by Marie Harte
Jack’s face darkened, but he gripped Jan’s hand tight before letting go. Now what was that all about? Jack hadn’t said anything about his own psychic abilities. Heather could see his monstrous strength apparent in the way he moved, how he’d held her up so easily, and in the shape and feel of his massive muscles. But psychically, what could he do?
Jack let go of Jan’s hand. “Right. We have to go.”
Jan nodded. “Down this street, take a right at the second alley. Heather, it’s the one by Heidi’s house. Everyone’s at Edda’s tonight celebrating Edda’s new tea blend. Ida and I will be going, and we’ll tell them you decided to spend some time alone together. You have until tomorrow afternoon, I’d imagine, before the others grow suspicious when they don’t see you. Make the most of it.”
“You’d imagine? I thought you saw things,” Jack asked.
“Not everything, unfortunately. I know what I know, and nothing more.”
Jack nodded, accepting the explanation more easily than Heather first had.
As she studied her new partner, Heather thought he looked intimidating. And sexy as hell.
She flushed, remembering what they’d done not an hour ago in Ida’s house. She hated that she wanted to do it again. Jack and she had barely broken the ice. She knew his name and that he worked with her brother in Bend. And that he was psychic, somehow. She knew nothing else about him except how he felt inside her. He hadn’t even been very nice to her during the short time they’d been acquainted, except for those killer orgasms.
So why did she want to know everything about him?
“You coming?” he asked in that growl that made her want to shiver.
“Yes.” She hugged Ida and Jan, thanked them, then put her pack on and followed Jack out the door. She’d save her questions for later, when they’d put some distance between town and themselves.
An hour later, she figured they’d entered a safe enough zone, far enough from the town that she could talk in a low voice and not worry about being overheard. If anyone had ventured out, they wouldn’t be on the path toward the Source, not when unauthorized visits were forbidden and punishable by town law.
Wind pushed the clouds around, and the moonlight filtering through the trees above made the forest look friendly—a lot less intimidating than the man currently glaring back at her.
“What?” she asked, forcing herself not to snap at him.
“Just making sure you’re still there. You’re surprisingly quiet for a woman.”
“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes, liking him less the more he spoke. “So what’s your deal?” Why do you carry such large burdens of pain and suffering?
He turned back around and lengthened his pace, forcing her to hurry to keep up. “My deal?”
She refused to let him goad her. Nice Heather had returned, and nice Heather would remain in control. “You know I can heal. What exactly can you do?”
Jack didn’t answer, and for a while she didn’t think he would. A few minutes later, he stopped and leaned against a tree. He took out a water bottle and downed the contents. His “You should drink” sounded more like an order than a request to her, but she needed to hydrate, so she didn’t argue.
After drinking half her water, she put the bottle away.
“I’m in charge of the psychics at home,” Jack finally answered. “Squad leader, you could say. I have a gift for cutting through bullshit to get things done.”
She could see that. Jack radiated power. “I’m guessing you lead by intimidation. That’s not exactly psychic.”
“You think? There are a lot of big guys out there, but not all of them can strike fear the way I can.”
He had a point. “So you just glare at people, and they get the sudden urge to obey you?”
He grinned, and holy Hannah, but the difference in a few facial muscles turned him from cold and sexy to downright handsome. She blinked.
“Why? You feel the urge to obey me, Heather?”
Did she. She swallowed around a dry throat. “N-no.”
“Too bad.” He licked his lips, his gaze intent on her mouth.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Please.” She snorted. “I’m not buying that innocent look. What happened before… It can’t happen again. We have to get this done and get out of here.”
“Good point.” He stood straight and took a step toward her. “Care to explain what the hell we’re doing, tramping through the woods, on the run from psychic whack-jobs at eleven at night?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Enlighten me.” He crossed his arms, covered by the jacket he wore. She couldn’t see his bare arms, but she could almost feel the corded forearms under her palms, the way she had not long ago.
She bit her lower lip but hurriedly let it go when his gaze narrowed on her mouth. With a sigh, she answered him. “Chronicles was written by Johann Stallbridge. That you know. But what you don’t know is that he encrypted a message for one of his descendants. The first person to be able to read it has to act. And that’s me.”
“What do you have to do?”
“I’m not exactly sure yet.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“No, wait.” She hurried to explain, to get the look of disgust off his face. “I learned some things. But”—she gave him a stern look—“you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Who would I tell?”
“I’m serious. Not even Owen knows.”
His eyes narrowed. “Okay.”
And like that, she trusted him. So strange. “My great-grandfather found out that he wasn’t the first of our family to visit the Source. His ancestors had come from this area hundreds of years ago. And he thought that’s why we have psychic abilities, because we were shaped by the power found here.” She paused, trying to find the right words to tell him without making her family look bad.
“Go on.”
“Johann decided to see the Source for himself. Back in 1886, he arrived, made friends, and settled into life here. But he wasn’t content to sit around and follow rules. He found the Source on his own. And then he took something. I’m not sure what, but I know I have to give it back.”
“Took something? That’s vague.”
