by A J Sherwood
“Your psychic connection is broken,” Tyson advised her shortly. “Get it fixed.”
“No, seriously, he’s not emitting any kind of anger or negative emotions,” Carol insisted, tucking a stray brown curl behind her ear. “I got a good read on him as he passed me.”
“I want a second opinion,” Sharon voted, raising her hand as if calling for a vote. “Jon?”
“Sure,” I agreed, more to keep an argument from breaking out than anything. I trusted Carol’s judgement. If she didn’t read anything bad from this guy, then I believed her.
For everyone else’s sakes, I didn’t go near any of their desks, but instead ducked into my own long enough to drop my bag and coffee cup on the desk. Well, I guzzled some of the coffee first. Only then did I step out and try to get a good reading on the guy sitting in my boss’s office.
The first good look at him took my breath away.
I lost all sense of time for a moment. I couldn’t see everything, not from just the back, but I saw enough. His chakra points glowed strongly, the meridian lines telling me everything that I needed to know and more. I had to remind my lungs to draw in air. I had literally never seen a human being as awe-inspiring and fundamentally good as this man.
Wetting dry lips, I didn’t even think, just went to Jim’s office and pushed through. He looked up sharply at my abrupt entrance, his dark brows drawing together, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth deepening. “Jon. Something wrong?”
“I need to see you for a sec,” I informed him, tone urging him to get out of the chair. Now. I had to really bite down on the impulse to look at the new man. If I even glanced his direction, I knew that I’d end up staring.
Catching my urgency, Jim nodded agreement and turned to his guest. “Excuse me, Mr. Havili, for just a minute.”
“Sure.”
Nice voice. Deep, smooth, but not polished. Stop it, don’t get sucked into looking that direction. I back-pedaled out, giving Jim room to maneuver, then ducked into my office so no one could overhear us.
Jim stepped inside, closing the door, hands on his wide hips. His bulldog face went hopeful for a moment, as if he might have a bone thrown his way soon. “You got a read on him. Is he as scary as he looks?”
“That is an amazing man,” I announced firmly. “Hire him.”
Jaw dropping, Jim spluttered, “The person who could star as an extra in a horror film as the villain’s henchman?”
Did he really look that bad? Maybe I should have risked a glance after all. “Jim, listen to me. That man is the most amazing person I’ve ever seen in my life. You will sorely regret not hiring him.”
Jim’s dark brown eyes narrowed, and he stopped being defensive, arms relaxing. My boss normally glowed a nice, steady aura; right now he sparked with curiosity and growing interest, the colors of green and violet swirling in the white. “What did you see?”
“His protective instincts are through the roof. He literally radiates with the force of it. He’s incredibly good natured, I would not be surprised that he rescues kittens out of trees, okay? That is the type of man who would take a bullet for a complete stranger and count it as a win. Hire him.”
In the twenty years as boss of this company, Jim had seen and dealt with some pretty interesting characters. He’d even taken me on, one of the most challenging people to deal with, and only grumbled about how expensive I was. Of course, he also claimed I was the source of most of his white hairs, never mind that he’d been heavily salt-and-peppered before he ever met me. He didn’t respond immediately, just stared at me contemplatively for several seconds before finally coming to a decision. “If I hire him, you have to take him as a partner.”
I jerked back in surprise. “Wait, Jim, that’s—”
“You said he’s one of the best men you’ve ever seen,” he reminded me, eyes narrowing.
“Well, yeah, but taking me on is a bit much, don’t you think? And you wanted him for another police consultant, right?”
“He’s got a lot of military police background. I thought he’d be a good fit, since Fort Campbell is so close, and we need someone like him. But Jon, above all else, I need you safeguarded.”
I really couldn’t argue that. It wasn’t that I sought out trouble while working cases, people just really hated what I could see when I looked at them and tended to get violent about it. “Okay, but, still. When has partnering me up with someone ever worked out?”
