Fired Up

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “But Fallon still doesn’t know why Nightshade wanted the lamp?”

  “His working theory is that Nightshade went after the lamp for the same reason they wanted the formula.”

  She nodded. “Because it holds out the possibility of enhancing talent.”

  “Makes sense. But whatever the reason, we’re out of it. The problem is Fallon’s now.”

  She raised her wineglass in a small salute. “Another case closed for Harper Investigations.”

  For some reason he didn’t like the sound of that. It sounded too final. But she was right.

  “You’re good,” he said.

  “Told you so.”

  He smiled. “Yes, you did. You know, I’ve been thinking.”

  “About?” she prompted. There was an aura of anticipation about her.

  “According to Fallon, Nightshade is very well organized. There are several circles or cells of ascending power with some version of a corporate board of directors at the top. There seem to be no links between the circles. Each one functions independently.”

  The aura of warm anticipation that had enveloped her promptly faded. He was almost sure she gave a tiny, wistful sigh. He had the feeling he had screwed up. What had she expected him to say? She recovered immediately.

  “In other words, J&J can take down some of the circles, but that won’t help them find clues that would lead to the people at the top,” she said.

  “Right. But here’s the thing: Regardless of how well organized it is, at its heart Nightshade has to be a for-profit business.”

  She raised her brows. “You mean its goal is to make money?”

  “The ultimate goal for an organization like Nightshade is power. But money is the gasoline that fuels that engine. From what Fallon has told me Nightshade is, at its core, a company engaged in pharmaceutical R&D, manufacturing and distribution. High-tech labs and distribution networks, legal or otherwise, don’t operate on thin air. They burn cash. Lots of it.”

  “Makes sense,” she agreed.

  “That means that those cells or circles have to make money. What’s more, it’s a given that each circle is kicking up a share of the profits to the guys at the top. That’s how moneymaking organizations of any kind work.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means,” he said deliberately, “that no matter how well a circle is isolated from the other circles there has to be some way for it to send money up to the top of the organization. It also has to be able to move the drug.”

  “Got an idea?”

  “I’m wondering if Fallon Jones is paying enough attention to the oldest rule in business.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Follow the money.” He drank some more whiskey and set the glass down, a sense of anticipation building inside him. “The money chain has got to be a major weak point for Nightshade, one of the places it’s vulnerable.”

  She looked intrigued. “Have you talked to Fallon about that? Maybe he could use some help. From the sound of things he’s very shorthanded.”

  “Maybe I’ll give him a call after dinner.”

  She smiled a little. “You do that.”

  An hour later they left the casino and went out into the neon-lit fantasy world of the Strip. The night was chilly, but the sidewalks that linked the big resorts were crowded with people making their way from one glittering hotel to the next.

  Along the way Las Vegas Boulevard was crammed with special effects: Full-scale pirate ships floated on man-made seas and launched cannon attacks. Flames roared from a large volcano. Gondolas drifted on a canal that looked as if it had been plucked from the heart of Venice. Fountains danced to music across a vast lake. Huge marquees emblazoned with the names of the stars and shows appearing in the big theaters glowed as bright as suns in the night.

  Jack stopped on the steps of a Roman forum and made the call to Fallon.

  “You got something new for me?” Fallon asked impatiently. “I’m a little busy here.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the money angle.”

  There was an unnatural pause on the other end.

  “What about it?” Fallon asked. But now he sounded curious.

  “Just wondered how far you’ve been able to pursue it with this Nightshade operation.”

  “Not far.” Fallon let out a deep sigh. “On paper, at least, the labs we took down all appear to be independently owned and operated. No links to anything.”

  “That’s impossible. There has to be a way to feed money up the chain of command to the guys at the top. There must be a way to move the drug as well.”

  “I agree,” Fallon said. “But my people haven’t been able to find any connections. When it comes to organization, these guys are good, Jack. Don’t forget, it was set up by a man who spent years working undercover for a government black-ops group.”

  “If it’s so well run, why are they using cheap, low- end muscle to do the dirty work?”

  “You’re talking about the two bikers who tried to grab the lamp?”

  “They were hunters, but they weren’t exactly top- of-the-line talents.”

  “Nightshade uses a lot of cheap muscle,” Fallon said. “Probably because it’s widely available and also expendable. You can always find more labor where that came from, if you see what I mean.”

  “Where?”

  “What do you mean, where?”

  “Where do you go to get an endless supply of expendable street muscle?” Jack asked patiently.

  “Hell, try L.A. or San Francisco or Las Vegas. Guys like them are everywhere.”

  “But somehow you have to recruit them, get them started on the drug and then maintain control of them. Can’t see a bunch of corporate suits sending people from whatever passes for Nightshade’s human resources department into dark alleys to interview possible job candidates.”

  Fallon was silent for an uncharacteristically long moment.

  “Got any ideas?” he said eventually.

  “I’m thinking about it.”

  “Do that. Call me as soon as you come up with something solid. I could use a break here.”

