Straight Through the Heart

by Lyn Stone

  “That went well,” he muttered to himself and got up off her bed where he had no business being in the first place.

  An hour later in his own room, he closed his laptop. The coded message he had sent Mercier and the answer to it had done nothing to further the mission.

  Quince remained a mystery. No one knew where he was. No objects were available that he might have touched that could conduct the necessary energy for Eric to locate him. Until they actually met, Eric had no way to get inside the man’s mind and determine the extent of his plans.

  He realized he could think of no way to prove to Dawn that he had the capability to do that. Eric had never been able to read her at all unless what she was feeling appeared on that lovely face of hers for anyone to see. Maybe he could fake it that way.

  Somehow, he needed to get past Dawn’s defenses and make her believe him. The more he thought about what had happened between them, the worse he felt.

  Hell truly had no fury like a woman scorned, and that was what Dawn felt he had done, scorned her. However, if he had made love to her the way they both wanted and she found out what he was like later, she would probably hate him. And as he had told her, there was a distinct possibility that it might skew any readings he got from anyone else if his mind was preoccupied with her.

  It bothered him that he’d had no luck reading the concierge or the captain of the Angeline. Clay was usually a snap. Ressam was sometimes a little difficult, but not impossible. Eric hadn’t fully tested his ability on them, not since he had met Dawn. Suppose it didn’t work? What would he do when he needed to read Quince or others who were critical to the mission’s success?

  What if his only hope of getting his powers back was to break down Dawn’s defenses? Could he make himself do that? Was he even able to? If he did, how could they hope to have anything approaching a normal relationship? He would have too much of an advantage and she’d soon come to resent that, not to mention how she’d hate the invasion of privacy it involved.

  However, her safety, maybe even her survival, might depend on their being able to communicate, and he couldn’t ignore that. Tomorrow was D-day and he suspected he had left giving her this information until it was too late. They would not be able to deviate from their new personas once she came out of her bedroom tomorrow morning. If he was to have any success in letting her know how he intended to work this op and what his real mission was, it had to be tonight.

  He tugged on his robe and headed back to her bedroom. The door was locked, but he had expected that. He slipped the credit card he’d tucked in his pocket between the door and frame and entered. The lights were off, the curtains drawn, the room black as pitch.

  “Dawn?” he said softly.

  “Good way to get yourself shot,” she replied out loud as she punched the light switch, nearly blinding him.

  Eric blinked and turned. She stood behind him, weapon in hand, wearing the slinky little slip thing he had ordered for her travel wardrobe. It was teal, setting off her fake tan and dark hair to perfection. In his mind, he pictured how much better it would complement her fairer complexion and red hair once she could abandon her disguise. But the pistol she held intruded on that thought. He could be entertaining a bullet if she hadn’t hesitated.

  “Get out,” she advised him. Her tone sounded soft, but deadly. “Now, Vinland.”

  “Unless you plan to shoot, put that thing away. I have to talk to you, and this is no time for either of us to let personal feelings intrude. That’s an order.”

  She lowered the gun and shrugged. “Official and offensive. Try to stay that way.”

  “Sit down and listen to me, Dawn,” he demanded.

  “Make sense and I will,” she replied, in full command of her emotions, by the look of her.

  They marched to the sitting area of her room, two comfy chairs flanking a round, skirted table. Eric waited until she sat, then joined her.

  He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Look, I know how far out this sounds to you if you’ve had no prior experience with paranormal events, but I swear I’m being straight with you.”

  Dawn studied his face carefully, examining his every feature. He could feel her disdain like a pinch. She inhaled, then released it. “I’m aware that the intel agencies have done some studies in that area. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt here. But if I find out you’re putting me on about this, Vinland, you’re in deep trouble.”

  “No. I do read thoughts,” Eric said seriously. “That is no joke. I’m for real.”

  She shifted in the chair, crossing her legs, apparently not in the least concerned about how seductive she appeared wearing that little confection she had on. He looked away, trying not to get any more distracted than he already was.

  Obviously she planned to use that old trick of making him want to fill the silence, so he went ahead and bit. “I understand that you’re a skeptic. That’s okay. I’ve lived with this all my life and sometimes I forget how difficult it is for some people to buy into it if they’ve never encountered anything like it before. You haven’t, have you?”

  “I guessed the number of marbles in a jar once. That’s as close as I’ve come, so don’t expect much.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I am able—sometimes, most of the time, actually—to connect to people as they’re thinking. If they think in words, I hear them. If not, then I get their general mood, hints of their intentions, specific feelings.”

  “Like mine?” she asked wryly. “Are you getting my general mood?”

  He nodded. “Yes, anyone could see you’re still mad as hell. I don’t have to be psychic to know I blew it. But I can’t read your mind and never could.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “You have a natural block, I guess, or really good defenses. Some people do.”

  “Whew, what a relief,” she said, sounding bored. “But I suppose you’ll have no problem with Quince? Is he an open book, too?”

  “I don’t know yet. I won’t until I meet him.”

  “So, tell me, what other tricks do you do?” she asked with a mirthless smile.