“Have any of those previous people been like Donovan Havili?” Jim pressed, practically radiating with intent. His meridian lines reflected a strange mix of hope, anticipation, and relief. Which I found insulting, as I hadn’t agreed to this yet.
Sighing, I had a feeling that ‘yet’ was going to happen soon. “No, nowhere close. Look, I’m not arguing against him, per se. It’s just that I’m difficult to be around for long periods of time. Do you really want to lose this man as an employee by sticking him with me first thing?”
“Jon. You’re juggling multiple cases right now. The police are using you more and more, and half the time the people you’re chasing are murderers or serial killers. I don’t want you hurt again on the job.” Sighing, he ran a hand through his peppered hair. “But alright, you’ve got a good point. Just take a month and try it out. If it doesn’t work, I’ll put him back into the original position he interviewed for.”
“Deal,” I responded promptly. I had no idea if I would get along with the new guy or not, I just knew that I couldn’t let someone like that walk away. We needed good help. He must have the skills; Jim wouldn’t even bother to call him for an interview otherwise.
Nodding, Jim opened the door and exited my office. “Alright, then, come with me.”
I was torn between jubilation and nerves. I really felt like this guy would be a good fit in Psy once people really got to know him, but I didn’t want to be the reason for him quitting, either. Okay—calm, be professional. Straightening my vest, I returned to Jim’s office, and this time I took a proper look at the man who would shortly become my partner.
Oookay, I now saw why they were a little afraid of him.
On the surface, this was one scary dude. He’d dressed in long sleeves for the interview, just a button-up and a nice pair of jeans, so he’d honestly tried to look professional. But hints of tattoos could be seen peeking out under his collar and along his wrists, red and black. No, wait. Not tattoos. Scars. I saw the energy lines from the damage and winced. Acid burns.
Who the hell throws acid on a man?
Scars aside, he had the wide shoulders and solid build of a weight lifter. In fact, he could almost make two of me, he was so huge. And not any part of it was fat. Sumo wrestlers would pause at the sight of him. He had that coffee-colored skin tone that made me think Hawaiian, and certainly his meridian lines pulled from that heritage, but his stature made me think Tongan. Races were one of the harder things for me to read, but I was pretty sure I was right on this.
“Donovan Havili, this is Jonathan Bane,” Jim introduced.
I extended a hand, unable to keep a wide grin off my face. “Pleasure.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied, accepting the handshake and looking a little baffled. He wasn’t the type to squeeze or dominate a handshake but it still radiated strength.
“You’re no doubt wondering who I am and why I suddenly barged in. Let me explain.” Taking the seat next to his, I sat in it sideways, then thought better of my approach. Let’s show, not tell. “No, better, let me demonstrate and then explain. You’re thirty-four, have fifteen years’ experience in the military, with one year in…a hospital? Recovery center? Because of the acid attack. I’m so sorry about that, it must have been hell. You’re mostly Hawaiian with some African American mixed in, like any other American. You’re single, have no children, but strong ties to your…parents, brother and sister? I can’t tell if it’s sister or sister-in-law, but you clearly think of her as a sister. You had nothing to eat this morning. Nervous for the interview, maybe? You’re a
lso one of the most amazing men I’ve ever seen, with protective instincts that would put Captain America to shame.”
Golden-brown eyes widened in that tan face. “How in hell…?”
“Jon is one of our psychics,” Jim explained, a smile on his face. For him, seeing me do this never got old, and he enjoyed the show every time.
“He says psychic because there’s not really a word for me,” I tried to explain, my hands lifting in illustration, graphing what I tried to say in the air. “What I’m actually doing is reading your energy. You know the Chinese tradition of chakra points? It’s something like that, only there’s actual energy lines. I can tell a lot of things by reading those lines.”
“And trust me, he saw a lot more than what he just said,” Jim added with a pointed look at me. “For some reason, though, he feels like he has to keep the world’s confidences.”
