep her out of danger. Shit. Shit!

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Chapter Nine

He didn’t blink or furrow a brow or flinch. He didn’t smile or frown or compress his lips. His chest didn’t rise or fall beneath the power of his breaths. He didn’t move. He didn’t react. Only the thump thumping of the pulse in his neck evidenced he wasn’t a statue. His lack of reaction was his confirmation to her guess. “How do you know my name?” She shrugged, hoping for nonchalance. “I don’t get involved with people, personally or professionally, without knowing who they are.” “Bullshit. That is not an answer.” Powerful pauses punctuated each word. He still hadn’t moved. She couldn’t tell him how she knew who he was without jeopardizing her cover. And Breck forbade her from making the admission. She had to maintain her guise until she’d eliminated every last threat and located the contacts if they were real. “Is it so hard to believe I have that information as an auditor?” “Yes.” He lurched off the bed and, unaffected by his nudity, went after his shorts. His eyes narrowed a teeny fraction as he yanked the shorts on. “Empaths read emotions and feelings. They don’t read minds. They aren’t psychics.” “What does that have to do with anything?” “You’re an empath, Ava, but the gift doesn’t automatically grant you open access to my brain.” He thought she was… She wasn’t. No. He was wrong.

Nikki Duncan

“You’re saying an empath has never picked up actual thoughts and memories from someone?” She wasn’t empathic, but she’d sure as hell picked up something—thoughts or memories that weren’t hers—from him. There was something about him. How else could he explain the intensity of their connection and reactions to each other? Was he what he accused her of being? She’d just thought him really intuitive. Or she’d wanted to because it seemed simpler. His gaze bored into her as if he could force a confession with a look. “You’re trying to circle this back on me, evading a direct answer, while formulating your next lie.” “Lies?” It was ironic. A man with more secrets than a dirty politician was accusing her of withholding. Okay, so she was, but out of necessity in the moment. His entire life was built on evasions and lies. Eh, all right. Again, so was hers. Not the point. She stood and faced him. Almost toe to toe, the pulsing venom of his rage slithered through her. Lying to him smacked at her like the worst sort of betrayal, but she swallowed the impulse to reveal herself. “I have no need to formulate lies. I’m not the one trying to hide my past.” No need to when I obliterated it. “Not that it’s your business, Ms. Sebastian, but my past isn’t something worth reliving. Hell, if you must know, it wasn’t worth living when it was the present.” He leaned forward, invading her space until her skin tingled. “Do yourself a favor and forget whatever you think you know about me.” She pressed her lips together and nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, but he trusted her a little or he wouldn’t have revealed even that small insight. She would need that trust before it was all over. Whoever had shot at them earlier would be back, and they wouldn’t miss again.

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She eased back and softened her shoulders to appear less confrontational. “That sounds like a painful truth.” “You know nothing of my truths.” The powerfully stony man from the day before was back in control. The lover she’d throbbed for was nowhere to be found. “I know more than you think.” Not as much as she needed to know. “I’d like to hear the rest.” And she meant it. They were doomed for a future, but she wanted to understand Dr. H., H, Hermes. “You want answers?” “I want the truth.” She angled her head and scrunched up her brows. “I want to know you, to help you.” “No, Ava.” He stared into her. Not into her eyes. Into her. “You don’t want the truth. And you can’t help me.” His stoic voice deepened with a conviction born of whatever hardships he’d endured. Hardships even her connections hadn’t been able to uncover. “You’re wrong on both counts.” He snorted a disdainful snort. “You think you want answers from me, but deep down in places you don’t see in yourself, places you don’t want to admit exist, you know you can’t handle them.” He turned, took three steps toward the door and froze. “You think you want to know what happened to me, where I’m from and how I came to be where I am today. You’re wrong.” The vacancy in his voice reeked eerily of sad acceptance and broke her heart. The image of a younger Hermes with his bare, electrode-covered scalp flitted into her mind again. Agonizing shocks of electricity jolted through her as the man in her head convulsed.

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She sank to the edge of the bed. Stars fractured her vision in the sudden absence of light. The images were the same as earlier, only more vivid than any of the abysmal atrocities she’d witnessed during her career. He didn’t tell his captors whatever they wanted to know. He didn’t crumble. He didn’t lose himself in his seemingly permanent hell. He survived and found a way out. Ava shook clear the foreign recollections, stood on trembling legs and moved to his side. She rested her hand on his arm. He jerked back, as if the light touch was an assault he needed to defend against. “Hermes, I know you were taken and subjected to tests no one should suffer through. I know you care deeply for Dana, and would do anything to protect her. I’m not here to put either of you in danger.” “You know nothing about what I was subjected to.” “I’ll listen if you want to tell.” He shook his head, but instead of shutting down he began talking. “In the name of science, General Scott, chief of Eston White, hooked me to machines that all but wiped my long-term memories.” He drew in a ragged breath that shook his shoulders. “For a long time Dana was all I could remember.” “How much has returned?” “Not enough. Not the important stuff like what it was like to have a family. A home. I only have fragments of those memories.” Shattered for the man she’d just met, seeing Breck’s reasoning for holding back even while the lies festered in her gut, Ava wrapped her arms around H and held tight.

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Silence ruled the stillness. Several thumping heartbeats later the man she was becoming more curious about pulled himself free from whatever dismal chasm he’d gone into. His glacial gaze warmed. “Never call me Hermes.” “But—” “My name is Dr. H or H. Never Hermes.” “Can I ask why, specifically, it reminds you of pain and loss?” She squeezed his arm, assuring him the best she could she was trustworthy. Was it something he remembered? “I released the name when I was told of my parents’ death. The hope I’d clung to, dreams of a reunion… Without my mom the name she chose was too painful.” “You have no other name you’ll accept?” “No.” “In other words, stick to H.” “Yes.” “Even in bed?” He looked at her, long and silent, without blinking or moving beyond his breaths. When he finally spoke it was quietly. “It may not make sense to you, but I would prefer it.” It saddened her to see how far he’d cut himself off from the name his parents had given him, but since she hadn’t lived through what he had she couldn’t really understand. Whatever had motivated Dana to keep their name, something equally strong had motivated H to let it go. “Okay.” He stared out the window with tension bubbling around him. When he spoke, he did so quietly, with no traces of anger.

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“If you’re not a threat, why are you here? Why did you show up all of a sudden asking questions about things you shouldn’t know?” The truth clung from the tip of her tongue with the desperation of a free climber struggling to maintain his grip on a jagged cliff face in the midst of an avalanche. With the experience of practice, she pulled the rapidly slipping words to safety and met H’s questioning stare. She was going to have to give one damn convincing performance if she hoped to seduce him to her viewpoint. And stick close to the truth in case he checked. “Something inside of me is wired differently than in other people.” She creased her brows, conveying honesty and trustworthiness. She spoke the truth. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s always been there, making it difficult for me to maintain relationships with people.” More like impossible. Every time she’d gotten close to anyone, she got burned. Every time she opened herself up to the possibility of love, she was slapped back. “You make me wonder if maybe I wasn’t alone. The more I learn about you and what you do… You intrigue me. And I don’t know why or how, but you make me want to understand myself better.” “I don’t know that I can work with you, Ava. I don’t know that I can trust you to be honest.” She pulled back, suddenly feeling more exposed than when she’d lain naked before him. Wherever her confession had come from she didn’t know, but it was solid truth. For the first time in her life she’d almost come close to pinpointing what made her different. Loneliness washed over her in an almost-crippling surge. Her failed relationships had been because of her, but not because of anything she’d done

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wrong. Her inept attempts at fitting in on a team were more a result of a defense mechanism. If she stayed alone she couldn’t be hurt. “I understand.” She’d never met anyone capable of understanding or accepting her. Until H, and she was screwing it up with her every move. Every word. She stepped back. Her hands shook at her sides and tears swelled in her throat. “I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He headed out, but paused at the doorway. “I want to believe you, Ava, but your evasions and secrets make it hard.” And she wanted to tell him the truth, but she’d promised the team she would work within their parameters. This wait-and-see bullshit didn’t sit well with her style. She preferred to get in, assess the situation quickly, achieve the objective and get out. This entire case, from the moment Whitestone had sent her in as a call girl to work for Madame V, was royally screwed up. She’d helped save Breck and Kami, but she’d failed to find Lori, the missing operative she’d replaced in Madame V’s operation. She’d learned the truth about Whitestone and left them, but she wasn’t fitting in smoothly with her new team. Always looking in from the cold, she remained the outsider.

H had checked on Ava throughout the night, waking her to make sure she was healing well. Each time he’d seen the pain lingering behind her eyes he’d considered making a connection to help her. Each time he’d stopped himself before risking another volatile link.

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By the time morning had come and he’d heard her rolling out of bed he’d been all too willing to greet her with an energy shot before getting the hell out. He’d stuck around, looking at her in yet another ridiculous T-shirt. Now, two hours later, she was still lodged in his head. Upsetting and confusing and vibrant. He’d known she was on to him, but acknowledging how close she was… He may as well have done a long jump and hurdled into chaos. Linking with her, healing her, hadn’t been his first miscalculation. It had been the impetus to set the pendulum of disaster into motion. He’d gotten too close, too fast, and with the clarity of a sniper’s scope, he sensed the rising danger. His office door swung open. Dana stepped in, anger buzzing through the air around her. “Good. You’re alive. Now I can kill you.” “Dana.” He slid a file over the papers on his desk and faced his sister. Instinct told him he was going to have to get used to lying, and be good at it, very quickly. His inner thoughts and bodily responses would have to match precisely or she would nail him. He couldn’t allow his baby sister by five minutes to know Eston White was making a return. Especially considering he would be their target. “You didn’t call me. You always call me.” “You’re right.” Every night at the same time he would either call her on the phone or reach out to her mentally. Last night, when he should have been contacting her, he was getting into bed with Ava. He dredged up every lesson in control and restraint he’d learned during General Scott’s torments to modulate his reactions. “I’m sorry.” “Where were you? I was worried.” “Ava had no one else to keep an eye on her.” “Right.” Her tone screeched bullshit.

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“She has a concussion, Dana. You would have done the same thing.” Except for the part of revealing their identities to a woman withholding information he needed. “I would’ve taken the lying slut to a hospital.” His gaze snapped to Dana. His spine stiffened and his blood slowed. “Watch yourself, Dana.” She drew back. Her forehead bunched up, but a moment later she shook her head and advanced as shock set in. “You told her.” “I told her nothing.” The weight of the truth shook his voice. “But she knows.” Dana sank into the chair across from him. Her shoulders slumped. “She knows who we are.” “Yes.” So much for lying to protect her. “You said—” “That General Scott assured me we would never be found or revealed. I know.” “Then how’d she find out if you didn’t tell her? Does she work for the general?” “I don’t think so.” He dug his fingers into the knots in his neck. “I know she’s not telling me everything, but I also know she doesn’t deserve the level of hatred you have for her.” “She almost killed you!” “Damn it, Dana!” He slammed a hand on the desk. She jerked back. “I told you what happened. It was my choice to connect with her. I endangered myself. And I’d do it again if I could.” “What a ridiculous thing to say.”

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“No. It isn’t.” They’d never gotten into the discussion of what they would like to do. They always stuck to what they would do to maintain a low profile. “If I could use my abilities to help ease suffering I would.” “H…” “I get it. I can’t cure everyone and I would pay a tremendous physical toll.” He scrubbed his face, hating the stresses piling up. “Trust me when it comes to Ava. She’s different.” “You like her.” “She…” He’d almost gone with the intriguing excuse, but Dana deserved the stronger truth. “I care for her.” “But you don’t know her.” Confusion rested on the underbelly of Dana’s argument. She wanted to be a free spirit, but some things still confused her. “No. And I know she’s keeping secrets from me, but I also know she’s not interested in hurting me.” Nope. There was nothing malicious in Ava’s intentions. In her touch. Her taste. Her kiss. He would stay open-minded when things were fully revealed. Or at least try. “What do we do next?” Hesitant resolve deepened Dana’s normally happy voice. She’d worked so hard to overcome her fears of the world. Trying to protect her came naturally. The desire to protect blinded him to the inner strength she’d drawn on to survive. She hadn’t abolished all of her fears, but she would fight to stay free. “We go on. We can’t change what Ava’s learned, and we can’t allow whatmight-be’s to control us.” H sighed and stretched his neck. The morning’s swim had done little to wash away the effects of stress plaguing him. “Why are you tolerating her? Why aren’t you forcing the truth out of her?”

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“Because that would make me no better than General Scott. I’m not sacrificing my soul for answers.” A moment of peace that felt remarkably like Ava erupted in him in a flash of brightness. He shook his head, dislodging the feeling. She was nowhere near him. They couldn’t be sharing a connection still. “And unless I’m very wrong, she’s special.” “Special?” Dana scoffed. She was only getting warmed up again, so he waited. “Special like you’re entertaining foolish thoughts like spending your life with her or special as in she’s gifted with abilities?” “Yes.” Clarify that fast. “To the gifted part. She’s either empathic or psychic. Maybe a little of both, which would make her very unique.” “Or maybe she’s a great actress planted here by General Scott or Janus. Maybe she’s just using you to get information.” Like him, Dana saw a conspiracy in everything and a spy in everyone. As far as she was concerned, only children were safe. And even they were only safe to a certain age. But he’d already explored that theory. His own paranoia fueled each decision he made, from doing his grocery shopping at random times to the security protocols he’d put into place at home and the lab. After being shot at yesterday he wasn’t about to drop his guard. Neither was he going to reveal everything to his sister. Sometimes not knowing was safer. “Dana, I know this is scary for you. Trust me to handle things.” “Fine. But don’t get so wrapped up in her you become stupid.” She checked her watch and pushed out of the chair. “The applicants you wanted back for the study will be here soon.” “Thank you.” “She’s blinded you.”

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He laughed. “No.” But she could. “She intrigues me enough to want to learn more about her.” “I’m watching you.” Her tone clearly said she didn’t believe his claims, which was okay. It was comforting to know she had his back. Dana had been the one bright spot of his life. It thrilled him that she’d agreed to come out of her self-induced hiding to work with him. “I’m glad you are.” He winked and slipped the contact lens schematics he’d been working on into his drawer and locked it. “Do me a favor and settle everyone in the white room. I’ll be right there.” “What are you doing? What are you hiding?” “I’m only making a quick phone call.” “To Ava?” “Give it a rest. You’re sounding more like a jealous girlfriend than my sister.” “Resting.” She curled her lip up in the bratty sarcastic way she’d never outgrown. “I’ll see you in there.” When she reached the door and had almost pulled it closed, he called out. “Dana.” “Yeah?” “Do you miss who we were? With them?” Our parents? She leaned against the door and thought about her answer. That she didn’t blurt one out raised his suspicions that she was as conflicted as him. “Sometimes.” Her eyes watered up and she shrugged. “Then I remember that we can’t get them back. We can only make the best of what we have now.” “I love you, Dana. I’m glad every day that I have you.”

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She swiped at her eyes and left him alone. Wishing he could’ve found a way out for them sooner was pointless, but he couldn’t stop himself. He would give almost anything to erase the pain she’d suffered and return everything that had been taken away. For now, the best he could do was eliminate whatever threats were heading their way. Ava was somehow broiled up in the midst of it all. Eston White had killed Channing for the x-ray lenses they’d developed together. Lenses H had agreed to test, not knowing they would fuse with his DNA the first time he put them on. Now, the corrupt general was after the contacts that had molded themselves to H’s eyes, unseen unless he lowered his shields and used his abilities. Then they radiated a blue glow that lit up a small room. The general was after him. Or would be if he learned the truth. Recognizing the need for help, and the need to keep Dana and everyone else near his lab safe, he pulled out the card Agent Lawson had left. He’d recovered the bullets from yesterday. The Feds could work them and see where they led. While they worked the evidence, he would work on figuring out Ava. He needed to know exactly what made her so different, because he’d only nicked her shell. After making the call to Agent Lawson and agreeing to turn the envelope over to Agent Burgess later that afternoon, H returned to work. He stepped into the room of fourteen waiting people and was disappointed to not find Ava there to audit. He looked at Dana, thinking maybe the missing woman had gone to the restroom. Dana shook her head. “We’re ready to begin when you are.”

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He didn’t need lowered shields to feel Dana’s disdain. Yes, it was worrisome she hadn’t shown up. What surprised him was that he was more concerned she’d had a complication from her injury. He couldn’t lower his shields and reach out to her in a room of witnesses, so he settled in to work. One-by-one, he and Dana tested the abilities of their volunteers. By lunch they were left with eight people. He would’ve dismissed the man with the buzz cut, Simon, if not for the vibes bouncing off him toward Dana. Not dangerous, but curious and interested. They didn’t make sense, and with all of his experience in reading people, H couldn’t pinpoint why. Giving the volunteers a chance to mix and socialize without the pressure of being watched—as far as they knew—he headed to the kitchen to eat. He turned on the screen to watch them in the main dining room and settled in to see what would be revealed. Interestingly, they’d paired into two groups. One with three men and one woman and the other with three women and Simon. If they made it past the next round of tests he would make more effort to learn their names, because at that point they would be committing to spending a lot more time together. “I expected to see the brunette the doctor was so interested in.” One of the women sitting with Simon captured his attention. She was blonde and had her back to him as well as the other blonde sitting with them, but he thought he knew which one she was. “I know. Right.” A petite redhead chimed in, clearly looking for some juicy gossip. “You could practically see the sparks bounce between them during the test the other day.” “Please,” another blonde sneered. “She won’t be back.” “Why not?”

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“She’s a study junkie. I saw her when I did a study over at Eston White a few months ago.” H jerked. The metal tabs on the bottom of his chair legs scraped against the tile floor like an ungreased motor—noisy and grating. He would have to verify which woman spoke. If Ava was connected to Eston White he’d missed something major in reading her. On the other hand, it would explain the memories he’d picked up from her head. She knew something about the contacts. A connection would follow since they’d placed Jefferson in Channing’s lab as a spy. “I’ve heard of that place.” Simon chimed in, getting in on the gossip. “When were you there?” “Three months ago. I think she was a lab tech.” The woman leaned toward Simon and lowered her voice. “They’re way higher tech over there.” “Maybe that’s the general’s influence. I prefer the lower-key approach.” A juggernaut in his temple, H’s pulse pounded. General Scott. He fisted his hand, crumbling the sandwich. Ava had now been placed at Eston White, a place known for more than research specializing in the mind. The administration at Eston White was responsible for evaluating incoming clients and identifying potential assets. Assets who became their next victims. He’d used the information to barter for freedom, wanting everyone ever taken to be released. He’d had to settle for his and Dana’s release. His failure to save the others spurred him into doing what he could on the outside to prevent other children from suffering the same fate. So far, though the adult studies continued, there had been no new studies involving children at Eston White. General Scott’s thirst for control hadn’t lessened. They’d proven that by planting Jefferson at Channing’s lab. Now they had someone in his lab.

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Ava had played her role well and gotten close. Close enough he’d wound up in her bed. Worse, he’d gotten close enough to feel something for her. The blonde needed to be more thoroughly checked out, but if it turned out Ava was the spy… He grinded his teeth and stared at the study participants on the monitor while he weighed the implications of their claims and Dana’s warnings. He’d thought he’d gotten away. He’d thought he could believe Ava’s claims. He’d thought wrong and allowed her under his skin—a mistake he would never repeat. He wouldn’t be duped again, but neither was he going to push her away. If she wanted to spy on him, if she was the threat the FBI had warned him of, he would see her coming. If it became a case of kill or be killed, he would kill.

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Chapter Ten

“What the hell?” Breck rounded his desk in a rush and grabbed Ava’s chin. “Did this happen during the shooting yesterday?” He turned her face from side to side, surveying the still-shrinking knot over her temple and the bruise covering nearly half her face. Breck’s almost tangible frustration congealed with the pain in her head. A shot of searing agony not unlike a dentist’s drill searing too deeply into a pained tooth without the numbing effect of Novocain sliced through her skull. Vomit surged up. She collapsed the walls of her throat and swallowed it down. Wincing, she forced herself to maintain eye contact. Holding her breath and grappling with the pain battering her from inside, Ava extracted herself from Breck’s grip and moved back. With the touch broken, the intensity of his anger lessened. Shit. H was right about her. This could not be a good thing. Her head throbbed to the point her eyeballs hurt, but she had a job to do. She closed her eyes and breathed through the worst of it before meeting Breck’s hard gaze. “Yes. We went down. A rock won.” “You should have come in. We should have known about this.” Breck went to a nearby cabinet and pulled a cool pack from the first aid kit. He snapped the bag in half and massaged it for a minute before holding it out to her. “Did you go to the ER?”

