Murder Game (19 page)

His voice was a caress, sliding over her, into her, so that she grasped at the feel of him as if he were a life preserver.

“I’m all right. I’m good.” It wasn’t altogether true; she retained the sludge, but it was easier to break with the voices.

“Tell me what you saw.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Bodies in the water. At least six, maybe more; I couldn’t make myself look. He drags them down and drowns them. He likes to watch their eyes.” She frowned. “He doesn’t need scuba gear; he can hold his breath a really long time, or maybe he doesn’t even need to do that. He breathes underwater—is that possible? Can one of the GhostWalkers actually breathe underwater? He’s killed many times. But his murder in the game wasn’t satisfactory to him. Something went wrong. He wants another turn.”

She was breathing hard—too hard. Already he could feel the headache beating at her, piercing her skull like an ice pick. He tasted blood in his mouth and knew she was bleeding. His belly churned in response to her pain. He detested her doing this—and they had at least six more game pieces to go through.

Kadan stepped closer to pull her into his arms, but she shook her head, waving him away from her so she could finish. She looked fragile, swaying, her skin pale and beaded with tiny drops of sweat, although there were goose bumps on her arms and she kept shivering.

“He’s small and slight, barely able to make the requirements for the military. Everyone underestimates him and that makes him angry. He wants women to notice him, but he can’t really perform well because deep down he’s insecure. He relates better when he’s feeling murderous. His friends tease him a lot. He’s the butt of some very ugly jokes, but after he gets over his mad, he convinces himself it’s their way of showing him affection.”

“And this particular murder?” Kadan began to rub her shoulders. He didn’t want to share her mind while it was pounding with pain, and he had to ignore her suffering in order for her to get the rest out. He wanted to stop her, hold her, wipe her mind clean. He felt like a bastard, twisting the knife deeper, looking for more to help him uncover the killers.

She shook her head adamantly. “He was so angry, angry enough that for a moment he thought about killing . . .” She frowned, pressing her fingertips to her eyes. “Who? Someone else, someone supposed to be impartial, fair. How can he be successful at this kind of murder?”

She closed her eyes, took a breath, and let herself drown in the sludge. It wasn’t as thick or as bloody, but the impression of “Frog” was strong. He didn’t like killing this way. The guys were bastards, helping him plan but laughing behind his back. He knew they were laughing. Hell. He didn’t want to do a couple of nerdy high school kids. At least give him jocks. He might want to cut off a few body parts while they watched him. Damn bullies shoving him around just because they could. Now he was going to have to off a couple of skinny nerds who’d been bullied all their lives. Paper-pushing bastard probably rigged the game—did one of his endless psych evals and saw this would make him sick.

Young voices rose into wails. Pleading. Begging.

I’m sorry, man, it’s just a game, you know. I gotta do it for my team, but when this is over, I’ll find that dickhead paper pusher and watch him die for you. He chose you, not me.

The pleading rose to a crescendo. She could see their eyes. So young. So scared. They’d never even been with a girl and they were going to die. Frog kept talking to them, assuaging his guilt at the expense of his two victims. He wanted them to understand that he had no choice. It was all part of the brotherhood. He needed forgiveness.

Girlish screams of fear. Tears tracking down baby faces. They couldn’t be more than fifteen. Two young boys just beginning life. Mom. Dad. I love you. I’m sorry.

What did they have to be sorry about? Only that a killer had trapped them and was about to end their lives. Nothing else. They hadn’t lived long enough or screwed up bad enough. Two boys who were intelligent and loved gadgets.

Her entire body shuddered, muscles locking. They were just babies, and Frog was going to kill them and then cut them into tiny pieces. At least he was merciful enough to kill them with a single shot to the head, to make certain they didn’t suffer. And then he began to slice them into pieces. Thirty each.

Stay cool, baby. I’m here with you. Feel me. Look into my eyes. You’re only far away in your head, but if you reach for me, they can’t take you. I’m your anchor.

Why thirty? What’s the significance of thirty? The number had to mean something. It meant something to Frog. A signal, a message, but to whom?

