Tansy choked, coughed, turned her head and then rolled to her knees, her stomach rebelling, the retching relentless. Waves of dizziness disoriented her. She wiped her face, and her hand came away smeared with blood.
“Here. Drink this.” Kadan thrust a bottle of water into her shaking hands and a jacket around her nude body.
Tansy tried to raise it to her mouth, but she spilled droplets everywhere. Kadan reached around her, his hand closing on hers, steadying the bottle.
“Take a drink.” His voice was gruff.
Tansy did, swishing the water around and spitting it out to cleanse the oily taste from her mouth. It didn’t go away. Her mind seemed unusually calm, and she had a bad feeling she wasn’t the one controlling the voices. She took a couple of more cautious sips, letting the cool liquid trickle down her throat, before she looked up at Kadan.
“They’re still there in my head, aren’t they? Just like always. You’re stopping them.”
He nodded. “Why in the hell when that fucker knew you were chasing serial killers didn’t he give you the tools to work with?” Fury shook his voice.
Tansy took a deep breath and let it out. “I presume you’re referring to Dr. Whitney.”
“Didn’t your parents call him in when you became ill after chasing a killer?”
She nodded. “It seemed part of the adoption agreement. He arranged the adoption and my father seemed to think he was the best person to treat me. I had to recount, in great detail, how each case affected me.”
“He could have helped you deal with it better.”
“I usually did deal with it better. If I prepare my mind for the shock, I can control the energy and voices for a short time. Unfortunately, the times became shorter and shorter, until I reached the point of really being useless. And I can’t get them out of my head once they’re in there.” She took another drink of water, savoring the cool water when her throat felt raw.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Her eyes met his. He looked as if he meant it. She shrugged. “I guess you had to try.”
Kadan shook his head, refusing to take the out. “I wasn’t thinking about the job when I threw the game piece. It was left behind at the crime scene. There’s always a piece left behind. There seem to be eight different pieces, and one of the eight is always left at each scene.”
“Because you have eight players.”
Kadan blinked. Sank down into the dirt beside her. “What do you mean, eight players?”
“It’s a game. A game of murder and there are several players. It stands to reason if there are eight game pieces then you have eight players. Have any of the game pieces repeated?”
“Four of them. Two on the East Coast and two on the West.”
She was silent a moment, her expression thoughtful. Blood continued to trickle out of her mouth and nose. Kadan couldn’t stop himself from wiping it away. The sight bothered him more than he cared to admit. She didn’t pull away from him, and he was connected so tightly with her that he could almost follow the speed of her brain as she began computing data with small facts she’d pulled from the brief glimpse she’d received of the killer’s mind.
“It’s possible he’s on a team. He was concerned about losing points if he raped the victims.” She looked up and he swore she blinked back tears. “He did rape them, didn’t he? Both of them. He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself. He likes what he’s doing and he needs the rush of it. He needs it more than he wants to win the game.”
Kadan nodded his affirmation. “They were both raped.”
“Control really matters to him. He kept taunting them about choosing the wrong man. Is it possible the wife knew him? It was odd the way he acted. He doesn’t like rejection and obviously feels superior to everyone, men and women. He fed their terror, and the more afraid they were, the higher he became.”
Kadan didn’t want to interrupt her. She was fascinating. Her mind was fascinating. He’d worked with some great minds, yet here was a woman, without training, who thought like a detective, her brain compiling data faster than he’d ever seen.
Tansy swept a hand through her hair, frowning when her fingers caught. He tried not to notice the disarray of her hair, falling like tangled silk around her shoulders and down her back. Her breasts held faint marks, marring the perfection of her skin. He’d done that. Those were his fingerprints on her. His body stirred no matter how hard he tried to control himself.
“Why don’t you get dressed?”
For the first time she seemed aware of her lack of clothing, frowning, a little confused while she looked around her. She nodded and rose unsteadily. Kadan caught her arm to make certain she didn’t fall. Tansy pulled clothes from her backpack and moved out of his sight. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t very well insist she dress in front of him. He spent the few minutes of her absence fixing her a cup of hot coffee.