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“I was with a doctor.” She took the pack and eased into the nearest chair. “I have a slight headache.” If a jackhammer set on the annihilation setting can be considered slight. “But I’m fine.” He pulled the pack from her hand and applied it to her head. She screeched in pain and jerked away. Her hands rose up to block him from touching her again. Breck glared. “That’s not a slight headache.” “It was yesterday.” “You need to see a real doctor.” “No.” Whatever was wrong with her had started after she’d had sex with H. No. It had started earlier that morning. He’d claimed she was an empath. He studied it. He was who she needed. “I need to see Dr. H again.” “He’s not a medical doctor. I want you to get checked out.” Breck’s tone demanded obedience. “You’re off the case until I’m satisfied you’re well enough to work.” Irritation bounced off him and assaulted her. Her stomach rolled. “No.” She bore down on the pain and forced herself to straighten. “I can’t explain it, but whatever is happening to me isn’t something traditional medicine can fix.” Hell, if empaths absorbed emotions from others and Breck’s had her ready to rip her skull open, she didn’t want to know what a hospital would do to her. “I’m not buying some line of bullshit and putting you back in the field.” “Breck.” Ava dug her nails into her thigh and turned away from the brightness of the sky beyond his window. “This isn’t me being stubborn. I’m genuinely convinced Dr. H is the only one who can help me.” Breck leaned against his desk and studied her for several long minutes. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but the considerable weight of his responsibility

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pushed down on her shoulders. Combined with the tightening vice grip on her head, it took every ounce of strength she had to stay conscious. “You used Kami as part of your cover with Dr. H?” “To establish the connection with Channing.” He nodded and pulled his cell from his pocket to dial. “Kami.” He spoke softly, with the love he felt for Kami suffusing his voice and flowing out in gentle waves. Unfortunately, the sudden softness didn’t counteract the agony and he didn’t speak softly enough to prevent her from feeling each syllable as a single reverberation in her skull. “Ava’s in my office. She needs your help. See you then. Thank you.” He ended the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket. “She’ll be here in fifteen minutes.” He moved to her side and helped her stand. Her legs shook. Her shoulders curled forward, closing in on herself. She pulled away, shaking her head. “Don’t…touch…hurts.” “What happened to you?” His quiet voice, filled with concern, only added to the weight pushing down on her. “You’re too much, Breck.” Ava sank back into the chair and held her arms up in a pointless attempt to block him. Stubbornness rose in him, as if he was preparing to argue. Instead, he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. The air cleared. The splitting pain in her head didn’t abate, but the weight eased from her shoulders. Tears blurred her vision and even sitting she was horribly dizzy. Defeated, she rested the uninjured side of her head on the arm of the chair. She wasn’t certain what was going on with her, how she could be what H claimed, but somehow it was tied to him.

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Since meeting him she’d felt slight energy bursts along the surface of her brain. Only in the water had they subsided entirely. H had to know what was happening to her. “Ava.” Kami’s hand rested on the back of her hair. “Come on.” Ava opened her eyes and met Kami’s gaze inches from her own face. Rather than the weight of stress and anger and responsibility that had shrouded Breck, she felt love and peace from Kami. If she couldn’t control what she felt, she much preferred Kami’s influences. “When did you get here?” “Just a little bit ago. Breck asked me to take you to Dr. H.” “Okay.” She allowed her eyes to drift closed again to block out the light. “It hurts so bad.” “I see that.” Kami eased herself under Ava’s arm and eased her out of the chair. “Breck’s cleared a path, so we shouldn’t encounter too many people.” “What’s wrong with me?” Each eyelash and hair along her temple delivered fire-hot shards of agony with every blink and shift. “We’re going to find out.” Kami assisted Ava’s wobbly steps all the way to the car. Once she’d been settled in the passenger seat, Kami placed a damp hand towel over her head, displacing some of the weight by using the back of the headrest. With the light obliterated and the coolness of the towel easing the fiery paths in her skull, she slowly regained the ability to think. “Do you know where you’re going?” “Breck gave me the address. We’re about five minutes away.” “Good.” “Are you feeling better?”

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“A little.” It was like there’d been too many people around and she could suddenly feel everything they felt. Now, cocooned in Kami’s car, she only felt her friend’s concern. She peeked at Kami from beneath the corner of the towel. Kami was the first real friend Ava had ever had. They’d clicked immediately the first time they met. They’d bonded over the complications of being call girls caught in the murderous web of a Madame and in the weeks since busting up the operation they’d become even closer. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Kami or her new fiancé—Ava’s new boss. “Is Breck angry with me?” “No. He’s terrified for you.” “I don’t want to let him down. I want this to work out.” “Honey, he knows that.” Kami rubbed her arm as she slowed for a turn. “And he apparently has faith in you to finish this assignment, regardless of whatever is happening to you.” “What do you mean?” Ava ran her tongue over her teeth. Dry, almost cottony, it stuck awkwardly to the roof of her mouth when she tried to talk. “He gave me orders to pass on to you. First and foremost, the next time you’re wounded on the job he’s to be the first to hear about it.” “I think I got that when I walked in to his office.” “He’s a bit chauvinistic when he cares for someone. Consider yourself lucky you’re still working.” “I do.” “Good. You’re to email him a report, leaving nothing out.” He would be disappointed. She wasn’t divulging the details of sex with H. As far as the shooting, she wasn’t sure what to include. She didn’t exactly know what had happened.

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“He thinks,” Kami continued, “whatever is going on with you is only going to help your cover with Dr. H.” “Likely so.” She pulled the towel back a little more. The sun was bright, but not blinding to the point of debilitation. She’d never had migraines, but she just might understand what they felt like now. “Did he get anything on the shooting?” She’d called Breck the day before as soon as H had left her alone to change back into her street clothes. “I don’t know. Just worry about you for now.” Kami cast her a pained glance. “You sure you’re up for this?” “I have to be.” She steered to conversation back to the case and any information Breck had passed through Kami. Thinking and talking hurt, but it helped sidetrack the worst of the pain. “Did anyone talk to Dr. H?” “I don’t know, but Breck is normally more easygoing when a case is working.” So they had nothing, which meant either the shooter cleaned up, or H had. It explained his absence when she’d left the lab, but why would he cover up the evidence someone had been shooting at them? “Given the circumstances, Breck’s giving you the lead on this. Handle it your way.” Kami pulled into a parking slot in the mostly empty lot of H’s lab. “I’m going to go in and get Dr. H. Before I do, will you try to promise me one thing?” She didn’t have the energy yet to think too hard let alone raise her head off the headrest. “Sure.” “Finish this for Channing. If he created those lenses, he wouldn’t want to see people being hurt over them.” “I’ll do my best.” Kami nodded tersely before getting out and hustling to the lab. Enclosed in the car, completely alone, Ava tried to figure out what had happened to her.

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What exactly was it H was doing during his studies and had she missed him doing something to her? She had to find some answers before she filed her report to Breck. He hadn’t been her boss long, but she already enjoyed the job, the team, more than the years she’d been with Whitestone. Until learning the truth just before meeting Kami, she’d thought she was part of an altruistic plan to safeguard and protect the country. Corruption. She’d spent years fighting on the side of corruption. She’d only woken up when she’d been temporarily reassigned to another handler to finish someone else’s mission. Shortly after beginning to work for Madame V, she’d found Lori’s notebook near the pond she’d enjoyed. Lori Mullins, a Whitestone operative, had detailed her moves from the time she’d first met Channing and began suspecting foul play. After she’d met Trevor and had noticed an evolving pattern in Madame V’s approach, she’d tried to reach out for help. Now, Channing was dead, Trevor was recovering with a few broken bones, Lori was missing, and H was being targeted. And they may all be screwed if the case rested on the shoulders of a woman so messed up in the head she couldn’t be in the same room as her boss. Ever since walking out of her home she’d been bombarded with impressions and feelings and emotions from others. The pain had pierced and prodded and pulverized her defenses. She needed H’s help, but the sheer thought of contact with his power magnified her desire to find a dark, quiet cave and climb inside the thick walls.

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H stepped out of the testing room and slammed into a wake of waspish worry. His barriers faltered momentarily before he got them back in place. Cautiously, he headed toward the waiting area, wishing he had a receptionist to deal with the latest onslaught of surprise visitors. A blonde beauty with a flaming red streak of hair dominated the spacious waiting area. Class surrounded her and reached far deeper than her elegant slacks and silk blouse. Her gaze sought his with laser-point accuracy. “Dr. H?” “Yes.” “I’m Kami Evans.” She moved forward with her hand extended. “My friend needs your help.” He squeezed her hand politely and then released her. It wasn’t often people dropped in asking for help or handouts or looking for proof of alternate realities, and this woman seemed sane enough, but he gave her the same answer he gave everyone else. “I don’t believe I’m in the business of whatever it is you’re here for.” “Then you better get into it.” She jutted her chin forward arrogantly and arched a refined brow. “I don’t know what you did to Ava, but she’s hurting. She says you’re the only one who can help her.” “Ava?” His heart plummeted like a lead-filled balloon. Ava was in trouble. If something had happened to her after he’d left… “Where is she?” He grabbed Kami’s elbow and turned her toward the doors. “Take me to her.” “In a moment.” Kami gently extracted herself from his grip and stared up at him. She didn’t speak. She didn’t blink.

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She studied him, scanning him with her eyes as if she’d be able to sense any malice. Maybe she had abilities, but he had his doubts. Regardless, Ava’s guard dog wasn’t budging until she’d satisfied herself in her pursuit of whatever she sought. He couldn’t lower his shields to scan the area for Ava. Not with Kami standing close enough, alert enough, to notice the metamorphosis his eyes would make. Seconds clanged like gongs. His blood raced with the driving force of his heart. Ava was hurt and this woman was withholding. Clang. Unless she was part of a plan to keep him off Ava’s trail. He muted the conspiracy theorist in his head. It was possible. It wasn’t likely. Clang. Kami rubbed her lips together and narrowed her green gaze. Kami. Clang. “You’re Channing’s Kami.” She was older than in the picture he’d glimpsed at Channing’s lab, but she hadn’t changed much. He should’ve put it together immediately. She softened in the span of a breath. “Yes. I was his, just as Ava is mine. Can you help her?” “I’ll do my best. Where is she?” “In my car.” Kami turned toward the door, clearly deciding to trust him. “I’m not sure what’s happening to her.” “Is her head bothering her? She took a hard hit yesterday.”

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“That may be part of it.” She pointed to a white Lexus sports coupe. “But this feels…bigger.” Internal alarms blared somewhere on his empathic plain. He shoved past Kami, rounded the hood of the car and pulled open the passenger door. Pale and weak, a battered shell of the woman he’d left a few hours earlier cowered in the leather seat. Her head lolled to the left, almost lifeless. His heart and his shields quaked. He fell to his knees, embracing the bite of hot asphalt searing his skin and using it to brace himself. To be gentle. “Shit.” Kami spoke from behind him. “She was doing better when I went inside. She was talking and looking stronger.” “How long were you inside waiting for me?” He kept his gaze on Ava. Her eyes fluttered open before falling closed, unable to exert the effort. He’d seen this sort of behavior before. Once. It ended in disaster. Both empaths involved had died. With his back to Kami, he lowered his shields. In the haze of blue mist, fear and darkness and agony cascaded over him. The iced shards of vile hatred Janus specialized in knifed through H. The bastard was going to pay for what he was doing to Ava. Soon. H activated his power and absorbed the negative energy pulsing around Ava into himself. The best he could hope to do was minimize her strain. She moaned. Her eyes fluttered beneath her closed lids. He erected his shields and scooped Ava into his arms. She curled into his chest, wincing. He rose gently, so as not to jar her too badly. “Do you know what’s wrong? Can you help her?” He wanted only to get Ava inside, away from the dark emotions swirling around, threatening to break her mind. He would require refuge too very shortly. He took a moment to stop by Kami. Tears crept from Ava’s eyes. She

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burrowed deeper into him, likely in an attempt to escape the innocent fear and worry from her friend. “She’s just come in to her empathic abilities. I need to get her inside.” Both of us. H left Kami behind. On the way to the building, he dropped his shields again and invited Ava’s agony into himself. His legs weakened. A mind-to-mind connection would offer her the greatest ease. Most likely it had been his connection to heal her that had awakened her dormant ability. Another union of a similar magnitude would shove them both to the breaking point with no possible rescue. Until she was stronger, he would do his damndest to help her. To keep her from experiencing the fatality of an unexpected power. She needed to be sequestered. He needed to relieve the pressure collapsing in on her. Then, he would teach her to shield herself, because a failure to learn would force her to live in seclusion. Or face a horrendous death. She wasn’t heavy, but this damsel-in-distress bit was a habit he could do without. He liked her better when she was strong and fighting. Shifting her in his arms like he had the morning before, he coded in to the building. He reached for the door. A blast of hatred swept over him with icy familiarity. Ava cried out and shrank deeper into herself. Releasing his inhibitions, H dropped his remaining barriers, drew on experience to pull the darkness closing in on her into himself. He pulled in a long and steady breath, expanding his lungs as far as possible. Tighter than a snake coiled to strike, he turned toward the tree line hiding the source of negative energy and not sure he could do it, H expelled the vile froth, projecting it back onto Janus.

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The air cleared of all but Ava’s agony. Janus was a projecting empath to H’s absorbing ability. The projector made a vile predator and it scared H more than a little that he’d been able to project his emotions. As soon as he’d seen to Ava’s safety he would hunt down the men responsible for this hell.

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Chapter Eleven

H leaned against his office door and reached out to flip off the light switch. Sunlight shafted through the window blinds that didn’t mute the brightness near enough. The film over his vision lent the room a blue tint, but the laser glow kept it from being completely demolished in the dark. He was too weak to raise his barriers for more than a few minutes, so rather than battle himself, he stumbled to the window, yanked the chord to close the blinds and collapsed onto the couch. His eyes drifted closed. His body sank into the cushions. His muscles released some of the toxic emotions he’d absorbed from Ava and Janus. He’d worked on her for nearly two hours, with her regaining consciousness in short bursts. Even then she’d been in too much pain to focus beyond her confusion. Dana, familiar with the empaths who’d died at Eston White, stopped arguing once she’d seen Ava and he assured her he wouldn’t link to Ava’s mind. Even if he’d been willing to risk her—himself—he wouldn’t make the connection with Dana in the room. She didn’t know about the contacts. She couldn’t know, at least not until Janus and General Scott were no longer threats. Not all of Eston White’s test subjects had the same abilities as he and Dana. Some were naturally or even engineered psychics. Some were human lie detectors. And not all of them had wanted his idea of freedom. If they took Dana and questioned her, they would know if she lied.

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No. With a Whitestone operative clearly after them, she couldn’t know his secret. Click. The snick of the door opening resounded through his head with the boisterous clarity of a church organ. He winced and squeezed his lids tight against the dim light slicing through the darkness from the now partially open door. “Sorry to bother you.” Dana stuck her head in. She spoke sensitively and locked her emotions behind her inner walls. “Those FBI guys are here again.” Damn it. He gathered the dregs of his energy, slipped his shields into place to deactivate the lenses and sat up. “I can tell them to come back.” “No.” Moving slowly, tolerating the stabbing beam of light in the doorway for the sake of adjusting his eyes, he went to his desk and flicked on the lamp he rarely used. The soft illumination sprang to life with a brush of the base and threatened to singe his retinas. Dana shook her head. “I’m telling them to come back. You need to rest.” “No. I called them.” “Excuse me?” “Bitch me out later.” He sank into the chair behind his desk, wanting desperately to give her her way. Turning them back now would raise more questions. “Right now, just let them in.” “Fine.” It always amazed him how much weight his sister could put on that one word. She didn’t pout, stomp her foot or talk back, but he knew she would skewer him later. He’d pushed the boundaries of lies more in the last two days than in the last two years combined. He didn’t like it. “Dr. H.”

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Agent Lawson hadn’t been loud or gregarious their first meeting, but he spoke more sedately as he stepped in ahead of Agent Burgess. Dana lingered in the hallway—watchful. In her role as guardian of the temporarily feeble empaths she’d have warned them to keep it quiet and make it fast. Even if they didn’t know the reasons for the warnings, they seemed to have gotten her message. H met her gaze, shifting his toward the room where Ava was sleeping. She nodded, silently agreeing to check on their patient, and closed his door behind the agents. “You said you had something for us.” “Yes.” Fighting to keep his eyes open against the light, H waved to the chairs before his desk. He unlocked the middle drawer, pulled out some paper envelopes and tossed them on the desk. “I was shot at yesterday morning. The bullets are in there.” “You could’ve turned this over to the locals.” “After your visit, I had the impression you wouldn’t take as long to find answers.” He pushed the drawer closed and braced his elbows on the desk, more to support himself than anything else. Holding his shields in place was draining him. Fast. “You seemed to know something about whatever danger you think I’m in.” He nudged the envelope closer to them. “Here’s your next clue.” “Why wait until today to call us?” “I’ve been…busy.” “You all right?” Agent Burgess leaned forward, eyes narrowed and alert. “You don’t look well.” It was the first time the agent had said anything and while his question was innocent enough, he portrayed distrust. He expected evasions. “I get these migraines every now and then. I’ll be fine.”

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“Migraines?” “Yes.” The mother bitch of migraines in this case. “In the event you missed the sign on the door, we specialize in empathic studies. Dealing with the intricacies of the human brain gets complicated.” “So, are you an emapth?” “You catch criminals.” H leaned forward. His head felt light and floaty in an almost detached sort of way he might not mind without the lances of pain searing his brain. “Yes.” “Are you one?” Agent Burgess smiled and dipped his head—a silent touché. “Fair enough.” He picked up the envelopes and stood. “We promised your assistant to keep it short.” “Thank you.” “We’ll need a full report.” “Not today.” They stood. Not sure his legs would support him and unwilling to do a face plant in front of the Feds, H remained seated. Agent Lawson adjusted his jacket while Burgess held the envelopes in a manner to avoid smudging any prints. “Was anyone else involved in the shooting?” Agent Lawson asked. “Yes.” Both agents flinched back before stopping themselves. “A woman auditing my study.” “Could we speak with her?” Lawson pulled a notebook out. “I will ask her to contact you.” They were testing him, fully expecting him to hedge on the answer or omit the truth. Why did they doubt him? Because experience told them to doubt everyone, or because they’d formed an unfavorable opinion of him?

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“We’d appreciate that.” They took a couple steps toward the door. Agent Burgess turned back. “Do you have any enemies, Dr. H?” “You’re looking for a man I know as Janus.” He was stepping onto a rickety limb to tell them what he knew, but with Ava in pain he didn’t have time to face the fight alone. “I knew him when I was a boy.” He hadn’t just known Janus. He’d suffered numerous torments from the man. “Can you tell me anything else?” “He’s good at disguises and if you catch him you could tie him to some child abductions.” Mine and my sister’s for starters. “How do you know this man?” Lawson asked. H’s pain barraged his shields, trembling them. “It’s not important right now. Janus implies a threat and sets his target’s nerves on edge. Like approaching a young girl outside of school and trying to lure her into his car, or shooting more with the intent to scare than harm.” He quickly told the agents about Janus’s tactics, his words slurring more the longer he fought his body. Agent Burgess jotted notes. “After allowing a short breather—enough time for his victims to almost convince themselves it was nothing—he strikes from a new direction. Often in a less blatant manner.” Like posing as a school substitute in his class or attacking Ava mentally. Even without empathic abilities Janus’s ability would cause her moods to shift unexplainably. “His final move,” H continued, “if he still follows his patterns, will be to come in the form of a distraction.” In the case of their abduction, Janus filed an anonymous report that their father was abusing them. He’d used his power to project such raw hatred onto the responding cops they’d refused to hear the truth.

