Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(12)

“Yes.” Her voice was so low, she doubted he could hear. She made an effort to push back the images crowding into her mind. “He was—oily.” Whitney had only to touch her skin and she would drown in a black vat of oil, suffocating under the thick stain of a twisted mind. She hadn’t recognized the feeling, or identified it yet with sickness in her earlier years, but the ooze had poured into her until she couldn’t breathe, until she choked, smothered by his megalomaniacal personality.

Kadan breathed in and out, hating himself. He was hurting her. He was even skating close to her edge of sanity. He could feel the pain in her like a knife through his body and mind. He’d studied every report on her. She was very sensitive, especially to violence, and he was a violent man. She didn’t need to feel anything when she touched him or any of his belongings. In spite of the fact that she claimed her talent was gone, there was no way that it had disappeared. He was both an anchor and a shielder, which meant he could hold all psychic energy at bay and direct it away from her.

“You know your parents had to have known.”

She spun around so fast, her aggression blasting him hard enough to kick in his reflexes. His hand closed around the hilt of his knife before he could stop himself. She was thinking about kicking him in the chest, but she controlled her temper, her blue eyes shimmering with that strange violet light that intrigued him. It had to be an enhancement, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was used for.

Kadan lifted his hand, palm out, before she could speak. “Don’t be angry with me. I’m giving you the facts. You want to hear them, don’t you?” He kept his voice calm, soft, that little bit hypnotic. She was susceptible to sound; he could tell by the way she relaxed in spite of herself. “You seem like the kind of woman who prefers knowledge.”

“Don’t make assumptions about my parents.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he damn well wanted to do a number on her parents. They were both considered geniuses, and they must have guessed exactly what Whitney was up to. Sharon Meadows wanted a child at any cost, and she was more than willing to keep her mouth shut about Whitney in order to have one. With their money and connections, they could have had any child, why this one? Why one so damaged?

And why had Don Meadows agreed to stay quiet as well? Why not simply get another child for Sharon and blow the whistle on Whitney’s experiments? He needed to look a little closer into Don and Sharon’s government contracts as well as their personal lives, because their silence didn’t go with the kind of picture his reports had drawn of them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, allowing his voice to grow warm like spreading honey. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She knew his accusation was true, but she refused to allow the thought into her mind. She needed time and he didn’t blame her. If he could have, he would have spared her that, but they were going to have to work fast to figure out what was going on.

“If Whitney conducted these experiments on military men . . .”

“Specifically men trained in Special Forces,” he interrupted.

“Great. That’s all I need.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “If you’re military and no one has heard of GhostWalkers, this information has to be classified.”

“It is.”

Tansy swung away from him, keeping her back to him to hide her expression. He didn’t need to see her face or look into her eyes to know she was in pain. He swore silently as he followed her up the trail toward her camp.

“Don’t tell me any more,” Tansy cautioned. “Really. I don’t want to know any more, not if it’s classified. You want something from me I can’t give you. There’s no need to say another word about whatever is going on. Find one of the other girls.”

“They can’t do what you do.”

He refused to lull her into a false sense of security, or lie to her, or even try to soft-soap her. She was going to be walking into hell with him. The only thing he could do for her was to try to give her all the truth, and to give his word that he’d be standing beside her the entire time. That was all he had for her.

“I can’t do what you think I can.”

They were nearing the top of the trail. The sun was setting and the colors changed abruptly as they topped the ridge. Orange and red poured down from the sky like molten fire. Tansy paused to survey the colors and Kadan stepped up beside her, admiring the view. Below them was a valley and then beyond that another granite peak. Stretched out as far as the eye could see was pine and fir forest. Small natural lakes and a few spilling waterfalls dotted the hills while the setting sun washed the granite in gold.

“There’s a big difference between can’t and won’t,” Kadan said, keeping his eyes fixed on the beautiful sight surrounding them. “I think if you let me explain what’s going on, you’ll understand why I needed to come all this way to pull you out of retirement in spite of the fact that your last case landed you in the hospital. I wouldn’t have made the decision lightly.”

He said it so matter-of-factly. Landed her in the hospital . As if it had been a small vacation for her—or as if she had been slightly wounded. Tansy swallowed the bile rising and began meticulously counting again, keeping her mind on her foot placement as she hurried along the winding trail to her campsite.

Shadows shifted as the sun dipped lower and the wind picked up, ruffling the trees. With the breeze came a rush of sound, voices murmuring, slyly laughing, the first burst of visions, blood splashed on the walls. A soft moan escaped, fear clogging her throat. She pressed her fingers hard against her eyes. “You have to go. You have to go now.”