Divine Intervention (15 page)

She stood with her hands on her hips while her eyes flashed dangerously. "You'll never guess who AI sent?"

"Who?" Ben asked warily.

"AI Chief Brandon Walsh," she replied sourly.

"I knew the man was up to something," Ben grunted. "He probably requested this assignment."

She gawked at him, shocked…speechless.

Ben shrugged. "I sensed he wasn't happy handing over control of this case to us. I knew he was up to something when I saw him talking to one of the police officers at the crime scene."

Jasi swore softly, then grabbed some clean clothes and stumbled toward the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower." She glanced back, a hopeful expression on her face. "I'm meeting Walsh downstairs for dinner. You two hungry?"

Natassia grimaced guiltily. "We already ate."

"Great then. Feed me to the wolves!"

Jasi closed the bathroom door and sneered at her reflection. "What the hell are you doing?"

When the other Jasi didn't reply, she growled and headed for the shower.

Apprehensive about meeting Walsh for dinner, Jasi dried her hair, deliberately prolonging the task. She was irritated that she had allowed Brandon Walsh to convince her to have dinner with him. When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, Jasi was ready to meet the devil.

Natassia was sitting on the bed, alone, buried in papers.

"Where's Ben?"

Natassia sighed, disappointed. "He's back in his room."

"Are those Baker's financial records?"

"Yup. Nothing so far."

"You sure you don't want to join us for dinner?"

"Naw, you go. It's not every night you get to go on a date with a handsome man."

"It's not a date!" Jasi snapped. "It's strictly business."

Natassia chuckled softly. "Then why the makeup?"

Jasi's hand paused in midair, a tube of lipstick hovering near her mouth. Staring at her reflection, she made a face, then deliberately tossed the lipstick into her purse.

Ignoring Natassia, she stomped toward the door.

"Go get 'im, Jasi!" her friend snickered.

Jasi shivered with anticipation.

Yeah, but what do I do with him once I've got him?

13

The restaurant on the lower floor of the Prestige Inn had two small private dining rooms off to one side. Brandon waited inside one of them. Checking his watch for the third time in five minutes, he frowned.

An hour had gone by since he had seen Jasi.

Agent McLellan was late.

When she finally arrived, he took in her freshly washed hair and soft, glowing skin. Her face was lightly made up―although Jasmine McLellan didn't need artificial enhancements to make her beautiful. She wore a royal blue blouse.

And she had changed into another pair of slacks, he realized with disappointment.

"Hungry?" he asked her, taking in the dark shadows around her eyes.

"Starved," she admitted.

They chose a table close to the door.

"I thought it would be more appropriate to be in here if we're going to be discussing the case," he said when she examined the room.

After the waiter had taken their order, Brandon decided to seize control of the conversation.

"What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

Jasi told him.

"Okay, I'll stick with you and Natassia," he suggested. "It'll be my first look at the Victoria fire too."

Jasi's eyes widened in surprise. "Weren't you in on that investigation?"

He shook his head. "The locals handled that one."

Toying nervously with a sharp steak knife, Jasi asked, "What's your take on all this?"

"I think it's possible Baker did it. He had motive enough, that's for sure."

Plus he's an asshole, Brandon thought.

He stared warily at the knife in Jasi's hand. When his eyes drifted back to hers, she grinned.

A discreet knock on the door announced the waiter's arrival. He placed their salads on the table. "Would you care for some wine?"

"Please," Brandon replied. "Two glasses of your best white."

"None for me, Walsh!" Jasi said sharply. "I don't drink on the job."

He reached across the table and plucked the knife from her hand. "You're not on the job right now."

When the waiter disappeared, Brandon raised his glass in the air and aimed an insolent smile in Jasi's direction.

"To our partnership."

He knew his words would annoy her, and he waited for her to explode. But then, without a word, she clanged her glass against his.

He smiled, enjoying the challenge in her eyes. "So what brings a nice girl like you to a crime scene like this?"

Jasi scowled. "Bad line, Walsh."

"Well?"

Her eyes latched onto his. "My father was a promoter of government agencies."

Brandon was surprised. "He was CFBI too?"

"No, Armed Forces. He's retired now."

Jasi told him about her parents. About her mother being killed in a home invasion. She didn't go into all the details but he could tell there was much more to the story than she let on.

"Were you close to your mother?"

Jasi nodded silently, reaching for her wineglass.

"My parents live in Europe now," he said, changing the topic. "I don't see them often. My sister lives back east…Ontario."

"Is she younger or older?"

"Younger. She's only seventeen."

"Ah," Jasi grinned. "An 'Oops!'"

"Yeah, an afterthought for my parents. Sierra's great."

He traced a pattern into the condensation on the wineglass. Then he watched her for a moment.

The wine was starting to kick in.

"So you get to play big brother," she said with a faint tinge of disdain in her voice.

He wasn't sure what Jasi meant by that comment.

"What about you?" he asked.

There was something about Jasmine McLellan that intrigued him.

Jasi stared at her salad. "I have a brother."

"Ever married?"

"Who? Me or my brother?" she asked mockingly.

He did a drum roll on the table and laughed.

She gave him a sheepish grin. "No, I've never been married. What about you?"

"Once," he shrugged. "A long time ago."

