“Do you want to know how many tiles are in your shower?”
She nodded.
He told her.
She ducked back into the bathroom. Several minutes passed. She exited, returned to the sofa, and sank down beside him. “You were right.”
He smiled. “Do you want to count the boards on your front porch? I could tell you how many shingles are on your roof, if you’d like.”
“No thanks. You’ve blown my mind enough.”
“If I really wanted to blow your mind, I’d tell you how many pieces of gravel are in your driveway.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I told you. Photographic to the nth power. I remember every detail of every minute I’ve ever lived with exceptional clarity.” Occasionally he wished like hell he could forget some of it. He had amassed a lot of memories in just over a century. He enjoyed being able to recall the good times so clearly. But the bad times . . .
He had watched helplessly as a friend had been decapitated last year and would give almost anything to be able to erase that from his memory.
“What did you call us?” she asked, voice tentative. “I mean, people who have special abilities.”
“Gifted ones.” He gave her a moment, then leaned forward and took her hand, careful to avoid touching the scratches. Another spark of attraction zipped through him at the contact. He’d been fighting it ever since he had torn his gaze away from her swaying hips earlier. Something about her just tempted the hell out of him. “What gift have you been hiding?”
Her fingers tightened around his. “You won’t believe me,” she said.
“Try me.” He sent her an encouraging smile. He knew how hard it was to talk about such things.
“I can read minds.”
“You’re a telepath?”
“Yes.”
“I’m guessing you can’t read my mind.”
She bit her lip. “No, I can’t. But I really am telepathic.”
“I believe you. I know other telepaths who can’t read my mind even though they can read almost everyone else’s. Apparently I have a very hard head,” he said with a grin, hoping the furrow in her brow would smooth.
Her expression turned doubtful. “You know other telepaths?” Did she think he mocked her?
“Several actually. Only the most powerful of them can read my mind. And it’s so difficult that, when they do, it makes my nose bleed and hurts like hell.” Fucking Zach had damned near brought Ethan to his knees, trying to read his mind.
“Not being able to read your mind was one of the reasons I thought I was dreaming earlier. I could never read your mind in the dreams. And I’ve never encountered anyone in real life whose mind I couldn’t read.”
“There are others out there who are hard to read, we’re just very rare,” he assured her.
She leaned forward, hope and fear mingling in her wide eyes. “Are you bullshitting me, Ethan? Because—”
“No. I’m telling you the truth.” He frowned. “You’ve really never had any other prophetic dreams?”
“None.”
Maybe she was like Sarah. Sarah hadn’t known her dreams foretold the truth until Seth had told her. But Sarah’s dreams were riddled with symbols. Events didn’t unfold in them exactly as they would in reality.
Heather’s dream had shown her vividly and precisely what was to come.
“That’s a puzzle,” he admitted.
She nodded.
He drew his thumb across the back of her hand. Her skin was so soft.
He heard her heartbeat pick up again. “Are you afraid of me, Heather?”
“No. Not really. Why?”
“Your heartbeat keeps picking up whenever I’m near you or when I touch you.”
Color flooded her cheeks.
“It’s okay. I won’t be hurt if you are. Considering how we met—”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
Ethan studied her. If she wasn’t afraid of him . . .
She groaned. “This is so embarrassing. You’re going to think I’m a total loon.”
“I assure you I won’t.”
She bit her lip. “You must know you’re good-looking. I mean, women probably throw themselves at you wherever you go.”
“You’re attracted to me?” he asked with some astonishment . . . and a lot of interest. This night—or morning—was taking an unexpected and wholly welcome turn.
She covered her eyes with her free hand. “Yes.”
“Good.” When she peeked through her fingers at him, he smiled. “I’m incredibly attracted to you.”
She lowered her hand. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“No, I’m not. Why do you think my eyes keep glowing? I assume my eyes are glowing faintly?”
“Yes.”
“They’re doing that because I want you.”
She remained quiet for a moment. “They were glowing when you fought the other vampires. Somehow I doubt you wanted them.”
He laughed, pain again streaking through his back. “I was furious. My eyes glow whenever I’m gripped by strong emotion. Anger. Pain. Grief. Lust. The stronger the emotion, the brighter they glow.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Does it frighten you or make you uneasy when they glow?” he asked tentatively.
“No.” Her eyes locked with his. “I think they’re pretty when they glow.”
Now his heart began to thud against his ribs.
“I know I sound like a broken record,” she murmured, still staring into his eyes, “but this is so weird.”
He grinned. “It is weird. Here I thought I’d dispatch a few vampires, then head over to a friend’s house to stave off the loneliness that’s been plaguing me of late, and instead, I get to spend the day with you.” He narrowed his eyes. “I do get to spend the day with you, don’t I?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He winked. “I’m going to tell myself it’s because you enjoy my charming company instead of it being because you’re afraid more vampires might show up.”
She laughed, and seemed to relax for the first time. “And if I admit that it’s for both reasons?”
Something warm unfurled in his chest as he gave her hand a squeeze. “Then I’d say my day just got a hell of a lot brighter.”