Tansy was back a few minutes later, her face a little swollen as if she’d been crying. She took the coffee mug and blew on it. “Do the murders follow one another? In other words, if one is committed on the West Coast, then does one follow on the East Coast? Are they alike?”
He shook his head. “Similar. Well planned. More than one person has to be in on the planning, but only one actually performs the kills. At least that’s what I think. There’s never been any evidence of more than one killer at a crime scene. The murders are connected by the game pieces. They’re unusual, carved out of ivory and very distinct.”
Tansy looked around. “Where are my gloves?”
“Why?” His gut protested the question and the answer in her mind.
She flicked him a reprimanding glance. “Don’t be silly. I need to take a look at the piece. I haven’t really examined it and I can’t touch it without gloves on.”
“I don’t want you to touch it again.”
She sighed. “Look, I’ve already got the voices in my head and they aren’t going to leave me alone, so I may as well do what I can to at least point you in the right direction. I pick things up even through gloves if the impressions are strong enough. I have a feeling this man kept the piece with him through the entire planning stages and liked holding it in his hand.”
Kadan swore as he turned away from her. She was gone from him. She had distanced herself from him and he felt the barrier even in her mind. He couldn’t blame her. He even understood, but damn it all, she belonged to him, and the separation after sharing her body and her mind was unacceptable. He could barely breathe with the thought of losing her for good.
Reluctantly he handed her the game piece. It was a small stallion, anatomically correct. She took it between two fingers, turning it over and over. Her index finger began to stroke along the horse’s neck, where there was no wild mane.
“He’s the Italian Stallion. He likes being called that. He enjoys knowing he can manipulate women, and his friends know it. He makes the claim that it’s their responsibility to keep their women away from him, not his.”
“Italian Stallion is so trite. It’s been done too many times.”
Her gaze jumped to his face. “I’m sure it has.”
He wasn’t Italian, but he felt like she was accusing him of seducing her. Damn it. Maybe he had. He hadn’t told her the story of his childhood on purpose. It had slipped out. He’d been horrified, but he couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop the flow once the dam had been pierced. He hadn’t told the story to seduce her, or even to gain sympathy. He was in her mind. Sharing each other. He saw her. Saw inside of her. She was—
everything.
Tansy studied the carving from every angle. “He wants this identity more than he wants his own. He encourages this one. Mostly they just call him Stallion. Who are they?”
Her finger was mesmerizing, rubbing the neck back and forth, almost in a caress. Kadan remembered the feel of her fingers stroking over his shaft. He’d been so hard. So thick. He’d never been quite like that before, full to bursting. Looking at her, with her hair all over the place, no makeup and that remote look on her face, his heart contracted. And yes, even now, the breeze carried the faint scent of cinnamon, although now it mixed with his scent.
“His friends,” Kadan guessed.
“They’re close but apart. They hide in the shadows. The night is ours.”
His head came up alertly. “What the hell are you saying?” He snatched the game piece from her hand. “What do you mean by that?”
Tansy turned her shimmering eyes on him. Now he knew what those eyes did. They saw inside, where people never were meant to see. She was seeing too much. Where was the ice in his veins? Where was his cool?
“I didn’t mean anything. I saw the words, that’s all. He believes he is invincible at night.” She pulled off the gloves and dropped them on the table as if she couldn’t bear them against her skin.
Kadan shook his head. “I don’t believe it. There aren’t that many of us. Eight? Eight killers? GhostWalkers?” He shook his head again. “I won’t believe that.”
“So the phrase has meaning to you?”
He glanced at her sharply. She’d grown up around detectives, and her question, in that casual voice, sounded just like one.
“You’re my partner,” he said gruffly, staking his claim. “Don’t forget that.” Before she denied it, he shoved up his sleeve.
“Oh my God, how did I not see you were hurt last night?” Tansy asked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It’s nothing. A scratch. I sewed it up. I’m showing you the tattoo.”
