Vigilante Mine (22 page)

"Tomorrow night, all bets are off. We can't be absolutely sure these people are safe." Unless . . . if she wore Klepto's "gift," played his game afterhours, would she stand a chance of getting the evidence she needed to shut him down first? Her headache punched at the spot between her eyes as she considered options.

Ryan stood, pressing his thumbs against the top of the table. "Sit, Amanda."

"I'm thinking."

Those maddening lips turned slightly upward. "You're pacing."

She stopped with her foot in the air, stared down at it, and tried to think past the pressure in her head. Slowly, she lowered her foot to the floor. Amanda fixed a look on Ryan and the room did an abrupt 360 degree spin in both directions at once.

"Why won't she
Listen?"

The room around Amanda had gone black as pitch, and the masculine voice wasn't one of the McLelas's. It took effort to spread her fingers. The gravelly press of ice-cold pavement rasped across her palms. When had she left Ryan's conference room?

"The link is there. Broken? Blocked?" The strange baritone voice gave an impatient grumble. "His Spirit-mate comes to us closed off and afraid."

Amanda's head blazed with pain. Blind and unable to move further, it seemed she had little choice. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"You are Listening?" The voice hitched in surprise.

"I will if you answer my questions."

"I've watched you. You always have questions." Amusement. "I won't do answers."

Why weren't her eyes working? "Then why should I listen?"

A soft snort. Then an answer in a mock booming voice, "Because you are his. Linked beyond time, burdened by choice."

"Who is he? What choice?"

"There must always be choice, for without you are mere slaves to fate." Again with the cheesy dramatics. She caught a strong impression of a wolfish smile in the blackness of her dream. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

"Fate. Uh-huh. I've lost my mind." Memory of arguing with Ryan flitted past, the dizziness, the rising of the floor. The coffee. Of course. She'd passed out, and the toasty drink had warped her dream-state. "Caffeine, bad."

"Listen now."

Amanda's bones felt as though they could push from her skin, her world pulsing and pushing and colliding with motion, yet no motion at all. Then she heard everything. Sharp, focused points of sound: the express rail, church bells, a creaking screen door.

"Hey, hey what are you doing, man? Put the gun away. You trying to get us killed?" Jackson.

A shot fired.

Amanda convulsed. "No!"

An impossible dream. It was Jackson. Her partner. She was remembering his murder, the night he was killed.

Remembering? No. She hadn't been there.

Footsteps crunched on brittle snow.

Another shot.

"No." Her second protest came out a whimper.

With time on her hands during recovery, she'd memorized the incident and M.E. reports, but she hadn't witnessed the cold, precise attack.

She'd only imagined this scene in her head many times.

Never in winter.

The thump of a body hitting ice over snow, cracking the top, sinking.

Murder.

Her hand clutched the plush carpeting of a rug and she held on for dear life as the world pitched anew. Dimly she registered someone calling her name. She was cradled in strong arms, arms she longed to bolster her against the tide of memory, arms that made her feel safe, wanted. Ryan.

If caffeine was going to imbue her dreams with realistic elements, why couldn't she return to last night's forbidden fantasies
—
or her new elevator one? Anything, as long as the kisses were full-contact and courtesy of one handsome businessman who walked a line of gray and who, she suspected, hid a heart of gold. Why did she have to dream instead about death?

Those protective arms deposited her onto something soft and cloud-like. A cool compress on her forehead filled her nose with scents of pine and lavender.

Comforting reality snapped away as a new, modulated voice spoke. "Relek City will be cleansed."

Him.

The killer.

Her conscious mind threatened to shatter with dark clarity. Images curled around her, but she wasn't truly seeing, imprisoned inside nightmares.

A figure cloaked in a dark trench coat leaned over the body. Red blood oozed its way over the white ground. The victim spread out like a macabre snow angel. And the cold. So bitter, bitter cold.

"Spirit-mate his, when the time comes, will you choose to Listen then?"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"I knew something
wasn't right about that coffee." Zach grated out the accusation like it was his sole defense when faced with an unconscious woman.

"This wasn't my fault!"

Ryan deposited Amanda on the leather couch then tipped a pained look at his brothers. Zach and Jay stood nose to nose, arguing less from real anger and more from a need to act. Helplessness didn't suit a McLelas. Give them a syndicate drug deal and they could take it down in minutes. Give them a beautiful, strong woman shivering, crying out in her unconscious state, however
—
Ryan ran a hand through his hair. Why had she collapsed?

"Should I dial the hospital?" Lilah called from her desk.

"Yeah, and tell them to bring a stomach pump," Zach said.

Jay flipped him off.

"Spiritwalker. She did it. She heard me."

Ryan jerked his fingers free and braced himself on the cushions. The dog sounded excited, happy even, that Amanda had collapsed in the middle of his conference room.
What the fuck, Romeo?

"I found him, and she Listened."

Found who?
His companion didn't answer. Leather groaned under his clenching fingers.
What happened to Amanda?

Amanda whimpered and Ryan's heart contracted painfully. This had nothing to do with coffee. Romeo knew something, but though Ryan continued to push at him mentally, the dog wouldn't speak unless he felt it necessary. How the hell was Ryan supposed to help her if he didn't know what was wrong?

"Enough." He pitched his voice low as he checked his detective's cheeks for heat. "It was probably the fumes from the new carpet glue. Take our plans to the security office and keep working. I'll handle this."

Romeo, I need answers. I'm counting to five . . . 

Both men looked grateful for something to do, their pointless argument dissolving as Amanda curled into a ball. Jay gripped Ryan's shoulder before slipping from his office.

One . . . 

