Firestorm

by Iris Johansen

  “What kind of perks?”

  His eyes glinted as he glanced over his shoulder. “Like curiosity. I have an insatiable curiosity and it has to be satisfied. Do remember that, Kerry.” He opened the door. “I'll tell Brad to come and see you if he's off the phone.”

  “Okay.” She stared thoughtfully at the door as it closed behind him. George's demeanor toward her had definitely changed as evidenced by the familiarity of calling her by her first name, and that last remark had definitely been a warning. George didn't like to be closed out, and he was evidently more formidable than she'd thought. Not that she actually considered him threatening, but his dry wit and bland manner had thrown her off guard even after Silver had told her his background. From now on she wouldn't make that mistake. In his way he might be even more dangerous than Silver.

  No, just the thought that she was discounting Silver's power was disconcerting. She was becoming too confident of him.

  The hell she was. How many doubts about him had attacked her since she'd woken today? But she'd dismissed them almost immediately.

  Because she wanted him to be one of the good guys. She wanted to trust him. Oh, shit.

  She pushed aside the tray and jumped out of bed. Stop fretting. Last night had been bizarre and unsettling and she was craving both explanations and reassurance. She probably had time to wash her face and brush her teeth before he showed up. She needed to feel alert and pulled together before she faced him.

  Fat chance. She hadn't felt confident and pulled together since the moment she had met Silver.

  Silver was staring down at her breakfast tray when she came out of the bathroom ten minutes later. “You ate almost your entire breakfast. Good.”

  “I'm glad you approve.” She dropped down on the bed and shoved her feet into her slippers. “How is Gillen?”

  “Not good. I may have to go see him. I can't put him off much longer.” He sat down in the easy chair. “How are you today?”

  “You sound like a shrink. I'm fine. Just fine.”

  “Stop bristling. It was just a question.”

  “I'm not Gillen. I don't need your ‘services' to put me back together. There's only one thing I need from you and you didn't give it to me last night.”

  “I told you it wouldn't happen overnight. Next time we may make more progress.”

  “And we may not. If you're going to have to wait until I go to sleep, it may take weeks before—”

  “I won't have to wait for REM cycle after we're together the next couple times. It was just easier for the first time. All it takes is for you to relax and I'll be there.”

  After we're together. I'll be there. . . .

  The words struck her as almost unbelievably intimate. Or maybe it wasn't the words; maybe it was the memory of how she'd felt watching him sleep, his head resting against the trunk of the willow tree. She moistened her lips. “It will be that easy for you?”

  “If you help me.”

  “You didn't need help last night. You were totally in control.”

  “And you resent it.” He sighed. “You can't have it both ways, Kerry.”

  She looked away from him. “It scared me. I didn't know I was going to feel like that.”

  “Go on.”

  “I don't have to go on. You probably know how I—” Her glance shifted back to him. “I felt . . . connected. I felt part of you. You didn't tell me I'd feel like that.”

  “It's different every time. I knew there would be intimacy. I warned you about it. I wasn't sure you'd feel the bond. I didn't know I'd feel it.”

  “Well, I did feel it, dammit,” she said fiercely. “Will it go away?”

  “Probably.”

  “When?”

  He shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

  “Don't tell me that. Has this happened before for you?”

  “Twice. When I first started experimenting. Not this strong. Weak. Very weak.”

  “Who were they?”

  “A ten-year-old boy and an old Italian lady.”

  “And what happened then?”

  “The old lady died a couple years later. Neither of them even realized the connection was there.”

  “And the little boy?”

  “It faded.”

  “But didn't disappear entirely?”

  “No, but it didn't interfere.” He scowled. “You're not the only one involved here. What do you want me to say? I'm not Superman. I don't know everything. Hell, I don't know a tenth of what's going on in your mind. As I said, everyone is different.”

  “I don't want it to get any stronger,” she said through her teeth. “Make it stop.”

  “I'll try.” He stared directly into her eyes. “But I can't promise. If that doesn't satisfy you, then you'd better opt out right now.”

  It didn't satisfy her. But she wasn't about to opt out. She'd gone too far to back away now. “No.” She pulled her gaze away with an effort. “Just try to make it stop. It scares me.”

  “You said that before.” He leaned forward and covered her hand with his. “It will be okay, Kerry. We'll find a way to make this work for you.”

  His hand was hard and warm against her skin, and she suddenly felt secure and yet . . . not safe.

  Disturbed.

  Heat.

  Oh, Jesus.

  She moved her hand and got jerkily to her feet. “I've got to get dressed and go find Sam. He needs to go for a walk.”

  “He's in the kitchen.”

  “All the more reason to take him for a walk.” She headed for the bathroom. “He's probably been fed nonstop. I'll see you later.”

  “Yes.” His tone was abstracted and so was his expression as he slowly rose to his feet. “Later.”

  He knew what she was feeling. How the hell could he not know? Close. They were so blasted close that she couldn't take a breath without him knowing. She stopped at the door. “It doesn't mean anything. It's just this . . . togetherness—it doesn't mean anything.”

