by Rebecca York
His whole body was tingling. No, it was her body. That was the way a woman felt when she was aroused.
When she closed her hand around his erection, his breath caught. So did hers as she melted into the sensations she was picking up from him.
“Oh, that’s good,” she murmured. So different. So focused there.
He admired her ability to speak. He was beyond speech. Beyond anything that he had ever felt.
His own arousal. Hers. The incredible heat they generated together.
They broke apart long enough to stagger to the bed, where they fell together, clinging, rocking, absorbing each other’s needs and thoughts.
He was totally open to her. More vulnerable than he ever had been in his life. If he had murdered someone in the past, she would have known it. If he had been dishonest in any of his writing; if he had copied someone else’s words, she would know it.
And it was the same for her. She tried to pull away when he came upon the memory of the first time she had made love. It had been a disaster.
Trust me. This time will be so different.
I think we have to trust each other.
He held her to him, overwhelmed with what she offered as he told her in every way he knew that this would be wonderful. It already was wonderful. And growing more intense as he stroked her breasts, her ribs, the indentation of her waist, the insides of her thighs and higher, reaching for that throbbing place that begged for his touch.
He knew just how to do it. Just how to stoke her pleasure. Just how to push her toward the edge because he registered every reaction.
The look in her eyes scalded him.
I need you inside me.
He needed that, too. And he knew she was thinking that it would be better for his arm if she were on top.
Their eyes locked as he lay back and she rose over him, bringing him inside her, each of them totally committed to something they didn’t yet understand. But it would consume them if they were unable to control it.
They both gasped at the joining. For long moments, neither of them moved. Finally she surged against him, and he thrust farther into her at the same time.
Together they found a rhythm that would take them into outer space. But was the air above the earth too thin to breathe?
Her gaze stayed locked with his as the intensity built. For a terrifying moment, the pain in his head surged. In hers, too, he knew. It threatened to wipe out everything else. The pleasure they felt. Life itself.
Then blessed relief washed over them as the pain receded into the background. The foreground was far more important. The two of them, giving each other pleasure.
Knowing she needed an extra jolt to push her over the edge, he reached up with one hand, pressing against her center.
As she moved above him, an explosion built, flashing through her, flashing through him. Her orgasm was his. And his was hers as he followed her into an ecstasy that he had never known existed.
They clung together for long moments, both panting, both marveling at what had just happened.
I was alone all my life.
Never again.
How did it happen?
We’ll figure it out.
Can we?
Yes. It was a promise that he must keep.
A question hovered at the edge of her mind, a question she didn’t want to ask. But it was there for him to consider anyway.
Did we almost die?
He swallowed hard. I think so.
What saved us?
I don’t know.
“Maybe it was what I said, being willing to trust each other.” She swallowed. “And giving each other everything we could.”
He stroked her arm. “That sounds right.”
When she slipped down beside him, he cradled her in his good arm.
She snuggled against him, and he knew she felt safe and secure. But he knew it was a false security. They were still in trouble.
FAR AWAY, RACHEL GREGORY stirred in her sleep. Next to her, Jake Harper knit his fingers with hers. A month ago she’d been a tarot card reader in New Orleans with her own shop. Jake had been a prominent businessman in the city who had worked his way up from nothing.
They’d met each other and known instantly that there was something between them that they couldn’t explain. A psychic bond triggered by intimacy.
But as they’d explored that special connection, they’d been pulled into a web of danger by a woman named Evelyn Morgan. She’d come to New Orleans looking for them because they had both been born as the result of experiments at the Solomon Clinic in Houma, Louisiana.
The psychic connection they’d discovered was wonderful. It brought them joy neither had ever imagined.
At the same time, the dangers had multiplied around them. They’d been on the run from the police and from a man who knew something about the clinic. But that had only been part of their problem. A couple named Tanya and Mickey had realized Rachel and Jake were developing mental powers and had been determined to kill them before they could cement their bond.
They’d dealt with Tanya and Mickey, but they were still hiding out from the man who had funded the Solomon Clinic, a man they knew only as the Badger. Until they could find him and get him off their trail, it wasn’t safe for them to resume their normal lives.
In the meantime, they’d been working with the psychic link between them, trying to increase their abilities and their safety.
Rachel woke, hearing Jake’s voice in her mind.
What is it? he asked.
I felt something.
Danger? Has the Badger found us?
I don’t think so. I think another couple like us has found each other.
And activated the bond?
I think so.
Rachel lay very still, sending her mind across the miles. She knew the right direction, toward New Orleans—where it had all started for them.
If we were closer, it would be easier to figure out what’s going on.
Yeah, well, we’re not going back there. Not until we know it’s safe.
But I think they’re in trouble. The way we were, she answered, feeling a tightness in her chest.
