a Touch of Ice

by L. j. Charles

“Don’t shut me out of this. I’ll have your back whether you want my help or not. That’s what big brothers are for.”

  I clapped both hands over my mouth to keep from screaming brother at the top of my lungs. It took a minute, but I got myself under control by the time Adam scooted along the bench seat, giving Violet a clear view of my booth. I folded in on myself and shrunk down as far as I could, praying she was too focused on Adam to notice an anonymous diner.

  Turned out, Adam’s muscular body shielded my presence from Violet, Annie, A.J.—whoever—as she stood up.

  “Let’s roll. Keep me posted on what’s going on. If nothing else, I can smooth the way through any local red tape that crops up. Love you, sis.”

  “I love you too, even when you act like a big brother.”

  Well, damn.

  They were brother and sister.

  Annie and Adam.

  Now that I knew, I could see the physical resemblance. No wonder she had him on speed dial. How the hell was I going to keep this to myself?

  “Something wrong with your sandwich, miss?” The server’s question broke into my bewilderment. I smiled a no, sat up, straightened the kinks out of my spine, readjusted my hip, and dug in. The tuna melt was cold, but who cared.

  Siblings!

  Sixteen

  He would show up today. My intuition was zinging with the knowledge, and coupled with the images my fingers picked up from my kitchen chair, it made his visit a sure thing. Was that only two days ago? Nothing like a trip to Gypsy’s to make time disappear.

  I’d dressed in faded denim shorts, so old and soft they felt like a second skin, a pale pink tank, and flip-flops—the ones with the funky pink flower. Yep, the outfit was perfect. I looked like a harmless little girl, until I brushed my hair out into sexy waves. Couldn’t be too predictable now could I? I took my coffee into the tree house and waited to hear his car crunch on the gravel in front of the house.

  When he arrived, I took my time, watched him stroll around the garden, make himself comfortable. It was one of those I-knew-he-knew-I-was-watching him things, so I had to guess he was giving me time to accept his presence. Curiosity got the better of me, so I finished the last swallow of coffee, tucked the cup into a corner of the tree house for later retrieval, and headed down to face the blue-eyed devil, an apt cliché.

  I came up behind him. Probably not my smartest move, since he tossed me flat on my back in a patch of petunias and sent a searing pain through my already achy body. Harlan wasn’t going to be happy about the petunias.

  “Dr. Pierce,” I whispered, without so much as a muscle twitch. No reason to offer my body for another of his lightning-quick moves, and I still hadn’t managed a full breath. Not that it mattered. Pierce picked me up and set me on my feet, the heady scent of crushed plants and rich soil surrounding us.

  “Sorry about that.” He slid his hands under the elastic waistband of my shorts. “Did the fall break your stitches open?”

  I swatted his hands away, intentionally dragging my fingertips along his skin. “Back. Off. Personal property. Not a doctor here.” Just because my ESP fingers and subconscious wisdom were in tune with the universe and I knew he was gonna show, didn’t mean I wasn’t pissed about it.

  He backed away a few steps, his gaze traveling over my body. Not repentant. “Can we sit down?” He pointed to a wooden bench nestled in an arbor of Wisteria.

  “No. You won’t be here long enough to sit down.”

  Doctor Tynan Pierce totally ignored me and started back toward the house, heading for the French doors that opened into the kitchen. By the time I caught up with him, he was settling into the reading nook off the kitchen.

  “You want to have this conversation, Everly Gray. Your curiosity is in demand mode.”

  He was right, not that I planned to admit it. But I was still furious and hurt. All this major info about Violet-slash-Annie-slash-A.J. had my mind in a spin cycle, and I was trying to adjust. Not that I didn’t get the logic of why Violet didn’t tell me about her super spy alter ego, but seriously. She’s the woman I turn to whenever, with whatever. My soul sister. And now she pops up with a brother she forgot to mention?

  Pierce watched me. Waited.