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With their father in prison and their mother struggling to free him, he and Dana had been vulnerable. Their mom had taken them to the precinct to keep them close, but Janus and another man had walked them right out the front doors. That attack had been two days after Janus had posed as a sub. Following his methodology, H had just under two days to get himself back to full power, brace Ava for the abilities she was coming into and nail down the specifics of her involvement with Whitestone. Agents Lawson and Burgess nodded their acceptance and moved again toward the door. Whether they believed him or not didn’t matter. His shields were quivering. A blue haze was edging into his vision. They needed to go. “I’ll be in touch if I think of anything more.” As if on cue, Dana knocked once and opened the door. “If you gentlemen are ready to leave, I will show you out.” Agent Lawson flashed a friendly smile that did nothing to minimize his jaded edge. “I think we’re finished for now.” They were finished, but neither agent moved to leave. Unspoken questions weighed in their minds, darkening the air with a swirling vortex of anticipation and concern. Whatever they were waiting for, they would be disappointed. “Dr. H, you’re clear.” Dana held her hand aloft, indicating the exit. “Gentlemen, time’s up.” “Thank you, Dana. Let me know when I’m needed.” She nodded as the agents walked into the hallway. The moment the door closed, his shields collapsed. The lingering concern, and oddly enough fear, left behind by the agents seeped into him.

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He dropped his head to the desk and slid his hand toward the lamp to turn it off. The couch would be more comfortable, but he didn’t have the strength to get there. Fear. It seemed like an out-of-place emotion for the Feds, especially since it hadn’t been for him or Dana. They’d each internalized it, but both men emanated a shared concern that more logically would have been his or Ava’s given how they had been the targets. So who were the agents worried about? It didn’t make sense for Ava to be targeted by Janus if she was one of them. Still, he couldn’t ignore what he’d overheard that afternoon from the study participant. If Ava was part of Eston White, if she was playing an elaborate game with him, he wouldn’t hesitate to protect himself and Dana. He would lose nothing else to Whitestone.

Ava sat on the edge of the cot-like bed in the same slacks and cotton blouse she’d slipped on that morning. She checked her watch in the muted light coming from sconces set high in stark white, padded walls and frowned. Six o’clock. Evening? Morning? How much time had she lost? Rubbing her forehead, trying to remember where she was, she slumped beneath an onslaught of blankness. She recalled feeling a little like she was going crazy, but to actually wake up in a windowless room with padded walls? It seemed a little extreme. And who’d brought her? She tugged a patch of hair at her temple, using the pain to clear the web of confusion, and forced herself to focus. She’d gone to report to Breck. There’d been pain. Lots of pain. Then Kami and more blinding pain. Kami. Kami had brought her…to H.

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The padding-covered door had a small rectangular window at eye level. The only other furniture was a small round table with two heavy-duty, plasticlooking stools. She wasn’t even going to think about the commode and sink in the corner. She stood. Dizziness crashed like rushing waves over her. She braced her feet and held herself up by willpower. Bumbling step by bumbling step, she jerkily moved to the door. Her energy waned. Struggling to lift her hand through the Jell-o-thick air, she gripped the doorknob. It wouldn’t turn. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, so busting out wasn’t an option. She was trapped. Locked in a padded prison like a pariah. Why? What was happening to her? After peering through the window and seeing only more white walls beyond, she stumbled back to the cot before she buckled beneath the building pressure. Sitting again, she rubbed her neck and dug into her memory for more detail. She’d been fine at home, but had started feeling odd and conflicted on the way to the office. Breck had been angry and scared. Then she had been in such agony she’d nearly collapsed. Then Kami had been there, taking her to H’s lab. A lab she’d toured on her first day without seeing this room. So where was she now? And where was her stuff? Her gun? Kami. Kami had her purse, badge and weapon. Being without her belongings was only good for identity protection. Without her weapon, she would have to rely on her hand-to-hand training. Low-toned beeps preceded clicking metal. Her gaze darted to the door. She saw no one through the window. The handle turned with a slow grind.

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Her heartbeats slowed with a cautious anticipation and she glanced around for anything she could use as a weapon. Nothing. Shit. She was an unarmed FBI agent in a padded room with no escape. She was in no position to protect H or keep her promise to Kami. She was stranded without the backup of her team. She wasn’t going to ask if it could get worse. It would. H pushed open the door and stepped inside. Relief swept like a tidal wave over Ava, but was immediately replaced by suspicion. She should be able to stick with relief. She was with the man she’d asked for. Clearly he’d done something to help her with whatever had caused her agony, but she was better. She needed to get back to work. She needed to leave. She shouldn’t have been locked in a padded room. “You look better.” Sincerity slumbered in his tone. Subtle darkness marred his eyes. “How are you feeling?” “Better.” Strong enough to kick your ass if necessary. H nodded and closed the door with a definitive click. “We need to talk.” “Talk?” Butterflies danced in her belly with razor-tipped wings battling for escape. She stiffened her spine. “You mean about why you’ve locked me in a padded room? Where’s my stuff? Are we at your lab?” “It was for your own security.” “Some security.” She preferred the security of her gun. Intense and stoic, he went to the table and scooted out a stool. “Are you involved with Eston White?” “The research lab? No.” The longer she sat the clearer her mind became. The weight of exhaustion sapping her muscles eased. A few more minutes and she would have enough energy to bust past him if need be. “Why would you ask that?”

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“Someone in the new study recognized you as one of their lab techs.” “Someone is mistaken.” Or intentionally tying her to the tracks while making a bid for H’s trust. But who? Of everyone she’d seen during the interviews only two stood out in her mind, but neither had been familiar. Neither had seemed surprised to see her, or showed any signs of recognition. “That someone seems to be you. The claim was confirmed.” Covert attempts at undermining her cover would only hinder her success if she failed to respond correctly. H seemed willing to help with whatever was happening with her, but they needed some basis of trust to make real progress. The trouble was choosing the correct response. “I was never a lab tech for Eston White.” The best covers were based on truths. She would go with it. “Though it’s possible I would have been seen there.” He lunged back. “Excuse me?” “Until recently I worked for a division of Eston White. Whitestone.” The pulse in his throat kicked, but he remained still and controlled. “What changed?” He sounded guarded. Even more so than when she’d guessed his name. It wasn’t such a stretch he and his sister had been taken all those years ago by Eston White. Actually, it made perfect sense. It explained how he’d appeared with his credentials fully in place while lacking the evidence of having attended school. He would’ve been overseen by General Scott, though from what she’d heard, escaping the general was more impossible than breathing underwater without an air tank and mask. So how had H and Dana gotten free? What was the general plotting? What did H think about once again being targeted by Whitestone?

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“I saw the truth of how they did business. Saw their willingness—hell, their eagerness—to kill innocent men and women fighting for righteous convictions. Saw how I had been a tool in their manipulative belts, doing their bidding.” “I’m listening.” May as well tell it all. “Lori, another Whitestone operative, disappeared. A man was killed and another hospitalized. If that hadn’t been enough, Kami’s bravery to pose as an escort in a world she despised smashed me face-first into reality.” She’d been fighting for the wrong team. “What are you doing now?” “Building a new life.” The steady thump thumping of the pulse in his throat was his only movement. His thoughts were private, not even hinted at on his face, but she suspected he was weighing her answer. Evaluating the risks of trusting her. Finally, after staring so long she nearly shifted in her seat, broadcasting her nerves, he nodded. “I can relate to that. I think.” She nodded once. “Are you going to help me prevent whatever happened to me from happening again?” He inclined his head. His stare remained intent. “If you want me to.” He held back. Not out of spite or meanness, but from what she recognized as one of his habits to figure things out independently. “I want you.” For more than help or because he was a better choice than her murderous ex-employer. She wanted him in bed. Wanted to get to know him as a man rather than a case. “Was our having sex the impetus to something shattering in my mind and nearly crushing me? And where am I?”

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“No.” His tone said he knew what had been the impetus though. “A hidden room in my lab. You haven’t gone crazy or been committed, and you can leave if you choose.” “Excellent.” She stood. Her legs remained steady. “Though, should you leave without hearing me out, you’ll find yourself right back in the throes of pain that brought you here.”

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Chapter Twelve

First impressions had told her he didn’t waste words or lie or make idle threats. She’d been trained to rely on those impressions and had evaded death several times thanks to them. Danger lurked in H, but nothing indicated he was an immediate threat. She sat again. “What is this room? Why am I in it?” “It’s a sort of sensory deprivation room. The only thing in here that can possibly absorb echoes of emotion is the mattress on the bed.” “So, emotional deprivation.” She pointed at the walls. “What about the padding?” “It’s coated with a reflecting agent. The only emotions you will experience in this room are your own until you’re ready to test yourself. You need to shore up your strength and defenses before venturing outside again.” “Defenses against what exactly?” Encroaching reality sat uncomfortably on her shoulders as she measured the implications of his words and their pertinence to her agonizing arrival at his door. Logic and intuition battled. Her fingertips chilled while her head tingled with heated pulses of activity. “Are you saying I’m an empath?” “Yes.” His voice remained perfectly modulated, giving no hint into his thoughts. He was studying empaths and now claimed she was one. Not that she was sure she bought into it, but he had to be at least a little excited if it was true. This couldn’t be something that happened every day.

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“I don’t…” She shook her head. “How is it possible I’ve lived my entire life without experiencing anything like I did today?” She rubbed her wrist over her watch. “It is still today, right? I haven’t missed more than a few hours?” “You’ve been asleep for almost six hours. Your pain backed off shortly after I brought you in here.” Vibrations of energy hummed along her skin. She had the urge to jump up and pace, but was oddly too wiped out. The rise and fall of her energy startled her. She scrubbed her hands over her face and placed her chin in her palms. “I could be getting sick. This morning doesn’t make me an empath.” She was arguing a losing debate, but logic demanded she couldn’t just wake up one morning with a sort of sixth sense. Not after thirty-plus years. “Ava.” H braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. His hands dangled loosely between his spread legs. She dropped her hands from her face and shook her head. “Yeah?” “You told me last night you sometimes experience the emotions of people around you.” “So what? I’m sympathetic.” “No. Sympathetic is when you can understand what someone may be feeling. You said you feel what they feel. That’s different.” Denial was futile. She had felt the emotions of other people. Since waking that morning, she’d felt more than anyone should. Except… Vibrant fireworks of light burst in her memory. The thrill of pain. Rage and power and aggression. Her skin shrank. The sensation of a thousand centipedes rushing across her body sent her into a mini convulsion. “Ava?” She scooted back on the cot and pulled her knees to her chest. She hadn’t woken with an ability. She’d been snapped out of a delusion.

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H moved to the cot and knelt before her. His brows scrunched together, transforming him from a stony doctor delivering a factual diagnosis to a concerned version of the man she’d had in her bed last night. “What’s the matter?” She scratched her neck and chest, but the crawling sensation of uncomfortable truths wasn’t subsiding. “Ava?” She met his ice-blue gaze and swallowed, trying to determine if her confusion was hers or his. His question suggested confusion, but somehow it seemed she was the only person in her head. Well, minus a ghost she’d thought she freed herself of. “If I’m an empath, why can’t I feel what you’re feeling?” “I know how to block myself.” “Are you an empath? Is that why you’re so certain I am?” And was that part of his connection to Channing and the diagnostic lenses? “Yes. I am. But my ability isn’t how I know you’re scared right now.” He wrapped his hands around her calves and pulled her legs away from her chest. “Or that maybe this isn’t a completely new sensation for you.” Her skin tingled with awareness of what his touch would do to her if his motives shifted from comfort. “I can’t talk about that.” He shook his head and moved to sit beside her on the bed. Once he’d settled his back against the wall, leaving a few inches between them, he took her hand in his and laced their fingers. Companionship. Compassion. Comfort. “You asked me about my name last night.” “Yes.” And she’d have pushed for a story if he hadn’t been so dug into the refusal to talk.

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“I haven’t thought of myself as Hermes since I was a young boy.” He waited for her gaze to meet his before smiling lightly. “And though you think H or Dr. H is too formal for some situations, I won’t allow anyone to call me Hermes because the memories tied to the name are too painful.” Sorrow gripped her throat and tears stung the backs of her eyes. He was trusting her with an insight into himself, and she wasn’t sure she could do the same. “I understand how debilitating memories can be. I understand the need to lock some of them away, but what you’ve locked away has broken lose. It won’t be rebottled.” “Why not? You seem to have kept your…past bottled up.” “I thought I had. You’re proving me wrong.” “How so? Why is your name painful?” Would his revelation really convince her to make her own? He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth—a sign of indecision he hadn’t displayed before. Clouds of turbulence moved across his vision. “Because my mother and father chose it. Because they’re dead. And because I was robbed of the opportunity to know them. When I learned how they had died and why…” He shook his head. “The only way I survived was to hold tight to the tangible things I had and let go of hopes and dreams that would never be realized.” His voice shook with remorse, but still she didn’t feel his emotions. Either she wasn’t empathic or he was shielding her from his inner turmoil. With the possibilities… His intensity and power made more sense than before. “I think I understand self-preservation.” She scooted back and leaned against the wall, mirroring him. Her shoulder brushed his arm. His warmth seeped into her. Settled her. Tempted her. Nudged her toward trust.

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“Right after I graduated high school I went to Greece to visit my grandparents.” Her fingers trembled and grew colder. Remembered hatred and the evil pleasure of inflicting pain on someone else rumbled in her gut like acidic bile eating her from the inside out. Those feelings had been in her, but they hadn’t been hers. “Long, horrid story short, I had a whirlwind romance and fell for a boy I thought loved me. We were married and within three months he’d hospitalized me twice.” “Ava.” H’s eyes flashed an electric blue. A blast of rage slapped at her and vanished in the next blink. She flinched and somehow deflected the brisk stab of violence. He’d said he could block himself, but for a second his control faltered. With it, his eyes had changed and though she’d thought it was the lighting when she’d watched his home, this was different. There was more to Dr. H. “What happened to him?” “That’s a good question.” And one she’d never cared too much about answering in detail. “I woke up one morning in the hospital. My grandfather told me I would be fine, and Constantine would never be a problem again. “I remember now. Grandfather’s righteous rage had raced through me, as real as Constantine’s but without the fear Constantine loved inflicting.” She paused, ordering her thoughts on the story she’d never retold. “Granddad had been enraged, but love tempered him.” Just as it had driven him when he confronted Constantine. “After moving back to the states, I went to change my name, to shed Sebastian and the reminders of it. Only no official records of the marriage could be found.” She’d never asked. She’d known. “Granddad made certain Constantine’s terror wouldn’t follow me.” “And Constantine?”

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“Last I heard, he still lived in the countryside shack we shared. Unable to find a wife.” “Your injuries weren’t all physical.” “It seems not.” She hadn’t given it any thought because thinking about Constantine gave him power. She tried to separate herself, her mind, into compartments. She was retelling the story, not reliving it. The old miseries whispered uncomfortably in her joints and mended bones, but they were nothing like the realism of the first time. “Is it possible I had this ability then, that my feelings weren’t my own until his brutality overtook me? That I’ve blocked the ability without realizing it?” “Yeah. It’s self-preservation.” H brushed her hair back and smiled his sexy smile that changed his entire visage from serious to almost fun. Just looking at him smile had a sighing tripping out. “Like some amnesia patients, your mind instinctively protected you.” “Then why is it all surfacing now?” She knew the answer, but hearing him admit it was vital. Tyler, the tech guru on her team, had uncovered the past marriage and her married name during his background run, but they hadn’t mentioned anything else. If they knew about the abuse they were allowing the memory to stay her own. Until now. Until H. Damn if she didn’t expect honesty in return. “That bash to your head for starters. Your brain can only protect you against so much.” “How powerful are you?” She angled her head and studied him. “Do you simply get impressions of emotions, or are you stronger?”

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“We’re both stronger than that, Ava. You have the uncanny ability to shatter my control.” His mouth lifted ruefully on one side. “And that’s not easy.” “But what can you do?” She turned on the bed, sitting yoga style, to face him. “Why were you unconscious on the floor when I woke up yesterday? Why was Dana so insistent I had hurt you?” “She’s a little protective, and yesterday I gave her a big scare. Hell, I did it again today.” He placed his fingers along the edge of the bruise on Ava’s temple. His eyes grew heavy, sad and scared. “You were unconscious a dangerously long time yesterday. You had a brain bleed. I took care of it. Just as I minimized the swelling in this knot when I kissed you.” “I…you…what? How could you know I had a brain bleed? I would need to have my head scanned for verification.” “You did have it scanned.” He dropped his hand, but his eyes remained locked with hers and swirled with uncertainty. “This is going to bite me in the ass,” he muttered. “Explain.” “What I’m about to tell you… This information doesn’t leave this room, Ava. It can’t.” The dire seriousness of his tone coupled with a ripe fear beckoned her. He was perched on the ledge of a monumental, for him anyway, moment and it scared him. “Understood. It stays between us.” He lowered his head to the mattress and sighed heavily before looking back up. His eyes shimmered with a radiant blue light. The flash she’d seen moments before and the odd lighting when he’d done his meditation at home hadn’t been tricks of the light. It was him. Fear impressed itself upon her, sliding along her spine.

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Leaning closer, she studied his eyes, looking for the evident ridge of contacts or any sort of special effects overlay worthy of movies. The radiance suffused the surface of his eye, and oddly looked like an intricate grid-like pattern of lasers. “That’s not normal.” She shook her head and sat back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.” “I know. It’s not normal. Natural.” He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the light had gone and with it the impressions of his fear. Hers lingered. “What was that? What are you afraid of?” And why am I afraid for you? “They’re diagnostic lenses Channing and I created. They’re embedded with a laser. What we didn’t count on was that the material Channing used to make them pliable, the material he’d used to ensure a prosthetic would always be a perfect fit for a patient, would bond with my DNA.” “Bond? You mean you can’t take them out?” “No. Until I manage to outthink Channing, and I’m not sure I ever will, they are a part of me.” Questions filtered through her mind about her own abilities, about H and about the lenses. No single thought stuck long enough to grasp it firmly. He was telling her way more than she could have hoped. Without knowing it, he was handing her the key to her case. And putting her in a tenuous position. The contacts weren’t Whitestone’s target. H was. She had to report an update to the team, but in no way could she go to them with what she’d just discovered. On one hand she was betraying the confidence of her team. On the other, she was betraying H. Shit. She’d thought she left these games behind at Whitestone.

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She jerked her head from side to side to clear it. She would focus on the moment, learn as much as she could and worry about reports later. “You said I was scanned. By you? How?” “Yes. They sort of work like x-rays. I can see into your body to look for wounds, tumors—” “Brain bleeds.” “Yeah. But I didn’t stop at scanning your head. I connected with you mentally and emotionally. I absorbed your injuries into myself to heal you.” “You… How…?” She sat straighter. Her head ached with information overload. “Holy shit! That’s where those memories came from.” “Pardon?” He stiffened with alertness and shock. “What memories?” “Flashes of you with Channing and the contacts. They didn’t make any sense until now.” “I planted some of my memories in you?” She scratched at her neck and chest again. Those centipedes of eeriness were back. “Is that normal?” “No. And it won’t happen again,” he assured her. “H…” “You see why no one can know about this, right?” He persisted. “Did I make a mistake telling you?” “I have the very distinct impression you saved my life.” When it was her job to protect his. “Why would I in turn endanger yours?” “I’m hoping you won’t, but… Ava, you can’t mention this or joke about it or anything in front of anyone. Even Dana.” “I promise.” No. She wouldn’t tell her team, or even Kami, she’d found the contacts.

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She raised a brow and angled her chin up in a hopefully flirty look. Answers and insights were great, but it had been a long day already and things were getting a little too heavy. “You don’t use them to strip women of their clothes, do you?” He laughed and his entire persona shifted into the lighthearted and fun man she’d gone swimming with. “If I was going to, I would start with you, but they don’t work that way.” Her belly fluttered with arousal and excitement. Maybe she didn’t have to be deprived of all emotions in his white room. “Good to know.” “Which part?” “Both, actually. I especially like that you would want to see me naked again.” She dragged a nail along the center of his shirt, down to his stomach. “I’m willing any time you are, Ava.” He leaned close and brushed his mouth along the edge of her ear. “Think it loud enough and I’ll know.” “Excuse me?” A chill skittered along her spine. Oh hell. Had last night been her or him? Whose emotions had ruled their lovemaking? Was this empath thing why she’d been so aroused? “Your emotions last night were a joining of us. I suspect it will be like that every time.” “What?” “I told you, you have a knack for shattering my controls.” He kissed her neck. “I don’t know how, but you send out pulses of energy which obliterate every defense I’ve spent a lifetime erecting.” “A lifetime?” So much for a lighter mood. She looked around the room and frowned. She didn’t have that kind of time to invest in this venture. “It took you a lifetime to build your defenses?”