Chapter Three
“Can I bum a smoke?”
Nick Altomari looked over at his friend. “Where are yours?”
“I promised Cindy I’d stop smokin’ before the baby’s born.”
Releasing his hold on the M16 looped over his shoulder, Nick removed the pack he always carried from a pocket and held it out to Weston.
Wes drew out a cigarette, lit it up, and took a long, satisfied drag.
Smiling, Nick shook his head, pocketed the pack, and returned his attention to the forest his perch high in the southwest guard tower overlooked. A full moon cloaked by clouds cast dim blue light on the dense trees and thick tropical foliage. Hidden behind the jungle, the ocean lapped at a narrow shore and joined the other night sounds.
A tall, thick cement wall surrounded the small military base Nick guarded. Beyond it stood two chain-link fences, positioned several yards apart, that were woven with razor wire. The bare ground between them had been covered with thick sand none could cross safely without guidance. Any who tried would die when their foot inevitably found one of the many land mines buried within it. Beyond that, a wide swath of foliage had been cut down so no one could approach the “beach” without gaining notice and being challenged.
“Check it out.” Wes pulled a white envelope from his back pocket, opened it, and withdrew a photo.
Nick leaned over to study it.
Weston’s wife, Cindy, was seated on a tattered sofa, the waist of her pants nudged down to expose a huge, pale belly, her shirt pulled up to just beneath her breasts.
Nick grinned. “She looks like she swallowed a beach ball.” Of all the guys bunking at the army base, Nick was closest to Wes. Though Nick was a few years ol
der, they had known each other and been friends since basic training. Wes was twenty-one, Cindy twenty. A bit young to start a family, Nick thought, but he said nothing. “How far along is she?”
“Eight months.”
Nick regarded her big belly and arched a brow. “Are you sure she isn’t carrying twins?”
Wes grinned. “We’re sure. The doctor warned us early on that the baby might be big like her daddy.”
Nick shook his head. “What the hell are you going to do with a little girl?”
“Chase off all her boyfriends when she’s old enough to date.”
Both men laughed.
Weston carefully tucked the picture away. “Last time I talked to her, Cindy kept cryin’ about bein’ fat and ugly.”
“Really? I think she looks cute.”
“Me, too.” He frowned. “Wait. Cute how? Cute like ‘I’d do her’ cute?”
Nick snorted. “Damn, you’re a jealous man.”
Wes sighed. “I know. I just can’t stand the idea of any other man even lookin’ at her. And with her bein’ thousands of miles away . . .” He frowned. “Sometimes I worry she might find someone else.”
“Get serious. Cindy loves you.” But Nick knew it wasn’t just jealousy that precipitated his friend’s pensive expression. “Only four months and a wake-up till you’re outta here.”
Weston nodded, staring out at the dark jungle. “It kills me that I won’t be there when my daughter’s born.”
Nick could understand that. He clapped Weston on the back. “Have your sister videotape it so you can have all the gory details.”
He grimaced. “I don’t know how many gory details I want.”
Amiable silence claimed them.
Nick glanced at his watch. Two more hours, then he could turn in. “I think I might have a pregnant woman fetish,” he mused. “Is that a thing? Is there a pregnant woman fetish?”
Wes laughed. “I don’t know. Why would you think that?”
“Some of the other guys have flashed pics of their pregnant wives or girlfriends and, unlike you, complained about how fat they were, saying they hoped the weight would fall off as soon as the baby was born.” He shrugged. “I always think the women look hot.”
Still smiling, Wes shook his head. “I’d say you were strange, but I don’t think Cindy has ever looked hotter than she does now. Maybe we’re both strange.”
A cry sounded in the distance.
Straightening, Nick scowled and peered in the direction of the ocean. “What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Wes squinted. “Was it a bird?”
“I don’t think so.”
Another cry.
Foliage far in the distance—barely discernible in the darkness—began to jerk and sway.
“What the hell?” Nick muttered.
Trees shook and bent. Foliage rustled and bounced.
“What is it?” Weston asked, face anxious.
“I don’t know. But it’s coming this way.” Nick touched his earpiece. “Hit the lights. We’ve got incoming.”
Stadium lights, so bright they hurt Nick’s eyes, flashed on, lighting up the “beach” and the trees on all sides of the base.
A wide swath of forest rippled with movement that grew closer and closer with every breath. Eerie growls or snarls or something deep and ugly swelled as whatever the hell it was approached.
Nick’s hands tightened on his weapon as images from every dinosaur and big-ass monster movie he had ever seen flashed through his head.
“What the fuck is it?” Weston hissed, his voice high with fear. “A fuckin’ T. rex?”
“I know, right?” Nick tried and failed to keep his voice light.
A buzzing whir sounded behind them. Nick risked glancing over his shoulder and saw remote-controlled fifty caliber automatic weapons rise atop the roof of the main structure.
“Attention,” a voice blared from the speakers on the wall. “You are trespassing on property of the United States of America.” The entire island—not just the base—fell under the army’s jurisdiction. “This military installation is off-limits to all civilians and unauthorized personnel. Deadly force has been authorized. Trespassers will be shot. Stop where you are and leave, or approach slowly with your hands in the air and identify yourself.”