“I’m a criminal consultant, not a tattletale,” I replied mock-sweetly.
“You’re also a pain in my ass,” Jim grumbled. “Mr. Havili, here’s the thing. Jon is one of our best, but he’s also a lot of trouble. Because of his ability, he can’t handle anything electronic directly. No phones, computers, not even most cars. He fries them in seconds. He also has the bad habit of getting lost in a reading and losing all situational awareness. He was shot last year because of it.”
“Shot at,” I corrected testily. “Shot at, he didn’t actually hit me.”
“And what’s that scar on your abdomen, then?” Jim challenged, his face looking more bulldog than usual.
“’Tis only a flesh wound,” I responded promptly, doing my best Monty Python impression.
Havili choked on an abortive laugh.
Rolling his eyes, clearly praying for patience, Jim decided to ignore me and continued, “What I need is someone to partner with him, someone who can guard his back while he’s working and handle everything he can’t. Your resume states that you were in Special Forces for a while before serving as an MP. That means you have experience with crime scenes and the like, correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Havili responded promptly.
Where was that accent from? He’d grown up out west somewhere, I saw the impact of desert living, but he didn’t quite sound like a Southerner. I loved things I couldn’t immediately figure out.
“So you can actually type and do reports? Jon writes everything long-hand, and Marcy pitches in to type them when she can, but it would be better if his partner did it since you’ll be on scene along with him. You can fill in anything he’s missed.”
“Yes, sir, I can type decently. I don’t mind doing the paperwork, it’s just part of the job.” Looking at me, he studied me in such a penetrating way that it felt like he could see my energy lines too, for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I was failing this interview before you came in. You obviously chose me. Why?”
“Like I said, you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever seen.” I tried to phrase my words so that it didn’t sound like I was hitting on him. That proved challenging, as part of me actually did want to hit on him. Why did he have to be bisexual? This would be much easier if I could just give myself a straight no. “Can I call you Donovan? Thanks. Donovan, I’m difficult to be around for any length of time. I know this. I’ve worn people out in weeks. I think you and I will be okay as partners because you have the patience of Job. And your protective instincts are high enough to compensate if your patience runs out. I think. At least, I’m reasonably sure that you won’t want to kill me and leave me in a ditch somewhere in the first month.”
“That actually did almost happen,” Jim put in as an aside. “Mr. Havili, I cannot afford to lose this man, he’s literally a third of our income. It’s part of the reason why I make so many allowances for him—that, and I know he can’t help most of it. And we’re not hiring you to be his partner, we’re hiring you for the police consultant position, but we want you to try partnering first. If you can stand being around him forty hours a week, then we’ll make it permanent. Otherwise, you go back to the position you interviewed for. Salary’s sixty thousand a year, plus benefits and two weeks’ vacation. Will you take it?”
Donovan’s eyes never left mine as he answered, “Yes, sir. I will.”
“Excellent.” Jim let out a breath of relief. “Jon, go introduce him to everyone else. I’ll get the paperwork started for a new hire.”
“Sure.” Popping up, I half-turned and paused for him to join me. Damn, he was tall. I stood just under six foot and I barely hit this man’s chin. His Tongan blood showed very strongly through his build. With a tug of my vest to make sure it lay flat, I gestured for him to follow me, asking in a low voice as we moved, “Just curious, is everyone terrified of you the first time you meet them?”
“Usually,” he sighed, sounding all sorts of resigned. “They find me really intimidating.”
“I actually rather envy that, as I’m the opposite,” I joked with him, trying to liven the mood. As a pale, thin blond, I exuded no air of intimidation at all. Not until I opened my mouth and started saying inappropriate things, anyway. But most people passed me on the street without a second glance. “Don’t worry, they’ll be nervous at first, but this is a pretty adaptable bunch. After all, they took me on.”
He didn’t look sold, but gave me a game nod.
