by Jami Gray
“That’s it. Just breathe with me. You’re doing great.”
I followed his lead until my pulse leveled out and my legs remembered how to hold me. “I’m okay.” It came out rough but clear.
“You are,” Bishop agreed, his low voice vibrating against my spine. “You survived. You didn’t break.”
Startled to hear my own personal mantra aloud, I tilted my head back as much as possible against his chest to find him staring down at me. “Not yet.” My denial was automatic but true. “These things I’m seeing… they aren’t me.”
A dark and dangerous look slipped across his face. “No, they aren’t.”
The surety of his answer gave me something to hold on to. What I wanted to say next would sound crazy. If I’d grown up with different siblings or had another kind of work life, I might have gratefully embraced the white-jacket diagnosis and taken their damn pills. But I knew that despite the fact I was boringly normal, there were others who had extraordinary, and sometimes frightening, abilities—people who could do amazingly good or evil things.
Unable to look away, I whispered, “It’s him.”
Chapter Four
BISHOP
I had to let her go because hearing the fear in her whispered admission left me with an urge to slam my fist into something—although I would have preferred hitting whoever was behind this whole mess. I let her go and backed up to the desk until I could grip the edge.
“You don’t believe me.” Megan turned to Delacourt then back to me, her jaw jutting out. “Look, I know it sounds crazy, but you both know it’s a possibility.”
There was no way to argue with her even if I’d wanted to. Knowing Falcon and the psychics they employed, I was aware that what she’d described could be the aftermath of having her brain fucked with by a telepath as much as it could be PTSD. Hell, it could be both. I was leaning toward the telepath explanation, thanks to my earlier vision of the shadowy threat directed at the colonel and my knowledge of Falcon’s lack of ethics.
The colonel shifted in her seat then shot me a grim look. If Megan was right, it didn’t bode well—for us or for her. If Falcon had access to a skilled telepath, the kind of damage they could create was, excuse the pun, mind-boggling.
Megan didn’t miss our silent exchange. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t,” the colonel answered.
Megan gave a jerky nod then rubbed her palms against her knees. “Can we find out?”
Trying to hide my grimace, I looked down. The need to gain Megan’s permission for Wolf to poke around in her mind was no longer an issue. As hard as it was to believe, she was all but putting her head on the chopping block. I couldn’t figure out if that made her brave or reckless—or both.
“Maybe,” the colonel answered cautiously as she studied Megan’s face. “It would mean working with a telepath.”
In her lap, Megan twisted her fingers together until they were bloodless. “But the telepath—they could find out?”
“His name is Wolf, and if anyone could, it would be him.” Delacourt reached out and gave Megan’s hands a gentle squeeze, and the younger woman flinched. “We can’t offer any promises. This isn’t exactly a science. You need to be sure this is what you want.”
“Right now, I just want to know I’m not crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” I said, but I worried that her determination to figure out what was happening might not outweigh the downside of opening her mind to Wolf.
“I hear a but in there,” she muttered.
She was right—it was a huge-ass but. “But to find out if your suspicions are right, you’ll need to face a process that’s similar to what you endured.”
As my explanation sank in, her mask cracked. Fear and aversion seeped out before anger and resolve sealed it up tight. “I know that.” She turned away and studied Delacourt and then seemed to come to a decision. “I want to make sure they didn’t do something to me. Something that would put those around me at risk.” After a tense moment during which the colonel failed to react, Megan’s eyes narrowed. “You already thought of that.”
When the colonel stayed silent, I answered, “Yeah, we did.” If Megan had the courage to ask, she deserved an answer. It was obvious she had enough shit messing with her mind—no sense in adding more.
She turned from the colonel to me, her head tilting in consideration. “Were you going to tell me?” Before I could answer, she raised a hand, palm up, in the universal sign for Shut it. “Never mind. Stupid question. Of course you were.”