  The phone went dead in Jack’s ear. He looked at Chloe.

  “I think Fallon just hired me to work for J&J,” he said.

  “Good move on his part.” She looked back over her shoulder toward the hotel. “Well, I suppose I should go back to the room, pack and make a reservation on a morning flight to Seattle. When are you leaving?”

  “Hadn’t thought about it.” It stunned him to realize that was the truth. Suddenly, returning to Seattle and his cold concrete-and-steel condo was the last thing he wanted to do.

  It wasn’t until he reached for her hand that it occurred to him that they had never done anything as simple as walking hand in hand together.

  His fingers tightened around hers.

  “It’s been a fast few days,” he said, searching for a way into the conversation. “We haven’t had a lot of time to talk about other things besides the lamp.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as what happens now,” he said.

  “Now?”

  He looked at her. “You’re not making this any easier. I’m trying to talk about us.”

  “If you find it hard to talk about us maybe that’s a sign that you should try another subject,” she said gently.

  “I’ll admit I’m not good at discussions like this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to have it.”

  “Jack, it’s okay. Really.”

  It didn’t take a psychic to know that the conversation was going downhill fast, he thought.

  “What’s okay?” he asked, wary.

  “You and me. You don’t have to explain or apologize. I understand exactly what happened between us.”

  “Yeah? Then maybe you can explain it to me.”

  “It’s the pressure of everything that’s been going on.” She started to wave her other hand and then evidently realized that she was clutching her heavy satchel in it. She lowere
d her arm. “We’ve both been under a lot of stress. After all, people were trying to kill us. That generates some very powerful but very temporary emotions.”

  “Emotions,” he repeated, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  “Exactly. Plus, I know you’re probably feeling grateful to me at the moment because the case is now closed. That’s a normal reaction. A lot of clients experience it.”

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t feel grateful?”

  “I’m saying that you shouldn’t confuse gratitude and physical attraction with . . . with other stuff. I’m sure there are other dreamlight readers out there who could have worked that lamp for you. You just happened to pick me, that’s all.”

  “I was attracted to you before I knew that you would be able to find the lamp, let alone work it,” he said. “And I think you were attracted to me. How do you explain that?”

  “I’ll admit there was definitely a strong, initial attraction between us, but it may have gotten blown out of all proportion because of the tense situation in which we found ourselves. And we can’t forget the possibility that the lamp exerted some influence on our auras. We probably need some perspective here.”

  He pulled her out of the stream of strolling people, into the shadows cast by a large outside stairwell that led to the upper floor of a resort shopping mall. He crowded her gently, deliberately, against the stone wall and caged her there.

  “Jack?”

  He leaned in close, opening his senses to the subtle aura of feminine energy that was so unique to her. He put his mouth against her ear.

  “You want perspective?” he asked. “I’ll give you perspective.” He kissed the side of her throat. “I wanted you before we found the lamp. I wanted you after we found the lamp, and I still want you now that the lamp is in Arcane hands.” He brushed his mouth lightly across hers. “That’s my perspective on the situation. What’s yours?”

  For a few seconds, she did not move. Then, with a low, throaty murmur, her arms wound slowly around his neck.

  “Well, when you put it that way,” she whispered.

  It wasn’t exactly the total capitulation he’d been going for, but he was no fool. Tonight he would take what he could get. This was Vegas, and in this town strat-talents knew when to hold ’em.

  He kissed her again, feeling her soften and warm against him. The noise of the street crowds faded into the distance.

  After a while they walked back to the hotel, hand in hand.

  He could get used to this feeling, whatever it was. Hell, he was already addicted.

  40

  SHE AWOKE TO THE KNOWLEDGE THAT SHE WAS ALONE IN the bed. When she opened her eyes she saw Jack silhouetted against the window, looking down into the neon night. He had put on his trousers but not his shirt. She did not need her other senses to perceive the tension prowling through him. It was a palpable force in the atmosphere.

  She sat up against the pillows and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  He turned to face her, his expression unreadable in the darkness. “Could you do to me what you did to Drake Stone today?”

  She frowned. “Lift a hypnotic trance? Yes, I suppose so. Assuming someone actually managed to hypnotize you.”

  “You don’t think that’s possible?”

  “I think it’s extremely unlikely. You’re a very strong talent. High-level sensitives are notoriously difficult to hypnotize. Frankly, I doubt that anyone could put you into a deep trance, not even a strong para-hypnotist.” She paused. “Not unless you cooperated.”

  “How would I do that?”

  She wrapped her arms around her knees and considered the problem. “You’d have to deliberately open your senses like you did last night when we worked the lamp. Even then, it would be hard for anyone to put you under. And even if someone succeeded, I doubt if any hypnotic suggestion would hold for long. It would wear off quite fast.”

  “What if the emergence of my new talent left me vulnerable to a hypnotist?”

  “We’ve talked about this, Jack. You don’t have a new talent; you have a fully developed talent.”