Kadan slid his hands from her shoulders to her wrists, holding tight, needing the contact more than she did. Her mind was amazing to him, cataloguing data, working fast, discarding theories. He’d never seen anything like it. But it took its toll.

Keep the barrier in place.

It wasn’t second nature to her, holding that wall to keep a separation. As a rule she merged herself totally with the killer and victims. Maybe the details were a little blurry, but as far as Kadan was concerned, she was picking up enough through the gloves to destroy her mind.

“What’s significant, Tansy?” she murmured to herself. “Thirty pieces of silver is all I can think of. What would that have to do with . . .” She trailed off, her eyes going wide. Blood trickled from her nose.

Pull away, break off completely.

She swallowed. Blinked. Her opaque eyes looked into his. Blood leaked from her mouth and one ear.

Kadan’s fingers tightened on her wrists and he dragged her into the shelter of his body, thrusting his mind into hers, dominant. Controlling.
You fucking listen to me, Tansy. Break off.
He was prepared to use anything to get her back. Sex. A beating. Hell, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but separating her from those whispers calling to her, beckoning, raping her mind, filling her full of oily sludge and too much blood, so that she was drowning in it.

His hand went to the nape of her neck, thumbs under her jaw, forcing her head up. He took her mouth brutally. Desperately. His mind vibrated with sexual thoughts, with erotic visions, with need and hunger and such a craving for the taste and texture of her he shook with it.

Her mouth moved against his, and he felt that first burst of real awareness, her mind recognizing him as the sludge receded, leaving her raw and shaking but intact. He held her close, burying his face in the hollow of her shoulder, shaken beyond anything he could remember since he was that eight-year-old boy standing alone, frightened and covered in blood.

Damn it, baby. Just damn it.
He took a deep, shuddering breath, his arms locking her head to his chest as if he never wanted to let go of her.

“I’m all right. I’m with you.” Her voice was small and muffled. Thin. As if she was stretched beyond endurance.

“I’m not going to survive this,” he said. “I’m not. We have to do better than this or you’re done.” He tipped her face up to his, his gaze drifting over it, brooding, edged with icy resolve. “You’re done, Tansy.”

“Thirty pieces of silver. Betrayal. This is huge. It was worth it.”

“Fuck that. It wasn’t worth it. It will never be worth it. Look at you. These are disgusting savages and they’re raping your mind. They eat you alive. You think I can’t feel what they’re doing inside your head?” He wiped at the blood on her face. “Like pieces of glass digging at the inside of your mind, scraping you raw. Leaving scars. And in each of those scars, images, voices—sick, perverted killers who won’t ever leave you alone. You’re done.”

She traced the rough angles and planes of his face with her fingertips. “Shh. You’re so upset, Kadan. I’m all right.” The pad of her finger stroked the deep scar.

“I don’t get upset.” He caught her wrists, dragged her hands down to his mouth and pressed kisses into each palm. “I’m not upset. I just know this isn’t right and I’m not letting you do this again.”

He was trembling. He didn’t seem to know it, but she’d shaken him. She couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at her with that stark, raw need, the fear and possession on his face. The show of emotion wrapped him around her heart as nothing else could have, because he was, as a rule, rather distant and cold. She felt the separation, the disconnect in his mind from everything around him—except her. It was both terrifying and exhilarating to know she could shake him so badly.

“The same man carved the stallion and the frog pieces. I think he carved all of them. I can’t be certain, but I’ll know once I handle the other pieces. If he did, and he’s not one of the players, we’ll know he’s running the game. I get an undercurrent—”

His hand fisted in her hair, dragging her to him, his mouth taking hers hard. He swallowed her words and her breath, fighting for her, wanting—needing—her wholly with him. They couldn’t have her. Not the killers. Not the victims. Not Whitney. Not her bastard parents, who were connected to Whitney. None of them. She was his, and he would protect her with everything he was, every last bit of training he had, every warrior’s instinct, and with an ice-cold resolve that would carry him through fire, through blood and death for her.