  “I know that,” he said quietly. “You don't have to explain anything to me.”

  No, she didn't, she thought in frustration. Because he knew her too damn well. “It will go away. I'll make sure of it.” She slammed the door behind her.

  10

  I've been having complaints about you, Dickens.” Ki Yong's voice was silky soft. “Trask isn't pleased with you.”

  Dickens's hand tightened on his phone. “Then get someone else to do his dirty work. I don't like the idea of risking my neck to please that crazy son of a bitch.”

  “You think he's crazy?”

  “What do you think?”

  There was a silence at the other end of the line. “You may be right. I've noticed signs of instability. But it's of no importance as long as he's kept under control. That's why I have loyal men like you to keep an eye on him.”

  “They'll catch him. He takes too many chances. He doesn't give a damn about the risk as long as he makes his kill.”

  “He's very clever. He has a chance of doing what he wants and surviving.”

  “How many kills? He's lost focus. He took me off Raztov and put me on Kerry Murphy. And then last night he told me to scout around the wharf district for a deserted warehouse.”

  “Indeed? How curious. I wonder what he could be planning.”

  “Whatever it is, he doesn't give a damn whether I get stung.”

  “I'm sure you're wrong. You know too much. He wouldn't want you caught.” He paused. “How much do you know, Dickens? Have you found out where we can find Trask?”

  “How could I do that?” Dickens didn't try to hide the frustration in his voice. “When he wants to see me, he doesn't let me know until thirty or forty minutes before the meeting, and it's always a different place. Most of the time he communicates by phone. He's damn careful.”

  “There must be some way to do it. If you could arrange a meeting with him on some pretext, I would be very grateful. And you would become very rich.”

  “You've told me that before. He won't go
for it.”

  “Continue to try. The ideal situation would be to have him willing and cooperative, but I don't want him caught by the authorities. The simplest way to prevent that from happening is to take him off the scene.”

  “Before he makes his kills?”

  “I don't care about his revenge. I care about plucking the prize he's holding under my nose. I can do that if I can catch him.”

  Dickens was sure Ki Yong could. In his dealings with the North Korean, he had always found him to be a cold-blooded son of a bitch. He could almost pity Trask if Ki Yong ever got the upper hand.

  Almost.

  “I'll do the best I can.” He was silent a moment. “He's got a bug in his ass about Kerry Murphy. I might be able to use her to get to him.”

  “Kerry Murphy . . .” Dickens could almost hear the wheels turning in Ki Yong's mind as he went over everything Dickens had reported to him on the woman. “It's possible, I suppose. But there's really no revenge factor involved. Would there be enough emotion involved to spur him to an indiscretion?”

  “How the hell do I know? But he took me off Raztov.”

  “And that alone is enough to explore the situation,” Ki Yong said. “You may have hit on a way to benefit both of us, Dickens. Do keep me informed.” He hung up.

  Dickens pressed disconnect and thrust the phone in his pocket. Arrogant son of a bitch. He disliked Ki Yong as much as he did Trask, but the Korean paid well and he'd rather deal with his icy ruthlessness than Trask's volatility. He could judge which way Ki Yong would jump, because he was always motivated by cool logic. Trask was brilliant, but vengeful men were often erratic, and Dickens distrusted unpredictability. Dickens couldn't see where Trask was leading him, and if he wasn't careful, the bastard could get him killed.

  Like tonight.

  He parked the car and sat there looking at the row of deserted warehouses that lined the street. Two were condemned, and he'd be lucky not to have the floor give way and send him crashing into the basement.

  What the hell was he doing here, anyway?

  Doing what that crazy bastard told him to do. He got out of the car and headed for the first warehouse. Get it over with and get out.

  This couldn't go on. He needed to put an end to being at Trask's beck and call. He had to find a way to serve Trask up to Ki Yong on a silver platter, line his own pockets, and get out.

  But to do that he might have to find a way to stake out Kerry Murphy for Trask. . . .

  Why do you hate your father?” Silver picked a blade of grass and chewed thoughtfully on it.

  “I don't hate him. I just don't like him.” Kerry looked out at the lake. “And you should know why I'm not fond of him. He stuck me in that asylum.”

  “You didn't like him before that. Your relationship with him has always been troubled.”

  “Not all children get along with their parents.”

  “But you're very affectionate. You believe in maintaining family ties. You forgave your brother. Why not your father?”

  “I'd rather not talk about it.”

  “Okay, then just think about it.”

  She looked at him in exasperation. “That's the same thing as—” His expression was alight with mischief, and she found herself smiling grudgingly. “Stay out of my business, Silver. I don't want my relationship with him glued back together.”

  “Why not? Don't you think you should ask yourself that question?”

  “No.” She rolled over and sat up. “I think I should ask you why you seem happy to lie around and ask me stupid questions instead of teaching me. When are we going to make some progress?”

  “This is only the third time we've been here. And I am happy.” He stretched and reached for another blade of grass. “And so are you. You like it here.”

  What was not to like? Delphiniums and green grass, a glittering lake and this man who had become a part of her. “You probably brainwashed me.”

