It felt good to be clean and dry again. He dragged on a pair of jeans and thought about what Dahlia's life had to have been like. While he was hunting and fishing and learning martial arts, she was alone in rooms filled with one-way glass and silent watchers. His grandfathers loved him and often hugged him, beaming with approval when he succeeded. There had been two women in Dahlia's life, and their loyalty had not been entirely hers. She needed time. Even if a sexual relationship bound them together, Nicolas knew it would never be enough for him. He knew he wanted all of Dahlia Le Blanc, not just her body.
DAHLIA dressed slowly, grateful for the clothes Jesse had stored in the closet for her. As she pulled on a pair of jeans, she listened to the sound of the shower. Nicolas had power now, and he knew it. Dahlia had never let another human being have true power over her since Dr. Whitney had when she'd been a child. Others might believe they had control, but it was never so. She should never have blurted out the truth, telling him she wanted to kiss him.
Jesse had always told her she should have a backup plan and not to trust anyone entirely. It had never seemed a problem before. Even Milly and Bernadette, the two people she'd really loved, had reported to someone else about her. It hadn't been just Dr. Whitney they'd reported to. Whitney had lost interest in her around the age of seventeen or eighteen. He had provided the money for her home and the specialized gymnasium equipment, but once he had made a decision that she would never be able to work as an operative, he never returned. Had he checked, even once, he would have found she'd proved him wrong, perhaps out of sheer stubborness.
Dahlia wandered into the kitchen and opened cupboards. They were stocked only with the bare necessities. She made a pot of coffee, mainly for the aroma and something to do with her hands while she tried to puzzle out who wanted her dead. Who knew about her, and why would they want her dead? Was it possible those she'd worked with didn't want it known that she did recovery work for them and sent out a team to kill not only her, but Milly and Bernadette as well? It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.
She rubbed at her damp hair with the towel, taking out the excess moisture. There was no need to kill any of them. No one would ever believe Dahlia Le Blanc, a woman raised in a sanitarium. It was the perfect cover and the perfect protection. If she were caught, she was simply a mad-woman unhinged by her own conspiracy theories.
She looked up as Nicolas sauntered into the room. His hair was damp from his shower and he wore only a pair of soft blue jeans. He was barefoot and shirtless, showing a broad, bronzed chest that robbed her of her ability to think clearly. She tried not to stare, but it was a losing proposition. In a lame attempt to cover her reaction to his presence, she settled into one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm just making coffee. I thought we both could use a cup."
"It smells great." Automatically, he glanced at the windows, making certain no one could see them from any angle.
"Tell me a little bit about how you got into recovery work," Nicolas suggested.
Dahlia leaned back and allowed herself a long look at him. "I think I only said I'd do it because Dr. Whitney said I couldn't do it. I really detested that man."
"So you're contrary on top of everything else."
She watched the way his muscles rippled as he made his way to the coffeepot. He reached easily into the cupboard and pulled out two mugs. "Very contrary when it's needed. The man who recruited me wore a uniform, and both Milly and Bernadette were afraid of him. More than just nervous, you know? I think he had a couple of stars on his uniform. Whitney was there at the time." She shrugged. "I was about seventeen, I think, and deliberately didn't pay much attention."
"What about his sleeve? Did you see an anchor alongside the stars?"
"Now that you say that, yes he did."
"Curious. So he presented himself as part of the military. This could have started as a black ops. Covert. Whitney had a lot of ties to the military. Most of his contracts were with the government, and he had a high security clearance. But if Whitney later became suspicious that you were being used by someone who didn't have his approval, why didn't he take you out of there?"
"Whitney and I didn't get along very well. When he was around, there were a few accidents." Dahlia studied her fingernails. "And yes, they were true accidents. I don't hurt people on purpose. The repercussions are brutal. I just hadn't learned to control my feelings. Teenagers have such intense emotions." She shrugged. "I think he preferred to forget I existed."
"He remembered you enough to leave a letter to Lily asking her to find you and the other women he experimented on."
