Murder Game Page 4

  His smile widened at her reaction, warmed the strange black eyes until they glittered like a cat's at night. "You aren't afraid of me." He made it a statement.

  Anyone with a brain would be afraid of him, especially a woman. This was a man's man. There was nothing boyishly handsome in that rugged face. Nothing soft and gentle in those glittering eyes, but something else. What was it that both intrigued and repelled her?

  "You caught me in a compromising position. You must admit it isn't exactly a situation that would make a woman feel safe."

  Kadan studied her face--the flawless complexion, the full mouth, and the long, lush lashes--but it was her eyes that intrigued him most. There was no question that she was enhanced--he could feel the powerful psychic energy she gave off--but there was something more as well, something he'd not seen in other GhostWalkers before, and whatever the talent, it showed in her eyes. He had to resist reaching out to touch her soft expanse of skin. Twice now, her small white teeth had tugged thoughtfully at her lower lip, a habit he found sexy as hell. She wasn't reading him, and that so rarely happened to her, he could tell she that she found the experience unsettling.

  She had a little too much confidence in herself, which meant she had to have some defense training. Deliberately he allowed his gaze to drift over her body and then back up to her face. She controlled the blush, and that meant she had amazing discipline and command of her body. He sent up a silent prayer that he had the same discipline and command of his body. He needed to get his mind off all that skin, her sweet curves and that damned pouty lower lip.

  "What is it you want, Mr. . . ."

  "Kadan," he interrupted. He kept his voice soft, but he poured steel into it. She was looking at him with those enormous blue-violet eyes, and the strange little shimmer unsettled his belly and tightened his groin. He damn well wasn't going to be the one out of control.

  "I don't know you well enough to call you by your first name." She said it primly as she moved to her left, toward the natural rock staircase that led away from the basin.

  Kadan kept pace, matching her shorter strides perfectly, as if they were slow dancing together. He crowded her personal space just a little, testing to see how she would react.

  She stopped abruptly, but didn't move out of his strike range. "Are you purposely trying to intimidate me?"

  He let a brief smile curve his mouth, giving her a short glimpse of bare teeth. "You should be intimidated. What the hell were you thinking, going to sleep out in the open without a stitch on and no weapon close to you?" He kept his voice controlled, but there was a whip in his tone, and she flinched under it.

  "I'm well aware it wasn't smart. I've been out here for some time and got careless."

  There was something in her tone that irritated him--no remorse, not an apology, just an acceptance of stupidity. Stupidity got a person killed. One moment of inattention could kill an entire team. He crowded her a little more, wanting her scared, because in spite of that flinch, there was no fear in her eyes.

  Tansy let him come near her, not once looking at the knife in the scabbard on his belt. There was no safety thong tying down the hilt, she'd already ascertained that, and the moment he got close enough, she struck, spinning, hand going for the weapon in a blur of speed and moving away just as fast. Except . . . she didn't go anywhere. His hand clamped down on hers, capturing her fist around the hilt, his strength enormous, refusing to allow her to draw the weapon and pinning her in place. He held her rigid against his body, one arm locked around her throat, the other keeping her fist tight around the knife.

  "What do we do now?" he asked, his voice low. Her scent filled his mind and body. Cinnamon. She smelled all woman and cinnamon--a lure that refused to let him go--and his body responded. Hell, he was past caring that she knew, not the way her soft body was molded against his.

  She swallowed. He felt the movement against his forearm, but there was no panic, no struggle. She even relaxed into him, her free hand coming up to hook into the crook of his elbow, one finger pressed lightly against his pressure point, and that told him a lot about her.

  "Now you let go of me."

  Tansy should have been concentrating on getting free. Her mind and body should have been waiting for a moment when she could break loose, but her hand was wrapped around the hilt of a knife--one that was not new, but had gone into combat with this man and surely had been used. She didn't feel anything--nothing at all. There were no whispers to taunt and torment her, no tunnel sucking her in, no black oily void to drag her under and suffocate her. She'd never been this close to anyone--not even her parents--without having something rippling in her mind. She was so astonished she could barely remember she was standing in the grip of an enormously strong stranger with no one around to help if she couldn't control the situation.