  Eric decided to lay it all out there and see if she would buy any part of it. Maybe in the meantime, he could figure some way to demonstrate his abilities so she would drop the sarcasm and patent disbelief. “Remote viewing, are you familiar with that?”

  “Oh yes, from television. You see things that happen, a little videotape in your mind. Flashing and in fragments, of course, like the results of bad camera work. It’s a great hook in the world of fiction.”

  “That’s pretty close to how it works. Don’t smirk. I can sometimes see hidden objects or even people if I can touch the place where they lay or clothing they wore before they went missing.”

  She got up and began to pace. “Sometimes? Not an exact science, then. Pity. It would sure make our life simpler if you could have touched that computer and pinpointed the location of that gadget with the information on it, wouldn’t it? Wow, think of the manpower and money that could be saved if your little talents were consistent.”

  “Stop it. You know paranormal phenomena exist, Dawn. You admitted yourself that the government has been studying this. They have, in all its forms, for decades. I am a telepath, more consistent than most.”

  She stopped pacing and faced him with her hands on her hips, her jaw set. “I don’t believe you. Is that clear enough?” She flung out her hands. “It’s hooey. So go to bed. I promise you there’s no need for you to worry. What I felt was a momentary jolt of lust. You’re a good-looking guy, Eric, and it has been a while since I’ve been alone in a bedroom with one, but I’m not quite desperate enough to jump you in your sleep, okay?”

  He was already on his feet and unable to stop himself. He grabbed her and kissed her before she knew what was happening. For a second, she froze. Then she relaxed into the kiss for all she was worth.

  The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back on the floor, Dawn straddli
ng his waist with her sharp fingernails biting into his neck. “You move one inch and I’ll open your jugular and laugh while you bleed out. Got that?”

  Eric knew better than to smile. “Got it.”

  She didn’t budge. “Now you listen to me, Vinland. I’ve about had it with you. You have one chance to make this right. When I release you, get up slowly. Walk directly out of this room and when I see you first thing in the morning, this night never happened. I don’t want to hear any more about how you see things. Not one more word. And you will never—I repeat, never—kiss me again.”

  Eric, perfectly relaxed, grabbed the hand that gripped his neck, flipped her easily and reversed their positions. “You want to do this the hard way, okay. No, nothing sexual and no more kisses tonight, but you will listen to me and you will believe what I say.”

  But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of a single thing he could do that would convince her he was telling the truth.

  For a long moment, they glared at one another, breathing hard with exertion and bold remnants of unwanted lust. Then she spoke.

  “I read once that some prominent scientist has a standing offer of one million dollars to anyone who can prove this exists. Why haven’t you collected if you’re for real?”

  “Maybe I already have a million dollars.”

  “Let’s say you do. Then tell me where I lost my grandmother’s ring,” she challenged. “It was on my ring finger, right hand, for years. Where is it now?”

  Eric slid his hand from her wrist up to her fourth finger and touched the place, closing his eyes. It came to him as easily as anything ever had.

  “There’s a pool. The ring… It’s in the drain. It’s in the drain of that pool.”

  He opened his eyes and smiled down at her, still full of the delight she had experienced in that long-ago moment. “It’s a very small size. You were a kid when you lost it, right?”

  The look of shock on her face was priceless.

  “Oblong, diamond-shaped. It has one stone surrounded by chips,” Eric told her.

  Her gaze narrowed with suspicion. “How do you know that? How could you possibly know?”

  He released her other wrist and sat up, moving off of her. “I saw it.”

  “So where’s the pool with the ring?” she challenged.

  Eric reached down to give her a hand getting up. “I have no clue, but surely you can remember the day and where you went swimming.”

  It wasn’t telepathy. He considered it little more than a parlor trick. Still, it had come in handy in a lot of instances. Inanimate objects were usually a piece of cake, the more insignificant, the easier they were to locate. Still, this little success gave him a swell of relief. He hadn’t completely lost his powers.

  Her body relaxed beneath him. “Leave me alone until the morning, will you?” she asked quietly. “This is a lot to digest and I’m still not sure I trust what you’re telling me. If you can do all this, why are we here? Why don’t you just zone in or whatever it is you do, and send in a contingent of special ops to grab Quince and the others?”

  “Would that it worked that way,” Eric admitted, shaking his head. “I need to explain a little more about the specifics of what I plan to do and how it might affect you, okay? Then I’ll go.”

  She nodded wordlessly, looking at him with suspicion.

  “The idea is to glean whatever I can from Quince about his intentions for the stolen information and whether he’s made copies of it. If so, where he has those stashed. Anything I can get. I’ll try to pick up on any names associated with the theft and how he chose these particular bidders to deal with.”

  Dawn had no expression whatsoever on her face. She did not believe him. At least not now.

  He continued. “I’ll transmit this information to you, so that one of us has it in case the other can’t make it off the island for some reason.”

  “Say what you mean. One of us could die.”

  “Yes. But if we play out our roles, we should be safe enough. Quince is no fool. His intention is to sell what he’s got. If he behaves himself, he can deal again next time. Only we won’t give him that chance, of course.”

  “What if…”

  “What?” Eric prompted.

