Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(114)

“I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t. I don’t like you putting your life on the line either, Kadan, but I understand why you need to do it, because I have the same drive.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have anything else. I could never make it in normal society. We both know that. You’ve seen inside of me. You recognize what I am. You, on the other hand, have a million other things you can do.”

Tansy leaned back in her seat. “You know one has nothing to do with the other. You’re arguing because you’re afraid for me.”

“And for me. I can’t lose you.”

“Then you’ll just have to find a way to protect me. I believe in us. You brought me back so much faster this last time, and I was really far in. We’re getting better and better at it. I think the stronger we are as a couple, the stronger a team we’ll be when I track.”

“I’m never going to win any arguments with you, am I?”

“Probably not, not when it’s something that matters to me, but I won’t argue with you often,” she promised.

“This would work much better if you just did everything I said, Tansy.”

She flashed him another smile. “It’s going to work just fine.”

“All right then.” He managed to keep his face entirely blank, but his fingers sank deeper into her calf, massaging her muscle. “Let’s get this done. In order for me to eliminate both teams successfully, as well as the puppet master, we have to have all the identities and try to get them all in the same day. As for the puppet master, he’s going to be the most difficult, but I have an idea.”

“Did someone go to the site of the snake’s murder and hunt for a camera? That was a huge mistake on his part.”

“We’re on it. Let’s profile the last two, and if we get as much information as you did last night, I should be able to start hunting them as early as tomorrow. Lily and Flame are both researching for us, and I can put both of our GhostWalker teams on standby. They’ll all help. Time will be everything.”

“Do you want to go into the kitchen?”

“No. I’ll bring the last two pieces in here. And your gloves. I’ll get Nico’s powder and your pills too.” He set her leg carefully aside as he stood.

He needed to take a breath where she couldn’t see that just the thought of her touching those game pieces made him break into a sweat. He had thought that he could control her, control the situations they were in, but he was finding having a partner meant giving up some of his control.

She sat in the same place, her chin on her drawn-up knee, looking too fragile to go after killers, but he knew she wasn’t; she had a steel rod for a spine and more heart than most. When he handed her the gloves, she tangled her fingers with his.

“Kadan. Kiss me.”

He didn’t hesitate, leaning down to capture her mouth with his, loving her, tasting her fear, her belief in him. He cupped her chin and took his time, savoring her taste, knowing she needed him inside of her the same way he needed her. Then, because he couldn’t resist, he opened a few buttons of the shirt she wore—his shirt—and leaned down to bathe the mark he’d made on her with his tongue before pressing kisses over it. He felt her shuddering breath, and something in him eased.

He carefully buttoned her up again. “Tell me what you’re planning.”

“I’ll find him this time and try to observe, but at some point he’ll spot me. I’m going to let him and see if he makes a mistake.” She rested her forehead against his. “Hang in there with me. I know it will be hard, but just trust me. I’ll need you.”

He had to be honest. “I don’t know if I can, but I’ll try.”

“This time, you hold the piece in your palm, be the table. I’ll cover it with my hands and try to pick up impressions. If I have to, I’ll touch the top of the piece and see what I get. That way, you can remove it the moment it’s necessary.”

Kadan liked the plan. He controlled the situation, and he needed to feel in control when she was putting herself in danger. He nodded and settled himself next to her while she pulled on the gloves.

Tansy took a breath, let it out, and laid her palm over Kadan’s open hand where the ivory scorpion lay, tail poised to sting. Waves of rage poured over and into her, flooding her mind. Anger pulsed through her and with it the desire to strike back, hard and ugly. Hurt something. Someone. She had the impression of a woman cowering on the floor crying. A child in the doorway sobbing.

His head hurt, the pressure unbearable. He didn’t want to hurt them. Not them. What had he done again? He tried not to hear the sounds of their weeping. She would leave him this time. She should leave him. Next time he might kill her, and he never wanted it to be her. He needed to find the others, tell them he had to go next, take a turn out of order if necessary, or move his timetable forward. He couldn’t hurt her ever again.

The others understood him, the terrible voices that drove him. Maybe he would have been okay if he’d stayed in the military, but somehow he’d lost control of his temper. Every day, it just seemed to escalate until he couldn’t stop rampaging. One wrong word and he had to pound something; if he didn’t obey the voices, the pain in his head was unbearable. The satisfaction of feeling his fist slamming into flesh was becoming too short-lived. Now he needed to take it all the way when this happened. He had to find someone to pour his rage into—but not her. Never her.