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"Do you make it your business to keep your allies in the dark?" A wisp of annoyance ran through her, though his face was impassive. “I only tell what needs to be known."
She clenched her fists and tried to ignore the desire to yell in frustration. “Well, right now I need to know everything I can about Jasper."
He nodded, though his dark gaze was suddenly distant. “As I said earlier, he's a twin. He and his brother survived the San Francisco fires of 1906, but the rest of their family did not. We're not sure when they both changed, but we do know it occurred shortly after the fires, when they were fifteen.” He hesitated, his face grim. “Even so, Jasper was responsible for the murder of at least five people before his rebirth." She shifted from one foot to the other and tried to ignore the need to move. Finding Jake would take all the caution and cunning she could muster—and every scrap of information about Jasper and his need for revenge. “You mentioned the royal ‘we’ again."
Michael sighed, though it was a sound filled with annoyance. “I am a member of an organization known as the Damask Circle."
"Are you all vampires?"
"No. But neither are we all what you'd term human."
Human. The bitter emphasis he placed on that word spoke volumes. He'd heard her thoughts, all right. She bit her lip and glanced away from the accusation of his gaze. “And this circle of yours goes around killing people like Jasper?"
"Yes. So people like you can rest easier at night."
People who fear what cannot easily be explained. People who cannot trust what their hearts know to be true. She closed her heart to his thoughts. This wasn't the time to argue about her refusal to trust. “Is that why you killed Jasper's brother?"
Again Michael hesitated. Pain rose briefly through his soul. She wanted to reach out and tell him she understood. Instead, she clenched her fingers and waited for him to continue.
"No. I killed Jasper's brother because he murdered my brother, Patrick." Revenge. Everything was based on revenge, and it could end up killing them all. “How often have you and Jasper met in the past?"
Then she frowned. “If you're three-hundred-years-old and Jasper is only one hundred, wouldn't your brother have been well and truly dead before Jasper and his brother were even born?" The pain in Michael's soul became sharper. “Patrick was a vampire." And Michael had turned him. Nikki wondered why. “How often have you and Jasper met in the past?"
"Three times."
And each time Jasper had somehow slipped from Michael's noose. But it wouldn't happen again, she thought, staring at him. Deep in the dark depths of his eyes she could see the promise of death. One way or another, Michael was determined to finish it here in Lyndhurst. Foreboding pounded through her. Shivering, she turned away and locked the car door. Dark laughter ran through her mind, taunting her. She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. Jasper wouldn't win this battle, either.
"Let's go inside,” she said, avoiding Michael's gaze and walking around to the front of the car. “I should be able to find something to trace Jake with."
She climbed the steps and unlocked the door. The office was as cold as the ice forming in the pit of her stomach. Dark laughter again scurried past the edges of her mind.
"Nikki.” Michael touched her arm and swung her around to face him. “Jasper's only teasing you, trying to make you fear every step."
"He's doing a damn good job of it,” she muttered, wishing Michael would wrap his arms around her and hold her until the scent of evil left her skin. But it was no use wishing for things that could not be. He couldn't stay. She didn't want him to stay.
So why did the thought of him leaving cut pain through her heart?
He placed a finger under her chin, raising it until her gaze met his. “He can't control you, Nikki, only undermine your confidence."
It was a lie. He knew, as she did, that Jasper only had to call, and she'd probably go running. “Why is he bothering? I'm no threat to him."
Michael's smile was edged with anger, his eyes layered with a darkness that chilled her soul.
"He fears you, Nikki.” He raised a hand, pushing a wisp of hair away from her eyes. His touch trailed heat against the ice of her skin. “Fears the strength of your abilities." His touch felt so good ... She shivered, fighting the need to fall into his arms. Fighting the desire to jerk away from it. “Why? My psychic talents can't hurt him."
"Can't they?” His voice was distant, distracted, as he ran a finger lightly down her cheek and neck. She licked her lips. It was hard to concentrate with him touching her so gently. Lord, all she wanted to do was fall into bed with this man—but she couldn't. The time and the place were all wrong. Damn it, they were wrong. A man who couldn't love and a woman afraid to love—what hope would there ever be for them?
Michael's hand stilled near her breast. She glanced up quickly, but he avoided her gaze and stepped away. It didn't matter. She knew his thoughts. Knew he wouldn't touch her like that again.
"I'm sorry,” he said softly.
She nodded. It was as much her fault as his. She should have pulled away the minute he'd touched her. She walked across to Jake's desk and raised a hand. There had to be something here that held enough of Jake's vibes to enable her to track him.
She found it within a few minutes—an old fob watch lost among the junk in his bottom draw.
"It has his imprint?” Michael asked, sitting on the edge of the desk. She nodded and tried to ignore the sensations running through her fingers. “How do you want to go about this?"
"That would depend on how much you really trust me." She gave him a sharp look. He was sitting on the edge of the desk, swinging one leg slightly. So very casual in appearance, but she could feel his tension. See it around the edges of his dark eyes.
