by Regan Black
Her eyes popped open and she gathered her thoughts back from that slippery slope.
This was Gideon. Overbearing, commanding, faithless Gideon. He didn't believe in what couldn't be shown on a bar graph or pie chart. He didn't care about what he couldn't see, touch, or explain with a scientific essay.
The man lived by proof alone.
She lived by heart and soul.
He accelerated through the next corner and the combination of the bike and his presence made her shiver.
Dammit. She might be getting stronger, but she didn't like the price of losing control. She'd have to find the balance and soon.
Chapter Nine
Success is never final. Failure is never fatal. It is courage that counts. –Winston Churchill
Gideon maneuvered the bike into the narrow alley between two buildings and under a walkway to the back of Micky's place. The smuggler had a sweet setup that he could appreciate. Not to mention he'd be getting fully caffeinated coffee for the duration of his stay. That in itself was worth the potential hazards of having Petra along.
He'd balked at Jaden's suggestion to come here to piece the puzzle together and had been surprised that Brian allowed the shady association.
"Where are we?" Petra asked when he'd coasted to a stop in the underground garage.
"Slick Micky's place. Finest caffeine, sugar, and nicotine a man can smuggle."
"Those are all controlled substances."
"That's why we call him a smuggler." Gideon couldn't help himself. For a CRIA agent, she often struck him as way too naïve. "Indulging without consequence is one of the perks of being a covert operative."
"Lucky you."
"You'll thank me tomorrow when your coffee kicks your brain straight to fully functional."
He took her grunt as curiosity and set off on the grand tour before he had to give her the bad news.
His timing couldn't have been better. They were packing coffee in the assembly room and the rich fragrance nearly gave him a contact high. Once they'd seen the workout room and the stairwell to the offices on the second floor and were headed for the dining hall, he knew he'd procrastinated too long.
"He's certainly a confident smuggler," she said as they crossed over to building two.
"Meaning?"
"The lack of security is astounding."
He would've laughed if her lack of observation hadn't been so disturbing. "You didn't see anyone because you're with me, but this complex is wired to the hilt. Micky doesn't trust easily and if we weren't on the guest list, we'd have been intercepted and tossed out before the bike crossed the threshold."
"The whole place is wired?" She looked around furtively. "Someone's watching us right now?"
Gideon stopped and waved to a high corner camera. "Do you think that's for effect?"
She looked uncertain, almost shy. Then she attempted a bored shrug. "I guess I didn't think about it at all. My mind's on other things. Like why we're here."
"We're here because Jaden's here and it's the safest place I could think to park you until the arrest warrant is lifted."
That got her full attention, and while it was the result he'd wanted the reality stole his breath. Her gaze first drilled into his, then swept around and over his head. She'd claim to be reading his aura if he brought it up, so he ignored it, chalking it up to bad manners.
"The arrest warrant for who?"
Gideon reached the door to the suite Jaden arranged with Micky and pushed Petra inside. "You," he said, once the door was closed and secure.
"Me?"
Her voice cracked over the single syllable. Not a good sign. "You. Accessory to murder. Only because they haven't found physical evidence to link you to the actual act."
She did that look thing again. "You're lying."
So much for his plan to intimidate. "About the warrant, sort of. Not about the murder I suspect involved you."
She crossed her arms and scowled at him, or his aura, he couldn't be sure as the lights behind her shadowed the direct aim of her eyes.
"Why suspect me?"
"Because you're tracking a vicious serial killer. You went missing directly after he struck in the kitchen of the Ritz, nearly replicating what we now know was his first gory slaying." He thought she trembled, but wouldn't swear to it. When her hand went to her mouth and she swiveled around, searching for something, he recognized her guilt. "Behind you on the right," he directed her to the bathroom. After a moment he followed and waited until the loud heaving stopped.
"Better?" he asked when she emerged. She didn't look better. Her face was ash tinted with green. Her eyes bloodshot with tears and exertion. She looked so unlike herself he regretted being the cause.
"I didn't mean to hurt anyone." She leaned against the doorjamb. "I was just trying to get Kelly out safely."
"Out of where?"
Her tongue traced a path around her teeth. "Does Micky smuggle toothbrushes?"
Gideon snorted at her abrupt change of heart. "Check the cabinet." He left her alone to clean up while he considered the way this case kept jerking him around.
When she came back into the main room, she curled into a corner of the couch, looking so lost it tugged at him on a level he'd forgotten he possessed.
"Tell me everything," he ordered, planting himself directly in front of her.
Her voice was strong and steady as she explained finding Kelly in her suite. She held it together when she relayed the sensation of knowing the killer was nearby. She began to tremble after that point, her voice thready and her teeth clacking occasionally. All the classic signs of post trauma syndrome.
"So you just jumped into this guy's head and made him re-enact his first murder?"
She bit her lip to stop her chattering teeth and shook her head. "That wasn't my in-intent. I wanted to distract him. I dredged up a memory I thought would involve him long enough to get Kelly out of danger."
"You were touching him?"
"No."
"Then it was like the mill, where you modified the memory?"
"No."