"I suppose I should be grateful."
"I wouldn't go that far," Nicolas said. "If Jesse Calhoun is a Navy SEAL and the man you saw had the uniform of an officer, and it sounds as if he could be rear admiral, then we should probably start with any Navy connections to a high-level security splinter group. Before we found you, the GhostWalker program was slated to be wiped out by a splinter group of military. We thought we got all of them, but maybe we missed somebody. And if that's the case, they'd know about Lily and the rest of us."
"Are Lily and the others in danger?" Dahlia asked quickly. "Call them and warn them to be careful. I don't want anything to happen to Lily, especially because of me."
"It wouldn't be because of you, Dahlia. Lily is committed to the GhostWalkers, and she's very committed to finding each of the women Dr. Whitney experimented on and helping them recover."
Dahlia resumed towel drying her hair, wishing she had a brush. "How did you get involved with the experiment?"
Nicolas hesitated, choosing his words carefully. He had never told anyone the reasons for his involvement. "I needed my psychic abilities enhanced."
Dahlia waited for more. When it wasn't forthcoming she looked across the table at him with a raised eyebrow. "Nicolas, no one needs their psychic ability enhanced.
Why would you even consider doing such a thing?" His very body language screamed at her to drop the subject, but Dahlia couldn't imagine anyone wanting the life she'd led. "I've never known anything different, but you must have had a wonderful life prior to meeting Whitney."
He shrugged. "I wanted to be able to heal people. Both of my grandfathers seemed to think I was born with the gift, but I've never been able to utilize it."
"And you were willing to trade your entire life for a chance to try?"
"Obviously."
"But it didn't work," she guessed.
"The experiment worked, but not for healing," he said.
Dahlia studied his face, noting the sadness in his eyes. "It enhanced your natural abilities and made you a better hunter, didn't it?" she guessed. "And there isn't really a way to reverse the process, is there?"
Nicolas shook his head. "No, but there are ways to better live with it, ways Lily can help you so you might be able to live among people and at least have a chance at something resembling normal. She's helped all of us."
Dahlia shrugged. "Meeting her will be enough. A part of me did think I was losing my mind to believe she existed." She pushed her hands through her hair, lifting the wet mass from her neck. "I've been giving it some thought. I don't think it's going to be all that hard to find Jesse. They want me to come after him. They must have left a trail of some sort for me to find."
Nicolas poured a cup of coffee for her and handed it across the table. His fingertips brushed hers. His belly did an annoying ripple and his groin tightened. If he were a cursing man, now would be the best time. "I'd have to agree with you." He kept his voice calm and even.
Dahlia took a sip of coffee, looking serene. She sat tailor-fashion in the large kitchen chair, comfortable in jeans and a T-shirt. Her long hair spilled down to her waist, a cascade of black silk. The mass left damp spots on the shirt.
Nicolas shifted his gaze to the numerous IDs. "Did you find anything in there that will help us?"
"Not really. What about your people? Do they have the connections to check on Jesse's background? We could use a little he
lp."
"Lily has top security clearance and she can hack her way around any security system. I called her while you were in the shower." He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. "She said to tell you she was very happy we found you, and it made her feel as if she weren't quite so alone."
Dahlia ducked her head, unable to hide her expression from his probing gaze. Lily had always meant so much to her, even when Dahlia was certain Lily was no more than a figment of her imagination. She couldn't readily identify how she felt knowing that Lily was real, that she was alive and was happy to have found her. It felt as if a long-lost family member had surfaced. She struggled to contain her emotions.
"Dahlia, it's okay to show your feelings. You know everything I'm thinking."
He thought she might smile, but she didn't. She sat in the oversized kitchen chair with tears on her lashes and looked up at him. "No I don't. I'm not like you. I told you, I'm not telepathic. I can reach out if the energy is right, and I can answer if the other person sustains the contact. Jesse was strong. We could talk together. You're strong, you maintain the bridge, but I'm not reading your thoughts. I feel your hands on my body, or your mouth. Whatever you're thinking, somehow transfers into a strong sensation. You're broadcasting, but my brain doesn't hear it. My body feels it."