  "And if I don't let go?" he asked, lowering his head to inhale her scent again. Cinnamon and sin filled his lungs. Of course he was going to let her go, but not until she learned her lesson. A little fear would be good for her. She needed self-preservation to kick in. Where he was taking her, every single sense had to be honed razor-edged sharp.

  The words whispered so softly in her ear, the warm breath fanning her cheek, snapped Tansy out of her shock. Let go! She blasted her way into his mind, slamming her fingers hard on his pressure point, jerking his elbow down so she could slip free, even as her foot kicked back to rake down his shin.

  Nothing happened. His arm remained locked tight around her throat; his body didn't even rock from hers, and her heel never touched him. Her mind actually recoiled from his, as if she'd bounced off--hard. Hard enough to set her head pounding.

  "Who are you?" For the first time there was a tremor in her voice.

  He let her go, stepping away from her, yet holding her hand so she couldn't withdraw the knife. "Now, you understand, you aren't the only one in the world with hidden talents."

  Very carefully she flexed her fingers, indicating she wanted to let go. Instantly he responded, removing his hand from hers to allow her to drop her arm. Tansy didn't look at him, but she knew he'd felt her hand tremble. She detested showing weakness, but she'd never had anyone resist her so completely. She needed to keep him distracted while she led him to her camp, where she had a weapon or two that might afford her some protection.

  "Just tell me who you are and why you're here." She started toward the trail again and this time he fell into step beside her. When he made a movement toward the inside of his shirt, her breath hitched, but he only pulled out his wallet and flipped it open, holding it out to her.

  His eyes fascinated her. Midnight blue, so blue they were almost black, unblinking and intent, much like those of the predator she'd been studying for the last year. He focused completely on his prey, and right now that was Tansy. He held her mesmerized, unable to look away from him until he allowed it.

  The movement of the wallet allowed her to tear her gaze away from those dangerous eyes, and she glanced with dismay at his identification. FBI. Only she didn't believe it. Everything about him screamed military. She shook her head. "I'm not buying your story." She started up the trail with a forced sigh. "Just tell me what you want and get off my mountain."

  "I need your help."

  Her heart stuttered. The breath caught in her lungs and stayed there. Fear skated through her body. Her throat closed, panic rising while she battled with the sudden roaring in her mind as a door creaked open and voices began to spill out. She shook her head, afraid to speak, afraid she might scream, afraid once she started she would never stop. She counted her steps instead, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, forcing her mind to go blank, forcing air through her lungs while she mutely shook her head.

  "Tansy?" There was concern in his tone.

  She'd gone pale beneath her tan, and little beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. Tansy wiped them away with a leaden hand, holding the door closed while it shook and moaned, pushing hard against her will. "Go away." Her voice was a mere w
hisper of sound.

  He kept pace easily, even though he wasn't walking on the trail, but in the rougher, thicker grass. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

  "Go away, Mr. Montague. I can't help you." She continued to climb, averting her face so that it was impossible for him to see her mouth trembling.

  "That's not the truth, Tansy. I've got a file on you four inches thick. You're the real thing, and whatever bullshit you've been feeding law enforcement across the country about losing your abilities in a climbing accident doesn't cut it with me."

  She swallowed hard, braced herself, and turned to face him. "If you have a file on me, I'm certain it included the fact that I spent eight months in a hospital. You seem a very thorough kind of man to me, and you're not FBI, so your little badge doesn't cut it with me."

  Kadan moved in behind her, crowding so close she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She might look angry, but he was far too well trained not to have noticed the hint of desperate fear in her eyes and she detested that he knew she was afraid. "Not of you," she murmured aloud, pouring contempt into her voice. "Never of you. Get off my mountain and leave me alone."

  "What happened?"

