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Becca arched a brow. The woman was suddenly a blank slate. She was blocking her. How did she know how to do that?
“Being followed?” Debi qualified.
Becca’s gaze swept the room. “I think someone in here is paying all of us a lot more attention than they should be.”
Marcie opened her mouth to speak, but Becca stopped her with a slight raise of her hand. “And not just because we’re beautiful.”
Cameron looked around the bar, suddenly on edge.
Becca could feel it coming off him in waves. They needed to get out of there. The tension was building. “If you’re willing to come with us, maybe we can continue this discussion somewhere not so public,” she suggested and gave a gentle push with her mind. The ability given to her by Emerich’s cocktails didn’t always work anymore, but sometimes it did.
Debi’s eyes darkened. “How do I know I can trust you? I’m not going to leave the bar with a group of people I just met.”
“Use your instincts,” Cameron said. “What are they telling you? We run an organization that will help you learn to sharpen and hone those instincts so you can use your skills to stop the terrorist we believe wants to add you to his collection.”
“Collection?” Debi asked.
Cameron nodded. “Yes. You and the others who were once part of his father’s now-defunct program.”
“The program to enhance people's abilities that your father started?” she asked, looking at Becca. “Where is he now?”
Becca's jaw stiffened. “Dead. Murdered by the same man who wants you and the rest of us.”
Skepticism twisted her lips. “Why does he want me? He doesn’t know anything about me.”
“He knows you were part of the ISO90 program and he wants to continue the experiments started by his father, to see how far we can go.”
Debi shook her head and gave a short laugh. “You realize how crazy all this sounds, right?”
“Maybe. For example, I have the sensation we’re being watched right now.”
“You could be right, but you don’t have to be gifted to sense someone’s eyes on you.”
“Have you sensed it? If so, how many men do you think are in here right now watching us?” Becca asked out of curiosity.
“Two,” Debi answered without looking.
Becca’s brows rose in surprise.
“I believe the man at the bar with the flannel shirt,” Debi said with a tilt of her head. “And his buddy over by the pool table has been watching us.”
“How do you know?” Cameron asked.
Debi grinned. “No psychic abilities, just a keen awareness. People repeat themselves when they’re waiting, bored, or doing menial tasks. Take the waitress for example. She makes the same route through the room exactly every eight minutes, like a wind-up children’s toy. Says the same greeting at every table. Makes the same notes in her notepad.”
“Like muscle memory?” Jayne asked.
“Exactly. The man at the bar watches us, then watches someone else. Looks at the bar. The clock. Then at his buddy. Then back to us again.”
“I want to go to Vegas with this girl,” Marcie said. “Do we have any vacation time coming up?”
Cameron’s eyebrows shot up. “If you don’t mind an experiment, let’s see what happens when you and Marcie get chummy and head out the door into the parking lot. Act like you’re leaving. Let’s see if they follow you, or if they stay here to watch us. I’d like to know if you’re their target or we are.”
“Okay, why not?” Debi agreed.
“Sounds like a plan.” Marcie pushed back her chair. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand,” she said loudly.
Debi stood. “Nice to meet you all.”