“I know. Ida’s certain I’ll understand more when we reach the Source. It’s an area in an open field in the middle of the forest. She said I’ll know it when I get there. We’re on the right track. The closer we get to the Source, the more I feel power buzzing inside my brain.”
“Me too,” he rumbled.
“Yes, well, somehow my great-grandfather tapped into it, and it did something to him. He was always powerful. Ambitious, smart, and good at making money. But the Source turned him into a man able to see more, to be more. Apparently, wanting to hold on to his newfound abilities, he took something he wasn’t supposed to before leaving town. Now it’s up to me to put it back. According to Chronicles, the future of my family depends on it.”
Jack frowned. “You talking clairvoyance, as in Johann knew you’d all die one day if you didn’t put this right?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I felt his pain and worry in the book. There’s a bit more I haven’t deciphered, but I have a feeling the Source will clear the rest. I know this is bizarre, but I have to do this. I feel it.”
“I still don’t understand why you didn’t ask Owen for help. He’s your brother, and from what I can tell, he loves you a lot.”
She blew out a breath, not wanting another argument about how she should bend to Owen’s will and let big brother make it all better. She’d been hearing that her entire life and had finally had enough.
Jack stared at her, then shook his head. “Fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll work this out with you so you can finish what you started. But if it gets too dangerous, we’re leaving.”
She frowned. “I’m glad for your help, but I don’t answer to you. If you feel you’re in danger, maybe you should go.” Truth be told, she was gl
ad to have his steady presence to help her. The man exuded strength without trying, and for some reason, despite not really knowing much about him, he made her feel safe. But she didn’t like being told what to do all the time—the major reason she and Owen now butted heads.
Jack closed the distance between them and took her chin in his hand. He stared directly into her eyes, and their connection gave her tingles. The energy all around them wasn’t half as powerful as the energy between them.
“Honey, you might wrap Owen around your little finger, but not me. I’m here to bring you home safely. You should be thanking me for going even this far with you.” He glanced down at her mouth and muttered, “On your knees would be a good start.”
She flushed, wishing the thought didn’t turn her on. She’d never hurt for a healthy sex drive, but the last few years, she hadn’t cared overly about relationships. Meeting Jack had changed all that, and she wasn’t sure why. She cleared her throat, aware of the quiet around them punctuated at intervals by the whoosh of wind through the trees. “This isn’t the time or place for that kind of talk. We’re trying to stay one step ahead of the town, remember? Do your job. Be the professional my brother hired you to be.”
He bared his teeth at her, and she had the insane urge to poke him and see what he’d do. How could he look so mean and sexy at the same time?
“Don’t push me, Heather. Or you’ll find yourself flat on your back so fast your head will spin. And don’t even try giving me that look. We both know it won’t be rape.”
She felt her cheeks heat and glared at him. “No means no.”
He bent down and whispered a kiss over her mouth. “No?”
She tried to remain still, apart, but then he exerted more pressure, and the whisper became a gentle press of his lips, the surge of his tongue. Apart from his mouth, he didn’t touch her, yet she couldn’t pull away.
Against her better judgment, she let her body take charge and sighed into his touch. He firmed the kiss into sweeping sin and lit her from the inside out. She couldn’t be sure when he’d gripped her waist to hold her upright; she only knew she couldn’t stand without his help. Her backpack, the cold, the night disappeared as Jack’s touch and taste mesmerized her. Heat centered in her belly and moved through her like a burst of pleasure. Like it had in Ida’s house, their chemistry proved too much to resist. She wanted their connection again, to feel at one with her other half…
He pulled back and smiled, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “You saying no, sweetheart? ’Cause that sigh sounded a hell of a lot like yes to me.”
Her body shook, and she reached for him again, needing to quench her growing thirst for the man. It took her a moment to realize she’d been played. She pushed against him, and he let her go. Holy hell, since when did I become such a doormat? “Don’t be such a jerk.” She paused to catch her breath, alarmed when his gaze centered on her breasts, because she didn’t mind in the least, and she should have. “Okay, so we have attraction between us. So what? It still doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you when we have something more important to do.”
He snorted. “Tell yourself whatever you want. You want to fuck as much as I do.”
A glance down his front didn’t show her much, covered as he was by his jacket. Unfortunately, she knew all too well how he’d feel inside her.
Her cheeks felt hot enough to melt the snow off the mountaintop. “Fine. I like your body,” she emphasized and was pleased to see his frown. “I don’t know you well enough to like you. We had incredible sex, but we don’t know anything about each other.” She felt embarrassed to have this discussion, but maybe laying it out on the line would benefit them both. Jack seemed like a straight-up kind of guy. When he was annoyed, he certainly let her see it.
“I’m not asking for a freakin’ date.”
“Then what are you asking for?” She took the compass from his hand while he glared at her. Trust the moonlight to cast his face in marble perfection. Focusing on the compass, she stepped around him and continued in the direction they’d been heading. The compass helped, but the energy pulling her gave her the better sense of where to go. She followed the Source and tried to tune out Jack, hoping he’d stop pushing for sex.
Because God knew, she had little willpower when it came to him.