I blinked. Maybe I was too used to the cynical bent of my fellow teammates, but her quick acceptance was startlingly trusting, especially considering her recent ordeal.
She turned back to the colonel. “I understand that the safety of the teams come first, and right now, I’m an unknown risk.” She gave a brittle smile. “I can’t share what I can’t remember, and I can’t remember how much, if anything, they were able to pull from me or do to me. What I can tell you is that I don’t want to be the reason someone gets hurt or killed. So if there’s a chance to find those answers, I’m willing to take it.”
Her desire for answers was blinding her to the bigger picture. Frustrated, I said, “Not at the expense of your sanity.” Why the hell was I so determined to handle her with kid gloves?
She turned those baby blues to me and shot back, “It’s not your choice to make.”
Before I could argue, the colonel waded in. “I’ll set up a time to meet with Wolf tomorrow. You take tonight to think it through. If you change your mind—”
“I won’t,” Megan said.
I wanted to roll my eyes at her adamant tone.
Delacourt continued, “If you do, we’ll find another solution.”
At that blatant prevarication, I kept my disbelieving snort to myself.
Megan’s chin lifted. “If you had another solution, this wouldn’t be a conversation.”
It was obvious that Megan’s time as the colonel’s assistant had left her with no fear of calling Delacourt out on her shit.
“Take the night, Megan,” the colonel ordered.
Megan nodded and got to her feet.
The colonel rose as well. “I’ll call you once I talk to Wolf.”
“Thank you,” Megan murmured.
I pushed up from the desk. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” Her stomach rumbled, and much-needed color streaked her cheekbones. “Dinner first,” I amended as I moved to the door and held it open for her, surprised to realize I was happy to have a reason to spend more time with her.
She tried to wiggle out of it. “I’ve got food at home.”
“Not enough for me.”
“Who said you were invited?” she said, showing me a peek of who she must have been before this mess occurred.
Putting a hand on the small of her back, I nudged her through the door. “Consider it payment for playing taxi.”
She turned her head and, from under thick lashes, shot me a playful look that stirred things best left alone right now. “So, does that mean dinner’s coming from a drive-through?”
“I’m sure I can dig out enough change for somewhere with table and chairs.” I held the door open as she passed through, and she gave a muffled snort.
I grabbed the tray holding three orders of steak tacos and followed Megan to a nearby table. A local San Diego favorite, Nina’s Cocina was humming with diners, but luckily, we were able to nab a spot in the back corner. Megan took a seat with her back to the door, and I set the tray down and took the other side. As I settled in, Megan distributed the food and placed the required pile of napkins in the center then nabbed one of the three unmarked bottles of salsa.
“You’ve been here before?” I asked.
She finished lining her two tacos with salsa. “Yep. Keelie and I make it a point to hit it at least once when I visit.”
Strange that we haven’t run into each other. While I enjoyed food, I wasn’t the biggest fan of cooking, and this was one of my pre
ferred stops. “Guessing you didn’t use to live on this side of town.”
Setting the salsa down, she shook her head. She lifted her taco. “Rent out here is through the roof. I shared a place with two roommates over in Ocean Beach. What about you?”
“Just moved into a house with Rabbit. It’s close by and makes for a short commute.” I nabbed the salsa and doctored my tacos, the scent of grilled meat making my mouth water.
Mouth full, she made a humming noise. When she finished her bite, she asked, “Rabbit’s on your team, right? Like Wolf?”
Since I was busy chewing, I nodded. When my mouth was empty, I added, “Rabbit was the one following you.”
“Huh.” She put her elbow to the table, leaned against her hand, and watched me. Considering her unfocused gaze, I figured she wasn’t watching me eat but was thinking about something else.
“‘Huh,’ what?”
She blinked, and her lips curved the tiniest bit. “He wasn’t what I pictured for someone nicknamed Rabbit.” She picked at her food and popped a piece of steak into her mouth, her eyes skating around to the other tables.
