The Innocent: FBI Psychics, Book 2 (8 page)

She had a feeling he was piecing things together, and fast.

She also had a feeling he wasn’t one of those people who bought wholesale into the psychic business, either. But that was just too fucking bad.

As Taige helped her sit, Jay reached out a hand and closed it around Taige’s wrist and focused her thoughts. She wasn’t telepathic and her skills didn’t work the way Taige’s did. But Taige’s abilities were legendary and all she had to do was
listen
. If somebody thought directly at her, she’d pick it up.

“I think his daughter might still be alive.”

Chapter Six

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, but Linc didn’t like the way they fit.

Taige Morgan. Freak, fraud or enigma, he didn’t know which, but the bottom line was, when she showed up on the scene, crazy crimes were solved. Sometimes with a happy ending, sometimes not, but they were solved.

She had a connection to Jay.

Jay had a connection to him.

It didn’t matter that he’d tried to cut that connection, because it was still there, a strong, unbreakable thread that even now tried to draw him to her.

But there were still secrets.

She sat there, pale as death, blood an ugly stain against her flesh, and her eyes locked on his. He saw the secrets in the back of her eyes. The picture of him with DeeDee had set this off. Taige had carefully put it back on the table and he’d noticed she’d taken a lot of effort not to look at it, not to touch it any more than necessary.

Unable to hold Jay’s gaze any longer, he turned on his heel and stormed out of his study, heading down the hall. She had blood on her. She’d want to clean up. He could get stuff for that, maybe a butterfly bandage for that cut, something. A clean shirt. And give his brain time to settle.

Why was she here?

His brain skittered away from that, unwilling to linger on that very long.

Because he couldn’t. He didn’t want to think about it.

Although once he hit the kitchen, he stumbled, hitting the wall and bringing up his hands, unable to think about anything else for the next couple of minutes. Shuddering, trying to hold back the agony, he slammed his head against the wall while screams boiled and raged in his gut.

DeeDee…

“Please, God.” He voiced that single prayer, unable to say anything else. He couldn’t even put his thoughts into words. He didn’t know if he was praying for closure, and he didn’t know if he was praying to find her safe—he was a fucking cop and he knew how unlikely it was at this point. He didn’t know what he prayed for, but as he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, he prayed to a God he’d stopped believing in. If the Man existed, Linc hoped, for his daughter’s sake, God would understand his desperate prayer better than he did.

He gave himself a few more minutes and then he shoved off the wall, moved to one of the cabinets and grabbed a bowl, filled it halfway with lukewarm water and found a couple of hand towels.

On the way back, he paused by the laundry and found a loose T-shirt. The skin-tight, long-sleeved shirt she wore was going to need washing.

She could probably use a shower.

Thoughts of a wet, naked Jay were a bit of a distraction, but not much. His gut was still a hot, nasty snarl, and when he strode back into the library, she gave him a lost look that made him want to howl.

She shouldn’t look lost.

Jay was attitude, killer curves and sexy ink and wicked smiles.

She shouldn’t ever look lost like that.

She caught sight of him and, like it had never existed, the look melted away, replaced by a careful, blank mask. Setting his jaw, he came into the room and strode to the table. Taige tried to block him but he ignored her as he dipped the rag into the water and set about cleaning the blood from her face. “Have you ever had a concussion?” he asked Jay as she tried to pull away from him.

“Yes.” She sighed as he ignored her attempts to pull back from him, finally turning her head so he could clean the blood from her face and neck.

“How is your head?”

“Sore. Not sore enough for a concussion, I don’t think. I’ll just have a headache for a while.” She winced as he started to clean the area near the wound.

“Bleeding is slowing down.” He grabbed the other towel, wished he’d thought to grab his first-aid kit, but his brain had been…elsewhere. It had been like that since DeeDee’s disappearance. “Head wounds bleed like a bitch, but they usually aren’t bad. Do you want to go to the ED? It’s a drive, though. About thirty minutes.”

She grimaced. “No.”

He nodded again and continued to apply pressure. Without taking his eyes from hers, he said, “Taige. I need to talk to Jay. Alone.”

Before she left, Taige had sent her a look.

Jay felt the quiet press on her mind but she just sent the other woman a swift shake of her head.
“I’m good. Go.”
A minute later, Taige and Cullen left. That man of hers didn’t talk much. He was…well, almost like her shadow. As the door shut behind them, she closed her eyes and braced herself, wondered just what she was in store for.

Deep inside, though, she already knew, and it had nothing to do with being a psychic and everything to do with being a woman.

Some secrets just weren’t good ones to keep, not when you were trying to build a relationship with a man.

Although how they could have brought this one out in the open, she just didn’t know.

A fine tremor shook her and she clenched her hands together to keep from reaching for him, to keep from letting him see how she was shaking.

This was going to be bad, she realized. Really, really bad.

“FBI, huh?”

She slid him a look from under her lashes and then looked away.

“I’m not with the FBI.” Then she shrugged and added, “Not anymore.”

“But you were?”

She sighed and brushed her hair back. “For a very brief time. Less than a year.” She couldn’t, and she wouldn’t, go into details about why she’d left, but that wasn’t the issue, not really.

Linc was a cop, and he’d understand if she had to keep certain issues quiet because of the job. The job mattered.

What he might have trouble with was…her.

Feeling the weight of his stare, she turned her head and met his gaze dead on. Rising from the couch, she slid her hands into her pockets and rocked back into her heels. Attitude and bravado had gotten her through a lot in life.
If you can’t make it, fake it.
Sooner or later, she’d get through.