  “Suppose this Quince is similarly talented and figures out what you’re doing? What if he reads you better than you read him?”

  Eric sighed. “Then kick off your high heels and swim like hell because we won’t stand a bloody chance.”

  “Go to bed, Eric,” she said with a shake of her head.

  He left the room and closed the door.

  “Now that went well,” he said to himself, strolling casually into his bedroom, almost satisfied. Not physically, of course. He was trying to ignore his heightened state of arousal.

  He couldn’t have her and he knew that. A little corner of his brain wouldn’t quite accept it, though. That part kept urging that after this was all over, then maybe…

  Dawn did not argue when Eric advised her to don the chador the next morning before leaving the hotel. Beneath it she wore a white sleeveless cotton top and slacks. Her shoes were leather with intricate embroidery on the toes that matched the blue color of her robe.

  Together they preceded the porter who pushed the brass trolley holding their luggage. Clay and Ressam followed the porter. Their bags would be delivered to the Angeline in time for them to sail at noon.

  She remained as unobtrusive as possible when they boarded the boat, going directly to the deserted salon without a word from Eric. He wore the role of the haughty Jarad Al-Dayal as if born to that name and station. She attempted to match his effort with the same ease.

  One hour into the trip, he beckoned to her from the steps leading up from the salon to the deck. She rose obediently and joined him.

  “Dolphins again. I thought you would enjoy them.”

  Dawn nodded and walked with him to the rail. She noted the captain ducking into the cabin. “Making a call?” she asked Eric.

  “Looks like it. Are you all right?”

  “Of course. Are you? How’s the old gray matter receiving today?”

  He didn’t answer directly. “I think the captain will troll us around until dark, then disorient us with a few wide turns before making landfall.”

  Dawn could figure that much without the benefit of telepathy. It’s what she would do if she were the captain delivering them to some secret destination. “So we keep an eye on the stars to determine where we are, right?”

  “Clouds expected and probably a storm. That’s why this is happening now. Good news, though. That means Quince still plans to let us go later or he wouldn’t bother trying to conceal his whereabouts.”

  “How will our guys find out where he is if they don’t know where we went for the meeting? Unless this Quince is an idiot, he won’t allow you to bring your laptop or cell phone.”

  Eric smiled a cat’s smile. “Under the skin on my left shoulder is an implant that gives off intermittent signals. They can follow wherever I go. Soon as we are ready for it to happen, they’ll strike.”

  “And how will they know that we are ready?”

  “I’ll contact them, don’t worry.”

  “How? With a mind link?” she asked, not bothering to mask her skepticism.

  “Hey, we have running conversations sometimes. Better than a telephone.” Now he was joking, she could tell by his grin.

  “Excuse me if I prefer Ma Bell.”

  “Shhh, captain’s coming back. Ooh and ahh at the dolphins a little, then go below. I need my mind on what I’m doing and you look entirely too fetching in that tablecloth. Blows my concentration.”

  Dawn did as he asked, then spun neatly out of his grasp, actually enjoying the swirl of the robe around her ankles.

  Could he actually do what he claimed? She had never met anyone who claimed to possess psychic abilities. He wouldn’t be that confident if he wasn’t sure his worked, would he? Would she actually find that ring he told her about? Dawn knew
she would have to try, just to see if it was where he said it was.

  She exhaled sharply and headed for the salon to pour herself a cup of coffee. Maybe he was delusional and they would both die as a result. How had she gotten herself into this mess?

  She passed near Clay as she reached the door to the cabin. “Open your mind,” he said emphatically in a deep, but nearly inaudible voice, the first words she had ever heard him speak. “Trust him.”

  Before she could respond by gesture or word, he hurried away. A servant realizing he had passed too close to the mamsahib, or whatever the boss’s wife was called.

  Okay, she decided. She would make herself trust. As if she had any options. Maybe a little meditation would calm her.

  A good old Presbyterian prayer might not hurt, either, she thought with a heavy sigh.

  Chapter 8

  They sailed all afternoon and on into the night. The reason for that was a given. The location of the island was to remain a secret. That indicated it might be Quince’s permanent home, or at least his usual base of operations.

  The captain looked mighty smug and had an evil glint in his eye. He was probably making plans to get rid of the “bodyguards” Al-Dayal had brought along.

  Dawn should be safe enough, though. How much trouble could a woman be anyway, the captain would figure, especially one as meek as Al-Dayal’s wife? Eric almost laughed out loud. She had played her part so perfectly that no one could see her as a threat.

  “We’ll anchor here for the night,” the captain said as he approached Eric. “If you and your men could give me some assistance.”

  They must be close to the rendezvous. Eric nodded and beckoned to Ressam and Clay.

  Once the sails were furled and the anchor dropped, the captain bade them good-night, informing Eric that he would remain topside while Eric and the others were to use the cabins fore and aft.

  “You are too kind,” Eric said, shared a meaningful look with his men, and went below as the captain suggested.

  Dawn was already in the forward cabin, reclining on the bed with a book. She glanced up as he entered. Since he had only a couple of feet of floor space, he kicked off his deck shoes and crawled onto the king-size bunk beside her.