Curious, I asked, “What did you picture?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Less southern charmer, more geeky federal agent.”
Southern charmer? I almost choked on my taco. Then I raised a brow in question.
Color rose up in her cheeks, and she dropped her attention to her food. “When I worked with Delacourt, I heard some of your nicknames, but you guys didn’t exactly hang around the office, so I kind of made up my own faces to go with them.”
Now I was really curious. I sucked down some soda and tried to keep it casual. “You know I have to ask…” I waited until she looked at me then asked, “Did I match what you imagined?”
Judging by how deep the color in her cheeks went, she’d missed the mark with me by a mile or five, but she proved she was game by holding my gaze and answering, “Maybe.”
I understood that was all she would give me. Male satisfaction perked up, and I grinned, unable to resist teasing her just a bit. “Exceeded your expectations, didn’t I?”
I was rewarded with a laugh, and it sounded good. Hell, it looked even better because as the shadows drifted away from her for a moment, the woman who’d haunted my imagination to an unhealthy degree revealed herself.
Amusement lingered in her tone. “That has to get tiring.”
“What?”
A wicked glint sparked in her eyes. “Carrying around an ego that size.”
“Hey, haven’t you heard? Confidence is sexy.”
She gave a delicate snort and went back to her taco.
We spent the next few minutes eating in companionable silence. I was glad to note that her earlier stress seemed to ease. She wasn’t as jumpy as before, and the stiffness she’d carried was no longer evident. Unfortunately, there was no missing the exhaustion in her face. It made me wonder when she’d last slept. No doubt, her sleep was far from easy, especially considering those nightmares she’d mentioned. The reminder left me frowning at my empty plate.
“Something wrong?”
I lifted my head, forcing my expression to smooth out. “Nothing important.” I gathered the used napkins and dumped them onto my plate. Eyeing her barely touched second taco, I asked, “Do you want me to get a box for that?”
She wiped her mouth and shook her head. “It never tastes as good reheated. Guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach.” She crumbled her napkin, dropped it on top, then added her basket to mine. “I’m just going to use the restroom before we leave.” She pushed her chair back and got to her feet.
I did the same. “Sounds good. I’ll meet you at the car.”
She gave me a nod and headed down the short hall to the bathrooms. I kept an eye on her until she disappeared behind the closed door, then I got up to dump our plates. Putting on my sunglasses, I stepped out the door into the early evening. With the nice weather, people were out and about. Laughter and music from a nearby bar mingled with the sounds of passing cars. The street was narrow, and traffic moved along at a crawl. Not wanting to hoof it all the way down to the corner to cross at the light, I waited for a break then jogged across the street to where I’d left my Jeep and beeped the locks. An itch at my neck had me doing a quick scan of my surroundings. Tourists and more tourists, interspersed with locals. I clocked a guy sitting on a bench a few car lengths down, his attention directed at his phone. Nothing seemed out of place or a cause for alarm.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I got in the Jeep and started the engine, still trying to figure out what was setting me off. It wasn’t unusual to have such flashes—just part and parcel of the job—but as I waited for Megan, I eyed the passing faces just in case. The man on the bench raised his phone, and I couldn’t help but sneer as he took a selfie. I never did understand the fascination people had with social media. Who the hell wants that many people up in their business? Shaking my head, I caught sight of Megan darting across the street, checking right and left for traffic.
She rounded the hood, and a movement behind her caught my eye. Selfie Boy was getting to his feet, his phone lifted in Megan’s direction. Could be getting a new angle for his photo. Unable to shake my unease, I had my door open and my feet on asphalt when Megan reached the other side.
She stopped and looked at me over the hood. “Bishop?”
“Get in,” I ordered, not taking my attention from Selfie Boy, who had done an about-face and was disappearing into the crowd.