“Why don’t you just ask me what it is you want to ask?” she suggested.

He lifted a brow.

Then, smoothing a hand back over the smooth surface of his scalp, he turned and moved across the room until he was standing on the far end. Like that distance between them just then was crucial.

It hurt, she thought. Seeing him put that space between them hurt. “Ask you what I want to ask,” he echoed, “but just where to begin?”

“The beginning is always a good place.”

His laugh was a rough, humorless grumble in the room, sending shivers down her spine. “You know much about Morgan there?”

Staring at the long, taut line of his back, she tried to follow his line of thinking, then scowled. Morgan. Taige. Jay was used to thinking of her as Taige Branch, although she’d been married for years. “Yeah, I know bits and pieces.”

“Bits and pieces. Ever seen anything about her in the news?”

“You believe everything you read about or hear about in the news?” Jay asked mockingly.

He shot her a dark look. “So you’re telling me it’s crap?”

She could tell him that. She could lie. She might even be able to make him believe her.

But it would be just that. A lie.

As the sour taste of bile and anger crawled up her throat, she looked away. “No. I can’t tell you it’s crap.”

His sigh echoed through the room, terribly loud. “And why am I not surprised?”

She closed her eyes.

“How do you know her, Jay?”

She slicked her palms down her jeans, felt the frayed and ripped holes, the warmth of her skin through them. Her palms felt icy by comparison. “You already know the answer, Linc.”

“Now…how would I know that?” His voice was a menacing whisper as he turned to stare at her. “I’m not the psychic in this room, am I?”

Jay looked at him.

He glared back at her, his face stark, almost savage with anger. “You going to tell me now?” he snarled, crossing the room to fist his hand in the front of her shirt. He jerked her close, bending down until he was nose to nose with her. “Or were you going to wait until one of you had to come to my door and tell me that my daughter was dead?”

“Linc…”

Her voice was soft, sad.

The sympathy in her eyes practically tore him open.

When she lifted a hand to touch his cheek, the very last thing he needed to do was stand there, let her touch him when he was feeling so raw.

Her fingers brushed his skin and he caught her wrist, twisted it behind her back and glared down at her. “Don’t,” he panted, pressing his brow to hers. “Don’t stand there and look at me like that if that’s why you’ve come.”

“It’s not.”

Her voice was steady, gentle as a soft summer rain, but the truth was stamped on her face. “I came down here to have it out with you, the way you went and dumped me, you big ass.” She shoved his shoulder with her free hand, then her hand curled into his shirt, her fingers kneading at him like a little cat. “I didn’t even know you
had
a daughter.”

The relief that hit him was almost devastating. Head swimming, he collapsed back against the windowsill, clutching her against him. “But you… Morgan…”

“My boss.” She rested her brow against his chest. “I had a feeling there was going to be trouble and she sent Taige here to help me cover my ass. Linc, there are some big-ass problems going on here and I need to know what’s going on with your daughter.”

He stared at her face, her eyes vivid and intent.

The tension, the fear that had been mounting in him for the past hour—more
—
felt like it abruptly drained out of him. A little
pop
practically sounded in his ear and he sagged, hauling her against him, uncaring of the blood that stained her shirt. It didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

He had a reprieve.

He was a cop and he knew what the truth was, knew it waited for him.

But that wasn’t why Jay was here.

All that frustration and fear came out of him in a shaking sigh and he slowly lifted his head, stared into her eyes.

Then, focused on just one thing, he nodded. “That’s not why you came.”

She touched his cheek. “No.”

Eyes closed, he pressed his brow to hers. Everything else could wait. He drew her body against his, breathed in the warm, soft scent of her. Right now, this was all that mattered. He could have
one
night where he pushed everything to the side…right?

The shower was made of jet black and jade and gold and it was the last place she’d expected to be.

Her head spinning, off-balance from too little sleep, too much emotion and everything else that was going wrong in this bloody town, Jay reached up, rubbing her temple as Linc locked the door behind her.

“Why are we in here?” she asked, feeling a little stupid as he turned toward her and hunkered down at her feet. “We need to talk.”

“Morning.” That was the only thing he said.

“Morning?” Staring at the crown of his head, she tried to process that word.

Linc leaned in and pressed his lips to her thigh. He found one of those rips in her jeans, his mouth unerringly seeking her flesh. “Do you honestly have anything to tell me that is going to change
anything
that’s going on right now?” he asked, his voice raw. “Because I can’t think of a fucking thing that I can tell you that will change shit.”

Jay blinked, trying to process that question.

Did she have anything…?

Her brain was overloaded. Her senses were strained to the breaking point. Even if he tried to tell her jack and she tried to take it in, she had to have rest before she could do anything more. But they could talk—

His hands pulled her boots away, stroked up her calves. “I didn’t want to hear it,” he muttered, leaning in and pressing his lips to her hip. “I’ve read some of her cases, how she’s closed them and I know, in my gut, that too much time has passed and I didn’t want to hear it. I won’t hear it.” Then he slid up, his hands under her close-fitting shirt, and the shocking feel of his calloused palms on her skin sucked the air right out of her lungs. “I can’t… I just…don’t. If that’s what you are, what you had to tell me…I…fuck, I’m glad that’s not why you’re here.”

Abruptly, he stood up and yanked the shirt off. She blinked, startled. Head spinning, she braced her hands on the counter at her back and gaped at him as he caught his own shirt and all but tore it away. “Tell me you came for this,” he rasped, bending down and catching her face. “Tell me this matters.”