Gideon turned away to keep from snatching her up and shaking her. She was shaking just fine on her own. He left her just long enough to retrieve a blanket from the bedroom. Returning, he draped it across her shoulders.
She snuggled in and gave a stuttering thanks.
"Don't mention it. Just help me understand what you did."
"I didn't know anyone would really die. I can't believe I killed a man." She clutched her stomach.
"Stay put. There's nothing left to toss anyway. Were you ever in the Ritz kitchen?"
"N-no. At least I don't think so."
He held himself in check, instead of demanding how she couldn't know where she'd been. Reminding himself she wasn't a normal agent, or person from what he could tell, he asked her to elaborate.
"I just skimmed his memory."
"Kincaid said you need contact. If you weren't with him, touching him, how did it happen?"
"I'm not sure. Since the mill, since Jaden I guess, I've had more reach."
"Reach. Right." She was holding back, even through her distress he could see it. "What else?" he pushed. He had to keep her talking, keep her edgy enough to make a mistake and share her secrets. He just hoped he recognized what he needed when she gave it up.
She huffed out a breath, then chewed on her lip. "You wouldn't believe me."
"I don't believe you now, so what's the difference? Except your honor."
She shot him a scorching look. He considered it a vast improvement over the trembling thing and a step closer to the truth.
"Fine. This particular killer seems to have tapped into me somehow. I've never felt anything like it. He makes me live it. The sight, the smell, the feelings of power and destruction. I hate it."
"Because he hates it?"
"No. Because he's breached my mind–my private sanctuary. I hate him because my brother's serving time for a crime I saw him commit."
Gideon applied
all his training to keep his face neutral, he voice casual. "How can you be certain?"
"How can I not? I was there when this monster broke into the lab. I was with him when he decked the scientist, injected him with the Paracuron upgrade the lab was perfecting and proceeded to gut him while he was still alive. The knife had a wavy blade and a carved ebony handle. A miniature Keris they call it. It's from Indonesia or Java. I felt the blood slick my hands. The lab was near the coast; I could smell the salt air on his clothes. I felt his delight and pride at the ghastly slow murder, his curiosity over each organ. My brother is not capable of such despicable acts."
"You're certain of that?" he pressed.
"Nathan isn't perfect, but he's good and honorable to the core. He would never take pleasure in causing pain."
There was no question she'd been in there somehow. She gave him details withheld from the official reports funneled to Kincaid. Her physical location in Indianapolis had been confirmed. Either she was the killer's confessor or the bizarre link she claimed was true.
Her trembling resumed and quickly worsened. If she didn't stop he might be forced to call in Jaden or Kelly and he preferred to keep her to himself for the duration of this interview. "You're saying you witnessed a crime, didn't report it, and now your brother is incarcerated for that crime."
She nodded.
"Kincaid didn't arrest you as an accessory then?"
"O-of course not. I knew nothing of the c-c-case against my brother until after they'd shipped him off to prison. I-I assumed the crime I'd seen would be b-brought to CRIA's attention." She clamped her mouth shut, struggling for control. "Then I'd walk the scene, find a trace of the killer, and we'd arrest him," she finished carefully.
"That's how it usually goes?"
"Yes. Kincaid calls me in, I read the residuals, and point him in the right direction."
"So how has this particular killer evaded Kincaid?"
"I'd rather know how he's invaded my dreams. How he found me at the Ritz. Better yet, how and why he framed Nathan."
Because Nate had his own assignment, but she wasn't cleared to know that answer. Gideon returned to practical matters. "Have you done anything to help this killer avoid capture?"
Her chin dropped, then her teeth snapped together with a click. Her hands shook beneath the blanket. Adrenaline had kicked into turbo mode. Time to see if she chose fight or flight.
"You stupid, arrogant, juice-jerk," she said, coming to her feet.
Good. He preferred a fight, too.
"I've spent the entire duration of my life trying to find a useful outlet for my skills and putting up with asinine bullies like you who doubt my validity. My integrity isn't up for debate."
She ranted on, but he stopped listening when she pulled out the really big words. Besides, the tremors had increased to nearly debilitating proportion. Until the stunt at the mill, he wouldn't have believed her capable of helping anyone on either side of the law. Now, he wasn't sure what to believe. If there was only a litmus test he could apply and know.
Her finger was poking him in the chest and her mouth still running full speed. On reflex he caught her hand to his chest and pressed his mouth to hers, smothering the latest string of insults.
He pressed his advantage when shock paralyzed her and let his tongue explore the warmth and sweetness of her mouth. When she kissed him back, God, she was his every dark fantasy come to life. He couldn't recall being so affected by a lip-lock. She gave and gave and though he recognized adrenaline induced passion he planned to savor every second until she came to her senses.
He didn't have many to savor. She yanked herself free and stared up at him, those wide blue eyes triggering a parade of intimate x-rated images in his mind.
"Why?" she whispered.
He shrugged, fighting to look unaffected. "Easiest way to quiet most women." He spun away from the annoyed punch she aimed at him, caught her arm, and pushed gently against her shoulder, only enough to prove her error.
"Okay. Uncle. Whatever. Just let go."