  She took a deep, shuddering breath, her fingers closing to form two tight fists. "You're a perfect stranger--a man I don't want to know. I'm a photographer, working with permits on this reserve. As far as I know, you don't have the right to be here, or to question me. If you really are FBI, then go talk to my lawyer."

  "Now you're just being rude."

  She felt rude. He was getting to her because she was so shaken. Tansy took another breath and let it out.

  The sudden buildup of hostile energy hit her. It was hard and fast and came from just beyond Kadan.

  Kadan felt the surge of aggressive, threatening energy blast him, and he caught Tansy by the wrist, whirling around, thrusting her behind him, placing his body between her and danger. She stumbled and nearly went down, but he continued moving in a circle, pulling his weapon, finger on the trigger, squeezing as the enemy attacked.

  No! Back!

  The voice filled his mind even as Tansy leapt over him, directly in between his gun and the attacking cougar. His finger was already pulling the trigger, his aim true. He managed to jerk just enough to miss Tansy by a breath, but the mountain lion hit her full-force on her chest, driving her back and into him so they both went down. For one moment he stared into the cat's eyes, its breath hot on his face, and then it was gone, leaping off Tansy into heavy brush and disappearing.

  Everything in him stilled. Kadan locked his arms around Tansy and rolled, pulling her beneath him so he could run his hands over her body, checking for damage. "Talk to me."

  The cougar had knocked the breath from her body, hitting her with the force of a locomotive. She'd likely be bruised, and she wasn't getting air, but there were no slash marks as he'd expected. The cat had pulled in her claws when she struck, and she hadn't bitten Tansy's exposed throat--and neither had his bullet hit her. He hung his head for a moment, breathing his fear away.

  "What the hell were you thinking, protecting the cat like that?" he demanded, fury replacing terror. "I could have shot you. I came a whisper away from killing you." He found he was shaking her, and, shocked, he drew a deep breath, trying to pull back from the edge of disaster. He was trembling, something he never did, but he had come so close to blowing her head off. It took a moment for him to realize that his hands were wrapped around her slender throat, thumbs pressed up into her jaw, tipping her head up so her huge eyes stared directly into his.

  Tansy tried to swallow, but his hands were wrapped around her throat, thumbs pressing tightly. She remained very still, shocked at the truth. She hadn't been saving the cougar's life--she'd saved his life. It had been imperative to save his life. The moment she'd felt the threat and knew the cougar was going to attack, she'd leapt over him from a crouching position, giving away another hidden secret, to keep him from harm. She blinked up at him as he slowly removed his hands from around her neck.

  "You could get off of me." Her chest hurt. She was feeling every single rock digging into her back. "You weigh a ton."

  He merely looked down at her for a long moment without responding, his blue-black eyes holding heat and a raw lust, making her heart pound, but then he blinked and his eyes went flat and hard, impossible for her to read. He stood up, drawing her with him, holding her steady until he was certain she was able to stand on her own.

  Tansy dusted off her jeans and then rubbed her palms down her thighs, looking around for the sunglasses that had flown off her face when the cat slammed into her. "Thanks for not shooting me." She would never admit to him that she'd leapt in front of him to save his life, not for one moment. At a much later date, when he wasn't around to confuse her, she'd take out her motives and examine them, but for now, she'd put it down to saving human life.

  "You're damned lucky."

  She nodded. "I know that and I really do appreciate that you're that good."

  "Are you going to tell me how you made that leap from a crouch to over the top of me so fast?"

  Tansy shrugged. "I don't know how I do things. I just do them." There were a lot of things about her that couldn't be explained.

  "Have you ever heard of a man named Peter Whitney?"

  She blinked. Her face went expressionless as she searched the ground for her sunglasses, giving herself time to think. "I think most people in scientific communities have heard of Dr. Whitney," she answered carefully as she retrieved her glasses from under some brush and wiped them off on her shirt. "I believe he was murdered." She looked him straight in the eye so he could see she meant exactly what she said. "If you've found some piece of evidence you want me to 'feel' for you, I can't do it."