  It didn’t take long for my curiosity to win the battle with ticked off, so I sat, pulled my feet up under me, crossed my arms, and glared at him with a this-better-be-good expression. It was one of my best looks, and even though curiosity won the battle, I hated to waste the look.

  “I’m good at my work.” Those vibrant blue eyes looked right through me. “I don’t make mistakes. With you, I made a mistake. I underestimated your… ability. I need to know what you’ve seen.”

  Confusion skittered through my tenuous hold on reality. “What I’ve seen?”

  Did he know about Gypsy’s? About what I heard in the ER? At a loss, I decided to go for a shrug.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw and he ran his hand along the angle, testing his day-old stubble. “What information did you pick up from my visit to your house?”

  Oh. That’s what he was talking about? In the grand scheme of things, that was so long ago it hardly mattered anymore. I relaxed back in my chair and felt some of the tension slide from my body. Still, before I said anything, I needed to know. A bargaining chip. Just in case. “Did you tell Violet about this house?”

  He held my gaze. “Not my place. We’re partners, not girlfriends.”

  I watched his face, soaked in the timbre of his words, and finally nodded.

  He opened his mouth and I gave him the hand. “Give me a minute. I need to go back there. To the kitchen at my townhouse.” I took a deep breath and let my mind float back to life before my infamous craving for a tuna melt.

  He interrupted. “You may be royally pissed at me—I get that, but what about the people around me? Violet and Mitch to name two. The knowledge you’ve picked up, depending on what you do with it, could be dangerous.”

  I stopped wandering through images, straightened. “You think I don’t put their safety ahead of anything and everything else?” My eye was beginning to twitch. I tossed my head and grabbed a clip off the table to tame my hair. The hell with the sexy do. I tossed off a snotty answer. “Mitch is safely God knows where, and Violet can take care of herself. You know that better than I do though, don’t you?”

  It wasn’t one of my better moments. I wanted to help, but he’d gone past getting on my last nerve to twanging it.

  “Yes. But I need to know what you saw. Can you get past yourself long enough to talk about this?” He shrugged. “How about a bargain—I teach you to pick locks in return for the info? Violet mentioned you were interested in pursuing a career in illegal entry.”

  My eyes lit up. Not that I could see myself, but the flicker of excitement nipping at the edges of my mind made it a sure thing. “Deal. As long as we start the lessons today.”

  Wow. I was positively, absolutely, without a doubt, not going to let this opportunity slip by. Talk about dumb luck. If he hadn’t interrupted me, he’d have had the information without the bribe. Clearly I was doing something right.

  He did a graceful shrug and gave me a little boy grin. “Today it is. Now, what images did I leave in your kitchen?”

  I cradled my head in my hands. Sometimes it’s hard to concentrate when faced with overwhelming levels of testosterone. Since the day he stitched me up, there’d been sexual tension pulsing between us. Ignoring it hadn’t worked worth a darn, and now I was faced with Tynan Pierce not only breaking his cover, but showing up at my house. A big deal. Even I knew that. And then there was Mitch. We were building something, Mitch and me. Not sure what yet, but it meant a lot to me. And that potential relationship was worth far more than a fling with anyone, Irish brogue that tickled along my nerve endings notwithstanding.

  I had to ask. “Could you answer one question first? A doctor? I mean how did you come up with it? Have you looked in the mirror lately? Now that you’re out of the white coat and all those muscles are vi
sible under that black wife beater, it’s obvious you’re not an ordinary doctor. They don’t typically run to looking like Rambo.”

  He made a vague gesture and added a killer smile. My stomach contracted. “Med school made my folks happy. It’s good training.”

  “That’s pathetic. I’m looking for a real answer.”

  He stretched his legs out, clasped his hands behind his head, and leveled a stare at me. “I’m a doctor because it keeps things in balance, taking lives, saving lives. Maybe most Rambo-types don’t need balance, but I do.” He straightened. “That’s not public knowledge. Can we get on with it?”

  “I…yeah, we can.” I shifted slightly, uncomfortable with the intimacy of what he’d shared.