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“Yes and no. It’s complicated.” He stood, grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Luckily for you, it shouldn’t be too huge an issue to figure out.” “Why?” “You’ve already spent half your life shielded. You only need to learn to identify those shields and figure out how to raise and lower them at will.” “So, you’re going to train me?” “If you’ll agree to follow my instructions.” “Gee, what’s my alternative? Going into public and being driven insane?” “Essentially.” He slipped loose the top button of her blouse. “So will you obey?” “You’re not talking training right now.” She shifted closer. “Sure I am.” He freed another button. “Sex involves emotions. Especially between us.” “True.” She grabbed for the bottom of his shirt. He eased another button from its hole. What she’d found with him last night had transcended everything she’d thought she knew about sex. Indulging in more… The idea was illicitly enticing.

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Chapter Thirteen

“This isn’t smart, Ava.” H paced the lab’s lobby, rubbing sweaty palms on his shorts, while Ava sat comfortably in a nearby chair. “It’s too soon.” “You said yourself I was ready for a test run.” “I meant for you to join the adult study group. See if you could read the participants. Block them. Not go out on your own.” “I’ve been around Dana and gotten nothing. I’m getting nothing from you, other than irritation.” He glared at her. “But that’s from your pacing and glaring. You don’t need to be nervous.” Nervous didn’t touch it. Scared shitless was too cliché—and too tame—to cover the reasons for his knotted guts, pounding heart and heavy spirit. “What if you don’t get to me this time?” “I’ll be fine. Kami knows where you are. I’ve given you her cell number.” “You would be safer here.” Damn it, he sounded like an overprotective, jealous ass. Two days in Ava’s almost-constant company, indulging in flirtatious and sexual advances between exercises, basking in her adventurous sexuality at night, with few chances to recharge, had him teetering on the edge. “With the others?” She shook her head. “I can’t join a group I’ve never been a part of.” “You can if I say you can.” Uncertain where Janus was or what his next move would be, H hadn’t risked even a quick trip to the beach. It was possible

Illicit Intuitions

Ava was a target, but he hadn’t forgotten the FBI’s warning. Or his own experiences. She stood and closed the distance between them. Standing inches away, she cupped his cheek and smiled. “You’re worried about me. Why?” “You’re a challenge.” Attraction. Sex. “Then it shouldn’t surprise you that I want to do this on my own.” No more than he’d surprised himself by taking her to bed again. And again. Every time they’d worked together on mind linking he’d gotten aroused. Of course, she’d kicked off each session by thinking of sex, which heated her blood. Heightened her mental acuity. The first time she’d gotten aroused and had made a move on him, he’d halted her attempts to undress him, arguing she needed to wait until she was one hundred percent certain the attraction was hers. She was a fast study and had quickly commanded control of her gift. Resistance had been a ridiculous notion. She clouded his judgment. She appealed to him on every level. Her intelligence and humor sparked his intellect. Her random touches and smiles awakened his passion. Though doubts lingered about her, he’d trusted her with his story. With the contacts. With his life. Now she was ready to walk, and his conviction trembled. Until he learned the details of her connection to Eston White he needed to resist her and the feelings she evoked. If she was one of their experiments turned operative she could be playing him. They would have made sure she had those skills. Hell, they could have a bizarre control over her. “H?” “Yeah.” He mentally jolted himself and refocused on her.

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“Kami is here.” She pointed to her friend’s car in the parking lot. “I’ll check in.” “Every hour.” His arm muscles flexed with the desire to reach out. His mouth moistened with the urge to kiss her good-bye. He halted both longings. “If you don’t call—” “You’re calling me.” She pushed up on tiptoe and kissed the corner of his mouth. Lingered. He leaned into her and absorbed the arousing warmth of her touch, but didn’t return the caress. If he gave himself the slightest encouragement they could be a we, even for a short while, she wouldn’t be walking out the door. He straightened and stepped back. “Be careful.” “Go for a swim. Dana says you haven’t been going, and I remember how much you love the water.” “Maybe.” It was an excellent idea. A swim would recharge him faster than any meditation exercises. She headed to the door and turned with her hand on the handle. “Seriously, take a swim. Recharge. You look tired.” “You worry about you and your shields.” She blew him a kiss and swished out the door with her slim hips swaying, taunting him with the knowledge of their intimate exchanges. He’d never needed women, but Ava… He could need her. Too easily. Rubbing his chest, wishing to dislodge the discomfort, he watched until she opened the car door and slipped behind the tinted windows. Once they’d pulled out of view, he turned toward his office. Dana leaned against the wall leading into the hall with her left foot and rested against the inside of her right leg. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she drummed her fingers on her elbows. “Oh, H.”

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“How long have you been standing there?” “Long enough to see you’re falling in love with her.” “Ha. No.” He stepped around Dana and headed to the locker room to change. “It’s sort of funny.” She followed. “I wouldn’t have thought I could like Ava. I didn’t at first, and expected to like her less given how taken you are with each other. But I do like her. She’s good for you.” “I’m helping her with her abilities. I am not taken with her.” “Then explain to me why you’re hovering over her. If she were just another empath in need of help you wouldn’t be altering your daily routines. You wouldn’t have slept here every night.” “You saw what shape she was in when she got here the other day.” In the locker room, he opened his locker, pulled his swim trunks out and then headed around the wall to change. “Her abilities make her unlike other empaths we’ve had the chance to work with.” “Interesting.” The wall didn’t hide her humor or know-it-all tone. “I’m gonna regret asking, but what is interesting?” He kicked off his shoes and stripped out of his shirt and cargo shorts. “That you, with as strongly as you feel about lies, are embroiled in a huge one. It has to be festering inside of you.” “Nothing is festering inside of me.” He rolled his eyes and pulled on the swim trunks. “I don’t know her, let alone love her.” “If that’s true, I cannot help but wonder what else has the power to make you give up your morning swims. You haven’t been outside since she showed up here. You’ve dropped every routine since meeting her. You’ve invited Feds here. You’ve connected, dangerously, and it has nothing to do with scientific curiosity or a noble need to safeguard someone like us.”

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Dana’s tone mocked him. Her assumptions were wrong in regards to his motivations, but she noticed too much. Each misstep on his part led her closer to the discovery of his fear. “I’ve been a little busy.” He tied the string of his shorts and took his clothes and shoes to his locker. Dana leaned against the wall near the door with a smug look smacked across her face. “You’re sacrificing your mental health for hers.” “That’s a little extreme.” After securing his cell phone within one of the waterproof bags he and Dana sometimes used he slipped it in his pocket. He wouldn’t think about why he took the phone today—to not miss Ava. “I’ll be back in time for the adult group.” At the beach, he walked until the water was mid-calf before he crossed his ankles, dug his toes into the wet sand and lowered into his meditative position with his hands palm up on his knees. Waves lapped at his waist and rushed over his legs and hands. He worked at relaxing, beginning with the tension in his neck. He dropped his head to the right, touching his ear to his shoulder to stretch out the left side. On a long exhale he rolled his head slowly forward, feeling the pull along the sides of his spine down into his mid back. He raised his head straight up, drew the cleansing scent of the water into his lungs and then dropped his left ear to his shoulder to repeat the process. Left. Down. Up. Right. Down. Up. Left. Down. Up. Over and over, concentrating on cleansing breaths, he continued the cycle until the fresh oxygen seeped into his muscles and the pulling tightness lessened.

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It hadn’t been easy to guard Ava from the unexpelled darkness he’d absorbed, to keep her from feeling again the trauma she’d experienced during her young marriage, but he’d been unable to see her suffer more. This had been one case where not confronting the emotions had potentially been more cathartic. Physically relaxed, he lowered his shields one at a time until his inner eye, his mind, was unprotected. Fears and worries and darkness—Ava’s emotions— he’d absorbed over the last few days danced a complex tango along the blinding vortex rushing to his mind’s forefront. The world misted blue, more electric and vibrant than the vast waters before him. Connected to the earth and the cleansing properties of the sea, he envisioned the heavy gashes of anxiety and negativity marring his mental vision being erased like gouges in the sand vanishing with the retreating waves. He raised his face to the sky and channeled his breaths along restorative avenues. Using his mind, he expelled the blackheads of Ava’s recent pain through his pores until his energy flowed as freely as the rushing waves. Unencumbered by stress, he unfolded his legs, took a deep draw of breath into his lungs and lay back. The water cocooned him. The retreating waves carried him deeper until he was floating on his back. Free and at peace, he allowed nature to carry him. The phone strapped to his wrist jarred him back to reality. Treading water to keep from sinking, he checked the display before answering. “Ava. How are you doing?” “Holding strong.” Sass lightened her plastic-bag-muffled voice, hinting at her ability to find fun in strange circumstances. “Where are you?”

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“Swimming.” He rolled onto his back and propelled himself toward the shore using primarily his legs. “Have you had any problems?” He’d almost asked where she was, but hesitant to hear an answer he wouldn’t like he pulled back. Disgusted by his own cowardice, he slipped his shields back into place as he closed in on the shore. “Everything’s been great. I’ve lowered my shield a few times to make sure I wasn’t imagining the entire experience with you, but I’m feeling strong.” “Good.” Back on the beach, he sat on the sand to dry off. “Don’t overextend yourself.” “I can’t decide if you sound like a nagging wife or an overprotective boyfriend when you make those demands.” “Neither.” She sounded like Dana. Not even empathic abilities cleared up the mysteries of women. “I sound like a doctor looking out for the well-being of his patient.” “So that’s all I am to you? A patient?” No. “Ava…” He couldn’t form the denial. He couldn’t lie to her any more than he’d been able to avoid her questions about how he’d healed her. “I’m not sure what you are.” “Well, let me know when you figure it out.” She half laughed. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I should be back there in the next hour or so.” “See you.” “Be safe.” She hung up before he could respond. He’d expected something flippant like later. Instead, she’d sounded suddenly worried, as if she had insights he didn’t. Hell. The woman had him all kinds of messed up. He rubbed his hands over his hair, scratching the back of his head. An explosion of iced hatred erupted behind him.

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“I’ll have those contacts, Hermes.” H spun around, coming up to his knees. Janus stood less than a foot away dressed in camouflage that blended seamlessly with the dense foliage. H coiled his muscles, preparing to rise up and strike. Janus swung out his right arm with a black pipe firm in his grip. Rage that Ava had set him up—betrayed him—ripped through his heart the moment before the pipe rammed his head.

“Ava.” Kami turned off the engine and shifted to face her from the driver’s seat. “Are you sure you’re up for this? The last time you were here…” “I can’t be afraid of the place I work.” Ava rested her hand on Kami’s arm and squeezed lightly, offering her friend more reassurance than she suddenly felt herself. Her barriers were holding up well against Kami, and she’d done okay in her neighborhood when she’d gone to change clothes, but she was one woman. Though she’d already faced her biggest terrors, hundreds of people milling around inside with a range of emotions as vast as the Grand Canyon terrified her. She’d worked with H steadily for the last few days. He’d dropped his shields and somehow magnified and altered his emotions to help her begin identifying the differences between her feelings and his. He’d sent her an array of feelings from light and sweet to dark and violent. They’d worked on sending out feelers without becoming invasive. She’d identified her shield as a brick wall with a mural of the rocky, Greek shoreline. All she had to do to allow H in was picture the rocks on the shore

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farther apart or gone. With them in place, his testing pushes had no more power than soft waves brushing the rock. He was one man though. She was about to face a room full. No. She couldn’t be afraid of the office. Of the public. She just hoped she hadn’t left H too soon. More time would make her stronger, but she had to trust in the training she’d received. She had to get on with this case, learn what she’d missed, if there were new developments. “We could go someplace else. They could come to you, Ava.” “No.” Ava grabbed her purse from the floor. “I made you a promise, Kami. I’m going to see this through.” Kami’s life had been rough in the dark sludge lingering beneath the glitz of her rich family. Channing had been one of two people to always stand beside her. He’d helped her escape and he’d been murdered. That Kami had survived it all without a fear of getting close to people astounded Ava. Even with the closeness of her own family, their undying loyalty and support, she’d never allowed a relationship to go beyond one or two dates. Until H, though they hadn’t really dated, and nothing said they’d have a permanent relationship. Especially once he discovered her lie. With images in her head of the discovery and his expected withdrawal she was reminded of how her future would be. Lonely. The idea of a family appealed, but she’d accepted the likelihood of never seeing the dream into fruition. She wouldn’t risk another Constantine. “You caught his killers.” “Not all of them.” Madame V and her crew had gone down for Channing’s murder and the attempted murder of Trevor Masters, but Ava regretted she hadn’t been the one to take down the cretin she’d escorted to Breck’s fundraiser. More, she regretted they hadn’t ended the Whitestone connections.

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Loathing broiled in her blood, obliterating delusions. Eston White, or Whitestone, would not pull their assets out of Sirrahmax or off Dr. H’s trail until they were certain the lenses didn’t exist. She would do her part to persuade them to see things differently. “We’ll bring down anyone connected to Channing’s death and eliminate any remaining threats facing Dr. H, Max or any other innocents connected to them.” “You seem more certain than before Dr. H is a target rather than the contacts.” Kami leaned back a bit and tilted her head. “What happened in his lab?” Images of the last few days with H flickered in and out of her head. Flirtations. Brief kisses before he pulled away. Illicit moments of sexual discovery. Emotions floated around her, instructions sounding more like directives were either snapped at her or tempered with tenderness. He’d unwittingly busted through her protective wall when he’d healed her and taken advantage of her downed defenses when they’d made love. He regretted trespassing into her mind the first time, but had no issue with how things had ended in her home or his lab. She’d enjoyed every touch, every look, every kiss. Regardless of his few missteps, he was a good man with a solid moral core, which amazed her considering his upbringing had been overseen by the sadistic General Scott. He called to her heart. To her inner woman. He seduced her to trust him with her secrets, her abilities and her body. While in some ways that trust was profoundly intimate, and she hadn’t had the power to stop herself from falling for him, only a little, she held a part of herself back. As much as she’d trusted him with, she hadn’t trusted him with the

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deepest of her emotions. She’d withheld her heart, unwilling to calculate the risk of another heartbreak. The man was a conundrum, consistent only in the depth of passion. Passion for helping her handle her ability. Passion for the protection of the children he worked with. Passion for identifying true empaths and then working to see them accepted by the world and kept safe from people who would abuse and misuse their gifts. Passion that sparked the air between them and ignited a blaze in her belly when they connected mind-to-mind. “Ava? What happened?” Kami asked again. She blinked, clearing the blurry haze obscuring her vision. “Too much to retell.” Or even fully grasp within the small amount of headspace not being used for the case and maintaining her shields. “He helped make me stronger.” Breck exited the front doors of the building. After a few steps, he stopped and watched Kami’s car with shadows of worry crossing his face. The shield around Ava’s mind shimmered like a USS Titan force field taking fire during a Romulan attack. “So, you’re really an empath?” “Seems so.” Maybe she wasn’t ready for this. Breck and the team had accepted her professional past, but would they so easily accept her now? Could they trust her to stay out of their heads? “Stop worrying.” Kami broke into her thoughts as if she could read minds. “I told him what Dr. H said. He accepts the possibility, but isn’t going to ask you for proof. Neither is he worried you’ll shoplift his feelings.” “Am I that transparent?” “Yes.” She jerked her head toward the door. “Now, get yourself braced.”

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“Yes, ma’am.” Ava opened the door and climbed out of the car. Her shields took a hit, but she held firm. H’s reminder to stay conscious of her barriers slipped to the forefront. Kami got out of the car and pushed the alarm button on the key fob as she rounded the hood. Her mouth hardened fiercely in contrast to the fear quivering in her gaze. “If you even start to look like you did, I’ll knock your ass out and carry you back to Dr. H.” “First, him telling me not to leave. Now, you threatening to take me back. I’m surrounded by nags.” She slipped her hand through Kami’s bent arm and headed toward the building. “Thank you.” “Just remember to thank me if I have to do it.” “You got it.” Ava focused on her shielding and loosened up as they grew nearer to Breck. With each step closer, his shadowy intensity lightened as he watched Kami. Love, respect and desire swarmed Ava. The air sparked with electricity, sending shivers across Ava’s arms. Kami and Breck hadn’t been together more than a few weeks, but like Ian and Kieralyn they so clearly belonged. The purity of their connection spanned the distance between them and seeped beneath unseen cracks in her shields. She envied them for finding what she’d seen in her parents. What she’d hoped to one day have for herself. Common interests. Respect. Passion. Teamwork. You’ve already had each of those things with Dr. H. She shook her head, dislodging the seductive suggestion. “Ava.” Breck jerked his head up in an authoritative nod, even as he pulled Kami to his side and kissed her temple. “How are you feeling?”

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“Better.” Excited. She was anxious, but the excitement humming over her wasn’t hers. She visualized the rocks of her wall moving closer together with waves carrying grains of sand in to fill the gaps. “Excellent.” He headed into the building, tugging Kami along with him. Ava slipped gratefully into the silence and used the time it took to get upstairs to solidify the sand-type mortar in her defenses. Oddly enough they encountered few people on the way to their floor, and even their floor was suspiciously sparse of people. And the team, sitting around the conference table in the far corner, looked a bit…mellow. Rather than launch into questions, they sat. Stony. Silent. None of them were naturally overt in their typical behaviors and reactions. But they were pretty easy to read, and even Tyler, who was always fidgeting with some technical device or another, sat unmoving. She glanced at Breck, who had slapped a blank façade over himself, and then to Kami who had a puzzled look on her face as she scanned the team. So Ava wasn’t the only one finding their behavior odd. “Guys?” “Ava.” They spoke in monotone unison, as if they were programmed robots. She moved the rock shields she’d been erecting and looked at each one of them. Nothing. No one projected any emotion, aside from confusion from Kami. Whatever Ava had expected from them it hadn’t been an arctic freeze. She reengaged her mind protection and sat in the nearest chair beside Tyler. Her heart kicked up a pace. She met each of their gazes. “Stop it!” Everyone lurched in their chair. “I’m not a fragile antiquity apt to shatter. And if you’re trying to protect me from something, you’re only serving to piss me off.”

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Breck leaned forward and stared. Now accustomed to the intensity of H’s powerful gaze—an intensity not unlike a jungle cat lying in the grass daring you to tread on his space—Breck struck her more like an aggressive hunter. Neither should be underestimated, but she’d lay odds on the sleeping power. “You didn’t see you the last time we did. You didn’t spend the last several days wondering what the hell was happening to you.” “You’re right. I just spent those days in seclusion trying to get my head straightened out.” H had warned her that this venture was too soon, but she couldn’t have put her team off any longer. “I’m not Tyler, but damn I missed email and Internet.” I missed you guys. Boom. Suddenly, it occurred to her they were her team. She’d wanted to stay sequestered and safe with H. Had she still been with Whitestone, operating alone, she would have. At some point in the last couple of weeks she’d accepted her place on a team. She’d allowed herself a new family—albeit extended. Tyler rolled his chair over, closing the distance between them. She turned and met his stare, not as surprised to see the wicked glint lingering there as she’d been the first few times. The quiet tech geek had a quick wit and often bawdy sense of humor. “Yes, Tyler?” “Is the crazy contagious? Or did the doctor give you a shot and make it all better?” “You shouldn’t worry.” She patted his hand. “I’m pretty sure I caught it from you.”