Jake squeezed her hand. “And you want to help them.”
“Yes.”
“But suppose they’re like Tanya and Mickey? Suppose they come after us?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“We’d better be a little cautious. Wait and see.”
“I think they just…made love. For the first time.”
“And they survived?”
“Yes.”
She knew he was right to be cautious, yet after what she and Jake had been through, the idea of letting two people like them suffer alone was almost more than she could bear.
GEORGE CAMDEN HAD FIGURED out how to escape. He’d played it cagey when the cops had come back to question him, pretending he was so traumatized that he couldn’t remember what had happened in that motel room. He wasn’t sure if the boys in blue completely bought it, but there was no proof he’d done anything besides defend himself.
Still, he had to be careful. At two in the morning, he detached his intravenous line, then looked out of his room. The guard at the door was sleeping. Quietly, George slipped out and hurried down the hall—prepared to act confused if anybody challenged him.
He stepped into a double room where two men were sleeping in hospital beds. Although he struck out with the first guy’s nightstand, in the second one he found a cell phone and called the man who’d hired him.
The Badger picked up on the first ring.
“Who is this?”
“George Camden.”
“This isn’t your phone.”
No bull. “I ran into a little trouble.”
The man’s voice was instantly on edge. “Is that why I haven’t heard from you?”
“Yes. I’m in the hospital in Lafayette. I need your help to get out.”
“I’m listening.”
“How long will it take you
to get here?”
“Not long. I’m in New Orleans.”
“You are?”
“I thought I might need to take personal charge of the operation.”
Was the Badger being down here good or bad? Maybe not so good for George. Maybe he’d better get out of here before the guy arrived.
“We’d better wait until tomorrow night,” he said, changing his plans on the spur of the moment.
“Why?”
“I got knifed. I’m weak.”
“Okay. Can you meet me at the back entrance. At 2:00 a.m. tomorrow?”
“Yes,” he answered, scrambling for a way to skip out sooner.
EXHAUSTED FROM THEIR eventful day, Gabriella and Luke slept, then woke early in the morning, drifting in the world of their new reality.
She turned her head, smiling at him. He reached for her hand under the covers and linked his fingers with hers.
I don’t even know what to call you, she said into his mind. Luke? Liam?
He stroked her arm. You like Luke because you knew it first.
Yes.
Keep using it. It belongs to us.
It was tempting to stay where they were. Tempting to enjoy the unique sense of closeness. But they had work to do. And too many choices.
“We’d better get up,” she said.
“Unfortunately.”
She looked toward the kitchen. “I think there’s coffee. And creamer.”
He wrinkled his nose. “It’s much better black.”
She started to get out of bed, then realized she was naked.
“I’ve seen it all,” he murmured.
“I’m still modest.”
“I know.”
He got up and handed her the clothing she’d worn the night before. She pulled on the shirt while she sat in bed.
When she looked up, he was holding out clean underwear from her overnight bag, and she knew he’d read her mind about that.
Convenient!
Mind to mind communication has its advantages.
She switched to spoken language. “We could shower.”
“Good idea.”
The shower turned into more than an exercise in getting clean. An hour later, they were finally sitting at a small table in front of the window drinking coffee and eating cheese and crackers they’d found in the cupboard and refrigerator.
“Is our mental connection just for communication?” Gabriella asked as she took a sip of coffee.
“Not if you consider fiction,” he said. “Or the movies. Did you read a lot of science fiction when you were little? Or fantasy?”
“Yes. I loved it when people could talk to each other without speaking.”
“Because you wanted it?”
“Well, it was a strong fantasy of mine.”
It was tempting to keep talking about the past, but they couldn’t afford the luxury. Gabriella huffed out a breath before saying, “When George was after us, we used the communication to defend ourselves.”
He nodded. “What else could they do in the stories you read?”
She thought for a moment. “See the future. We can already do that—a little.” She swallowed. “Like when I knew I was going to find something bad back at the plantation. Or I knew George had found us at the motel.”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Yes.”
“In books, some people can also see the past.”
“Maybe that’s not as useful in this situation. What about my getting into your dreams. Does that count?”
“It has to. How many people share dreams?”
She laughed. “I guess not many. Which brings up some leading questions. For instance—are there other people like us? How did we get this way?”
“We’ve got to find out. But let’s keep cataloguing our powers.”
“Powers! Like superheroes?”
He shrugged.
She grinned at him. “I’ve read about people who could walk through walls.”
“Sounds painful.”
“How about throwing thunderbolts?”
“I’d like that. But what about trying something easier?”
“We could try channeling Elvis Presley’s ghost.”
He laughed. “Oh, sure. And remember, a lot people think he’s not dead anyway. How about something a little more practical, like—um—moving things with our minds.”
