"Uh. Breakfast." His voice sounded rusty. "I figured you'd be hungry. What would you like to eat?" Because he'd like to eat her. Or have her eat him. Hell. He was losing it. He had to solve a murder, not turn into a teenage walking hard-on.
"Oh, that sounds great. I'm really hungry." She bent over to pick up the folded towel resting on the vanity, her breasts spilling forward. Small beads of water ran down the soft curves and dripped from her nipples to the floor.
Kadan licked his lips. There seemed to be a strange roaring in his head, and if he didn't adjust his jeans soon, the seams were going to burst. "Egg preference?"
She straightened and shook out the towel. Tiny droplets of water traveled down the valley between her breasts, across her tempting belly, to find the vee of white gold curls at the junction of her legs. He caught himself staring, wanting to drop to his knees and sink his tongue in her. She seemed oblivious, running the towel along the curves of her body, soaking up the tiny water drops.
"Anything is fine, but I really like scrambled."
"Scrambled it is, then."
Kadan left her because she had a small, sexy smile on her face, and was barely rubbing the towel over her skin, and he was going to ruin a good pair of jeans and embarrass himself. He stomped down the hall back to the kitchen, wishing he smoked. He slammed a frying pan onto the stove, muttering to himself. His radar went off and he spun around.
Tansy stood in the doorway, one towel in her hand, the other wrapped around her hair, and nothing else. "Have I upset you?"
Kadan shook his head, keeping his gaze on her face, willing his wayward eyes to focus. Unfortunately they focused on her mouth, which did little to help his situation. "Of course not. I'm just feeling a little out of sorts."
"I don't mind cooking. I need you to put the game pieces back on the table for me anyway. I'm not a great cook, but I manage."
Naked. She was going to cook for him without a stitch of clothing on. He wouldn't survive. "Like that?" Now his voice had dropped to pure smoke.
Tansy looked startled. She glanced down at herself. "No, of course not. I was planning on getting dressed first." She turned and stormed off, her shoulders stiff.
Now he'd really upset her, and all he could think about was the sway of her ass as she stomped down the hall. Relationships were complicated when they really shouldn't be. He sighed again and went down to the war room. He may as well set up the pieces before cooking. He needed to get his head straight, and walking into a room with so many victims screaming for justice had a way of reducing everything else to nothing. He might not be good with women, but he knew how to track killers.
She joined him when he'd finished separating the small figurines, using his gloves to ensure no prints or impressions of him transferred to a game piece. She came up behind him, so close he could feel the heat of her body. She smelled so good he wanted to breathe her in.
"I may as well finish the East Coast pieces. I've only got one left."
"Not yet. You need to eat something. Come have your coffee while I cook you some breakfast." He captured her fingers and tugged, taking her with him, wanting to put off the inevitable as long as possible.
She went with him without protest, making him feel a little better. Nothing had ever rocked his world or gotten under his skin until Tansy. Feeling shaken was a new experience for him. He pulled out her chair, brushing a kiss on top of her head. For the first time she sent him a real smile, one that lit her eyes, and he breathed again. When she was settled with a cup of coffee in her hands, he broke the eggs and began beating them into a frothy brew.
"How does your job work?" Kadan asked. "Did National Geographic hire you to take pictures for them?"
She shook her head. "I do freelance work. In this case, they picked up an article and photographs I did for them last year and loved it, knew I was still studying the cougar, and agreed in advance to help fund me. I was pretty thrilled. I had a great tutor in photography, and I've slowly been acquiring a reputation, but this was a huge break for me. But no, technically, they don't employ me."
"Who knew you were up in the Sierras?" Kadan asked. Now that his brain was working again, something was nagging at the back of his mind.
She took a sip of coffee and frowned at him over the cup. "My parents knew. And Charlie, at National Geographic. Well, he didn't know where I was exactly, only that I was filming mountain lions." She put down the coffee mug and leaned her chin into her palm. "How did you track me to the Sierras? I mean, it's a big mountain range. How did you know I was at that exact location?"
"There was no way you were going to go anywhere without contacting your parents. Everything I read about you told me you wouldn't go more than a few days without letting them know you were okay, even if you were in Africa somewhere shooting pictures."
Tansy swept her hair back from her face. "So you just waited until I called home and traced the signal back to me."
He shrugged. "It was easy enough. But no one else was watching your parents. I would have known."
"Why is it important?"
"Your father said something to me that just keeps nagging at me." He put the eggs in front of her and placed the other dish across from her. He sank down across the table from her and picked up his fork. "For just a moment let's set aside the killers we're tracking. They can't know I was sent to find you. But someone knew where you were, and I don't think they followed me."
"Why? You can make mistakes," she teased.
He forked eggs into his mouth, frowning as he chewed. "Not like that. I thought, at first, that they were after me. They were there to get you. To kill you. They weren't going to bring you back to Whitney."
She sat up straighter. "I thought they were men Whitney sent to get me, or someone who wanted you dead because of this investigation."
"I imagine a lot of people would like to see me dead, but as far as I know, only the general asked me to clear up this murder mess. Everyone else thinks I'm involved in a different type of mission. So no, the killers weren't there to stop me, they had to be there to kill you and I just happened to be in their way."