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Everyone laughed, the tension eased and the team returned to normal. “All right. What do you have?” Breck nodded to Tyler, who picked up the electronic tablet before him and started tapping away. His sigh of relief shook the air around him. “I’ve been tracking the parents of Dr. H and Dana. For awhile I’d thought they were dead.” “But?” H had made it sound as if they were dead. Did he believe that to be the truth, or had he turned away from them? Maybe he was protecting himself. “I dug deeper into their estate. Their home was sold, and after all the fees were paid, the money went through several accounts before I lost its trail. It disappeared almost as cleanly as the parents.” “You mean disappeared like a witness protection sort of thing?” “Sort of. Whoever erased them was good. It’ll take me some time, but I’m better.” “So you think you can find them?” “Yeah.” Liam drummed his fingers on the table. “We’re sorting through the records of people matching the criteria who moved into and out of the area of the last bank, but it’s a slow process.” “And they could well have stayed in a hotel long enough for the money to come in before they split.” She knew the tricks people used to disappear. She’d employed many of them in her time with Whitestone. “Why would they leave?” Kieralyn shook her head and scrunched her brows together. “These people had their children taken? They wouldn’t give up the search. Ever.” “Unless they believed them to be dead.” Aidan’s logic settled like lead in Ava’s gut. Whitestone. They left for their own safety.

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Sadness and sympathy rolled off Kieralyn in tidal waves and battered Ava’s barriers. She held strong against the pressure, but if she had to confront much more from anyone else she would start to hurt. “No.” Kieralyn shook her head more emphatically. “Ian spent two years searching for answers about his dad. He wouldn’t have stopped without seeing a body. Parents who lose their children… They don’t stop looking. Ever.” “You’re right, Kieralyn.” Breck’s even tone soothed Kieralyn fractionally. “They would want to know, but parents of kidnap victims also reach a point where they have to move on with life. They have to accept that finding their children isn’t going to happen.” “We’re talking over twenty years here.” Liam pushed away from the table and paced the floor. “That’s a long time to hold out hope, but I’m with Kieralyn on this. These people fought vocally and publicly after their kids were taken. They wouldn’t have surrendered hope.” “So keep looking.” If H’s and Dana’s parents were alive and they didn’t know it, they deserved to. “The parents aren’t the only ones who deserve answers.” She pushed the chair back and started to stand. Pure, raw rage drove into her like a two by four shooting through a wall in a hurricane. An instant later a searing pain erupted along the side of her head as if she’d just bashed her bruised temple. Her knees buckled. She bumped the chair on the way down, but Tyler caught her before she slammed into anything. She covered her head with her hand. Fear and concern from her team crashed over her, robbing her lungs of air. “Ava. Breathe.” Kami sank to her knees before her. “What’s going on?”

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Breathe. That was H’s first directive each time they started working. Remember to breathe. Holding back makes it impossible to expel the emotions you don’t need. She stared, unblinkingly, at her lap and held her palm up and open toward her team in a silent plea for them to wait. Running through all of H’s instructions, she rebuilt her crumbing shield one element at a time. Each one filtered out the emotions bouncing around the room. With everything finally compartmentalized, she analyzed the impressions that had taken her down. Their source had not come from within the room. She raised her head and looked into Kami’s gaze. “We need to get back to Dr. H. He’s in trouble.”

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Chapter Fourteen

Ava marched through H’s lab with Breck and Aidan on her heels as if she owned the place. She checked his office, the dressing room, the kitchen, the classroom where they’d done the surveys and the padded room. Where they’d… Nothing. All empty. She headed down another corridor, pushed into a room and froze. Dana spun around. The adult study group sat behind her. “This is a private session. What do you think…?” Ava moved into the room. “Where’s H?” “E-excuse me?” Dana’s animosity had backed off over the last few days but its ugly head was protruding. Ava took Dana’s elbow and pulled her away from the group. Aidan and Breck stepped in behind her. Dana’s cheeks reddened. “What the hell is going on?” Ava didn’t have time to waste. She hadn’t interpreted those feelings wrong, or mis-identified their owner. “Something happened to H. Where is he?” “He went to the beach.” Dana’s mutinous glare hardened. Anger and fear lashed out at Ava. She stumbled back before managing to reinforce her barrier. Breck snapped orders into his com device. The team outside moved toward the beach. Ava looked around the room and ran the faces she’d seen during the interview process. “Is everyone here today?” She kept her voice low while scanning the onlookers. “For the study?”

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“I’m not answering your questions until you tell me what is going on.” “I’m with the FBI.” Her cover was blown, but she wouldn’t blow H’s in front of his study participants. “You’ll get longer explanations later, but right now tell me who isn’t here. A woman, right?” “Yes. Elise.” Dana hesitated, fear creeping into her voice and eyes. “Blonde hair. Brown eyes. My height. Good looking?” “Yes.” Dana stepped closer and lowered her voice. “What is going on?” Dana’s dread battered Ava’s defensive wall like acidic waves rapidly eroding her protection. Concern and curiosity from the others in the room were quickly following. She was uncertain how much she could withstand. Aidan stepped up and placed a hand on her back. His strength and certainty seeped into her. She jerked her head backward toward the door. Aidan and Breck backed out. Ava took Dana’s elbow and maneuvered her into the hall. With the door firmly closed between them she spoke freely. “Long story very short. We had a tip H was a target on a hit list. I tracked him down and posed as part of the study to be close enough to protect him. Someone took shots at us that day you found us in the dressing room.” Liam reported through their ear coms the beach was clear. Ava’s heart shuddered. “Now he’s missing.” “You’re wrong.” Dana headed toward the door leading toward the beach. “He’s fine.” Ava caught up and blocked the path to the door. “I’ve spent three days with your brother learning to shield myself. He’s connected to my mind several times during our exercises.” And when he healed my injuries. “And?” “We formed some kind of connection. I don’t know what happened to him, but I got a massive blast of rage from him an instant before I think he was

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knocked out.” Something H had said in one of their sessions niggled at the back of her mind. Her brain tingled and her shields wavered. “Breck, I need those people to stay put.” Ava pointed at the room they’d exited, grabbed Dana’s hand and headed toward the door. “And keep everyone off the beach.” “What are you doing?” “We’re going to find him.” She met her boss’s gaze. He couldn’t possibly understand what she was planning, but she pled silently for him to give her leniency. “Trust me, Breck. I know what I’m doing.” He nodded once. “Make it fast. You know how these cases go.” Deadly. Quickly. She spun on the ball of her foot and dragged Dana out the door and down the path she and H had taken. “Ava, what are you doing? How do you think we’re going to find him if you know he’s gone?” “He told me once some empaths can pick up information from places. I’ve been on this beach with him. I’ve seen him connect to it.” “Okay?” “He said you swim here too. Do you connect with it?” “Not as deeply as he can, but yes.” “And you’re his twin. You’re deeply connected to him.” “Not enough to feel him over a distance. Though apparently you could.” Bitterness deepened her voice an octave. “I can’t know for certain until we find him, but I think I got that impression from him because he was angry with me. I’m guessing he thinks I set him up.” And why wouldn’t he? She’d admitted to an involvement with Whitestone. They were responsible for his troubles.

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She stopped when they reached the edge of the water, so the waves sliding in just brushed their feet. “He’s connected with me closely enough to take my injuries into him. He left bits of his memories in my head and I think took some of mine into his. We’re connected.” “And I’m connected to him and this place.” “So if you and I open up to each other, if we share our connection to him and this beach, I think we can find out what happened to him.” Her heart kicked with desperation to save him even if it meant losing him forever. “If we’re very lucky we’ll be able to sense him and determine where he is.” Ava gazed out over the expansive water and considered the layout of the lab and beach path. “Whoever took him had to take him away on the water. It’s the only way they could guarantee they wouldn’t be seen by you or a study participant.” “I can’t believe you got me to like you.” Dana gnawed on her lip. Her eyes had gone as glacial as H’s. “I should’ve known you didn’t really care about him.” “Think what you want about me, Dana, but I do care about your brother. I never intended him any harm, and I still don’t. Believe me or not, I’m the most determined person standing on your side ready to fight for him.” “Fine. How do you think we should do this?” “Connect with the water. Let go of your fear and anger and hatred. Embrace this place and invite it into yourself as profoundly as he does. Link to it with him in your mind the whole time.” The task was easier said than done. Ava’s defenses weren’t strong and she’d only worked with H. She’d grown accustomed to the feel of him in her head. The sensation of his emotions—the ones he chose to share—sliding beneath the surface of her skin as smoothly as the loving caresses he’d gifted her with in bed.

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Holding Dana’s hand to root them together, Ava kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the moist sand. Resisting the urge to hurry, she banished her barrier one element at a time, even taking down the bricks. “You’re doing well, Ava.” Dana’s voice lilted with the soft encouragement. “Visualize the toxic negativity inside of yourself shrinking until they’re no larger than a grain of sand.” Ava didn’t think about how quickly Dana had shed her negative feelings or what it may or may not mean. She instead did as Dana ordered. Minimizing one emotion and then the next, she built a small pile of sand inside of herself. “Now what?” “I picture myself dropping them to my feet where I expel them from my pores for the water to wash away.” Ava followed Dana’s suggestion. As the water rushed away, carrying with it her negativity, she felt lighter and more focused. The playfulness she’d found with H when they’d swum together flowed into her. Arousal soughed through her with the tingling awareness. H had felt the same way that first day. “Hmm.” Dana’s sigh was a reminder they were sharing this connection, but she couldn’t break it or turn away any of the impressions coming to her. She would just have to hope the impressions stayed with those experienced on the beach. “I’ve never known him to play.” Dana looked up at her and smiled. “You brought that out in him.” “He’s had good reasons to not play.” He’d have the chance to play more when they found him. Dana’s mind flashed to a stark room with no light. Floating. Not a room. A boat.

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“Have you ever been on a boat with H before, Dana?” “No.” She winced and pulled back. Ava gripped her hand stronger and stopped her. “Stay with me. You’re the experienced one of us.” Dana leaned her forehead forward as if straining to be closer. Ava mirrored her move and concentrated fully on H. She conjoined her energies with Dana. Without words and as one, they projected the energy across the retreating water. It flowed back with a gush of impressions from H. Through the distant connection with H, Ava searched his location. Glimmers of emotions from his captors slipped into her—vile ugliness and a hunger to hurt him. Finally, with an exhausted smile of satisfaction, Ava dropped Dana’s hand and stepped back. With the connection to Dana broken, the images of H in her head vanished. Dana grinned. Her eyes shone bright with tearful happiness. “How’d we do that?” “I’m gonna go with instincts driven by fear for a man we both…care about.” She’d almost said love. But she couldn’t love him. Love was dangerous. “Okay.” Dana scratched her head as they turned back toward the lab. “Can you find him? Can I go with you?” “Yes and no. You’ll have your brother back soon, but I’m not strong enough to help him and ward off your emotions as well as those of his captors.” She slipped her arm around Dana and squeezed. “Breck.” She spoke into her com. “I know where he is, and he’s running out of time.”

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Chapter Fifteen

Dark. Drifting. Desolate. H wriggled his hands and twisted his wrists against the knots binding him to the chair. His already-weakened shields were wavering, but he needed to find a way out. They’d covered his head after knocking him out on the beach, but the sounds of waves sloshing beneath a dock and slapping the sides of a boat had woken him. The tops of his feet ached from slamming against steps as he’d been dragged below deck, but he’d allowed them to believe he was still unconscious in hopes of discovering their plans. They believed the lenses existed and he had hidden them. Elise, the blonde from the study who’d recognized Ava, had been charged with searching the lab and retrieving the contacts. Janus’s attacks had been intended to sidetrack H so his attention was elsewhere. Now, he’d resorted to encouraging H to reveal where the lenses were hidden. If they discovered he was once again the tool they sought, that the moisture in his eyes had triggered an unintended bonding and fused the lenses to him, there would be no escape for him. Hell, he wouldn’t put it past General Scott or his people to harvest his eyes for the intent of analyzing the contacts. Two people had known about the lenses. Channing was dead. Ava had secrets, and though he’d first suspected her on the beach of turning him in, he’d

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quickly realized she hadn’t. Janus wouldn’t be asking questions if he knew what Ava knew. No. If he knew the contacts were staring at him, he wouldn’t be employing torturous projections. He wouldn’t have locked him in a small room without windows or light in an attempt to throw him back into the childhood traumas that had sacrificed his shields the first time. He would inflict torments with demands of obedience and compliance. Janus would return soon for another round of persuasions. H’s shields would be compromised without too much more effort, and then the truth would be out. Sighing, he gave up the futile hope of getting free from the bonds. “New approach.” Ducking his head and closing his eyes as a precaution should they have infrared cameras in the room, he lowered his shields. The mass of emotions from everyone above deck slithered through the cracks of the door. Good. Bad. Light. Dark. He absorbed the energy of the emotions and melded them into a pulsing energy ball. Releasing the energy within himself, he amped up his own abilities. Until healing Ava the second time, he hadn’t realized he could absorb and morph the energies fueling emotions. He’d learned by trial and error how to deal with the darkness inside her. Testing the connections he’d made with Ava, and the trust he’d placed with her, he pictured the waves beyond the hull of the boat. Thinking exclusively of the feel of Ava in his mind, he funneled the energy outward in a plea for her help. His mind collided with hers and Dana’s. Their energies and thoughts blended, merging into a streamlined strand of silent film clips. Anticipating Janus’s return, H replayed the events he’d gone through since hearing Janus on the beach. He recalled the sensations of swaying as they boarded the boat and

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then being carried below deck. Counting on Ava and Dana to translate his projections into images and useful information, he concentrated on the details his mind had picked up in the dark. It seemed more like a large yacht than a boat. Six men in addition to Janus and Elise were spread out above deck. And someone else, another prisoner, was below with him. A woman. Her signal was barely present. Her mind was weak, but her will to hang on, to survive, was strong. Janus approached. A cold willingness to kill knifed through H. The will was Ava’s. And though he couldn’t dodge the new suspicions rising, he didn’t have time to dwell on them. Ava’s and Dana’s connections to the beach—his beach—slid through his body like a transfusion of life-giving blood. He severed the connection to Ava and Dana, clinging to the ocean momentarily before reengaging his shields. Bracing. Janus opened the door and stepped inside. H was in complete control of himself, his abilities and his shields. He didn’t know what Ava and Dana would do, but he was ready to confront the bastard who’d stolen him. Twice. “I expect you have decided to cooperate.” Janus closed the door and flipped on a glaring light, whereas last time he’d worn night-vision goggles to keep the upper hand. “Are you too old to remember our history? You should know to manage your expectations.” H took in the layout of the room—the galley—in the span of a few rapid blinks disguised as an attempt to adjust to the light. A dining table, bolted to the floor before a wraparound bench, sat a few feet away. The butcher-block counter was clear with the exception of the knife block

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mounted to the sidewall. He memorized the positioning in relation to him, planning for the moment Janus left him alone in the dark again. “That same history should have taught you not to defy me.” Janus pulled a folding chair from a narrow cabinet, turned its back to H and straddled it. Crossing his arms over the back, he leaned forward. “There are two ways we can do this. The easy way—” “Or your way.” H allowed years of suppressed derision into his voice. “I’ve heard it all before.” “Fine. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” “Have I ever chosen the easy way?” “Even as a kid you were arrogant. It will get you killed.” Janus projected a tentative hit of vile darkness. “You’ll have to do better than that.” He absorbed it and tunneled the energy into himself. “The child you once tormented is gone.” “That was simply a taste of what’s to come.” “I know.” He didn’t know how long it would take for Ava and Dana to track down help, but thanks to their connection he was strong enough to play Janus’s games. “Tell me where the contacts are.” “I have made many contacts over the years. Please be more specific as to whom you are referring.” “You know I am not referring to a person. I want the contact lenses you used our money to fund.” “Your money, as in the funds from Whitestone?” H shook his head and scoffed. “That would be my money. Money I earned being subjected to experiments, schemes and assholes like you.” “You son of a bitch.” An incendiary blast of rage exploded from Janus.

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H caught the energy with his mind like a catcher would snatch a baseball from the air. Fiery shrapnel singed a path through his head and heart. He clung to what little he recalled of his mom, her sweetness, to minimize the swelling darkness. “If my mother had been a bitch you wouldn’t have had to steal me.” Janus’s head snapped back. “You know that was me?” “You still underestimate me.” “You overestimate yourself.” “Maybe.” H leaned his head to the side. A shot of evil glee sliced at his shields with a piercing pain, but he suppressed the wince. “So tell me about these lenses. Why do you think I know where they are?” “Channing Harris’s secrets were not his alone.” “Right. Didn’t his killer and her minions go to prison recently?” “They weren’t the only ones. We know you consulted with Harris.” “I’ve consulted with a great many people since General Scott let me go.” Blackmail for freedom couldn’t really be viewed as a choice, but it had worked in H’s and Dana’s favor. General Scott hadn’t wanted the US government to know of his immoral use of kids. Specifically, his practice of kidnapping them for the purpose of brainwashing them to later become his assassins. Janus had been one of the first. They were trained to be untraceable as they went about killing world leaders and politicians. H hadn’t found any proof he could take to the government to end Scott’s practices, but his knowledge, garnered after a training session with General Scott, had been enough gain freedom. He’d had to settle for the success of saving his and Dana’s lives. Now, with Janus’s return, the tide felt as if it was flowing toward change.

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“Harris and I worked on a few projects.” The lie coated his tongue with bitterness and churned in his belly, but this was a case where the only person he could hurt was himself. Testing Janus’s reactions was necessary. Janus’s temples throbbed. The veins in his heavily lined forehead bulged as he gathered himself for a projection. H deflected the next shot of aggression. They would grow increasingly violent, and were it not for the recent recharge, he would be suffering. Without the proper defenses, he would be broken. Broken like the woman he’d felt nearby. Janus had been her tormentor. “The contacts, Hermes.” Mocking scorn slithered through Janus’s voice. He’d loved stripping a stubborn boy of his identity. H gritted his teeth. Unblinking, enraged, he coalesced a chunk of the absorbed energy into a gelatinous ball. He locked his gaze with Janus’s evil black one and called on the memory of every vile emotion the man had ever pumped into him. “My name is Dr. H.” “Tell me where the lenses are hidden, Hermes.” Once he’d realized how much being called Hermes hurt, Janus had always delighted in using it. Eventually H had learned to block it. “Or I’ll get your sister next.” “They. Aren’t. Hidden.” Speaking in curt, one-word sentences for emphasis he knew would irritate Janus, he gathered and built the rolling and rumbling darkness. “You. Will. Never. Defeat. Me.” With a forceful shove from his mind, he turned the greedy shadows back on their creator. He wasn’t sure how well it had worked the first time, but at best he hoped to knock Janus back a few steps. To make him rethink his intentions.

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Janus grasped at his throat. Gasping. Desperate for air, he fell to his knees and half-crawled to the door where he knocked weakly. His gaze swung back as he knocked a second time. H tilted his head and watched the fear swirl in Janus’s blank gaze. The power had shifted. The sting of his lie and regret for causing another human pain vanished beneath triumph. Years of overwhelming oppression were vindicated. The door opened. Elise stepped inside. Her gaze flew from Janus to H before she swooped down and dragged Janus from the room. Whitestone had infiltrated his study. His lab. Though their tactics didn’t surprise him, his failure to read Elise did. He’d been too distracted by Ava from the first moment to catch the subtleties he should have seen. When he’d started questioning the possibilities, he’d jumped to believing the first answers offered. And he hadn’t gone back to considering the source once Ava denied the claims. The door lock clicked. He’d screwed up and endangered Dana. It wouldn’t happen again. H stood—as best he could while tied to a chair—and worked his way to the counter. A distance which normally would’ve taken five seconds to cross took closer to five minutes. With the chair on the floor, facing the cabinets, he pulled his right knee up and lifted his leg onto the counter. His toes didn’t quite reach the knife block. He scooted down into the seat trying again. He moved his foot closer to the knife handles. It took several tries of wiggling his toes and readjusting to start again to get a good grip on a handle. His leg muscles trembled with fatigue. His right ass cheek stung. He fumbled the grip a few times before getting the narrow handle firmly between his big and second toes.