Stopping in front of the crowded coffee area, I smiled, bouncing up and down on my toes. “Hey, gang, let me introduce you to my new partner. This is Donovan Havili. He only looks scary, but actually he’s a big teddy bear.”
“That’s me, the big, brown teddy bear,” Havili agreed, his sense of humor coming out.
Most of the team looked at me in various levels of disbelief and astonishment, all except Carol, who looked vindicated. She stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you, Donovan. I’m Carol Palmer, the other psychic in this joint. Oh, nice vibe. I think we’ll get along like peaches and cream. This is Sharon. She’s my sister, anchor, and our accountant/legal aid. The charming and patient woman on my left is Marcy, our receptionist, and the tough guy over here is Tyson, our police consultant. We’ve got one more running around here somewhere, our IT specialist, but looks like we’ll have to introduce you to Sho later.”
Perhaps sensing it wouldn’t go over well, Donovan didn’t try to shake anyone else’s hands, just gave them a nod and smile. “Hello.”
The other three nodded back hesitantly, then went back to staring at me like I was a doppelgänger or pod person. I got that look a lot, so it didn’t faze me. “Donovan, come back to my office, I’ll give you the rundown. Then maybe we can go out and tackle one of the jobs lined up this morning.”
“Sure.” He followed me like a bodyguard on the prowl. I mean, I barely heard the man move, and that was impressive considering his size.
I could feel his eyes on me, penetrating, studying, and had to repress a shiver. It was a little unnerving to be stared at like that, even from a man like this. Or maybe especially from a man like this.
My office had nothing in it that actually functioned like most modern offices. I had two bookshelves crammed to the brim, two desks, various folders and binders from cases, and four chairs, two of them for visitors. I gestured toward the other desk. “That one’s yours. Feel free to bring a computer and stuff in, just don’t let me anywhere near it. Within five seconds it will be fried.”
“You’re serious? What are you, Electra?”
“Comic book reference, nice,” I applauded. “Marvel or DC?”
Donovan grinned at me as he took his new chair, the plastic giving a slight groan. “Mostly Marvel, although Green Lantern’s my favorite.”
“Really? I’ve always had a thing for him and Batman. We’ll talk comic books later, I promise you this. And yes, I’m serious. I really, really can’t be allowed anywhere near electronics. My car has an EMP shield around its onboard motor and dash, so that’s safe to drive, but never try to pick me up in anything else.”
“Got it. That has to be rough, though.”
“Difficult, very difficult,” I agreed, so resigned at this point that I only shrugged. “I was born in the wrong era, I think. Or maybe not, they would have burned me as a witch a hundred years ago. Anyway, if we’re out, I’m going to let you handle anything that requires electronics, capiche?”
“Roger. So what do you do, exactly?”
“Mostly a profiler for the police, but we get all types, really. I handle missing persons, murder, even fraud. They especially use me for fraud cases if it involves a psychic. I can tell the real thing from the fake. One thing that most people don’t understand is that I can only read the living. Not the dead. The police love to use me as a lie detector too.”
“What about animals?”
“They’re harder,” I admitted frankly, perching on the edge of my desk. It felt wrong to stand while he sat. “I can see some things, but no one taught me how to do this. A lot of what I know is based on experience, some educated guess work, etcetera. I studied people first and foremost, animals are more an afterthought.”
“Got it.” Donovan leaned back, causing the chair to creak a little. I foresaw the necessity of a stronger computer chair, as that one would not hold up. “And how often do you get shot at?”
“Not that often,” I assured him, my mouth kicking up to one side in a parody of a smile. “Most of the time people try to either punch or stab me.”
Donovan just stared at me, a man waiting for the punch line. “…seriously? You get attacked often?”
Rubbing at the back of my head, I explained a little defensively, “It’s human nature. Most people wouldn’t just accept what I did to you during the interview, they’d get mad or touchy about it. And with criminals, it’s worse because they think they have no secrets from me. They attack most of the time, desperate to shut me up.”