"Who would want me dead besides Whitney?"
"Whitney doesn't want you dead, honey, he wants babies out of you. And if I'd been thinking with my head and not my cock, I would have realized that immediately. He wants a baby out of us. You might not have been paired with me, but I was definitely paired with you. He wants our two talents bred into a child."
She swallowed hard. "That's sick, Kadan. What if I do get pregnant?"
He laid his hand over hers. "He'll never take our child. We're building a fortress in the mountains. We'll have escape tunnels and routes and protections, so much so that it will be difficult for anyone to get to us. You'd be safe there and so would our child."
His tone was the same as always, that low, velvet conviction that made her a believer. "So if the murderers we're tracking didn't know you were investigating them and Whitney doesn't want me dead, who does?"
"Your father mentioned a coalition, a group that has formed. We've run into them before, and we thought we'd broken them up when we killed their leader. Evidently he wasn't the only head of the organization. They have a lot of help. Someone in the White House who has access to a high security clearance has been targeting the GhostWalkers for death. They leaked the information that the East Coast and West Coast murders were connected, and they gave a reporter your name. He did a little investigating and realized you were the same Tansy Meadows who had tracked serial killers. The moment he found you, the assassins were on your trail."
"But how did he find me?"
"That's what I want to know. Did whoever tip him off give him that information as well? And if so, how did they come by it?"
Tansy ran both hands through her hair. "I don't have any idea, Kadan, and truthfully, I just can't find it in me to care that much. I want to solve these murders and get the killers off the streets. All the rest of it will just have to take a backseat until we figure out what
's going on."
Kadan glanced at her half-eaten eggs. "You didn't eat much."
"It's enough to get me through this. I'm going to do this one right this time."
He took both plates to the sink and left them there, turning to lock his gaze with hers. "You'll do what I say, Tansy. It's my job to keep you safe--and sane. Wear the gloves. If they have to come off, fine, we'll cross that bridge when we need to, but start off with the gloves and see what kinds of impressions you get."
"You're handicapping me."
"I don't really give a damn, now, do I?"
They stared at each other for a long moment, and Tansy shook her head. "We're never going to find them if you don't let me do my job."
He refused to argue with her. He simply followed her down the hall and picked up the gloves, shoving them into her hands.
Tansy pulled on the protective gloves and stood at the table, peering down at the ivory game pieces. She'd already felt the surges of energy, some much more potent than others, and now that she was tuned, the collective pieces gave off a frightening vortex of energy, whirling into one violent mass. Even with the gloves covering her skin, the violence was tangible as she leveled her palm over the top of the last ivory piece from the East Coast.
Without actually touching it, Tansy studied the intricately detailed knife. The blade was sharp and had tiny notches in it. She frowned. Ordinarily she would think the notches might be imperfections, but the carver was too good and had too big of an ego to let anything he worked on be less than perfect.
"The puppet master believes he's smarter than everyone else and he wants them to see him without really seeing. He wants his genius to be in front of them, easy to read, but not to really 'get' it. That way, he can gloat and prove to himself over and over that he's superior, even to enhanced psychics."
"Is he enhanced?"
She drew a breath, allowing her palms to be so close only a piece of paper could separate her from the game piece. The surge of energy was potent and filled with violence. The one she had dubbed "Blade" was definitely a dominant. She wondered what Kadan's energy would feel like if he wasn't shielding her. She imagined it would be something like this. Waves of force, relentless and sure. Blade had to be the East Coast team leader of the game. She didn't want to read him right now; she was trying to get a feel for the puppet master.
"I can't tell. Not like this. His energy is very subtle, but I think he weaves it that way."
Tansy concentrated on the ego, the biggest part of him. The man was fastidious; she had the impression of someone who was very conscious of his clothes and style. He wanted to look well groomed, a GQ man. He wanted to appear cool and sophisticated without drawing attention to himself. He had money . . . She pulled her hands away abruptly, another piece of the puzzle falling into place.
"This is about money."
Kadan frowned. She was already pale, the drain on her tremendous, and they'd barely gotten started. He could feel the energy in her mind, dark and violent, swirling with edges of red, but she hadn't immersed herself in it at all. "What's about money, Tansy?" Sometimes he thought she put herself in a trance, her eyes opaque and distant, gleaming with that violet-silver shine.
"The murder game. It's all about money. That's your connection."
He shook his head. "I looked into insurance payoffs. A few of them had insurance. One or two left a hefty inheritance for a family member, but the majority don't have enough money attached to raise a flag."
"The two boys. The ones Frog killed. Did they have insurance on them?" Tansy sank into a chair because her legs felt rubbery.
"Why question that particular murder?"
"There couldn't be another motive. Who would want to kill two high school boys who were smart, weren't robbed, and probably had never done anything to anyone in their lives? I got the impression from them that they had barely started their lives. They were shocked. Frog didn't want to kill them; in fact, he was upset with the puppet master and the others on his team and the other team. Really upset. He asked forgiveness and even went so far as promising revenge. He didn't want to kill them, yet he chose those two boys. They weren't random victims. You're going on the assumption that each of these murders was random, but Frog's murder wasn't. He had to fulfill some contract . . ." She broke off and looked up at him in shock. "Contract murders? Could this game be about paid hits?"