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Slowly, so as not to drop the knife, he lowered his leg to the floor and scooted up in the chair. The sharp edge of the blade dug into the bottom of his foot, reminding him to watch the pressure. After giving the quivering muscles in his hip and outer thigh a brief rest, he spread his legs so he mostly straddled the chair. He slid his right leg along the side of the chair, ignored the cramp gripping the bottom of his foot insisting he release the knife and eased his foot backward. Pressing his shoulder blades against the slatted wood of the chair, he arched his hips out and leaned to the left. The lower right side of his back pinched. The thigh muscles extending into his glutes spasmed in protest at the unfamiliar angle. He wouldn’t stop. When Janus recovered, he would be pissed he’d been bested—however temporarily. He would come for revenge and he wouldn’t come unarmed. The only surprise would be his weapon of choice and whether his torture would be emotional or physical. Biting down, H angled himself forward until his arms dug into the chair while he simultaneously raised his foot. His toes shook from the effort of holding the knife handle. His arch burned. He sank as deep as possible into the chair, lowering his hands until the cool tip of the blade brushed his fingers. Cautious not to cut himself, he stretched his leg farther back. Sweat popped out on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. The front of his thigh joined the screeching chorus of agony. Bending as far backward as he could with a chair stopping him, he managed to guide the blade up between his wrists and grab the handle with his hands. Finally. His leg flopped back to the floor. A bruise on the top of his foot slammed into the front chair rail.

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Fire coursed through the fibers and sinew protesting his contortions, making him wonder if he’d be able to walk when he finally got free. He would. Sticking around for more of Janus’s games wasn’t an option. Checking the clock, he noticed nearly thirty minutes had passed. Verifying his remaining time, he dropped his shields and scanned the boat’s inhabitants. Awe. Anger. Aggression. Acceptance. Janus and his crew had varying depths of dedication and feeling about their jobs—some stronger than others, but none closed in. Releasing a pent-up breath he hadn’t noticed himself holding, H worked the blade up and down against the bindings. It was a dull blade, as he wasn’t making quick progress. Continuing to work on the rope, he sent his mind in search of Ava. He couldn’t make a connection, but she felt… Close. Oddly muffled, like she was submerged. The ropes gave a little. He continued the sawing action and tried again to connect to Ava. Nothing. No fear. No pain. She was blocking him. Or the earlier connection had been due to her attempting a connection. Or her connection to Dana had boosted her power. Or she was no longer able to make connections. The last option curdled in his gut. Unable to locate her, he sent his mind in search of Dana. Out of respect for privacy and the need to build themselves up, they hadn’t formed a mind

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connection since gaining their freedom. He wasn’t convinced this would work. Dipping his head, he concentrated on the feel of Dana and their twin bond. Insecurity and worry and love greeted him like an open-armed welcome when he found her. Smiling, he sought to reassure her. To offer her at least a glimmer of hope that he would be back with her soon. Her relief swept over him, followed by a flurry of alarm and distress and vengeance. More people had boarded the boat broadcasting bold impressions of determination. Too many emotions penetrated his mind too quickly, but he needed to stay aware. He needed to know who was approaching. Or at least have an idea of their intentions. He severed the link to Dana and raised a few of his barriers. The knife slipped through the last fibers of the rope. He held tight to the handle and, rotating stiff shoulders, moved to the door. Damn. A double-sided lock. He stepped back and lifted his left leg, ready to attempt kicking the door in. His right leg trembled, weakened from recovering the knife. It wouldn’t support him, and he didn’t have the strength in it to use it for kicking. Grinning, he rotated the wrist of the hand holding the knife. Lowering to his right knee, he positioned the knife tip just behind the strike plate. Gripping the handle with his left hand, he used the palm of his right hand to plunge the blade into the wall. Shouts and sounds of fighting above deck grew louder. He jiggled the blade back and forth until the lock bolt gave way and the door popped open. He stepped into a narrow hallway. A shaft of light shone down a short stairway several feet away.

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“Agent Malia, your reputation precedes you.” Elise’s spiteful sneer reached him from outside the door at the top of the stairs. “But you should have stayed away.” “And miss kicking your ass?” Skin slapping skin with dull thuds and grunts of exertion punctuated the Agent Malia’s response. “Never.” Agent Malia? Ava? She’d played him from the beginning. Lied to him. H moved toward the opening, passing a narrow door on his right. An almost imperceptible flourish of hope wafted beneath a layer of intense suffering. The same suffering he’d felt earlier. He paused and split his attention between the fighting above deck and the pain beyond the door. He tested the knob. Locked. Bending at the waist, ignoring the tightness along his right side, he jammed the knife into the door frame and released the lock bolt more easily than he had from the inside of his room. Glancing toward the opening at the end of the hall, he watched a slender ankle step down onto the first step. He shook his head and stepped through the doorway he’d just busted open and closed the door behind him. It wouldn’t buy him much time, but he preferred at least a little protection between whoever headed his way and himself. A greasy-haired brunette, faded to little more than skin and bone, huddled on a bed and whimpered when he approached. Her eyes bulged and locked on the knife in his grip. “It’s okay.” He rolled the handle so the blade rested along his forearm, hidden from her view. He forced himself to shove aside the urge to rush. He was pressed for time, but she needed a gentle approach. “My name is H. I’m not going to hurt you. We’re going to get out of here.”

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“He’ll kill me.” “Janus?” She was nearly beaten down. Her mind wouldn’t handle much, but he locked his gaze with hers and projected a burst of peace into the air around her. She settled some. A fraction of her fear slipped from her dark gaze. She shook her head. “General Scott?” She pulled back. Nodding frantically and waving her hands in front of her. “On my word, they won’t touch you again.” He extended a hand and smiled encouragingly. When she finally looked up to him, he gasped. “Madelynn?” She nodded. “It’s me. Hermes.” It was odd using the name he’d rejected, but it was the only way the woman would know him. They’d been kidnapped about the same time and put through tests together. She had empathic abilities, but on a much lower scale than General Scott and Janus like so she’d been released. “They said they let you go. That you weren’t…” A valuable asset any longer. “They changed their minds.” Her voice rasped as if her vocal chords had been permanently damaged. “Well, Madelynn. We’re getting out of here, and they won’t be coming for you again.” He would make sure she was the last victim of Eston White, just as he would work with Madelynn to make sure she recovered fully and knew how to effectively shield herself. He scooped her off the bed. She weighed no more than ninety pounds, and desperate for the likely first show of kindness in who knew how long she curled into him. He turned to leave. Ava stepped into the doorway dressed in a wetsuit with her hair pulled into a ponytail. A serrated diver’s knife was strapped to her calf and a warrior’s glint sparked in her eyes. “H.”

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Betrayal jolted through him. “Agent Malia.” He’d been honest with her when it hurt, when it stomped all over memories he wanted buried, but she’d lied to him. The worst part was, he didn’t hate her for it. He hated himself for getting sucked in to what he’d known couldn’t be real. He’d given her too much power. Madelynn shifted in his arms, drawing his attention back to the immediacy of their situations. He glanced beyond Ava in to what sounded like an empty hallway. The noises above deck had calmed, but the raucous emotions still clamored. “Is it safe to leave?” Ava’s brow creased for a split second, but she held back anything she might have said about his responses to her. “Yes.” Her focus on her apparent job worked for him. “We’ll need to get statements from you both, but Elise and the men aboveboard have been restrained.” “I’ll speak to Agent Lawson or Agent Burgess.” He erected his remaining shields and moved toward the door, stopping just short of where he would have to brush her to pass. Weakened emotionally, mentally and physically, the slightest touch could diminish his protections. “Madelynn will speak to no one until she’s received medical attention.” “Madelynn?” Ava reached out toward the woman in his arms. “Madelynn Davids?” “You know her?” Madelynn tried to sink deeper into him. Her eyes begged him to keep his word as her head moved in an almost imperceptible nod. “She’s been on our Missing Persons board for over a month.” Regret splintered Ava’s gaze as she stepped forward. Madelynn flinched and whimpered. Her terror and pain battered his defenses. Janus’s torments had likely given her issues with issues. H angled her away from Ava.

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Ava jerked to a halt and angled her head. “Are you all right?” When Madelynn refused to look at Ava, she turned to him. “Is she all right? A lot of people have been looking for her.” Ava’s brows pinched and her lips thinned. She looked at Madelynn. Watching. “Your fiancé has been darkening our halls daily. He’ll be happy to hear we’ve found you.” A burst of relief lunged up in Madelynn before her current fears shut it down. Ava’s words might have helped, but only Madelynn could know how much. She may not, though, for quite some time. “Ava! Update.” Agent Burgess’s voice boomed in the hallway, bearing down on them. “All clear!” She leaned back and shouted down the hall. Burgess’s steps retreated. “Which is what we are, and what Madelynn needs to recover. No interference.” H moved around Ava and headed for the hallway. “Thank you for the assist. Agent Malia.” “Wait.” She followed. “Don’t be mad at me.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “I saved you. I trusted you. I helped you. You lied to me.” “You don’t understand.” “I understand.” He turned to face her. “I asked you directly if you were involved with these assholes. You denied it.” “I didn’t lie. I’m not with Whitestone. I had nothing to do with Madelynn’s disappearance or yours.” Ava arched her back and shook her head. “Hell, we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.” “You’re not with them, and yet one of their operatives identified you by a different name. A name you have yet to deny as yours.”

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“Sebastian was Constantine’s name. Used for a cover.” Her face blanched. She stepped forward with a hand out. “Let me explain.” “Explain how you’re a Fed assigned to protect me when I turned Burgess and Lawson down?” Pain pumped through his heart. He wouldn’t allow himself to be swayed by her pleading tone. “Explanations aren’t necessary.” As treacherous as things had gotten over the last week, he’d only lied once. To Janus when he was only putting himself at risk. He’d considered them before, but each time he’d gone with the truth. Even when the truth had been more dangerous than his one lie. He expected no less from the people in his life. Knowing he didn’t fault Ava for her secrets sat uncomfortably with him. Why shouldn’t she be held to the same standard he expected of others? “H, please. There were reasons—” “And maybe some are good, but it doesn’t matter.” He carried Madelynn down the hall and above deck. Ava had aroused physical desires and awakened emotional longings. She’d had him believing she was someone else and earned his trust. The last person who’d manipulated him so skillfully had been General Scott. Ava’s deceptions, though different, had been worse. Worse because he’d fallen for her.

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Chapter Sixteen

Ava squinted against the blaring sun and reached for her sunglasses. The dark tint did little to minimize the agony lasering through her skull. She hated rainy, gloomy days, but today she would willingly embrace a dreary gray sky. Low-level seismic quakes rattled the beginning shields H helped Ava build a week earlier. Emotions, raw and painful, lingered and clung after the foamy waves sacrificing her protection retreated. Any chance for peace rested with H, but his continued refusal to speak with her battered her hopes. She glanced across the parking lot to her car. A hundred feet. She crossed the distance almost daily with no trouble. Or she had, until returning from the rescue mission on the boat. H would have had trouble overpowering the team of men who’d taken him, but he’d been more ready to save himself than she’d anticipated. She’d admired him on one level while he crushed her on another. His disgust had been evident on his face and reinforced when he turned away without looking at her. Breck had taken his statement. Their sessions of working on her shields had ended. A hundred feet. With nowhere promising beyond. Leaning against the glass-fronted building with her eyes closed tight against the cheerful rays of sunshine, she accepted the brutality of her success. Her chin dropped to her chest.

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Each day the distance became more insurmountable. Each day she tried to time her exits so no one was nearby. Each day she failed and her head hurt a little worse. Her energy drained a little faster. Her soul wept a little louder. Her first assignment with the FBI had put General Scott out of commission. With Ava’s history and H’s suspicions they’d teamed up with the CIA to tie Janus to a long string of crimes, stretching back twenty plus years. Associates continued to grow and be rounded up. The media was making everything they could private, with Lana Quinn, Kieralyn’s friend and a trusted journalist, at the forefront. As far as Ava’s team and the case files were concerned, she hadn’t located the contacts. But they had taken down anyone involved in the murderous conspiracies, and Ian had finished listening to the recordings from Breck’s party weeks earlier. No one else was mentioned on a hit list. Channing’s death, according to Kami, finally had meaning. It had taken profound loss and suffering to unearth the snake and remove his head so to speak, but the empathic studies at Eston White had been closed. General Scott and all known operatives below his command were being rounded up. The dangling strings of deception within Whitestone were being severed. They’d won. She’d lost. Lost the first man she’d respected or connected to beyond sex. Lost love. From what Breck had said after checking on Madelynn, she’d experienced such severe mental and emotional trauma she seemed to have blocked a lot. At least she had a chance with her fiancé. A chance to heal. A chance to rediscover happiness. Ava wasn’t sure she could say the same for herself. “Ava.”

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Kieralyn’s questioning concern, even softly spoken, prodded her sensitive head. Ava slatted an eye open but quickly closed it again. “Hmm?” “Aidan said you were heading home.” “Am.” She raised her head. It lolled drunkenly on her unsupportive neck. “No.” Kieralyn took her arm and turned her toward the side of the building and a secluded courtyard. “You’re suffering. We’re finding you a quiet spot away from people and emotions.” “I’m okay.” She pulled away, but stumbled and nearly crashed sideways into the glass windows. “Right.” Kieralyn laughed smugly and took a firmer grip on her. “Like Dr. H.” “What?” Ava’s head snapped up. Vertigo smacked her back a step. “You’ve seen him?” She latched on to Kieralyn’s arm and lilted sideways from the force of the sudden move. “When? What did he say?” Hard violence and aggression washed over Ava. She glanced around, rubbing her temples. Her gaze zeroed in on an approaching group of agents, hauling a giant, struggling perp between them. She worked on her barrier and shifted away. “He said he was fine. He’s getting people from the studies at Eston White and is interviewing to increase staff.” Kieralyn led her away from the agents and around the corner. “You should go home.” “You sound like Breck.” “Then why are you still here?” Because the quiet and inactivity are worse than crowds of emotions. Because being at home hurt. Residual impressions of H lingered, floated in the air like unseen dust particles. They brushed her skin as she walked through a room, as seductive as his touch.

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Her lungs constricted. Her throat dried. “I feel him, Kieralyn.” “Dr. H?” “He’s in my head. The way he looked at me…” The buzz of emotions swarming around her were squashed beneath internal pain and regret. She’d known his stance on lies. “Go see him, Ava.” “He doesn’t want to see me.” She’d known his story and had still lied. Maybe only by omission, but she had lied. She’d become his betrayer. “Have you tried?” “I called him. Called Dana.” Locating and assisting in H’s safe rescue hadn’t won her any favors. Kieralyn led her to a bench in a secluded courtyard nearby. The sympathy softening her face couldn’t break through Ava’s melancholy. “You’re allowing your past to brutalize your present.” “I’m…” She froze. Peripheral awareness of her surroundings halted. Churning of internalized emotions and guilt halted. Years of lies halted. Her faltering barriers sighed with the release of stress. Strengthened. She’d have phrased it differently but it was exactly accurate. She’d harbored hope for a relationship with H, but had allowed half a life of pent-up regrets to interfere. She was willing to fight injustice for others, but accepted it in her own life. No longer. He wouldn’t take her calls. She would not be ignored. Her desires would not go unspoken.

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The turmoil darkening her mind cleared. Doubts vanished. Certainty settled. Peace reined. She narrowed her eyes and grinned, knowing just the thing to guarantee results. “That battle-worthy glint can’t be trusted.” Ava rubbed her index finger along her chin and met Kieralyn’s humored gaze. “You know what they say about love and war.” “That no man stands a chance against the goddess of vengeance?” “Just call me Nemesis.” Suddenly feeling as light as she had that morning with him on the beach, she stood and stretched her neck. “I know just the approach.” And it involved a morning swim and a red bikini. Ava straightened her jacket as Kieralyn joined her. They rounded a wall of greenery in the side courtyard. The buzz-cut guy from H’s study froze midstride, but recovered quickly. “Agent Malia.” He shifted course and moved toward them. “My name is Simon Mulwray. I have some information for you.” On guard, suspicious of his timing and whatever intel he claimed to have, Ava shifted her barriers to read him. Intense darkness—not quite evil, but questionable—clashed with sincerity. Caring. Kieralyn moved in behind her. Anticipation buzzed. “About?” “I understand your team has been looking for Dana’s and Dr. H’s parents.” He spoke directly and stood stiffly. In the lab he’d projected a relaxed, carefree impression. The contradictions glared like neon. “Is there someplace we could speak in private? Anonymously.” “What about them? They’re dead.” “No.” Simon shook his head. “Dr. H and Dana have been misled.”

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Ava’s heart slammed her ribs with bruising force. Their parents’ deaths had been a defining moment for H. How would he handle this new development? She considered demanding answers where they stood, but instead calmly led Simon to a first-floor conference room. Kieralyn took the flank, shooting a text message to Breck on the way. As much as H hated her secret, he would filet Simon if he realized his study had been infiltrated on another level. Ava closed the conference room door behind Simon and Kieralyn with a definitive click. Simon remained silent and stiff. Militant. “You need to tell me who you work for.” She leaned against the table with her hands linked gently before her. She wanted to fist them. “What information you have.” “I’m independent.” His gaze shifted to Kieralyn settling herself into a chair taking notes on her Blackberry. “They can’t know who I am.” “Don’t worry about her.” Ava nudged a chair out for Simon, but maintained her position. “Who can’t know? Dana and Dr. H?” “Yes.” “Why?” The rest of the team entered the conference room and filled the empty seats. Rather than interrupt, they sat back and gave Ava the lead. Tyler pulled out his handheld computer and did whatever he thought needed to be done at that moment—likely a background check on Simon. “It’s just best that way. If you guarantee my anonymity, I will give you my information.” “Anonymity isn’t mine to guarantee.” His eyes widened like a hawk zeroing in on prey. He said nothing. He would give her the information, regardless. “Without justification.” He glanced around her team displaying no tells of nerves or worry. “This isn’t my only case. I can’t have people knowing I’ve spoken with you.”

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“Which is why you came around the side? How were you hoping to gain access?” “I saw you head that way. It worked to my benefit. Do I have your guarantee?” Ava shifted her gaze to Breck. He looked to Tyler, who nodded once with his lips drawn into a tight line. They may keep an eye on Simon, but finding out what he possibly knew was priority. As a double precaution, before agreeing to his terms, Ava moved her barriers and read him. She hadn’t asked for her abilities, but having them could only make her better at her job. And this was one time she needed to know what they were walking into. Sincerity was the primary impression she picked up from Simon. Shit. She was backing herself into having to keep another secret because H would ask how she’d found out about his parents. Of course, she had to calculate the best approach for the information. She wasn’t sure he wanted to dredge up the past. If he did, if he wanted a reunion, she would need to line it up. “You have our guarantee.” Ava tilted her head and met his earnest stare. “How do you know their parents aren’t dead? What else do you know?” Answers about her future relationship would have to wait a little longer. H was about to have some bigger decisions to make. Like whether or not to face the parents he thought to be dead.