"Tap out," he instructed. "You double tap your opponent to signal your submission. It prevents training injuries."
She reached back and double tapped his thigh with her hand. Immediately he let go and she retreated to her original position on the couch. She looked even more vulnerable as she stroked her kiss-swollen lips, but the shivering was over.
"How did you manage not to pass out?" he asked.
"Guess you don't kiss as well as you think." Then she smiled, at least with one side of her pouting mouth. "Temper appears to be an effective defense."
"So your defenses are getting stronger too?"
"They must be," she said, obviously giving the idea some thought. "Sit down," she ordered.
He humored her, deciding it might be the fastest way to get his own answers. "Will you let me try something?" she asked softly.
"Will it hurt?" he joked to cover his nerves. The determined glint in her eye made her outstretched hands less inviting.
"Let's hope not." She shifted, crossing her legs and bracing her elbows on her knees. Extending her palms, she invited him closer. "Let me hold your hands."
Again, he complied and tried to blank his mind against whatever she was up to.
He watched her eyelids close and her breathing quiet. Her hands grew warm under his and he struggled to think of nothing at all.
"Relax," she murmured.
He didn't reply. His mind filled with frustration and temper. He was in the heat of his last mission, fighting for his life along with his team. He was looking for survival solutions.
The assault on the barracks of a unit supposedly answering to Kristoff had gone to hell almost from moment one. Either the entire unit had super-human reaction time or they'd been alerted to the attack.
Juicing aside, Gideon believed in the latter scenario and felt the sting of betrayal as clearly here on the couch as he had that gruesome night.
It should've been an easy in and out. Suppress, subdue, take samples, and retreat. But Kristoff's men weren't sleeping. They were awake and ready. When an unseen sentry sounded the alarm, Gideon, his team, and the plan were tossed into chaos.
His muscles twitched reliving the hand-to-hand combat that dislocated his shoulder. He jerked, when a bullet sliced through his side. His chest heaved, drawing oxygen for the race to safety with the only critical sample in his hand.
Then suddenly the scene changed. He was looking down at his body from the vantage point of the surgeon working to repair the damage. Under the bright lights, lasers cleaned and sealed the wound in his side as two men wrestled his shoulder back into place. They applied a supportive net to the joint and Gideon recoiled. He'd come to hate that thing and its supposedly healing bursts of electricity.
"Let me help." It was Petra's voice in his head. She stood by his side, her hand spread wide over the net on his shoulder. The prickling sensation eased and he relaxed, letting go of the mnemonic pain that lingered in his muscles.
He felt her guide him through those first weeks of hellish therapy, into his annoying assignment of watching her, all the way to the night in his suite when she helped him remove his sub-dermal pager.
He yanked his hands away, but when their eyes locked, he knew she'd seen his base attraction to her.
She didn't look troubled or confused. She looked positively smug. It radiated from her like an inner light and he leaned into it like a foolish moth.
This time when their lips met, it was instantly mutual. She sighed and wound her arms around his neck. He pulled her along as he leaned back until her soft curves melted into the full length of his body.
Whatever she'd done, he craved her with a fiery intensity he wasn't about to deny. He tugged her shirt up to find her smooth, hot skin, skating his hands up her rib cage. She shivered and gave a sweet moan that spurred him on. He wanted to possess all of her, all at once.
She sat up, straddling his hips and peeled off her top. His blood surged in his veins and he rea
ched up to caress her breasts.
He found her breathtaking and felt her triumph as his own. Her hands boldly stroked his chest through his shirt and it wasn't enough. Lunging up, he let her pull it off and toss it to the floor, then he drew her down with him to set his mouth to her breast through the lace of her bra. The nipple puckered eagerly and he thought he'd lose it right then.
Her hands cradled his jaw and her soft lips peppered his face with gentle kisses he suspected were supposed to calm him, but only stirred him more. Her every motion beckoned him to explore, take, and indulge. Every place their bodies met, every point of contact wound him tighter, swept him along the relentless tide toward ultimate satisfaction
She jerked her way out of her bra and he filled his hands and mouth with her creamy flesh, feeling more invincible with each gasp and cry she gave him. She worked them both free of their pants and legs tangled as they shoved them out of the way, his erection leaping impatiently at the tiny lace barrier that remained between them.
Was her sultry laughter in his head or his ears, or both? It didn't matter. He tore away her panties and she slid onto his shaft with equally passionate intent.
He clutched her hips as she found a rhythm tormentingly sweet. He groaned and reared to grind against her. Then he slipped his thumb between them, delighted with her gasp of pleasure as he teased her into a frenzy that sizzled in his blood as well.
She arched and crested, her velvet heat gripping him, drawing out the pleasure until he climaxed, too.
Still joined, she settled on his chest, her rain scented hair silk against his cheek and her soft breath a warm tease against his neck. It was the first and best peace he'd felt in far too many years.
Too many hard years of intrigue, battle and the pursuit of intangible but vital concepts like dignity and freedom. His fingers traced the curve of her shoulder as Gideon calmed his thoughts. He didn't want to disturb her, didn't want to break the gift of this precious moment.