  "You believe he's dead?"

  Tansy frowned. "It was big news. He disappeared and everyone thought he was murdered. Wasn't he?"

  Kadan shook his head slowly. "No, he's alive."

  "That's impossible. My parents knew him quite well. If he was alive, they'd know."

  "How well is quite well? They were friends?"

  Tansy shrugged. "No one was really friends with Dr. Whitney. They were colleagues and they respected each other. My father and Dr. Whitney went to school together and they had a lot of common interests."

  "Were you one of them?" Kadan asked.

  Tansy's mouth tightened. She pushed around him to start up the trail again. "I think this conversation has gone on long enough. It's getting personal and I don't even know what you want yet. I have work to do tonight and I need food, so if you're coming, then let's get moving."

  Kadan fell into step behind her, alert for any more threats from the large cat, his gaze shifting around the area, but more than that, his every sense reaching out for information. "Dr. Whitney conducted experiments on children about twenty-five years ago. He collected infant girls from various orphanages around the world. He was looking for specific talents, female babies with psychic abilities."

  Tansy kept climbing while the roaring in her head sent her pulse pounding in her temples. Counting. Ten steps.

  "He named each of the girls after flowers. Tansy is a flowering herb that grows in Europe and Asia."

  Fifteen steps.

  "He enhanced those girls psychically and genetically altered many of them as well. When he removed the filters in their brains, he opened them up for psychic sludge. Many have a difficult time in everyday society. Most can't be around people at all. They have frequent headaches and nosebleeds. Seizures are common when there is too much psychic overload. Some can do amazing physical things, such as leap over a man from a crouching position."

  He wasn't lying to her. All of her life she'd been different. All of her life she'd fought to stay sane when each time she touched an object, or sat in a chair, or reached for a door handle, the door in her mind opened and the voices poured in. She kept counting, whispering the numbers under her breath, while she tried to quiet the voice inside that was wailing with fe
ar.

  "He did other things too. He has a breeding program, matching the girls, who are now women, with men he experimented on in the military. He created several GhostWalker teams. I'm a member of one of those teams. I agreed to be psychically enhanced. At the time, we didn't know he took those experiments even further without our consent. He enhanced us genetically as well as paired us with the women from his earlier experiments. Our best guess is that he hopes to create unique soldiers from the unions."

  Thirty steps. Things were clicking into place, and the door in her mind creaked ominously, threatening her sanity. She'd been so close to peace. So close.

  "You were adopted, Tansy, and Dr. Whitney allowed some of the children he experimented on to be adopted out. He usually kept tight tabs on the girls, so I'm asking you, did you see him while you grew up?"

  Had she seen him? She shivered, suddenly cold, thrown back into childhood memories she didn't want to have. Seeing Whitney was one of the few things she and her parents ever fought over. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She would never forget that man, the way he looked at her as if she wasn't human. He was cold and dispassionate, studying her the way a scientist might an insect. She'd begged her father not to leave her alone with him, but he would grab her mother's hand, looking upset, and walk out of the room, pulling her mother with him. It was the only time she felt vulnerable and without their support.

  "Yes." Her voice was so low, she doubted he could hear. She made an effort to push back the images crowding into her mind. "He was--oily." Whitney had only to touch her skin and she would drown in a black vat of oil, suffocating under the thick stain of a twisted mind. She hadn't recognized the feeling, or identified it yet with sickness in her earlier years, but the ooze had poured into her until she couldn't breathe, until she choked, smothered by his megalomaniacal personality.

  Kadan breathed in and out, hating himself. He was hurting her. He was even skating close to her edge of sanity. He could feel the pain in her like a knife through his body and mind. He'd studied every report on her. She was very sensitive, especially to violence, and he was a violent man. She didn't need to feel anything when she touched him or any of his belongings. In spite of the fact that she claimed her talent was gone, there was no way that it had disappeared. He was both an anchor and a shielder, which meant he could hold all psychic energy at bay and direct it away from her.