"I mean it, Tansy, you're off the hook. You need to just sleep and not worry about anything anymore." He stroked his hand through her hair.
She closed her eyes again and relaxed beneath his hands.
Kadan sighed. How was he going to find the strength to give her up? He'd never thought in terms of a woman or a home. He'd been a loner since he was eight years old. His friends were all GhostWalkers, men who understood what it was like to be different. They were warriors, born in the wrong century maybe, men with honor and codes and a way of life that was politically incorrect. Women should never live with men like him, and he had no business staking his claim on one.
His fingers rubbed at the silky hair. He wanted her. Desperately. This woman brought sunlight to his soul. She made him believe again. Hope. Feel there was a chance at a future. Maybe a home and children. He'd been in her mind and he knew her more intimately than a man could know a woman after fifty years of living together. There was strength and determination. Independence. Compassion. She was soft where he was hard.
The sun began to climb higher into the sky, and he let himself doze while he could. He hadn't gotten that much sleep the night before. Her body had been too tempting, and he'd been starving and addicted after the first taste. Being a soldier meant you slept when you could. He woke with Tansy moaning softly, moving against him, her hand brushing his face.
He could wake up to that touch forever. A million mornings. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. I'm a little afraid to let you out of my head. I'm not good at keeping the voices out." She brushed his hair from his forehead, her fingers tracing his scar. "I'm going to miss being able to touch you. I never touch anyone."
She didn't think she'd ever be able to touch anyone again. He should have felt bad. Instead he wanted to be the only one she could touch. Selfish bastard. He mentally kicked himself.
"I'm going to teach you a few exercises to help you strengthen your defenses against anything invading your mind."
She frowned and sat up. "What exercises?"
"There are things you can do, practice, to help filter things out. Like meditation."
"I do that already. It's never helped."
Kadan stood up and pulled her with him. "This is going to help. Sit at the table."
She studied his face for a long time before she complied, taking the seat opposite him.
Kadan turned out to be all military and very serious as he showed her the mental exercise of building a wall in her mind, one brick at a time. It was far different from the simple mental image she employed of a door keeping back the voices and images in her head. The barrier had to be built and become second nature. When she wavered, or got it wrong, Kadan barked orders at her like a drill sergeant.
"You're giving me a headache," she finally said, glaring at him. "And I'm not under your stupid command."
His jaw tightened. "You already have a headache so it doesn't count. These exercises work and you need to learn them fast. I'm not going to be here to take away the pain."
She couldn't very well tell him it wasn't going to work, because in just an hour she could already tell her mind was calmer. If she did the exercises every day, she could strengthen her filters and barriers and keep the voices at bay.
"Fine. I didn't say I wasn't going to keep working. If you have to leave soon, let's at least try to make sense of some of the impressions I got from the ivory stallion. There've been ten murders that you know of so far, right?"
"We don't need to talk about it anymore. I don't want you involved."
"I heard you say that. Did you mean it?"
This time she was in his head. Waiting. Holding her breath. Watching him. Kadan slowly nodded. "I can find them. It's not worth it to me to use you to save my friends."
She let her breath out. "Are you doing this to save your friends or to stop murderers?"
"Both. Someone has to stop them, and there's no way I'm letting the GhostWalkers take the fall. We have a powerful enemy in the White House and he wants all of us dead. These are good men, Tansy. I'm not going to let them down."
"Have you considered asking the other Ghostwalkers for help? If you believe in them so much and they're capable of doing the kind of thing I do . . ."
He shook his head. "No one is capable of doing what you do. And you have a mind for it. You fit puzzle pieces together at an astonishing rate."
Tansy looked around for a water bottle. "I'm thirsty." She needed time to think.
Kadan immediately got her a bottle out of the cooler. Tansy accepted it and gratefully took a long swallow.
"What are the other game pieces? Do you have them with you?"
He shook his head. "I only brought one. I thought I'd be bringing you back with me."
She tapped her nail on the small table. "So let's say we have two teams and each team member has his own game piece that he leaves behind when it's his turn to play."
He held up a hand. "Back up. What do you mean, 'his turn to play'?"
"I'm telling you, this is a game. They've established rules and it stands to reason that each person takes a turn and commits a predetermined murder. Maybe they're copying crimes from the past. Have you checked for similarities in the killings with historical killings?"
"No, but I can do that fast enough."
"I would. They might be copying murders. They have cards of some kind." She frowned, forcing her mind to open a little and let herself remember. "Not playing cards. A little larger, like tarot cards."
"You got that from just holding that game piece?" Kadan wanted her for a partner. Her information was much more thorough and clearly presented than any report could ever be. And she had invaluable experience.
"I need to know what the other pieces are."
"Are you sure?" He didn't want to drag her in any deeper, not when he knew he had to leave he
r there. As it was, over a distance, he couldn't protect her mind, and those voices were still wailing. Distant, but there. The best he could hope for was that the exercises he'd given her to do would help after he was gone.
"Just tell me." She was impatient, her mind trying to solve a puzzle with too few pieces.
"Frog, there is a frog, carved out of ivory as well. If I had to guess, I'd bet the same man carved both figurines."
"I'd be able to tell you if you'd brought both." There was a slight edge, a reprimand, to her voice. "The frog and stallion, were they both left at different murder scenes on the East Coast?"
He nodded. "A frog, a stallion, a snake, and what appears to be the blade of a knife."
Her head went up alertly. "All out of ivory. Even the blade?"
"Yes." He could see her mind was working double time.
"That's significant in some way. Three animal forms and the blade of a knife," she repeated, more to herself than to him. "What were the pieces left on the West Coast?"
"A hawk, a scorpion, an anatomically correct and very well-endowed bull, and a perfect replica of a long-handled scythe."
"So already there's a pattern. We have two studs and two weapons. Let's for argument's sake say these are nicknames. Don't most military men in Special Forces get bizarre nicknames?"
His mouth tightened. She was burying his friends with her quick deductions.
She flicked him a gaze under the fringe of long lashes. "I'm going the military route because you're going in that direction. We have a stud on both teams. We can assume the weapon is the team leader. The two left are probably followers. So who is really running the game?"
"I don't understand."
She shrugged. "Someone is running the game. You have another player. Or referee. These men are highly competitive. They're thrill seekers. They want action. I need to see the rest of the game pieces and I need to hear about the other murders." She took a breath and let it out. "I'm going with you."
Kadan shook his head, his gut tightening. There it was. Complete capitulation. She was hooked. She would come with him voluntarily. "No." His voice was firm. "No way. I told you I'm going to tell them you can't do this anymore."
She waved her hand in the air. "I appreciate it, and I don't want to do it all over again, but I'm not going to be able to let this go. This killer, the 'stallion,' he's going to kill again. If not with his team, on his own. He may already be doing so. In fact, I'd bet that he is. He'll start with prostitutes, women who are very vulnerable. He needs the power and control. He's got to be stopped, Kadan, and if none of your friends can do what I do, how are you going to track him? The killings are too random."