Tansy let him have her mouth, not struggling against either his enormous physical or mental strength. He didn’t realize the grip he had on her mind or her body, or the savage possession of his mouth. Even the fist in her hair twisted the strands until there was a burning sting. The combination of pain and pleasure slammed the door hard on the voices, leaving only Kadan in her mind. Kadan with his sensual, demanding mouth and his will of iron.

He kissed her until her complete submission, her absolute surrender, registered. His mouth gentled, became tender, until his kisses were slow and easy, until his breath was hers and her body molded to his. His hands slid beneath the thin material of her shirt, sliding down her back, down the tucked in waist and flair of her hips to curve over her buttocks.

“I’m so afraid I’m going to fall in love with you,” she whispered when he lifted his head.

He kissed both eyelids, trailed more kisses down her face to the corner of her mouth. “Would it be so bad, loving me?”

Had there been a catch in his voice? It occurred to her that he had no family. He’d held himself apart from everyone. She smiled at him, a slow, dreamy smile that spoke volumes. She couldn’t say the words aloud, but they were in her mind. Teasing him. Caressing him.
You have a tendency to be a tyrant. Can you imagine if you knew I loved you like crazy?

She couldn’t voice the words, because she was well on her way to feeling that way about him. In measurement of time, she barely knew him, but with their minds slipping in and out of each other, it was difficult to resist him. To resist his compelling need and his magnetic personality. Sometimes, like now, she felt mesmerized, hypnotized by him, just by the way he looked at her. Or maybe it was as simple as she was no longer alone and never would feel alone with him close to her.

“I prefer that you fall crazy in love with me,” he said candidly.

Tansy burst out laughing.

CHAPTER 8

Tansy managed a small catnap and woke up with Kadan lying beside her, one arm slung around her waist. She turned her head to find him wide awake, staring at her face. She blinked and smiled up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you breathe.”

Her smile widened. His hand was beneath the shirt, fingers splayed wide, rubbing small caresses over the smooth skin of her belly. She wasn’t certain he was even aware he did so. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“I can’t make love to you again; we’re going to have company soon. So, no. This is just perfect doing this.”

“Watching me breathe?” He was robbing her of her breath, just the way he was looking at her with those eyes and that intensity. She was drowning.

He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “That’s it. Just watching you breathe. It’s a great pastime.”

“I would imagine it to be very boring.”

He shook his head solemnly. “No. I like guarding you. When you start to have nightmares, you frown and I kiss you and you go all peaceful for me. Your breasts rise and fall, and if I put my hand right here,” he flexed his fingers on her stomach, “I can feel your muscles bunching every time I stroke your skin. You’re so damned soft.”

She rolled over to look up at him. “You’re so different when you’re like this. Which is the real you?”

He framed her face with both hands and kissed her tenderly, so gentle he stole her heart. “I don’t know, Tansy. Both. Neither. You’ve shaken me, shaken everything I knew about myself. I’m not a gentle man. I don’t know how to talk to women. I don’t even know what I’m doing right now, but I don’t want to stop.” The admission was given in a low voice, torn from him against his will.

Her heart clenched. She didn’t read minds—that wasn’t her gift, or curse. She read objects, and that was different. She could stop the input by wearing gloves and distancing herself. What was Kadan’s life like? He saw blood and death. He killed. He fought alongside other men who killed or died. And he knew their thoughts. Their hopes and dreams. Their dirty secrets. His mind had to find a way to protect him. The coldness that he believed made him a killing machine was his mind’s way of protecting him, a shield so the man didn’t have to feel too much, although she was fairly certain he wasn’t aware of it. There was no other choice or he would have been right alongside her in that mental hospital.

“Why did you choose the military? Why did you choose law enforcement? It must be hell, Kadan, all those killers and victims, all those battles you have to fight.”

“What else for someone like me? Killing is what I do best. I’ve always known that.”

She shook her head, locking her gaze with his. “Loving is what you do best.”

A slow smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re a fucking miracle.”

“And you’re going to have to clean up your mouth before you meet my parents.” She rolled out from under him and sat up, pushing at her long hair to get it off her face.