"What happened?"

Brandon smiled―a slow, knowing smile. Agent Jasmine McLellan
was
interested in him.

"We were both young, perhaps a bit foolish," he confessed. "In the end, Karmen couldn't handle being a firefighter's wife. It was an amicable divorce."

Brandon rarely thought about his ex-wife. Tonight, he only wanted to think about the intriguing but stubborn woman sitting across from him.

"Do you still see her?"

His lips paused at the edge of his wineglass, and he grinned wickedly. "Why? Would it bother you if I did?"

"Not likely, Walsh," she huffed. "I just want to know what baggage you're bringing to the case."

Grinning, he raised one brow. "See any baggage here?"

Brandon stretched back in his chair, flexed his arms and watched her eyes graze over him. When Jasi didn't say anything, he leaned forward, resting one hand on hers.

"Why don't you like me?" he asked in a low whisper.

"You don't believe in what I do."

She yanked her hand away from his and placed it in her lap.

"I really don't
know
what you can do."

Jasi's response was quiet, controlled. "Listen, Brandon. We're working on a case together and I have to know if I can count on you―if I can trust you."

Her eyes were serious pools of emerald lights, and he was drawn into their depths.

"You can trust me," he promised.

Sipping her wine slowly, she watched him, unsmiling.

"I need you to trust me too. Or else one of us could get hurt."

Brandon knew that she meant physically hurt. It was vital that they worked together as a team. They were, after all, hunting a serial killer, a person who had murdered three people―one, an innocent child.

"Okay, I get it," he said. "Tell me about your…uh, gift."

Jasi explained how the scent of fire would trigger something in her cerebral cortex, sending a flash of psychic energy to her brain. The rest was a bit of a mystery.

"Even to me," she added.

"Sounds complicated."

"I have visions," Jasi shrugged lightly. "It's that simple."

Part of Brandon's brain tried to rebel against the plausibility of her visions. Part of him tried to find a rational explanation. There was none. He had read her file―and those of Roberts and Prushenko. He couldn't argue with the fact that they had each solved a number of cases. Some cases had been dead cold. Other agents had given up on them after months of stagnation.

"How does it work?" he asked, staring into her eyes.

She had beautiful eyes―wounded eyes, he thought.

"When I do a reading I have to be very careful that I take certain precautions," she explained. "First I have to clear my mind and inhale pure oxygen. If it's a large fire with multiple victims I have to wear an oxy-mask."

Brandon recalled the first time he had seen Jasi.

She had been wearing an oxy-mask then. And he had laughed at her.

Feeling guilty, he bit his lip.

"How old were you when you started reading fires?"

"I-I've had visions since I was about six. Every time I'm near a fire, I pick up thoughts and pictures. It's actually very draining." Her eyes connected with his. "Emotionally
and
physically."

When the door opened suddenly, he cleared his throat, silently warning her that the waiter had returned with their meals. The man cleared their salad plates, placed two steak platters on the table and then left.

"How dangerous
is
your gift?" Brandon asked between bites. "To you, I mean."

"More controllable than Natassia's," Jasi admitted. "Natassia is a Victim Empath. With her job, she can lose herself in the victim's emotions and fears. Sometimes we have to pull her back. We use a reality line."

"A reality line?"

"We bring her back by holding one of her hands, talking to her. It's a form of hypnosis. We use keywords that mean something to her, to bring her out."

He felt a twinge of fear. "What about you?"

Jasi gave a shrug. "I seem to have better control. I don't get lost in a vision, but I can become very tired. That's all you need to know."

He knew he'd have to wait to learn more about her. Some other time. He was startled at the realization that he wanted there to be another time. The more he discovered about Jasmine McLellan, the more his interest grew.

Observing her across the table, Brandon realized that he wanted her in other ways. There was an undeniable chemistry between them.

Like a nuclear explosion waiting to happen, he mused.

He muffled a soft groan.

Ten minutes into their meal, Brandon saw Jasi stifle a yawn.

"You look exhausted."

His observation flustered her, rendered her speechless.

"What about Agent Roberts," he asked, changing the topic. "How does his gift work?"

Jasi tipped her head, and he could tell that she was trying to determine exactly what or how much to tell him.

"Ben's an excellent profiler."

"And?"

She eyed him warily. "He's a Psychometric Empath. He gets flashes if he touches someone. He can feel their emotions…thoughts."

"A-ha!" Brandon smiled mockingly. "That explains the gloves."

"Ben wears them most of the time, especially when we're around a large group of people. He takes them off when he wants to read someone."

Jasi's eyes narrowed, locking onto his.

"Like me?" Brandon guessed.

Jasi picked at the food on her plate. "Ben needs to know where everyone stands."

"Does he see anything if he touches objects?" Brandon wasn't sure he liked the softened expression in her eyes. He wanted Ben Roberts out of the way.

"No," Jasi answered, shaking her head. "Only when he touches people―live people."

He leaned forward, feeling bold and risqué.

"Are you and Roberts
…?"

"A couple?" Jasi laughed. "No! We've worked together for a couple of years. We're friends―good friends."

Her voice lowered. "Don't get any ideas, Walsh."

"Hey!" he said, holding up a hand. "I just asked about the two of you. You know, team dynamics and all."