Lilah ducked past his brothers to deliver a cold, wet cloth and was the last to leave, closing the office door with a soft click.

Two . . . Damn it, Romeo, what did you do?

The quiet sanctuary of the room normally soothed him. Without distractions, his ability locked onto restless movement against supple leather, uneasy breathing, and her frenetic heartbeat. Ryan slid the compress over Amanda's forehead and willed her to wake. She shivered.

Three
—

"Ryan." A barely-there, pleading croak and Amanda's eyelids fluttered open. Blue eyes stared up at him, hazed with vulnerability.

He lost count.

Sliding to his knees at the same moment she reached for him, Ryan wrapped his arms around her and bundled her quaking body to his chest. Her nose bumped his throat, shocking him with cold as she settled into the embrace. He tightened his grip. Why was she so cold? He pressed light, comforting circles along her spine and she rubbed her cheek against his tie. Ryan had no notion of how long they sat like that, Amanda seeking his warmth and comfort, but by the time her body temperature stabilized and her breathing evened out, he didn't want to let her go.

Her lips arched in a tired curve. "Well, this is embarrassing. I don't think I'll be drinking coffee again soon."

"It wasn't the coffee." Ryan summoned a reassuring smile as he eased her back onto the couch. He dropped back into a chair and pushed a glass of water into her palm. "Is your blood sugar low? What did you eat today?"

"Plenty. It could have been stress. I haven't slept much the past few days." She took a swig of water.

"Exhaustion could account for your chill." Guilt slammed into his chest for Klepto's role in her lack of rest, but Ryan couldn't take his eyes off the long, creamy expanse of her throat.

She passed him the glass and pulled the compress from her forehead. "How's the plan coming?"

Down, but never out. Always thinking. His sexy little warrior-cop didn't have an off-switch.

Greedy desire spiraled over his cock and Ryan stood to pace. This was hardly the time to press his luck. "Jay and Zach are finishing up."

One leg swung over the side of the couch in her attempt to rise, but possessiveness riddled with protective instinct brought Ryan forward. She had to slow down enough to recover. He intercepted her foot midair, then joined her on the cushions and draped her calves over his thighs.

"What are you doing?" She tried to tug her leg free, a move that only helped him slip off her boots.

He removed her socks too, continuing, "Lieutenant Dale will have a full task force present at the event tomorrow." He kneaded slow circles into the balls of her feet. "Our maintenance staff and security team is working overtime to get more cameras on the premises. If this guy shows up, we'll be ready for him."

"That feels incredible." Amanda succumbed to his touch with a groan that made him think of deeper, harder seductions.

Knock it off. She needs time to rest.

"You worry too much. It takes a toll," he murmured, working stronger patterns over the tense arch of one foot. This woman had even worried about him, had come to McLelas Financial concerned for his life. On one hand, he could count the number of people who would do the same. "We'll get this guy, Amanda."

She smiled. "As much as I adore you for the undeserved pampering, you need to let me up."

"Adoration? I accept." He threw her a playful grin and dug his thumbs into the arch of her other foot. "I knew you'd come around eventually."

She groaned again, her muscles going lax under his ministrations. "We're not going to stop him with me lying here."

"We aren't setting up the banquet hall until tomorrow afternoon. VIPs are on lockdown tonight, so he won't get near them. The fundraiser doesn't start until dusk. In the meantime, I suggest an early night. Sleep."

She'd need it, thanks to Shiv. Their dawn appointment with Murphy had to happen; the plan was still on. Ryan redoubled his efforts, moving the massage over her heels. Amanda let him continue. A good sign. He looked up, locking onto bright, shimmering blue eyes. Her lips formed a moue that begged for his kiss. Ryan's massage skills faltered with the thought, rest now the furthest thing from his mind. Heat gnawed at him, raging, demanding in an instant, pulsing against his supernatural ability. Her breaths came in shallow gulps and her heartbeat accelerated in his ears. Luscious invitation. An echo of his own needs.

Ryan stilled, latching on to the promising signals, his hands wrapped around her ankles. Amanda quickly turned her head. Her pulse clicked along at a normal pace, her breathing even.

Had he imagined her arousal? It'd figure. Around Amanda, he had no brain.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and bent her knees again. "Let me up, Ryan."

Regretfully, he lowered her feet to the carpet and handed over her footwear. "If it's about the lists, I can assure you my brothers will take care of it."

"I believe you." Amanda had her boots on in moments. She met his gaze with regret of her own. "It's just, I don't have time to sleep."

"Why?"

She bit her lip and Ryan's whole body homed in on the point of contact. He wanted his teeth there, his lips covering hers, sharing a breath, a single sensual moment. Hundreds of moments. He couldn't stop with one. No, she wouldn't walk out that door without a kiss.

"I have to be seen." She dug her fingertips into the fabric of her slacks, lowering her head. Honey-brown hair hid her expression from view. "If there are more murders tonight, I need a cover, people to vouch for me right up to curfew."

A punch to the gut.

"You're talking about an alibi." He covered her hands with one of his and tipped her chin toward him with a finger. "You can't possibly be telling me someone thinks you killed all those people."

"I shouldn't be telling you anything." She gave him a tremulous little smile. "Dale thinks this is an inside job. I have an unaccounted-for service weapon, so that puts me on the suspect list. The only reason no one's come for me yet is Dale's been keeping them busy. I need to be able to alibi out."

"The killer is using a cop's gun?"
Son of a bitch.
Not two feet from them, Ryan had her gun locked up in his hidden safe. He jolted to standing, every cell in his body in violent rejection of her inclusion on a most wanted board. How could he protect her from her own people? "They'd never be able to pin this on you."