There was an expectant silence. At first she didn’t see anything on his arm, but then when he released a little bit of psychic energy, allowing it to swirl close to her, she could see the strange crest.
“The GhostWalker crest. The night is ours. It’s in our creed,” he explained, his expression grim. “I don’t believe in coincidence. But eight . . . That would be an entire team.” He shook his head. “No way, Tansy. I know them all.”
“They’re under a lot of strain. You know it better than anyone, Kadan,” she said softly, watching him carefully. “The headaches, the continual pressure of the outside world, it could drive anyone insane. I ought to know.”
“But you didn’t brutally kill people. And you sure as hell haven’t done it for fun. These bastards are doing it for fun.”
She rubbed at the frown creasing her forehead. “So why are the GhostWalkers under suspicion? I’m not certain I get that part.”
She still had blood at the side of her mouth. He hated the sight of it. Pouring water onto a cloth, he closed the distance between them. “So far we have ten murders. Five on each coast. Each was somewhat similar but very different and each had a game piece left on-site, some game pieces being used more than once.”
“That doesn’t explain the GhostWalker tie-in.”
“You jumped over me, Tansy. Right over the top of me,” Kadan pointed out. “You know we’re genetically enhanced and can do things other people can’t. There are strong indicators that whoever is committing these crimes can do things that would be deemed impossible. Most of the murders on the West Coast have occurred in either Seattle or Tacoma, Washington. The murders in North Carolina are near the base there as well. We believe whoever is committing them is in the service.”
“Where are the GhostWalkers?”
“Scattered around, on missions. They have residences, of course, but they are often on both coasts.”
“Has anyone tried to eliminate them as suspects? If they’re in the military, someone has to know where they are on any given day, don’t they?”
Kadan noted that Tansy was swaying, her hands still unsteady, although she tried to cover it up. He stepped closer to her, ignoring the way she stiffened when he put his arm around her waist to steady her. “The GhostWalkers operate outside ordinary parameters. They don’t answer to anyone but their team leader and either the general or the admiral. Both men run teams. The missions are classified and often involve travel outside the United States without a paper trail. In other words, it is difficult to tell where the truth is because once set loose, they have the ability to travel in and out of the country and even state to state without anyone knowing. Of course we’re checking into that as fast as we can, but it isn’t easy, especially since I can’t reveal the investigation to them or the fact that they’re under suspicion.”
“And they were all out of the country?”
He shook his head. “No one can confirm their whereabouts but other GhostWalkers. The general consensus seems to be that they would alibi one another.”
“Would they?”
He sighed. Would they? Of course they would. Another shiver drew his undivided attention to her. Up close, touching her soft skin was a kind of private hell. He tipped her face back, taking no notice of her flinch, and dabbed away the remaining blood. “Sit down before you fall down.” When she didn’t respond, he took her arm and forcibly led her back to the sleeping bag. Her body was trembling, but it was her eyes that bothered him. She jerked, stared off for a moment, and then came back shivering.
“I’m all right.” The words were mumbled, and twice she pressed her hand to her head.
“The headache’s coming.”
She nodded, swallowing hard. “I’m used to them. I have pills somewhere.” She looked around a little helplessly. Her body jerked again and her eyes stared.
“Damn it, Tansy, you’re having seizures.” He lifted her, cradling her close, holding her there for a moment, dropping his head against hers briefly, before laying her down on the makeshift bed.
“I know. It happens. The headache is worse.” She rolled away from him and curled up in a tight ball. “I have to cover my eyes.”
“Where are your sunglasses?” He was already up and looking for them, rummaging through the bags he’d packed, looking for her prescription.
She didn’t answer, but started to rock, one hand shielding her sensitive eyes.
“This happened every time you chased a killer?”
She mumbled her reply, the words unintelligible, but he felt the assent in his mind.
“And people think
I’m
crazy.”
Kadan settled down beside her, supporting her head with his palm, pushing the pills into her mouth and then holding the water bottle for her. She groaned softly at the movement, but obediently swallowed the medicine.