I stopped at the front bumper, torn. I could attempt to chase the unknown guy down, but that would leave Megan alone, which I didn’t think was wise. And what would I do when I caught him? Demand to see his phone? Yeah, that would go over well, considering he hadn’t really done anything that could be construed as a threat. Better to get out of here and get Megan home. I turned and saw Megan’s pale face through my window. Her mask was back in place.
Well, shit. So much for a relaxing dinner. Running a hand through my hair, I turned on my heel and got back in the Jeep.
Megan waited until I’d snapped the seatbelt in place before asking, “What was that?”
I pulled out into the street. “Hopefully nothing.”
“That’s not exactly comforting.”
Yeah, well, it wasn’t meant to be. “I thought I saw something, but…” I shrugged as I kept my eyes on the road. “I can’t be sure, so hopefully it was nothing other than me being paranoid.” When she didn’t say anything, I snuck a quick glance to see her biting her bottom lip. I took one hand off the steering wheel and squeezed her knee. “I was probably overreacting. Hazard of the job.”
Cold fingers encircled my wrist and held on. “I don’t think I’d like your job.”
“It has its moments,” I murmured as I kept an eye out for any tails. I could feel the tiny tremors in her fingers. “You’re staying at your sister’s, right?”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.” Her fingers tightened then let my arm go. “Why?”
Even though I didn’t want to, I took my hand from her knee. “I’m not comfortable with you being by yourself tonight.”
“I’ll be fine.” There was a bite to her words.
Recognizing ruffled feminine pride, I changed tactics. “I’m sure you will, but I’d rather be sure, so humor me, okay?”
“Bishop, we barely know each other.”
I slid her a glance and asked a question I was fairly certain I knew the answer to. “Do you think I’d hurt you?”
She answered quickly, “No.”
“You got someone else you can call?” When she stayed silent, I pressed my point. “I’ll have Rabbit bring my bag over. If it makes you uncomfortable to have me around, I can stay in my Jeep.” It would make for a very uncomfortable night, but there was no way I could leave her alone tonight, even if I was stuck keeping watch from a distance.
I could feel her staring at me, and when I stopped at a red light, I checked. Yep. She wa
s staring at me with an expression I couldn’t read. “What?”
She bit her lip, shook her head, and turned away. “You can stay, but I don’t think you’ll fit on Keelie’s couch.”
Something told me that her answer had absolutely nothing to do with whatever was running through her mind, but with nothing to go on, I went with the direction she’d offered. “I’ve slept in worse. Don’t worry.”
She gave a soft sigh. “Fine, but you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The light turned green, and I hit the gas.
Chapter Five
It was after midnight when I finally closed my bedroom door, leaving Bishop on the too-small couch in the living room with a blanket and pillow. Uncertain about the feelings spinning through me, I leaned against the door and stared at my feet as I dug my toes into the carpet. Despite my earlier comments in the Jeep, it wasn’t the size of the couch that left me struggling—it was Bishop. Or to be more precise, it was my reaction to the man. He made me feel safe. Until my rescue, I’d been nowhere on his radar. Maybe I’d spent too much time with my therapist, but I couldn’t help but wonder if the reason I felt safe with him was because his was the first face I saw when I was rescued.
Maybe, or maybe it’s because you spent way too long daydreaming about him.
An uncomfortable heat simmered in my cheeks. Although I’d never been introduced to the men and women on Delacourt’s teams, I’d managed to match some of the faces to names as they came through the office. The first time Bishop swept through with his dangerous, sexy, predatory grace, he left an impression—to the point where he showed up in some of my artwork. That same impression might explain why, during the weeks of having my mind twisted, my shadowy protector shared an uncomfortable number of characteristics with Bishop.
When it came to Bishop, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I dared to reach out and touch the impossible, I might be in for the ride of my life. Despite the temptation to find out, I wasn’t sure my courage was up to the challenge—not when my mind was a hot mess and when no one, including me, knew if I was a threat or not. Bishop deserved someone he could trust.