Nicolas sat down slowly. "It's hard to take this in. Most of the GhostWalkers work off telepathy, at least to a great extent. The concept of using energy is different. It seems impossible for me to think something, you not hear my thoughts, but feel what I'm thinking."
"We all give off energy. Emotions give off energy. You have a particularly strong sexual attraction for me. The energy is strong, and it finds me."
"Has it ever happened with anyone else on any other level? You felt what they were thinking?" He stayed very calm, breathing in and out, but now he was tuned to his own mind and body, and the ripple of unease, of dark, dangerous violence, was acknowledged as part of him and let go.
She shook her head. "Lucky you. It's only been you."
He kept his expression blank, not showing the relief sweeping through him. "I do consider myself to be lucky, even privileged, being as I'm the only one. This never happened to you, even as a child? Maybe with Lily or one of the others?"
Dahlia shook her head. "Never."
"But you can't be around people," he probed gently.
"Strong emotions make me sick. Violence makes me extremely sick. I've had seizures before. I hurt someone a couple of times, accidentally. It looks as if I do it on purpose, but when I'm in the midst of violent energy, especially raw anger or the aftermath of death, such as we experienced at my home, I generate heat along with my own emotions and things happen. My own emotions can make it happen."
"The flames. It appears as if you throw them out there, but it's just the opposite, it's lack of control."
"Exactly, but it can be useful when people think I do it on purpose." Again that faint smile touched her soft mouth. Nicolas tried not to stare at her mouth or allow his mind to dwell for too long on the possibilities of kissing her.
She put her coffee cup on the table and leaned back. "Do you realize I know nothing at all about where I came from? I don't even have a family. You must feel very lucky knowing your grandfather. Tell me something about him."
"Actually I was lucky enough to know both of my grandfathers. My paternal grandfather was Lakota, a great shaman, a great man. He could do things I've never seen anyone do. He used to say each thing has a spirit, a breath of life, and he could talk to the spirits. Once I saw a small boy who had fallen from a cliff and lay broken, so many bones crushed he screamed in agony. While we waited for the rescue helicopter to come, my grandfather began to chant to the spirits, the sixteen who are one. He laid his hands over the boy, and I could feel the heat he generated. By the time the helicopter arrived, the boy was no longer screaming and his bones were perfectly fine. My grandfather was taken in the helicopter instead as his heart nearly failed."
"That's incredible. No wonder you wanted to be able to heal people. I've read about such things, but certainly never witnessed it. What was his name?"
Nicolas smiled. "Just Grandfather to me. Nicolas was one name he went by, but he had many."
"You really loved him, didn't you? You must love having his name."
Nicolas watched her fingers, the strange little rhythm she tapped in the air. She seemed unaware of it. He remembered feeling the rhythm as she tapped her fingers against the mattress in the cabin in the bayou. It obviously was a habit. "Yes I did, Dahlia. Growing up with him was a humbling experience. You can't imagine how perfect a childhood it was for a young boy. My grandfather taught me to track and to survive in any kind of condition, but most of all he taught me to respect life and nature." Her fingers fascinated him. There was something hypnotic about the way she spun her fingers in the air. "What are you doing?"
She looked startled. Her mouth formed a question, but she followed his gaze to her fingers. Faint color crept under her skin and she closed her hand into a fist. "I do exercises with small balls. It helps to alleviate the constant bombardment of energy. I had a collection of balls made out of mineral stones, mostly crystals. The different properties help with various types of energy." She shrugged as if it didn't matter. Nicolas could see it clearly did.
"I may have saved a few of your favorites. I tossed the ones I saw in your bedroom into the pillowcase right before I noticed the explosives."
Her entire face lit up. Nicolas felt as if he'd just been handed a Christmas present. She nearly jumped at him, and he braced himself for her touch. At the last moment she changed her mind and simply brushed her soft lips over his face.