JACK STARED A hole through her backpack, wishing he knew what the hell he wanted from the stubborn, gorgeous female. That she had to be the one to remind him they had a mission to accomplish pissed him off to no end. Jack kept his head. Jack fulfilled his duties and never—with the exception of that one huge clusterfuck years ago—failed to succeed.
Yet all of him wanted to sink between Heather’s thighs and lose himself inside her. She fit him perfectly, and he actually forgot to think when having sex with her. No worries, no wounds or troubles, just pure, unadulterated pleasure.
How long had it been since he’d felt that? Hell, had he ever known such comfort?
He put his hand to his pocket, reminded of the picture of her he still carried. As if by holding on to it, he actually owned a piece of the real her. The woman muttering to herself in front of him was so much more than a two-dimensional rendering. She claimed they didn’t know much about each other. Not true. Jack knew a hell of a lot about Heather Anne Stallbridge.
Before he’d agreed to go on this mission, he’d had a thorough talk with Owen. The guy gushed about Heather so much that Jack had suggested she be canonized a saint. Owen had laughingly agreed. Heather spent her life as a vagabond, helping those in need. She didn’t do it for the money; she had no need of financial aid. Instead she had a craving to heal, to assist those less fortunate than herself.
She regularly gave to charity, healed the sick, and never had an unkind word to say about anyone. Well, anyone but him, apparently. He recalled how she’d talked to him. The woman wasn’t a pushover, but her recent emotional distance from her brother had concerned Owen enough to step in. Though Heather traveled the world, she often went with the people Owen provided to protect her—pilots, bodyguards, and a personal secretary.
When she’d left Baltimore, her current place of residence, without taking any of them or letting them know she might be leaving, Owen had naturally worried.
Jack followed her in silence for the next few hours, content to let her lead the pace as his mind puzzled over how to handle his attraction to her. The moon continued to provide assistance, and they walked through the forest shadows without flashlights. Heather stopped so suddenly, he would have run into her if he hadn’t been so attuned to their surroundings.
“I think we should call a halt. It’s close to three in the morning.”
Jack stopped with her and looked around. Oh joy. More shadows and trees. They didn’t seem to be walking along a prescribed path, for which Jack was grateful. No need to follow any manmade trail to the Source that the whole town used. They were off the map, so to speak. Now to find a place to bunk down…
To the far right, he noticed a large wealth of rock obscured by some thick tree trunks. “Wait here.” He turned and left Heather sputtering behind him. Good. Let her stew over blanket orders. The woman needed to be reminded of who was really in charge of their expedition.
He found what he’d hoped to find and returned to her. “There’s a cave we can take shelter in. It’s not deep, and nothing else is in there.” He held his flashlight by his side. “There’s a small stream to the side too. You can hear it.”
She nodded. “Yeah. That will work.”
He lifted a brow. “Glad you approve.” Then he turned and left her muttering to herself behind him. Once inside the cave, he switched on the lantern function of the flashlight and made note of the dimensions he had to work with. Letting his pack drop gave his back a nice respite. The pack hadn’t been heavy, by any means, and much less than he was used to carrying on a mission. A quick check earlier had shown one change of clothing, extra socks, his gun, ammo, some trail food, and a few bottles of water—similar to what Ida h
ad packed for Heather, minus the gun. They had enough for a few days in the woods, but much longer out here, and he and Heather would need to find real sustenance.
She joined him and put her pack down. She watched as he kicked a few rocks away from where he planned to make their main sleeping area. He wondered what kind of stink she’d make when she realized they’d be sleeping together.
Jack took his sleeping bag, unzipped it, then put it on the cold, hard ground. “I need your bag.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
“Give me your sleeping bag. I won’t fit in that tiny sack Jan gave me. And it’s cold enough out that we’ll need to share body heat to stay warm. My bag on the bottom, you and me inside, and yours on top. I’ll keep my hands to myself if you will.” He paused and, seeing the mutiny in her expression, added, “If you can.”
Like her brother, she couldn’t resist a dare. She lifted her nose in the air. “Oh, I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” She bent down and grabbed her sleeping bag, then tossed it to him. “Thanks for making up our little camp. I’m going outside to freshen up, but I’ll be back soon.”
He hadn’t heard anything or anyone nearby and didn’t worry about her being alone. After she returned, he left to take care of his own needs. He washed in the colder-than-hell stream but felt more himself, despite the lethargy dragging him down, and then returned to their camp. He’d had little sleep the past week, constantly on the lookout for Miss Priss, who eyed their sleeping arrangements with a frown.
“Problem?”
She whirled to face him. “Problem? No. Not really.”
“Take off your jacket and sweater. It’s best if we sleep in pants and boots, ready to go. But a T-shirt on top is best. I give off a lot of body heat, and together, we’ll generate enough warmth under the sleeping bag.”
Heather nodded and stripped out of her jacket and sweater. She wore a short-sleeved T-shirt underneath, one that clung to her curves. Then she practically killed him when she took the band out of her hair and shook out her braid. The strands of her honeyed hair curled around her face and teased her breasts.