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She heard the door open, then Jake's voice greeting Michael. She sighed, gathered some clothes, then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower.
When she entered the living room ten minutes later, Michael was on the sofa reading a newspaper, his bare feet propped up on the ornate coffee table. He looked casual, at ease—an image at odds with the tension she could still feel in him. She didn't bother trying to read his thoughts, simply because she knew he'd block her. Next to his feet were two plastic bags. Dale Wainwright's belongings, no doubt. Jake was standing near the windows. He glanced around, but his welcoming smile failed to mask the concern in his eyes. “I hate to hurry you, Nik, but we really need to get moving on this." She sat down opposite Michael, who made no comment at her choice of seating. “What's happened,”
she said, picking up the plastic bag with the bra in it. Images skittered through her mind, muted flashes of color and sound. She only had to reach a little and she'd be with Dale Wainwright, sharing her thoughts and her feelings. Nikki licked her lips, not sure she was ready to face all that again.
"They found the second victim,” Jake said grimly. “From what the cops said to Mark, she was pretty beaten up. Worse than the first victim."
"Then we'd better hurry.” She took a deep breath and met Michael's dark gaze. “I don't like the feel of the images coming from this. You'll pull me out if things get too heavy, won't you?" Irritation seared the link, though his face remained expressionless. “Of course." She opened the plastic bag and let the bra fall into her hand. Images surged, too fast and too sharp to capture fully. She frowned, trying to gain some focus, trying to see where Dale was. Control it, Nikki. Don't let yourself be pulled too deeply into her mind. Going deep might be the only way I can find out where she is. The images flowed past her, quicksilver thrusts that refused to be pinned. She bit her lip and pushed a little deeper. Fear swam around her, a cloying scent that clogged her throat, making it difficult to breathe. It's too dangerous. Just sort through the images, and we'll see where they lead us. They didn't have the time—Dale didn't have the time. She could feel it in the other woman's fear—feel it in her hurt and humiliation.
Nikki's breath caught in her throat, and her heart began to pound so fast she feared it was going to gallop out of her chest. Oh God, I don't want to do this. Her fingers twitched as she battled the urge to drop the bra and break the contact.
Then don't. Pull out.
I can't. Not if she wanted to be his partner rather than merely a spectator. Concern and annoyance washed down the link. Now is not time the time or the place to be trying to prove anything to me. If you think it's too dangerous, pull out. We'll find her another way. But they'd never find Dale in time to save her. That much was evident from the images. It left her with no real choice. Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fingers around the bra and dived deeply into the pool of memories.
And became one with Dale Wainwright.
Chapter Five
Dale drew her legs close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She felt cold, so cold—like it had seeped deep into her bones and she was never going to get warm again. The air itself was damp, its touch icy against her bare skin. But it wasn't so much the cold chilling her bones, but fear. Her lip trembled, and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the sounds outside her cell. The slap of flesh against flesh, the groan of ecstasy. Laughter, high and insane, followed by a quick, desperate whimper. Don't think, she thought. Don't imagine . But how could she not, when all she could see was darkness and all she could hear was those sounds?
She knew it was only a matter of time before they came for her. Before they started doing to her what they were doing to that other woman.
Terror rose, and for a second, she couldn't even breathe. Her chest felt so tight it ached, and her left hand tingled. She frowned and wriggled her fingers, wondering if it was just the cold or something more. She shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable. The mattress scraped harshly under her buttocks—it was little more than straw and scratched like sandpaper. But it was softer, and warmer, than the bricks—her only other choice of seating.
A gurgling broke the momentary silence, followed by the sound of someone slurping. Messy drinker, Dale thought distastefully. She licked her lips and wished they'd give her some water. Then thought better of it. The less she saw of her captors, the better off she'd be. The whimpering died, but the silence was, in some ways, more frightening. She stared into the darkness, unable to see her toes let alone the door six steps away. For several moments, all she could hear was the rattle of her own heart, the harsh sound of her breaths. Then the lock scraped, and air stirred as the door opened.
She couldn't see him, but she could smell him. He reeked of death and blood and water long gone stagnant. She edged back into the corner, a small whimper escaping her lips. He laughed. The sound crawled over her skin and sent her heart into overdrive. The aching in her chest leapt into focus.
"Just a taste. Just a little taste,” he murmured. His voice was childlike, innocent, and yet somehow evil. “I need it. He has to see that, he can't deprive me of that." He ambled toward her, something she heard rather than saw. “Just one little taste,” he continued. He skimmed a hand up her leg, his touch fiery against her skin. She screamed...
...the silent scream reverberated through Michael's soul. He drew Nikki into his lap and sat back down. She didn't say anything, just wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on tight. He rubbed his hands up her arms and lightly touched her thoughts, carefully detaching the remaining threads holding her mind to Dale's.
She sighed. Thank you .
Her mind voice was clear, unfettered by pain or shadows that belonged to Dale. Relief surged through him, and he brushed a kiss against the top of her head. She never seemed to realize just how dangerous this developing ability of hers could be—or if she did, she didn't seem to care. What worried him more, though, was the fact it seemed far stronger now than it had been the last time she'd used it. I'm going to have to teach you how to control that gift of yours. Uneasiness washed through the link. I'm not sure it's something I really want to control. Are you intending to stop using it?
She hesitated. No.
Then you must learn to control it. I don't want to lose you in the mind of another. He caressed the silk of her hair. She'd cut it sometime in the last three weeks. It now brushed her shoulder blades rather than the middle of her back, but had more of a wave in it than before. She shifted slightly, and her gaze met his. Fear lurked deep in the rich amber depths. “Can that really happen?"
"Yes,” he said softly. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “And I don't really have to tell you that, do I?"
She bit her lip and didn't answer. She didn't have to. The fear washing through the link was answer enough.
"Promise me you won't try that again without me nearby,” he continued. She hesitated and met his gaze, her expression suddenly defiant. “Are you going to reconsider your position about me working with you?"
He bit down on a rush of anger and said as calmly as he could, “No."
"Then I will make no promises.” She pushed off his lap and moved back to the other sofa. “I found her,”
she added, looking across to Jake.
"I gathered as much,” Jake said. “What's happening to her?" He was still standing near the window, but his arms were crossed, and his expression annoyed. And with good cause, Michael thought, glancing at Nikki. Every second they sat here arguing was another second in which Dale might die. Heat flushed Nikki's cheeks, but she gave little other indication she'd heard his silent rebuke.
"She's alive and relatively unhurt.” She hesitated again, and fear flashed through the link between them. Dale might be alive, but something had certainly happened to her. He wondered why she wasn't telling Jake. Wondered why he could no longer see the images in her mind. Had her ability become so strong she was somehow able to block him? “Did you see or hear anything that would give us a starting point?" She shook her head. “No. It was pitch black—no external sounds, other than—” She paused, and cleared her throat. “Someone having sex nearby. A vamp came into the cell she was in, and he smelled like blood and putrid water."
"Nothing else?” he asked softly, knowing from her fear that there was. She rubbed her arms and glanced at him. The vamp was about to feed on her. I gathered that. Why aren't you telling Jake?