Heat seared his cheek. That brief, wisp of gesture seemed shockingly intimate. He reached up and touched the spot with his fingertips.
Dahlia's color deepened even more. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me. I know you don't like to be touched anymore than I do. I'm acting out of character around you. I honestly don't throw myself at people on a regular basis."
"I think we've established I don't mind your touch, Dahlia," he said. He drew the pillowcase from his pack and fished around for the peculiar balls made of varying crystal and stones. They were cool to the touch, smooth and hard. His fingers brushed hers as he handed them to her. At once he felt the warmth, as if the spheres took on life when transferred to Dahlia. He looked down to see their hands together, his large, hers small, and something immediately tugged at his brain. The memory of his spirit vision came rushing over him.
"Thank you, Nicolas." She took the small spheres from him. One set was amethyst. Her fingers caressed them immediately, rubbing and rolling them together. Another set was made of rose quartz and still another was made of aquamarine.
It was a small thing, but it brought her pleasure, and that was all that mattered to him. "Do you believe crystals aid in healing?" he asked curiously.
"I don't know about healing, although they're reputed to be able to focus the energy and help. I do know they help me tremendously. When I need to be calm, any of these three sets really work, some of the others to a lesser degree."
"Both of my grandfathers used crystals," Nicolas said.
"What was your other grandfather like?"
"He was from Japan, and his name was Konin Yogosuto. After Grandfather Nicolas died, I went to stay with him. I was ten. He lived simply. He was a master in martial arts and had a great number of students."
"And you became one of them?"
Her black gaze teased him. At once he felt his body's reaction, the tightening of his muscles. That was easy enough to accept. It was the way his heart warmed, seemed to swell in his chest, that bothered him. He made every effort to appear serene, as he had spent so many years learning to do. "Not right away. Interestingly enough, like Grandfather Nicolas, Grandfather Yogosuto also believed in healing first and had as many people come to him for ailments as to learn the way of life. He was a very quiet man. When he said something, I listened."
&n
bsp; "So you had two grandfathers raise you and no women. I had two nurses raise me and no men. Interesting that we turned out somewhat similar." She raised her gaze to his. For a moment there was silence.
Pain. An aching loneliness. Nicolas was beginning to understand what she meant about energy. He could feel a sadness emanating from her, and it touched him in places he hadn't known existed. If there was tenderness in him, it seemed to be reserved for Dahlia. He watched her swallow, the line of her throat delicate. She looked vulnerable in the large chair, sitting with her legs tucked up.
She forced a small smile. "Did you ever have a dog? I always wanted a dog. It wasn't that they wouldn't let me have one, it was a matter of control." She looked down at the table, anywhere but at him. What had ever possessed her to blurt out such intimate details to a perfect stranger?
"You were afraid they'd control you through the dog?"
Dahlia was silent for a moment, undecided whether to keep going or to end the conversation. Finally she nodded. "Everyone seemed to be in control of me, and I didn't want it to go any further."
"How could they control you?"
She shrugged. "I needed the house and the remoteness of the location."
"You have money, Dahlia. A lot of money. You could get your own house in a remote location."
She ducked her head; the amethyst spheres swirled in her fingers. He watched as they spun in her palm with remarkable precision. In minutes they were no longer in her palm but floating beneath her fingers, continuing the smooth action of rotating just as if her fingers were doing the manipulating.
"Dahlia." He said her name to get her attention and waited until she reluctantly looked up at him. "You allowed them to control you. Why did you do that?"
She was silent so long he thought she might not answer him. "I wanted a family. Milly and Bernadette and Jesse were the only people I had. I stayed to keep them. It was a trade-off."
Nicolas bit off a word he rarely used and turned his head away from her to stare out the window. For a moment his vision blurred and he blinked rapidly to clear it. "It was a hell of a trade-off, Dahlia. You might have been better off with the dog." The moment the words were out he wished he could take them back.
Mind Game Page 11