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Chapter Seventeen

Poised to knock, H held his hand inches from Ava’s door. He’d been less than kind on the boat. He’d dismissed her role in clearing the way for his escape. Worse, he’d been too proud to thank her for opening herself completely in an attempt to locate him. She wasn’t strong enough as an empath to do that without jeopardizing the shields she’d only had days to erect. She could have seriously hurt herself, but had put him first. Dana’s arguments that he needed to talk to Ava only stiffened his back and tensed the muscles supporting his pride. It hadn’t been hard to turn his selfdirected anger around and blame Ava. He’d allowed himself to fall for her. He had allowed it to matter. She’d lied rather than trusting him. So what? Her secrets made sense. To a point. Until they’d been together. He’d only held back the depth of his grief for his parents. He’d taught her about her abilities and protecting herself. His gut clenched. “Are you going to knock?” Ava. He turned. Faster than a bungee jumper leaping off a platform, his heart plummeted. She stood ten feet away in the slight shadow of a giant tree, in a pants suit and light, unbuttoned jacket. A scoop-necked silk tank clung seductively to her skin in the moist heat. “I…”

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She stepped from the shadows into the evening’s fading light and arched a thin brow. The right side of her forehead creased in a triad of matching arches. Exhaustion and weakness weighted her lids. Makeup failed to hide the pale bruising beneath her puffy eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well, which would weaken her barriers. Though he wasn’t getting a read on her. If he wasn’t responsible for her misery, he’d at the very least contributed to her suffering. When he stopped helping her. Pain settled like lead in his stomach. “Why are you here?” Ava closed the distance and halted before him with her keys in hand. Her eyes, normally bright and expressive, were as void as her voice of hints into her thoughts. “You haven’t been sleeping.” “You came here to tell me that?” She waved her hand, motioning him aside. “No.” He stepped back, avoiding touching more for her sake than his. If her shields were compromised, contact would heighten anything she was feeling. Arouse everything he was trying to control. She shrugged and moved to unlock the door. “Come in. We need to talk.” “I may have grown up in captivity, but even I know conversations kicked off with those words never end well.” Especially backed up with the level of intensity rumbling low in her voice. “Depends on your viewpoint.” True, but if she thought for a moment she was going to brush him off to pay him back, she would soon recognize the errors of her thought processes. He didn’t like to admit it, but the days without Ava had sucked worse than all of his days in captivity combined. No. She wasn’t dismissing him. “What do you have to talk to me about?” He closed the door behind them while she stepped into the front closet and stowed her gun and badge beneath a

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blanket on the shelf. The stark reminder of her lifestyle didn’t jab at him the way he’d have expected. False perceptions were gone. “Our endings often begin with where we started.” They had started with a betrayal. They wouldn’t end that way. They wouldn’t end. Whatever she had to say… He diminished the space between them and backed her to the wall. She gasped and raised her chin to keep their gazes engaged. Her tongue slickened her lips. Her throat jigged. “We won’t be ending, Ava.” He pressed his body to hers, careful to shield himself, and claimed her mouth. Her hands went to his shoulders. Her nails dug into him as she rolled her hips forward. A catlike purr vibrated from her throat and slid into him. Profound belonging swept through him on a gentle glissade. Whatever lay ahead, he belonged with her. He would fight to prove it. Her tongue sliced between his lips and teeth, battling his. She explored him as hungrily as he did her. Ravenous desire raged in his veins. His shorts grew tight. His shirt bound his movements. He eased his hands between the shoulders of her jacket and pushed it to the floor. She writhed against him, moaning. Her slim fingers grappled with the hem of his shirt before she yanked it over his head. Ava pushed away from the wall, grabbed her tank top and jerked it off. She turned him with her body and moved toward her bedroom, never breaking contact longer than necessary to divest them of their clothes. Their fingers simultaneously moved to each other’s pants. She stepped out of her heels. He kicked off his flip-flops. He shoved her slacks over her hips as she lowered his shorts zipper. He pulled out the condom he’d stuffed optimistically in his pocket at home.

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Their pants fell to their feet, slowing their progress to the bedroom with the need to step free. She fondled his hard and free dick. He flicked her nipples through her lace bra and trailed kisses down her throat to her collarbone. Her head fell back, pushing her breasts into his chest. Complete surrender owned the moment. Drove them. Powered their passion. His cock twitched, bumping the warm apex of her thighs when they turned into her room. His mind went to the drawer with the vibrator, but he dismissed the idea. This time would be all him. Them. He would prove they were meant to be together. He turned them so she was walking backward. She jerked and almost fell when her knees bumped the mattress. He supported her even as he popped her bra loose. “I missed you. Didn’t get near enough of you.” He lowered the lace scraps down her arms, brushing his hands over her breasts and tweaking her nipples until they hardened to stiff points. She wiggled free of her panties and pulled him to the bed. Bracing himself on his elbows to keep from squashing her, H took a moment to study her. To enjoy her and the feel of her beneath him. Softness and strength. Desire and determination. Attitude and affection. She smiled up at him, planted her hands on his shoulders and shoved him to his back. Oh hell. Ava straddled him. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, splitting around her boobs. He fisted his hands on either side of her head and pulled her down. She rotated her hips as her body repositioned and curved into his. Rubbing and grinding, she drove him on a soaring flight. Up. Up. Up. Sliding against him, caressing him with the length of her body, she snapped his every tethered restraint until he strained for rapidly disintegrating control.

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She grabbed the condom he’d held beneath his fingers and ripped it open. Blowing warm breaths along the edge of his ear, she teased him while her hand tormented him with a deliberate slowness while rolling on the condom. “I didn’t get enough of you, either. I was afraid you’d written me off.” “Moronically, I almost did.” He held her hair in his hands and met her gaze. “I’m not finished with you. We’re not finished.” She wiggled her hips and positioned his tip at her moist entrance. With a downward thrust she enveloped him. He dug his head into the pillow and fisted his hands at her waist. How could he have considered missing more time with her? A climax shook him, reaching into the darkest pits of his psyche and blasting him with light. Even with his shields in place, he recognized it as more than a climax. He recognized the reality of what had sparked in the beginning. He recognized the truth he’d hidden from himself even while standing outside her door deciding if he should knock. He recognized love. Ava collapsed against him, breathing heavily. The magnitude of what they’d found clogged in his throat. Shuddered in his heart. Ava moved to roll away. He grabbed her wrist to stop her. With secrets shrouding her eyes, she shook her head, pulled free and reached for a silk robe at the end of the bed. “We still need to talk.” He would agree, but had a different topic in mind. “You remember what happened last time you said that.” He scooted up and rested his back against the headboard with his hands linked behind his head. “It won’t happen again.” Not for a few more minutes at least.

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“Your robe’s not much protection.” Her gaze ran up his body, lingering. She sighed, with her hands paused over the task of tying the belt. “We can’t, H. Not until we talk.” “Fine.” He patted the bed and grinned. “Let’s talk.” “Not that kind of talk.” Her tone thickened, but he wasn’t sure with what. She retrieved his shorts from the floor and tossed them at him. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.” Once she’d left, he went into the bathroom to dress and compose his thoughts. He’d never gone in for fluff and frills, but whatever she had to say… He wished it had some. She was too set on the path of a serious conversation. H studied his reflection in the mirror. Her hairbrush, skin care items and cosmetics on the counter. Her toothbrush and the tube of paste squeezed from the middle with the cap left open. The towel from her last shower hanging on the hook. Her subtle scent of gardenias and eucalyptus pervaded his senses. His mind. Similar reminders had been left behind at the lab. She was everywhere he looked. The beach. The lab. Here. He couldn’t escape her. He didn’t want to. He strode down the hall. Each step pounded more loudly with resolve. She sat on the sofa, stiff backed and staring at the blank TV. Decided in his mission, he rounded the sofa and claimed the cushion beside her. “Ava—” “Stop.” She turned with her hand in the air between them. “I want to believe what just happened means you don’t hate me for lying to you, but I’ve been around enough to know that’s not necessarily the case. I also know I’m not interested in sex games with you.” “I don’t play games, except a few video games. And I’ve never hated you.”

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She snorted in disbelief. “I wouldn’t take your calls because you hurt me, more than I enjoy admitting.” He linked their fingers and dropped his shields so she would feel his sincerity if she tried. “I confided in you about the lenses and my abilities when I hadn’t even told my sister of them.” He pulled her feet across his lap and scooted closer. She edged deeper into the cushions, guarded, but not entirely closed off. “She was safer not knowing.” “So were you, but it was more than that.” Ava was better equipped to handle stress, secrets and apparently danger. And he’d tested her during their sessions. He’d seen it on the boat. “Regardless, you didn’t return the trust. You held on to your secrets.” “We both knew you were testing me and I answered your questions honestly.” She’d treaded that fine line he’d been teetering on. “It doesn’t matter. Unless you have more secrets.” “Only secret regrets.” She shrank into herself. Her eyes darkened with remorse. “Like?” She chewed the right corner of her top lip. Vacillating. Finally she sighed. “Like being a puppet to men willing to kill for the sake of gaining contracts. Like having blood on my hands from similar ops.” She’d said she left because they’d given her no moral choice. It sounded worse than he’d suspected. “If you didn’t find me through Whitestone, how did you? How did you know who I was?”

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“After joining Breck’s team, I continued searching for answers to questions that arose during my last mission for Whitestone. I found your business card while working through boxes of Channing’s stuff.” “That wouldn’t have been enough to send you after me.” He released her hand and played with the ends of her hair. Purely soft polish to her steel determination. She was amazing. “It wasn’t. Until we were able to talk with a Whitestone operative who’d gone missing for awhile. Then the NSA’s expert listener, who was helping us as a favor to his new fiancée, heard you listed along with Channing and Trevor Masters as targets.” His pulse thumped. Even after facing his intended killer, it was a shock to hear he’d been targeted. To have verification that Ava had been sent in to protect him. Everyone had made their moves. It had worked out okay for most. “Things didn’t end so well for them.” “Trevor is recovering nicely. Channing…” She shook her head. “We couldn’t allow your suffering if we could do anything to stop it.” “So you infiltrated my lab. How did you know my real name?” “That was tougher to find, and without insight into Whitestone, and Eston White, I might not have put it all together.” “Go on.” Her answers rang true, but hesitation flashed through her gaze. She was holding back. “You look good on paper. At first. But you showed up out of nowhere with your mysterious identity and degrees in tact. You need powerful connections to pull that off. Connections like Whitestone.” He shrugged and half smiled. There was no point in a denial.

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“Anyway, connecting dots between Channing, Trevor, Lori and you, I dug deeper into Whitestone, focusing on the Eston White branch since you were so involved in empathic studies. I discovered where they got most of their…test subjects, and then went into the Bureau’s missing children archives. Paternal twins, one boy and one girl, Hermes and Dana, were reported kidnapped two days after you and Dana were moved into Eston White.” “No. Our parents took us to them.” “For a man so intent on the truth, you’re lying to yourself.” She narrowed her eyes and shot him a this-is-a-no-bullshit-zone sort of look. “You tell yourself that’s true out of emotional self-preservation, but you know differently. They took you there once out of concern. They didn’t choose to send you away.” Ava’s certainty, her faith in his parents, rolled through him like a calming balm over past torments. “They never stopped looking. For their daughter. Dana. For their son. You.” She paused. Her eyes softened and she gripped his hand resting on her thigh. “They never stopped looking for you, Hermes.” “I told you not to call me that.” His voice croaked worse than when he’d gone through puberty. “You did, but I wonder if you’ll always prefer the distance your current name gives you.” “What are you talking about?” “You gave up your name when you realized your parents weren’t coming for you. When you were told they were dead.” “Yes.” “They’re not dead.” He jerked back. His heart hammered twice and then stalled. “Ava, don’t play jokes like this.”

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She covered his hand and squeezed. “I think I know what your parents meant to you. This is no joke.” “We were told they gave us up and then were dead.” His brain pounded with doubts and hopes and questions. With fear to believe all the rose-scented hugs from his mother and the gruff tumbling from his father chasing away monsters in the closet could have been avoided. With fear to believe they could rediscover French toast Sundays. “How can you know this?” “They tried to get you back from Eston White. The FBI searched for you and Eston White cooperated by allowing them to search the property. You weren’t there. Your parents were discredited in the eyes of the Bureau. They had no proof. There were no leads to follow.” She paused. Her finger rubbed his knuckles. “Later, there was an attempt on their lives which forced them into hiding.” Of course they hadn’t been found. They’d been kept underground in a sort of maze, until their teens. His life had sucked, but hearing about his parents’ suffering sliced open the wounds he’d thought had healed. “How did you learn all of this? Do you know where they are?” “I can’t reveal my informant.” She covered his lip when he would have argued. “I can give you the information I have.” It was a secret, but she was being honest about it. He couldn’t, wouldn’t argue. “Okay.” “Apparently one of the agents who met your parents believed them. After they survived the attempted murder, she helped get them new identities and put them into a sort of witness protection program. One where only she knew they existed. She continued looking for you. When she was diagnosed with ALS, she revealed everything to her child. She put them in contact with your parents and secured the promise the search for you would continue.”

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“You’re being especially careful to not reveal whether this person is a him or her.” “I am.” “Because I know this person. Because Dana does. Because our lives were infiltrated by more than just you and an operative from Whitestone.” Now he wanted to argue and demand she reveal her source. But damn it, he wanted her information more. He wanted to know about his parents, and would uproot the mole in his life later. “Yes. There was a sort of bottleneck.” She squeezed his hand. “I will tell you anything you want to know about my life. I can tell you this person is not in your life to bring you harm, but I can’t divulge their secrets or identity.” “So you trust them? You’re certain this isn’t an elaborate ruse from someone at Whitestone you missed.” “I personally verified the information I was given.” She shrugged. “I used my new abilities to read the signals being given off and though I felt a darkness and secrets, I also felt pure sincerity. I don’t think the darkness or secrets are about you or Dana. Though we’re keeping our eyes open.” He grappled with everything she was giving him, but two phrases repeatedly popped to the forefront of his mind. Your parents aren’t dead. I personally verified the information I was given. “Ava, have you spoken with my parents? Are you one hundred percent it was them?” “More like two hundred.” She brushed a hand over his cheek and smiled. “I did a live video conference with them. You look like your mom. Dana looks like your dad.” Tears bubbled in his throat. His heart shook with each blood-pumping beat. “It seems you’ve always loved the water. Your father used to take you kayaking.” She leaned forward and traced a finger along his hairline, just behind

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his ear. Along a small, bumpy scar. “You have a scar from being flipped out once. The water was shallow. You hit a rock.” His hand shook and fell limp to the couch back. He hadn’t thought of that scar in years. It was completely hidden beneath his hair, but she’d touched it immediately. She couldn’t have known about it. No one did. “How many stitches?” “It bled like crazy, but no stitches were needed. Though your mom shaved your head to keep it clean and medicated.” Vibrations of hope rippled across his skin. His fingertips tingled as if something he’d reached for his entire life was almost within his reach. “They’re hoping you’ll meet them and forgive them for failing to protect you.” Tears burned his eyes and blurred his vision. A need to call Dana snapped into him, but was squashed by a need to protect her. To verify they weren’t stepping into an elaborate trap. He swiped the tears from his eyes. “You make it tough for a man to be strong.” Ava scooted closer and kissed the corner of his mouth. He leaned into her for a moment, lingering. “You’re stronger than any man I’ve ever met.” “This is why you won’t commit to me.” Why she wouldn’t answer his demands about them not being over. She sat back and shook her head. “I just dumped a heavy load on you. You should come to terms with that before planning your future.” “You’re missing a point.” He pulled her fully onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Secrets, dangerous job, future maybes and newly discovered empathic abilities aside, I’m in love with you, Ava Malia. Have been for awhile now.” “H.”

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He covered her mouth with his fingers like she’d done to him. “Your spine and determination to kick ass, your willingness to let loose and have fun, and your generous spirit called to me before your abilities. From the beginning, your brilliant eyes and quick wit appealed to me. And you make me love you more every time I’m with you. You just gave me the one thing I thought I’d never have.” He stopped long enough to swallow the tears thickening his voice. “My future is filled with amazing possibilities. With you by my side, they can only be better.” She fingered the collar of his shirt and chewed on the right corner of her top lip—a habit he was just noticing. “If you’re stringing me along for security I’ll kick your ass.” “I welcome it should I let you down.” He grinned and kissed her until she moved her shields and opened to him fully. Until their love danced and blended in their hearts through their shared connections. She leaned back, pulling him with her to the couch cushions. “I love you, Dr. H.” Her robe fell open to the waist, taunting him with a welcome distraction. He slid his hand up her thigh and shifted her beneath him. Finding new ways to love her was going to be fun. More fun than her finger vibrator or their flirtations in the ocean had been. “You can call me Hermes.”

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He’d debated leaving it alone, but couldn’t dislodge thoughts of Ava’s revelation. Harmful intentions or not, he’d been deceived. The deceiver was still in his midst. “Simon.” Hermes shoved nerves and frustrations down and stayed on the desk’s edge as the adult study group participants filed out. “A moment please.” “Yes, Dr. H?” Confident, Simon stepped away from the young woman he’d been partnered with during their latest exercises. Hermes regarded the other man, reading his seemingly candid gaze, until the last person out closed the door. “I’m dismissing you from the study.” “Excuse me?” Simon stepped hastily forward two steps before stopping himself. “Is there a problem?” The man actually looked and sounded surprised, which in itself surprised Hermes. “I’m here to find and assist empaths with their abilities. You’re not one.” “I—” “Have a gift of intuition,” Hermes interrupted and pointed to a desk before him. Once he sat, Hermes continued. “Your gift comes from excellent training, making it more of a well-developed skill. You are not a true empath.” Confusion, relief and suspicion swelled like a darkening storm inside Simon and echoed in Hermes. “I’m—”

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“Not sorry to hear the news.” Hermes cut him off again. “You’re preoccupied when you should be focused on what we’re doing, because you’ve accomplished your goal here.” “I don’t understand.” “You’ve tracked me. You’ve verified my identity. You’ve relinquished the information to the FBI. I’m sure you have other cases to wrap up.” Simon leaned back in the chair he’d claimed and cocked his head. “Did Ava tell you this?” “You’re not a true empath.” Hermes smiled and shook his head. “But I am. You knew Ava would bring me the information you offered, or you wouldn’t have insisted on anonymity.” “Clearly that did no good.” “Ava didn’t give me your name. She even refused to designate her source as a man or a woman.” “Then how did you find me out?” “I feel your intentions as clearly as your distractions. And I respect your decision to not lie about it.” Simon shrugged. “Apparently there’s no point in it. Though I am curious what you intend to do next.” With his shields slightly lowered to sense Simon, vibes from Ava closed in. He stood and gathered the papers on the desk. “I’m going to extend an invitation.” “Pardon?” “I’m sure you’re aware Ava will be here soon with my parents.” Hermes slipped the papers into a file and tapped the folder against his leg. Simon hadn’t been the only one struggling to concentrate all afternoon. “Given the time and effort you’ve put into our reunion, I would like you to join us.”

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Simon opened his mouth and closed it. He scratched his neck and rolled his shoulders back before clearing his throat. “I’m not...” “Comfortable with the attention?” Hermes jerked a shoulder and moved to the door. “Consider it a favor to make up for your deception. Besides, avoidance isn’t possible. They’re here.” Simon’s throat jumped as he stood and joined Hermes. “You’re not holding this against me?” “I’ve learned a few things since beginning this study.” He offered Simon his hand, hoping the man would accept. “Not all lies are harmful. And we all have to embrace discomfort if we want great rewards.” “Thank you.” Simon put his hand in Hermes’s and squeezed. “For what it’s worth, you don’t need to be nervous. They never stopped loving either of you.” Simon stepped back and waited for Hermes to lead the way out. On the way to the lobby, Hermes slipped his shields back into place, needing to focus on his own feelings. When they rounded the corner into the lobby, Dana and Ava sat on the couches with an older couple. His heart stuttered and his throat burned. The woman stood and covered her timidly trembling lips. Her tears glistened like thin morning fog over the water. The man rose from the couch and holding himself stiff and upright wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They weren’t any woman or man, though. They were the people he remembered from his childhood dreams. They were the people he’d blocked from his mind in a quest for sanity. They were his parents. Years of pain and regret and agony vanished. The woman he loved, his sister and his parents were together. Allowing the tears stabbing at his eyes freedom, Hermes crossed the lobby and grabbed his mom and dad in a hug.

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Protective and powerful, the warm radiance of pure pleasure enveloped him. He’d made it home.

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About the Author

Heart stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author, is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline. Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposés at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour. The only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist. More can be found out about Nikki at her website www.NikkiDuncan.com. Nikki is also on Twitter www.twitter.com/nduncanwriter and Facebook at www.facebook.com/nduncanwriter.

Look for these titles by Nikki Duncan

Now Available: Sensory Ops Sounds to Die By Scent of Persuasion Tulle and Tulips Tangled in Tulle

Coming Soon: Tulle and Tulips Twisted in Tulips Whispering Cove Wicked Burned Her Miracle Man

Mission: Build a new life. Confront the past. Plan the wedding of the man she loves.