  The chill in his glare caused my skin to prickle. Focus, Everly. Do not piss off a highly trained killer. “I saw you sitting at the table talking to Violet. Your clothes and your gun—different image from a stethoscope—just, sayin’. Your energy trail is stronger than most, so I was able to see where you’ve been, some scenes from the hospital, those were fleeting and not as defined. There were some images from a rooftop…you’re good with that rifle, aren’t you?” I asked, meeting his gaze. “Cold, calculating, and you didn’t miss. Part of the reason I stayed here, waited for you, is that there was a sensation that went along with that image. Regret. Not for what you had done, but regret there was a need to do it at all. There’s some Robin Hood in you, or whatever.” I shrugged it off. “Just a feeling I got. I don’t know where you were, don’t know who you killed, only that you did.”

  He shifted his ankle to rest on his knee. “Go on.”

  “There was a fleeting image of the guy, the one I call Monster Man, that my fingers picked up at the barn where I was shot. I got the feeling you know who he is, that he’s your next assignment. Who is he?”

  “Delano West. Go on.”

  Okay then. My brain busied itself with the click of puzzle pieces snapping into place.

  “Hey, you in there?” he asked wagging his fingers at me.

  “Right. More info.” I dropped my head into my hands. “There were several images of Violet, and I had the impression you’ve known her for a long time, that you respect her. Some brief images of Detective Stone flashed by.”

  I looked up at him. “I got an image of the future, and that seldom happens. Most of the time I pick up past events. The energy is stronger—I think because the image is held in the person’s mind—than an image from the future would be. Anyway, I saw you coming here. That’s why I was angry instead of scared to death. No one knows about this place. I’ve never changed the paperwork from my parent’s trust, which is under a corporate name. It would take a lot work to find this location. You’ve invaded what I think of as my sacred space, and I’m not happy about it.”

  He didn’t move. Not a muscle. “I did an exhaustive background search on you as soon as I knew you were a player in this—” his tone strived for nonchalance, barely missed— “willing or not. Unless someone has access to the same databases I do, and very few do, it’s a pain in the ass to find this place. I wouldn’t deliberately endanger you. Not if I had a choice.”

  He was quiet for a minute, assessing me. I shifted again. Awkward.

  A shadow crossed his face. “Violet and I—”

  “A.J. You call her A.J.”

  “Yes. You left that out of your summary.”

  I nodded, back on more secure ground. “You asked me what I learned through touch. You didn’t ask me what I overheard when I stood in the hall listening.”

  Silence. Pierce closed his eyes and spent several minutes in meditation, or something, then looked straight at me, his gaze several degrees colder than the room. “I knew I missed something. Rarely happens. I thought it was your gift. It was you, but in more than one context.”

  “Yep. It was me. I heard most of your conversation. It’s part of the reason I came here. I wanted time to think before I had to be around either of you, especially Violet, for any length of time. I’m processing the information.”

  “And I showed up before you’d finished your processing?”

  “Something like that, yes.”

  “We don’t involve civilians in our work.”

  “It isn’t just your work anymore. I’m the one who touched Mitch, the one who—“

  “Can’t control her curiosity.” His grin was instantaneous. “What else do you know?”

  I shrugged him off. “Not much. It’s still too fresh and isn’t related to you or your work.”

  He examined me through narrow eyes. “Then I’ll share something with you. Seems you push my edge.”

  I felt a grin creeping to the surface. Swallowed it. They could become a habit around Tynan Pierce, and now wasn’t the time. And there was Mitch. “I seem to do that to a lot of people lately.”

  He scrubbed his hand across his face. “A.J. and I did some recon at a warehouse in Durham where West conducted business. We’d been following leads on new companies that are likely to trace back to the bastard, and this one hit the top of our list.”

  “Monster Man is chillingly scary and I get that he’s a priority.” I knotted my fingers together. “What I don’t understand is how he’s connected to Tony’s murder.”

  “We’re working on that.”