  “Call it whatever you want. The hallucinations were a real pain in the ass, but at least I was aware of what was happening. The nightmares were bad, but I was dealing with them. It’s the blackouts that have me worried. It seems logical to me that during that time my natural defenses might have been down. Who knows what I was doing or what happened to me?”

  “There is no indication that you’re getting your memory back yet?”

  “Flickers and shadows.” He looked out the window into the night. “Whispers. It’s going to drive me crazy, Chloe. I need to know what happened during the blackouts and the sleepwalking episodes.”

  “As far as I can tell, the only thing that is still going on is the static caused by those sleeping meds you were taking. But like you said, you started those after the blackouts and the sleepwalking episodes.”

  “Can you get rid of the disturbance caused by the meds without the lamp?”

  She thought about it. “I can calm the currents temporarily, like I did the other night, at least enough so that you can get some sleep. But I’m not sure it would be a good idea to try to do any more than that. I don’t think it’s necessary, either. It looks like your body is flushing out the medication on its own.”

  “I don’t want to wait. Who knows how long it will take? I need answers now.”

  “I might be able to reestablish the normal rhythms of the portion of the spectrum that is affected,” she said. “But if I get it wrong I might end up fraying the channels between your dreamstate and your waking state again. If I screw up, the hallucinations and nightmares will come back. If we do this, we should probably have the lamp handy, just in case we need it again.”

  “It would take time to get to L.A. and persuade Arcane to let me run another experiment. I don’t want to wait.”

  “This is that important to you?” she asked.

  “I have to get some answers, Chloe.”

  “All right,” she said quietly. She pushed back the covers, got to her feet and pulled on the plush hotel bathrobe. “I’ll give it a whirl but no guarantees. Understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “And if I sense that things are going badly, I’m going to pull the plug on the experiment. Agreed?”

  He did not respond right away, but finally he nodded once.

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “Sit down,” she instructed.

  He lowered himself into one of the wingback chairs. She walked across the room, stopped beside the chair and took his hand in hers.

  “Ready?” she said.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Open your senses to the max. Given your high level of talent, I need you to be all the way into the zone. Otherwise your dream spectrum isn’t clear to me.”

  No energy pulsed.

  “You don’t have to be nervous about your talent,” she said. “Trust me, you’re in full control. You won’t accidentally scare me to death. You’d have to focus with deliberate intent to do that. Just opening your senses won’t be a problem. We’ve been there before. Remember last night?”

  His mouth crooked faintly at the corner. In spite of the seriousness of the moment there was something wickedly sexy about his smile.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “I remember last night.”

  She was suddenly aware of energy flaring hot in the atmosphere. She heightened her own senses and studied the heavy waves of dark dream energy that pulsed and radiated in his aura. Gingerly, she sent a little pulse of light into the section of the spectrum that was influenced by the medication.

  Nothing happened.

  “Hmm,” she said. “Whatever it is, it’s powerful stuff. I don’t think I can reboot the currents, at least not while you’re awake.”

  He gave her an odd look. “You want to knock me out?”

  “No. I want you to go to sleep. Once you’re in the dreamstate I m
ay be able to manipulate your energy patterns more easily.”

  He stretched out his legs, rested his head against the back of the chair and watched her through half-closed eyes. “Now what?”

  “Now you sleep,” she said softly.

  She took his hand again and pulsed a little energy. Jack resisted for a few seconds. She knew it was pure instinct on his part. He was not good at giving up control.

  “Trust me, Jack,” she told him.

  He closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  41

  HE DREAMS . . .

  He’s awake again but groggy and disoriented. He’s shivering, too. Same as last time. Must be running a fever.

  The clang and rumble of machinery overhead reverberates through the ceiling. The noise pounds his raw, exposed senses. He opens his eyes and sees that he is in a small, windowless room. The walls are painted stark white. There is a stainless-steel counter on one side next to the door. A glary fluorescent fixture assaults his senses. He tries to lift one arm to block out the painful light, but he can’t move his hand.

  “Wake up, Jack.”

  Chloe’s voice calls him out of the darkness. He wants to move toward her, but he’s trapped in this fevered nightmare. The sound of the machines is relentless. His arms are bound to the side of a bed.

  Rage and panic lash through him.

  “Jack. You must wake up now.”

  Chloe’s voice is stronger, more insistent this time. He struggles to free himself so that he can get to her . . .

  He opened his eyes and saw her. She was still standing by the chair, her fingers wrapped tightly around his. In the neon- lit moonlight her face was shadowed with anxiety and concern.

  “It’s okay,” he said. Adrenaline flooded through him. “I’m awake.”

  “Your currents look normal,” she said. She did not let go of his hand. “What do you remember?”

  “Everything.”

  It all came slamming back like a tsunami. He had to fight to control the flood tide. And then he had to fight to control his spiraling fury. He forced himself to stay focused.

  He started talking, getting it all out fast while it was clear. He could not afford to risk losing even a single detail.