Kadan automatically shook his head. How could that be? A game? But even as he was denying the possibility, her reasoning somehow fit. Her mind worked differently, taking pieces, discarding them, and trying them in ways no one else might think of. Another gift. A talent she didn't recognize.
"Don't touch anything until I get back." He didn't want to leave her, not when information was pouring into her mind, and he was afraid she might grasp the game piece now that she had a trail to follow. "I mean it, Tansy, wait for me."
Tansy found it difficult to resist the lure of the ivory blade. The notches meant something to either the carver or the owner of the piece. Which was it? Her mind refused to stop racing for more details. Once she was on the scent, she found it nearly impossible to focus on anything else, and the energy of both men was much more potent in this piece.
"Tansy," Kadan's voice was sharp. "I said no."
He caught her wrist, the sound of his palm hitting her arm loud in the silence of the room. She blinked up at him, a little distracted by his presence.
"I need to . . ."
"No." He kept possession of her hand. "I went to check on the file in the war room. The boys were half brothers and the insurance on them was heavy for kids that age. Mother inherits. She'd only recently remarried. Boys had different fathers, and the third husband seems to have gotten along with the boys and was broken up about the whole thing."
"Did you interview them?"
He shook his head. "I haven't had the chance. I got my orders, read everything, and knew I needed you, so I went looking for you."
"But either the mother or the stepfather could have hired someone to kill the boys." Tansy made it a statement, but she was frowning, shaking her head. "Something is just a little off kilter, Kadan. I need to get stronger impressions. I need to actually handle it."
"With gloves."
"I won't get what we want. You said we'd have to solve this fast. I know your friends didn't do this, but whoever wants all of you dead is going to use the murders as an opportunity to get rid of them. By the time the real murderers are found, it will be too late."
He didn't want her pulling off the gloves. She'd be annihilated by the violent energy. He could feel waves pushing at her mind, and she merely had her hands close to the game piece.
"We need to know."
He pulled her off the chair and sat down. "Sit on my lap."
"Kadan." It was a protest. She frowned at him, pushing at the long blond hair falling around her face. "What are you doing?"
"Protecting you. Sit on me. I'm going to keep my arms around you, my hands on your wrists. If I tell you to drop that thing and you don't, I'll be in a better position to force it out of your hand. We both know this is dangerous to you."
"I don't know if I can concentrate like that."
Kadan shrugged. "Take it or leave it, but you aren't touching that thing without me surrounding you with as much protection as I can give you."
He had that tone again. Tansy sighed. There was no moving him from his position when he used that tone. Very slowly, breathing deep, she removed the protective barrier of the gloves. She sank down onto his lap and his arms immediately circled her, his hands resting lightly over hers, which gave her added confidence.
She cupped her bare hands around the ivory knife. The energy swarmed to her, violent, almost angry. Smug. Superior. Oily sludge poured into her brain, dripping with blood, with the need for more blood. Beneath the muck, hidden, she found that small vein that ran under, nearly overwhelmed with the dominant strand, but flowing subtly, a monster at work behind the scenes.
She to
ok a breath and worked at separating the two threads. Blade needed followers, needed them to see him dominate every situation. He looked for fights. Wanted others to argue so he could hurt and frighten them in front of others. He was cruel to his girlfriends and those who loved him, usually subtle cruelties, but he enjoyed the pain in their eyes--and the fear. Ridiculing others and making them look small in front of his friends was a favorite pastime.
Distaste. Smug satisfaction that someday . . . She almost had the puppet master, but Blade wouldn't give up the spotlight. Something important eluded her as it moved by. She couldn't focus properly because the violence in Blade was his primary characteristic.
More oily sludge coated her mind as he pushed deeper into her brain, determined to imprint himself there when she was really looking for the more subtle thread. Looking big mattered to him, almost more than anything else. He despised having to salute. He wanted to take out some of the officers and their families. He fantasized about it all the time.
The son of a bitch who wrote him up for beating the crap out of the stupid private that dared to contradict him. Yeah, he wanted to show Officer Showoff just who really was in charge. Damn the rules of the game. He'd agreed to them, but no one would know if he spent a few hours carving Mr. Officer up. Of course, it wouldn't be nearly as much fun if the others didn't know what he was doing.
Another voice began to rise, one she couldn't push down. A woman, pleading. Begging. Stirring Blade to further action. He loved the begging. The victim had no idea she was rousing him to further acts of torture for his own pleasure, and Tansy had no way of warning her.
Shut up, bitch. Stop sniveling. Whiny, stupid bitch. Of course I'm going to kill you. I'm going to gut you and leave you hanging on a meat hook in the cooler. What did you think I wanted with you? Your fancy jewelry? Your grotesque body? No, I want you dead. But don't worry, you'll be like one of those fine fat pigs your family slaughters and butchers; I'll leave you hanging there for the world to see. Or maybe your husband will carve you up and sell you to the markets to make a few extra bucks.
Murder Game Page 26