She nodded. “I’m game.”
“I’m assuming we have to be touching.”
“At least at first.”
EDDIE AND BOBBY DROVE slowly past Chez Emile, taking in the freshly painted entrance and scrubbed brick sidewalk.
“Classy place,” Bobby said.
“Do you think we’ll find Gabriella Boudreaux?”
“It’s our best lead. If she’s not there, maybe somebody inside knows where she went.”
“How do we pry it out of them? Start shooting them one at a time if they don’t talk?”
“Let’s try charm first. And money. Money is always good, and Maglioni gave us enough to spread around.”
They were in a chipper mood when they found a parking place and walked back to the restaurant.
“We won’t be open until lunchtime,” a tubby old guy said when they stepped through the front door. He gave them a stare that said they might not be high class enough for this joint, even when it was open.
Eddie wanted to teach the jerk it wasn’t polite to insult potential customers. Bobby put a restraining hand on his sleeve. “We’re looking for Gabriella Boudreaux. Is she here?”
The guy’s face grew tense when they mentioned her name. Interesting. It appeared he wasn’t too happy with Ms. Boudreaux.
“What’s this about?”
“Private matter.”
“She’s not here. Her mother died, and she’s gone back to Lafayette.”
“She’s not there now.”
The guy gave them a thunderous look. “Not there! She told me…” He stopped short and crossed his arms. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”
Bobby got out his wallet. “We’re prepared to pay for information.”
The man sniffed. “I don’t take money for information.” He turned away dismissively.
Bobby kept his temper in check. He could whack this jerk, but that wasn’t going to get him far. Instead, he looked around, located the door to the kitchen and headed in that direction.
“Hey, you can’t go back there!”
“We’ll only be a moment,” Eddie called over his shoulder.
People in the kitchen looked up as the two strangers entered.
“Family emergency. Anybody know where we can find Gabriella Boudreaux?”
There were shakes of the head and negative answers all around. But one woman looked less certain than the rest.
Bobby approached her, smiling. “Come on outside where we can talk.”
She hesitated for a moment, then followed him into the alley out back where trash cans were ripe with rotting garbage. She gave him a questioning look. “What do you want with Gabriella?”
“It’s about her mother. You know she died?”
“Yes.”
“I need to give her some stuff for the memorial service. Please, if you can tell me where to find her, I can make it worth your while.”
“Well…I might have an idea.”
LUKE MOVED HIS CHAIR BESIDE Gabriella and slung his arm over her shoulder. They both looked around the room contemplating what they might try to move.
“We could break something if we do it wrong,” she murmured.
“We’ll be careful.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
He stood up and put his paper napkin on the floor about ten feet from where they were sitting. “This should be safe enough.”
When he came back and replaced his arm around her, she leaned against him. “What should we do?”
“Both focus on it. Try to make it jump into the air.”
“And fly around the room?”
&nbs
p; “Let’s see if we can get it off the floor first.”
She gave him a warm look. She’d never considered herself playful, but she knew they were both having a good time. With a serious purpose.
Unsure of how to proceed, she focused on the napkin, trying to make it move. Nothing happened, and she redoubled her efforts, her face scrunching with effort. Even so, there was no effect.
“What are we doing wrong?” she asked.
“Maybe we’re both trying to move it, and we’re fighting each other.”
“Hum.”
“You try to do the moving, and I’ll give you a power assist.”
“How do you do that?”
He shrugged. “I guess I’ll find out.”
He leaned against her and closed his eyes, taking his focus off the napkin—which left her free to do what she wanted.
Power assist? Did she feel a tingling sensation? Or was she making that up because she wanted some reaction?
There was no way to know, as she focused intently on the object. Suddenly, to her astonishment, it gave a little leap and fluttered a few inches into the air as though a puff of wind had caught it.
When she gasped, Luke’s eyes flew open in time to see the white square flutter to the floor.
“All right!”
His exclamation had her smiling.
Because he was a guy, he needed to try something more difficult. After scanning the bookshelves, he grabbed a paperback mystery and put it where the napkin had been.
She let him take charge and tried what he had done, sending energy to him. To her amazement, the book skittered across the floor. Then he gave it a jolt and made it crash into the wall.
They grinned at each other.
“What else should we try?”
“Too bad we can’t do something practical like making the bed without touching the covers.”
“You’re looking for a way to get out of housework?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Automatic dishwashing?”
“First we have to turn the water on in the sink.”
That proved to be a harder proposition, although he did manage to get a trickle to drip out.
All the mental activity was tiring.
“We should knock it off for a while,” Luke said.
“Or think of some other parlor tricks.”
“They’re not just tricks. What if we’d been able to get George to shoot himself?”