“If you have hands,” Weston muttered.
Nick nodded, his heart pounding as the message repeated.
Unless they were plowing through the forest in large, exceedingly fast machines capable of knocking down trees as they went, whatever approached wasn’t human.
The . . . thing or things . . . were almost to the tree line when Nick heard a male voice speak low in his earpiece.
“Light ’em up, boys.”
Fire shot from the muzzles of the rooftop weapons as big-ass bullets tore through the jungle beyond the makeshift beach.
That ought to do it, Nick thought with some relief.
Foliage began to topple beneath the barrage, so powerful were the mini-missiles.
“Yeah!” Weston cheered. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!”
Nick didn’t celebrate.
The growls and tree jostling didn’t cease. They increased.
Glass shattered above Nick’s head.
Wincing, he ducked back as the stadium lights above went dark and glass fell past his post in shards. More glass shattered down the way as all the lights were targeted. The stadium lights, the floodlights on the walls, those above the front gates, and every other light that was visible from the jungle burst into sharp confetti.
The base plunged into darkness.
Explosions lit up the night as something unseen breached the first chain-link fence and attempted to cross the “beach.”
Nick and Wes both lunged for the drawer that contained the night-vision monoculars.
Nick yanked it open. “Here.” Glancing up, he held out a monocular to his friend.
Something large and dark struck Wes, driving him backward.
Dropping the monocular, Nick turned and raised his weapon. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, faint moonlight allowed him to find Wes down on the floor, his head lying two feet from his body.
“Fuck!” Nick looked around wildly, turning this way and that, searching for whatever had attacked. It was so damned dark.
Screams erupted in the next tower. Then the next. Down on the ground.
Nick backed toward the drawer, his heart slamming against his ribs.
Nothing moved.
Taking a huge chance, he released his weapon with one hand long enough to grab the other monocular from the drawer.
His hand shook as he attached it to his scope. Even over the screams, the gunfire, and those growls, his breath sounded loud in his ears.
Securing his hold on his weapon, he raised the scope to his eye and peered through it.
Ice sliced through his veins.
“Shit!” Nick squeezed the trigger as he stumbled backward.
Ethan downed the glass of tea Heather had offered him, wishing he had thought to bring a couple bags of blood with him. As he glanced around the room, taking in the half dozen or so framed photos, unease trickled through him. “Heather, who is the man in the photographs? The one in the uniform?”
She glanced at the pictures hanging on one wall. “My father.”
“He’s in the military?”
“Yes. He’s in the army.”
And there were a hell of a lot of shiny things on his uniform. “He’s an officer?”
She nodded “A general.”
Oh shit. This was bad. This was so bad. The Immortal Guardians had just fought several huge battles with mercenaries who had discovered the existence of vampires and immortals. The bastards had wanted to use the virus that infected both parties to create an army of supersoldiers they could hire out to the highest bidder. The military could not be allowed to learn the truth or they would likely follow a similar path.
“Are you in the army?” he asked, fearing h
er answer. She was damned good with a gun. When he had ordered her to hit the main arteries, she had done so with her next shot.
“No. We traveled around so much when I was a little girl that I swore I’d find an occupation that would allow me to put down roots and stay in one place.”
That was a relief. “What occupation did you choose?”
Her face scrunched up. “Do you want my public profession or my secret profession?”
Intrigued, he chose “Both.”
She sighed. “I read minds for a living. But everyone thinks I read facial expressions.”
“I’m not following you.”
“I call myself a FACS specialist, someone who studies the facial action coding system.”
The facial action what? “Still not following you.”
“The facial action coding system categorizes the physical expression of emotion through minor contractions or relaxations of one or more muscles in the face. I’ve gained a reputation for being so accurate that I’m often called in by local law enforcement and sometimes by the military and . . . certain agencies . . . to observe interrogations and interviews and tell them whether or not the suspect or criminal being questioned is telling the truth. Those who call me in think I’m reading microexpressions.”
“But you’re really reading thoughts.”
“Yes.”
Law enforcement. Military. Certain agencies. Hell. After everything that had happened during the past few years, Seth—the leader of the Immortal Guardians—would have Ethan’s ass if he didn’t call the network in on this. And Chris Reordon, head of the East Coast division of the human network that aided immortals, would go ballistic if he found out Ethan had let someone with Heather’s connections retain knowledge of vampires’ existence without Chris’s ensuring she would keep the information to herself.
“Are you and your father close?” he asked.
“Yes. Why? What’s wrong? You look worried all of a sudden.”
Inwardly, he swore. She had been honest with him. He wouldn’t feel right about being less than honest with her. “I am worried,” he admitted.
“Why?”
“We’ve worked very hard to keep our existence hidden from humans.”
“You and the other vampires?”
Again he swore silently. He didn’t want to lie to her. She really had saved his ass earlier, taking out a couple of the vampires so he would only have to defeat five rather than seven. And she had revealed more about herself than she had cared to at his request.
Shadows Strike Page 4