  He shook his head. “You've just gotten used to me. Having me here isn't so bad, is it?”

  She had gotten used to him. It was strange how comfortable she was with him now. She actually was beginning to look forward to opening her eyes and seeing him sitting by the lake and smiling at her. “Yes.”

  “Liar.” He chuckled. “You like me.”

  Jesus, she loved his laugh. His voice was deep, but there was a note of boyish enjoyment. “Sometimes.”

  “Most of the time.”

  “When you don't interfere in my business.” She frowned sternly. “Stop it and get to work.”

  “I'm already working.”

  She stared at him warily. “Have you been messing with me?”

  “Just building a few barriers. I wanted to protect you.”

  Don't soften. “Then why didn't you tell me what you were doing?”

  “I didn't have to have your help. The defenses will be automatic. When you need them, they'll be there.”

  “Just like that?”

  He nodded. “Just like that.”

  “Show me.”

  “Trust me.”

  “Show me. I want to see what—”

  She screamed as pain tore through her.

  Daddy!

  Fire. Smoke.

  Mama. Help Mama.

  Couldn't help her. Couldn't help her. Couldn't help her.

  The man was looking down at her and there was something in his hand.

  No! Go away! Go away!

  Gone.

  “Sorry.” She opened her eyes to see Silver's face above her. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” She couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  “I showed you,” he said simply. “I attacked and you fought back.”

  “Shit.”

  “You wouldn't have thanked me for being gentle. I had to hit you where it hurt.”

  “You did that.” Her lips were trembling and she tried to keep her voice even. “It hurt like hell.”

  “I know.” He reached out and gently touched her cheek. “But you can stop it sooner next time, now that you know you're capable of doing it.”

  She drew a deep breath. “All right. You found a way to protect me, now find a way to show me how to push.”

  His hand fell away from her. “You're pretty pushy as you are. You just learned something pretty darn big. Absorb it before you leap forward.”

  “I don't want to absorb it. I want to build on what I've learned. Teach me.”

  “I told you I wasn't certain I could help you out there.”

  “Screw being certain. I've got to try to learn. Tell me how it works with you. How do you make people do what you want?”

  “First, you have to make sure the subject isn't closed to you.”

  “Trask isn't closed to me. He erupts like a volcano every time I'm near him.”

  “Then you have to go in and block out all the distractions and try to find the path.”

  “What path?”

  “You'll see. When you go into the psyche, it's like a twisting tunnel with offshoots everywhere. Most of them are short and some are blocked. But there are some that go all the way to the center of influence. When you find one, settle in and start pushing. Don't try commands. Suggest.”

  “Suggest what?”

  “If you want him to go jump in the lake, suggest he's hot and wants to go for a swim.”

  “And he'll do it?”

  “It works for me.” He held up his hand as she opened her lips. “Yeah, I know. It has to work for you.”

  “And I can't practice on anyone, dammit. I can't go into anyone but Trask.”

  “You can go into me.”

  “And there's no way you'd let anyone control you.”

  “It's all I can offer. It's a pretty big concession for me.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I'll try.”

  “At least you'll get the basics. But don't get impatient if you don't have a breakthrough right away. Concentrate and pretend there's a wall before you and
you have to chip away at it to get to the other side. . . .”

  I told you that it wasn't going to be easy,” Silver said. “We might as well stop for now.”

  The lake and field disappeared in darkness.

  She opened her eyes to see Silver sitting beside her bed. “Why didn't it work?” Her hands clenched into fists. “I tried so hard.”

  “Maybe too hard.” He stood up. “We'll try again tomorrow.”

  “You want me to keep chipping away at that imaginary wall?” She grimaced. “I feel like blowing it up. Was there any progress at all?”

  “A little.” He smiled. “I could feel you plugging away at it.” He headed for the door. “As I said, we'll try again after you get some sleep. You need the rest.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Three forty-five in the morning.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “You'll find you're pretty exhausted. Sleep late.”

  She shook her head. “I'm wide awake.”

  “You'll wind down soon. It will be like pulling a plug out of a dam.”

  She made a face. “You're just full of similes tonight. Walls and now dams.”

  “I'll try to be more original in the future. Good night.”

  “No, I want to try again. I can do it. I know I can do it.” She added hurriedly as she saw he was going to refuse, “Just one more time. Please.”

  “You're relentless.” His lips lifted in a half smile. “Okay, once more.”

  She was in!

  “Congratulations. Now find the path.”

  “Don't nag me. I'm still getting used to—”

  What?

  Shadows.

  “You're not like Trask. I can't feel what you're feeling. You're . . . hidden.”

  “I know. That's exactly the way I like it. Do what you can, learn what you can. Now, find the path.”

  “I can't see anything.”

  “Feel it. Concentrate. You wanted this. Now, see it through.”

  “Stop barking at me. I can't help it if I'm intruding where I'm not wanted. Well, maybe I can, but you deserve it. Now you see how it feels.”

  He was silent. “You're right. I deserve it. But that won't keep me from bitching.”