Tangled in Tulle © 2011 Nikki Duncan

Tulle and Tulips, Book 1 Lori Mullins yearns to shake off her past and live free of shadows and fear. Yet her only shot at obtaining the capital to launch her business rests in a man she met during a lie. A man whose voice alone turned her from jaded escort to giddy schoolgirl. A man who almost died because of her. Trevor Masters can call off his search for the woman he loves. The woman he dreamt of while comatose. The quest for her heart, however, is only beginning. The trick will be convincing her he doesn’t blame her—and that she deserves to accept herself as the woman who holds his heart. Business negotiations land Lori in a heavenly hell. Heaven that Trevor is close enough to touch. Hell that she’s planning her first designer wedding. His. And something’s not quite right. The kind, compassionate man she fell for all those months ago, the man who’s engaged to another, seems intent on wooing her… Warning: This title contains a balloon-toting rodent, a hero scheming for love, a heroine evading complications, and hot sex. Enjoy the following excerpt for Tangled in Tulle: “He asked not to be disturbed.” Trevor glanced up from his computer, eavesdropped on Gina in the outer office. He’d intended to shower off the week of travel, but had been sidetracked by a panicky phone call and the need to send an emergency email. Closed in the privacy of his office he only bothered wrapping a towel around his waist.

Now sidetracked again, he waited to see who Gina was speaking to and how she’d handle it. He only waited a couple beats. “Then he shouldn’t have insisted on a partnership with me.” He grinned, easily picturing the scene in his office waiting area. Judging by the shift of their voices, Gina had positioned herself between Lori and his door. And if Lori’s tone was a clear indicator, she was rediscovering her fire. She certainly didn’t sound like the uncertain, nearly defeated shell of herself she’d been the last times he’d seen her. “I’m sorry,” Gina said. “You will have to come back later.” “No.” After hitting “send” on the email, he tightened the towel at his waist and moved around the desk, eyeing the door, half hoping Lori listened to Gina and half hoping she bulldozed inside. Something about her gave him the impression Gina would never know how she’d been bested and why he thought that was one of the many mysteries of Lori he wanted to solve. “Ms. Mullins.” “Gina,” Lori stated, mirroring Gina’s calmly modulated tone. “I have my orders.” “And still I suggest you move. Or I will move you. Either way I am going in.” She paused for a long moment between each statement, giving Gina a chance to respond. Trevor glanced between the main door and the door to the bathroom which led to his private apartment. Lori was one of few people privy to the set up. Mostly naked, there would be no escaping her if she got past Gina. Assuming he was interested in escape, which he wasn’t.

Again calculating the distance he knew well, he considered darting to the bathroom and dropping the towel. If she was going to disturb him she may as well be disturbed. “I’ll tell him you put up a good fight,” Lori said from just beyond the door. Silent and slow, the knob turned. Glancing down at the towel, he shrugged and leaned against the nearest chair. If she had issues seeing him without his clothes she’d learn to listen to Gina. He’d have to consider how such an issue played into his plans. His brideto-be couldn’t take issue with his nudity. “Trevor.” She addressed him before she was even in the office. “I need—” Her words died as she flung the door wide. Her mouth dropped. She stumbled to a halt. For the first time since her return she failed to hide her reaction. Instant arousal, judging by her eyes. Gina silently closed the door, essentially imprisoning him and Lori together. He restrained himself. Instead of reaching out to her and answering her desire, he crossed his arms over his chest. Instead of listening to the wails of his body calling out to her, he sought her gaze as directly as he would any opponent. “How can I make your day better, Lori?” Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Closed again. She stuck her hands in her pockets where she fisted and unfisted them judging from the shifting of her pants. Trevor said nothing. Only waited, more pleased than a wolf scenting his life mate. Like a wolf, his body quivered until each hair follicle became a sensory receiver in the chilled breeze from the air conditioner. Lavender and mint. As if she’d just stepped from a garden or kitchen, her sweet scent sauntered around him, brushed teasing caresses over him until goose bumps took over his skin.

“You need to stop.” She sounded far from strong in her conviction. Whatever her conviction was about. “Stop what?” Dreaming of you? Wanting you more than before? “Stop whatever it is you’re up to. You sent me balloons.” The last was a verbal foot stomp. “Ah.” He’d confused her. “I can’t do that.” The woman who’d testified against her former bosses and tormentors before slipping into darkness—he’d coaxed a few more details out of Breck—deserved to find joy again. “Do it anyway.” Her tone strengthened. She advanced on him—slowly—no longer distracted to the point of wide-eyed speechlessness by his near nudity. “You have me planning your wedding. You shouldn’t be sending me gifts or trying to lure me into falling for you again.” Her voice rose fractionally with each syllable of her tirade. “What is so wrong with falling for me, Lori?” He raised a brow, thrilled at how quickly his gift had gotten her riled. Damn if he wasn’t going to poke the lioness a bit and dare her into revealing her feelings. “You never complained the first time.” “This is different. Randy wasn’t around then.” She blanched and rocked back as if she’d been struck. “Was she?” Disgust darkened her demand. “Was Randy around? Were you playing us both? Is that how you came to be engaged so soon? That’s it.” “It makes sense.” She shook her head and sneered. “You bastard.” She lunged, landing a solid uppercut to his jaw before he could defend against her. His teeth clacked together. “Lori.” He grappled for her wrists, barely thwarting a second hit when the towel slipped and he grabbed for it. “Stop.”

“You son of a bitch.” She punctuated her driving words with punches, some of which he blocked one-handed. Others he let go for the sake of keeping the towel secure at his waist. “I thought you were a better man.” More than a little surprised by her hand-to-hand abilities, and a little tired of defending against her, he released the towel, gripped her arms tightly just above her elbows and yanked her forward. The towel loosened, but until he let her go it would stay in place. “Stop.” He pinned her close, fighting the urge to roll his overly-aware-of-her dick against her. “You suck.” Not how I’d like. “You’re wrong.” “Bullshit. You’re only a player. A lousy, predictable, pus—” He seized her mouth in a kiss and held nothing back. He let his hurt and loneliness, love and confusion, desire and sadness pour forth. When she gasped for a breath, his tongue sought the inner haven of her mouth, where he found a slice of heaven he’d been missing, and thwarted any insults remaining in her arsenal. She’d

misunderstood

his

intentions

about

the

wedding,

but

the

misunderstanding had led her here. Into his arms with fire flashing inside and igniting her spirit. Damn if he’d let her go. When the tension in her petite curves finally uncoiled and she relaxed into him, when she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, when she began to kiss him in return, he straightened. Only an inch or two separated their mouths, a space easily conquered again, yet it felt more like miles. Not sure he could trust her to resist wailing on him some more, he retained his grip on her arms. At some point she’d rested her hands on his hips, just

above the towel. Though she probably gave the contact no thought, his body noticed and responded with racing tingles radiating from beneath her hands. “I’m not a player, Lori.” “Bull.” “Yes, I asked you to plan my wedding.

One tormented soldier. One woman. Eight snipers. Someone’s going down…

Tactical Deception © 2012 J.L. Saint

Silent Warriors, Book 2 The fallout from the team’s failed mission to Lebanon is still chewing Lt. Col. Roger Weston’s butt. God help them all if the media get wind of the real story. Worse, guilt is eating him alive over a decision that left a fallen warrior’s wife without a husband…and exposed to danger from her radical family. No matter what, Mari Dalton’s safety and wellbeing—and that of her unborn child—come first. Mari is certain God is punishing her. She loved the man who rescued her from a windowless cell in Afghanistan, and never betrayed their marriage. But she has never been able to forget her body’s reaction to Roger. The pounding heart, the burning senses, sinful thoughts run wild. Now she is the target of terrorists bent on destroying the heart of America. As Roger lays his life on the line to protect her, they uncover a plot already in motion to assassinate the President. As the world teeters on the edge of chaos, any hope for a future rests in Roger’s already bloodstained hands…and the quietly faithful woman who holds his heart. Warning: Hot action and to die for heroes will leave you breathless. Enjoy the following excerpt for Tactical Deception: His duty was to protect and to serve. Keeping Mari and her child as safe and as taken care of as if Neil himself was at her side was paramount.

Before the guilt of Neil’s death could get another strangling hold on him, Roger marched to his bedroom door. He couldn’t effectively take care of Mari if she hid herself from him. Something had to change. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked harder. Still no answer. Worried now, he opened the door. “Mari?” Light from the bathroom highlighted her figure at the window. She stood minus her abaya and hijab—her black gown and headscarf. She wore a long tunic over slim pants, a vision of cream-colored silk and ebony hair that fell well below her waist. Gold leaves embroidered the collar, sleeves and hems of her outfit. The effect was delicate, exotic, almost ethereal. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she had her hands pressed to her abdomen, to the child growing within her. “Are you hurting? Is it the baby? Do you need to go to the hospital?” “No. The baby is fine. No pain.” Relief had his blood rushing with dizzying force, leaving him almost lightheaded and his chest tightened into a knot. Emotion, pain and desire, sucker punched him in the gut and below. What kind of low-bellied dick was he? The lowest, he decided. He couldn’t stop his heated arousal in response to her beauty, but he damn well could ignore it and remember with every shred of decency he had in him that if it wasn’t for him, Neil would be with Mari right now and none of the shit that had happened to her lately would have occurred. She stood frozen a moment then turned, reaching for her black gown. “Don’t. Please don’t hide from me.” His voice escaped in a harsh rasp. She paused, looking at him, her hand resting on her heavy gown. Her golden eyes were wide with…fear?

He covered the distance between them. “Are you afraid of me?” Their gazes met and she lowered hers. He knew before he slid his thumb under her chin how soft her skin was. Just weeks ago, he’d lost his restraint and kissed her tear-dampened cheeks after Dugar had taken a shot at her outside the hospital. That night he’d held her bandaged hand as she’d restlessly slept between nightmares. And until helping her up from the street today, it was the last time he’d touched her. He clasped her hand resting on her gown and brought it to his chest, placing her palm firmly over his racing heart. Her gaze reconnected with his and he asked her again. “Are you afraid of me?” “No,” she whispered before shutting her eyes and pulling her hand away. She said no, but he swore he saw fear swirling in her conflicted expression. “Why then? Why didn’t you tell me how bad things were for you? I could have helped or gotten you help. And why didn’t you tell me about the shooting lessons? I would have arranged for them. Made sure you were safe.” “You would have?” She blinked at him with surprise. “But you were adamant about me not leaving the post for any reason. Not even to go with Holly to the store in Fayetteville.” “Going to a shoe sale in a crowded mall is different than going to a gun range. Besides, learning to protect yourself is more important than buying shoes.” Roger raked his fingers through his hair. He remembered the conversation they’d had a few weeks back. And yeah, he’d been pretty strong in his objections about them going to the mall. But then, someone had been calling in bomb threats at that time too. It had been three weeks after Dugar’s attempts to kill her and Roger would have bet money Dugar was behind the threats. He hadn’t told Mari about any of it though. He hadn’t wanted her to worry. Only to heal.

She frowned at him as if he’d grown horns. “What?” he asked. Had he said something wrong? “So what does that mean? I am not supposed to do something, but if it’s something you approve of then it is all right to do it?” Hell. She made him sound as if he were a bipolar prison guard. He counted to ten, hoping to ease his frustration, but it didn’t work. “No. Well, sometimes, maybe, yes. I mean—” Tension knotted his brow. What did he mean? Couldn’t she see the difference between the two outings? “We can discuss the details later. I just need to know why you couldn’t tell me about the anxiety you’re having and that you wanted to learn self-defense.” “I didn’t want you to worry.” Roger opened his mouth then shut it. He’d kept things from her for the same reason, but this was different. She’d put herself in both physical and mental jeopardy. Then again, hadn’t he set himself as her prison guard as opposed to a bodyguard? Had he done anything personal to put her at ease enough to be able to share her anxiety with him? No, he’d let his guilt and his need to avoid his attraction to her keep her at a cold, formal distance. He had to change. “You can’t do that anymore. From now on, no matter what you want to do, just tell me and whether I like it or not, I will help you do it, okay? It is the only way I can assure your safety.” “That’s it? If I want to go buy shoes then you’ll take me?” He exhaled. “Yes. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to voice my opinion on whether it’s a smart thing to do or not. And if I really think something is too dangerous then I expect you to respect my serious concerns. This isn’t a forever state of affairs. It’s just until Dugar is caught, then you’ll be your own woman, okay?”

Her own woman? Did she even know who she was? Mari looked up at Roger, her heart racing so fast she could barely think. A few moments ago, she’d been staring out at the purple-red sunset, wondering how she could face Roger. She’d done exactly what he’d told her not to do and it had turned out so badly. She’d been sickened over how miserably she’d failed in establishing any shred of independence. Her worst fears about herself had come true. She’d had a total panicked meltdown. She’d been thrust back into the darkness of what had happened in Afghanistan. She’d hit the bottom and was surprised that she’d survived it all. Her pride was bruised, but she was okay. Now she was not only facing Roger but…she stood alone with him, in his bedroom, wearing only her tunic and pants and she wasn’t embarrassed or shamed. She wanted this familiarity between them. He wasn’t as mad as she thought he would be either. It wasn’t as if her choosing to leave the post didn’t matter. She could see that he was clearly upset and worried about her. But it wasn’t how she’d thought it would be. Her father would have— Roger wasn’t her father. Never would be. But he wasn’t the easygoing teddy bear Neil had been either. In some ways Roger was like a fierce warrior. Dangerous and remote. She’d seen the deadly anger in his eyes when it came to Dugar. She had no doubt that Roger would kill Dugar with his bare hands if he had to. She’d also seen a haunted darkness in him too. Roger had deep secrets that she instinctively knew he’d never let another person near. Neil had been different. There wasn’t a part of him he didn’t openly share with her. It wasn’t that he didn’t keep information from her. There were things about his job he couldn’t tell her and things she would never ask him. But his soul and heart had wrapped warmly around her as accepting and loving as a puppy. He’d never said anything to curtail what she did, but then, she’d never

ventured beyond the strictures of her upbringing. It was two years before he could talk her into going to the store alone. It wasn’t until she met Holly that Mari started thinking about doing things outside of the rules, about getting an education, a job, learning to shoot a gun, and yes, one of those things was standing without her abaya before a man who wasn’t her husband, her brother or her father. A man who said she could be her own woman? What did that mean? “Okay?” Roger angled his head to look into her eyes as he set his hands on her shoulders. She nodded. Her tongue was tied in the gratefulness clogging her throat and in the fire burning through her senses at his heated touch. He’d made this whole big problem and the fiasco of the day all so simple. So easy to let go of and move forward. At least she thought he had. Currently her mind reeled, making coherent thought debatable. His nearness and intensity had her blood racing places her mind couldn’t go yet. He released her and stepped back. “Hungry?” “Yes.” She drew in a much-needed breath of air. She thought about grabbing her abaya and putting it on now. Considering the way he made her feel, it would be safer. “What do you want to eat for dinner?” He started walking out of the bedroom, but his gaze fell on the rumpled bed and she cringed. It looked as if a tornado had struck it, she’d tossed and turned so much. She rushed over to straighten the bedcovers. “Whatever you want will be fine.” She didn’t dare look at him. What he must think. He’d loaned her his bed and she couldn’t even leave it neat. Leaning forward with her knees against the mattress, she fixed the blanket and threw the pillows back up to the headboard.

She stood back quickly and hit a hard, hot body—an unmistakably aroused, hard, hot, male body. His arm wrapped around her when she teetered with surprise and a visceral shock wave of want hit her hard. He groaned, deep and guttural. She gasped and turned to face him, feeling his hand slide along her back and settle on her hip. He looked fierce, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily. His blue eyes penetrated so deep into her that it almost hurt to look into them, a pleasure/pain she couldn’t seem to embrace nor turn away from. “No ‘whatever you want will be fine’ responses,” he rasped. “Don’t fuss with the bed. Don’t hide behind politeness. Don’t worry if something is going to please me or displease me. I want the real, honest you. I want your opinion. I want to know what your wants and thoughts are. What your feelings are. I want to know the woman you are. And right this minute, I want to know what you are hungry for.” The word you rushed into her mind—forbidden, dangerous. I’m hungry for you. She nearly cried out from the confusion and pain inside her. He was so close, so dynamically real. She could practically feel everything about him in the touch of his hand on her hip, his heat, his supple strength, his gripping passion. “Pizza,” she shouted before anything else she was thinking could escape. “Pizza with cheese and onions and lots of vegetables.” She had to force the words out. Almost shout them and her adamancy surprised her. “What do you want?” He paused and just stared at her for a moment. His fingers flexed on her hip. “Meat. I’m a meat lover. I will settle for pepperoni, sausage, ham and…chicken. For now.” He stepped back like a soldier at attention then turned and literally marched stiffly from the room.

Mari frowned. Why was that settling?

The deeper they dig into the past, the closer they come to a killer.

Blood and Bone © 2011 Dawn Brown

Crime writer Shayne Reynolds is looking for the next book that’ll get her out of her parents’ basement and on track to rebuilding her life. She’s found it in Robert Anderson, a confessed murderer who’s out on parole. Something’s never added up about that case. From the moment she sets foot in Dark Water, nothing goes as planned. Anderson’s family wants her to drop the story—especially surviving son Des. A man who ignites sizzling heat even as he stands firmly in her way. Laboring under his father’s crushing legacy and his grandmother’s iron resolve to get rid of the nosy writer at any cost, Des struggles to save the selfdestructive sister who once saved him. There’s something honest and forthright about Shayne, though, that tempts him to help her get to the truth. Even if it means double-crossing his powerful grandmother. Despite their resolve to keep it strictly business, sexual sparks quickly set fire to tangled emotions. And threads of a fragile bond that someone with a vendetta could use to weave their death shroud… Warning: This story contains a feisty writer, a sexy younger man and a mystery with enough twists and turns to cause vertigo. Enjoy the following excerpt for Blood and Bone: Shayne’s head spun as Des’s mouth, rough and hungry, moved over hers. His hand at her cheek raked through her hair, grasping the strands in his fist as if to keep her from moving away. He needn't have worried.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Craving the feel of him pressed against her, she arched forward, but the seat belt held her in place, driving her half-crazy with frustration. His hand at her hip slid under her backside, gripping and kneading, as his tongue darted into her mouth, tasting her, letting her taste him. Heat pooled low in her belly, making her wet. God, she wanted him. The force of her need slammed into her like a truck, leaving her weak. She nipped at his lower lip and he drew back with a sharp hiss. The memory of his battered face had the same effect as a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry,” she said, dropping her arms back to her sides. “I forgot your mouth.” “I don’t care,” he growled, lowering his head and trailing nibbling kisses along her jaw line. Her skin tingled where his lips touched. If they didn’t stop now, she’d tear off his clothes and take him right there in the passenger seat, battered or not. What was wrong with her? “We have to stop.” She pressed against his chest with the flats of both hands. When he lifted his head, his eyes, dark like a storm at sea, held hers. “Why?” “Aside from the book I’m writing about your father—” the mere mention of the book had Des back in his seat, “—I just got divorced. You’d be a rebound.” That smirk she was becoming all too familiar with curved his mouth, and he leaned forward, his lips nearly brushing hers. “Rebound, huh?” Would he kiss her again? A tiny thrill pulled tightly in her belly. “That’s right.” Her voice was hoarse. “We’ll see,” he murmured instead.

Des left the car and sauntered across the empty lot, then slid behind the wheel of the station wagon. The engine roared to life and he honked once before pulling out onto the road and driving away. With his car out of sight, Shayne rested her forehead against the steering wheel, closed her eyes and released a slow breath. What had she been thinking? Obviously, she hadn’t been, that was the problem. His image lingered behind her closed lids as if burned onto her retinas. His too-long hair falling away from his face, high forehead, straight nose, and square chin. So he was extremely attractive with a certain cynical charm, that still didn’t explain her making out with him in her car like a horny teenager. She knew better. Maybe she hadn’t been that far off calling Des a rebound. God knew her ego had taken a beating when Travis hooked up with Sandy so fast. She couldn’t deny the painful surprise at finding herself replaced, as though all she’d ever been to Travis was a walking uterus—and a defective one, at that. No doubt the attentions of an attractive, younger man assuaged her wounded self-esteem. She sat up and opened her eyes. She could analyze the situation until the sun came up—which coincidentally was less than an hour away—but the bottom line was she had a book to write. Whatever strange attraction she was experiencing was completely inappropriate. Des was a source for a story, nothing more. She needed him to help her find Julia at the very least, and in a best-case scenario, to agree to an interview himself. She couldn’t afford to blur the line between them because she was flattered, or because he was a damned good kisser. From this point forward, her behavior where Des was concerned would be nothing less than perfectly professional.