  He sent me a quit-interrupting look. I sat back, all ears. “The address led us to an area of broken down buildings, demolition notices plastered on them. They fit West’s style.” He paused, forehead wrinkled. “A.J. found a bloodstain. We think Mitch was held there.”

  I popped up from my chair, hands on hips. “Take me there. I want to touch things, see if I can learn anything to help you catch this Delano West person.”

  “No.”

  “I want to do this.”

  “No, you don’t. We’ll get the results from the blood work tomorrow.”

  “What if you missed something?”

  “We didn’t.”

  I was a good two miles beyond skeptical.

  He let out a long, slow breath. “West acquired Fielding, Inc. six months ago. They’re major dealers in antiques, art, and gemstones, mostly for museums and private collectors. Fielding, Inc. fits West’s pattern, a perfect cover for trafficking gems, and it fits the license plate. We figure he’s been stealing from private sources by substituting fake gems for the real thing.”

  “Hot ice,” I whispered, “like on my storyboard. You’re talking about the diamonds from my collage.”

  His lips quirked. “Possibly.”

  I turned back to him, kept pacing. “The license plate—that’s big. Puts him in the right place at the right time.”

  He nodded.

  “I’d feel better if you let me walk around that warehouse, see what I can touch.”

  “No. That isn’t where we need your skills.”

  My ears perked up and I stopped pacing. “Does that mean there is a place you need my skills?”

  He stood. “Not at the moment. I’d like to hear about your theory that West is a shape-shifter.”

  Oh, boy. Not good, and however I answered could put me one step closer to that room with the padded walls. “Um. No such thing.”

  “I’m Irish. We live for the mystical, so humor me.”

  Right. His eyes were steady, honest, seemed to pull the words from me. “It looked to me like his face shifted from human to cat, but I think it was just a combination of images that came through my fingertips simultaneously. My first impression was of the Jaguar, the car, not the cat. It probably got mixed up with the series of images that poured in about Monster Man.”

  “You ever mix things up before?”

  “Well, no. But I’ve never been in this kind of a situation. You know, stay-at-home, El. I’m sure Violet filled you in on the details.”

  “She did. Let me know if you pick up anything else about West, but for now, we made a deal. Let’s see how well your ESP fingers do with lock-picking.”

  I was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t be
doing something really important, but since I seriously wanted to learn about lock-picking I didn’t push the issue.

  The buzz of his cell broke the silence and cut into my wandering thoughts. He glanced at the number and his lips curved into a crooked smile. “What?” he answered, his voice terse. “No, give it a little longer. She may be in meditation, or whatever they do at those places. Later.”

  He snapped the phone shut, “Where’s your phone and why aren’t you answering it?”

  “I have three clients scheduled for phone sessions today. It’s charging.” He kept looking at me. “So? I should check my messages?”

  “Probably be good. Preferably before A.J. puts Adam on your tail.”

  “Right. How about I meet you at the front door as soon as I leave a message for… Annie?” I raised my eyebrows.

  He nodded. “I want to hear about that one, but not now.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll grab some tools. Meet me by the front door.”

  “This is what I think we should do,” I explained as we stood in front of the door. You pick the lock while you hold the image in your mind of what I need to do. Then I’ll see if I can get a picture from the image you leave on the lock as to how the mechanism works and what I need to do to unlock it. Sounds complex, but it might be faster than having you explain things with words.”

  He slanted a glance at me, selected some tools, carefully inserted them in the lock, and frowned. “Not your average lock here. Your parents were security conscious?”

  “Not that we talked about. We’ve always had a security system, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Un-huh.” He closed his eyes, and moments later I heard a distinctive click as the door unlocked. He opened it, reset the lock, and went through the process a second time.

  “Your turn. It’s complex, not a lock I’d start you with.” He handed me the tools.

  I put my fingertips on the lock and images came pouring in. “You’re saying you don’t think I can do this?”

  “Wouldn’t go that far. Just heading off the disappointment factor if you can’t.”