Mind Game (GhostWalkers, #2)(44)

“So the government was officially notified that it couldn’t be done.”

Dahlia nodded. “The report came in just a few weeks before they all started dying.”

Nicolas studied her face before crossing the room to stand in front of the window where he examined the spiderweb fragmenting the glass. “You’re not an innocent woman working out of a sanitarium, are you?” He stared out the window into the darkness. “You know exactly who you work for.”

Dahlia crossed the room to stand beside him. Close, but not touching him. “I’m sorry, yes. I work for the NCIS, the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. So does Jesse. I didn’t know who you were, Nicolas, or whom you worked for. You showed up the same time my home and my family was destroyed. I’m investigating something that has probably killed several people. Jesse Calhoun has been taken prisoner and is probably being tortured for information. If I were a member of the other side, I’d probably put someone like you in place. I had to be sure you were really who you said you were. It was such a coincidence for you to show up at exactly the right moment.”

“All the time we talked, out in the bayou, you never really answered a single question I asked. It didn’t add up at all. You aren’t the kind of woman not to know exactly who you work for.” He shook his head. “You’ve been feeding me just enough to test me, haven’t you? You really know how to make a fool out of a man, don’t you?”

There was no rancor in his voice, not even a note of bitterness. He just said it and turned and walked out. His bare feet made no noise on the floor as he left.

Dahlia stood quietly at the window for a long time, watching the night, watching the clouds spin across the dark sky. Feeling like the lowest creature on the face of the earth. She shouldn’t have felt low. She was doing her job, just as he did his job, but she still felt as if she had betrayed him in some way. He knew what a security clearance was, and a need to know basis.

Her heart hurt. Ached. It was silly. She wasn’t the kind of woman a man could ever take home to his mother. She could imagine sitting at a dinner table with one of his family members smoldering over the loss of their favorite football team and accidentally catching the dining room on fire. No matter how much she might want to get to know someone, or have a friend or be in a relationship, the bottom line was always the same—it was not possible. She would not feel sorry for herself.

She’d been careful, cautious, just as she’d been taught. Just as life had taught her to be. No one in her world was ever what they claimed to be. Nicolas Trevane was probably no different. He could still very well be an assassin sent to kill her the moment she turned over the documents she’d been sent to recover. She sighed and pushed her hair back away from her face. Deep down, where it counted the most, Dahlia knew he was exactly what he seemed to be. And it wasn’t as if she lied to him. She did live her entire life in the sanitarium, at least the part that mattered most. And she did work for the government recovering information. And she wasn’t altogether certain in the beginning that they hadn’t sent a hit squad after her. She didn’t trust the NCIS any more than she trusted anyone else. She honestly didn’t know the truth of it, and she still didn’t.

If one of the NCIS agents from Jesse’s office hadn’t betrayed them, how would anyone know about her? She was a ghost, slipping in and out, able to block the security systems. Dahlia never left a trace of her existence. She wasn’t caught on film accidentally; it wouldn’t happen. She disrupted the cameras all the while she was inside. So who knew about her, and how did they know?

Nicolas appeared in the doorway. “Come away from the window.” There was no urgency in his voice, but it was an order. He was in hunter mode, and she recognized it instantly. Dahlia didn’t ask questions, she simply took a rolling dive across the bed and hit the other side of the floor. Behind her, the glass shattered, spewing shards in all directions. A bullet whined over her head and buried itself in the wall. Dahlia kept rolling until she was at the door. She crawled out on her stomach. “How’d you know?”

“I just know.” He reached down and pulled her around the corner of the doorframe. “We’ve got to get out of here. You need clothes, shoes, whatever. You have thirty seconds.”

“Gee thanks. I appreciate it.” She could see he was already in full gear, pack and everything. “Did you throw my things in your pack? My crystal spheres?” Sitting on the floor in the upstairs hall, she dragged on a pair of socks and hastily pulled on the boots he’d brought up from the kitchen.

“I’ve got them. Hurry up, we have to go to the roof.”

“Are you certain?” She didn’t bother to ask how he knew. He was a GhostWalker, and they each had their talents. Nicolas knew things. The right things.

“I’m certain.” He gave her a hand up, and indicated the window overlooking the courtyard. “We go out that way.”

“I’m right behind you.”





CHAPTER EIGHT


Dahlia pulled on the dark sweatshirt Nicolas tossed to her as she followed him to the window. He opened it silently and swung out, sliding his hands up the wall to find finger-holds. Dahlia couldn’t help but admire how smooth, efficient, and silent he was, like a spider going up the side of the building. She followed him, every bit as quiet. This was her specialty, adhering to the side of buildings and moving in secrecy. It was one of the things she felt most comfortable doing. Evidently, Nicolas did as well. His level of energy was so low, she would have sworn he had ice in his veins. They might have been going for a casual stroll. She was very grateful that she couldn’t detect any tension from the energy surrounding him.