Vigilante Mine (38 page)

"It's okay," Amanda said, her fingers trailing over the nape of his neck. "Just breathe."

"Your voice doesn't burn." Ryan opened his eyes in confusion.

Piercing, lovely blue. She smoothed her thumbs over his eyebrows, the contact refreshing in a way he couldn't explain.

Ryan crushed a palm to her cheek and the words he'd planned to say on her doorstep knotted in his throat.
I'm sorry, Amanda. I'm sorry for everything.

"You saved me. Again," she said.

"I'm trying not to make it a habit." His voice cracked around the attempt at flippancy.

Amanda blinked at him. "This one's a habit I can live with."

Blue, clear of the ice and walls and ire he'd expected
—
deserved. But she wasn't letting him off the hook.

"It's the frequent liar miles we need to talk about," she whispered, then tucked her forehead against his chest.

He surrounded her with his arms, a fierce, necessary embrace. "I'm so sorry."

They lay entwined for countless minutes as his power somehow found stability, absorbing her heartbeat, her breath, her touch. Amanda's fingertips worked magic over his temples. His world stopped buzzing out of control. Incredible.

He dipped his head to meet her tired gaze. "Who did this to you, Amanda?"

"Mmm." Her eyes drooped closed, then jolted open to half-mast.

Ryan cupped her cheeks with his hands. "Stay with me, sweetheart."

"I've always loved the way you say that." Amanda's lips trembled with emotion and all he wanted to do was kiss her. And never stop.

"Amanda?" He brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones. "Give me a name."

"Zealot." She pressed a barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Yes. Did you see his face?" Ryan asked, then realized her limbs had loosened with sleep.

A burst of chill air swept through the room and he left the bed, tucking the blankets tighter around her. He lowered his lips to her hair. Amanda would rest a little more, and when she woke the second time, his ferocious detective wouldn't rest until she'd caught the person who'd attacked her.

A grim smile found his lips as he drew parallels between Klepto and her newest assailant. She hadn't hunted for Ryan. Not for herself. Not until someone else had been threatened, attacked, killed, and even then she'd put history aside and looked for the truth first. The woman Romeo and Brennan called his Spirit-mate wasn't vengeful. She knew justice. Breathed it, while he straddled the line.

It made him want to keep her even more.

Resettling her among the pillows, he let his mind run through possibilities, questions. If he and his brothers didn't find her assailant first, they'd at least give her a head start.

Time to hunt.

Ryan dialed her lieutenant from his cell phone and headed for the living room. It rang as he reset the thermostat. It rang as the heating system churned overtime and he eyed the bright green numbers on the digital stove clock. It went to voicemail as the clock blazed three A.M., and Ryan walked to her couch while he left a message. He was hitting redial when his eyes registered the purpose of the scribbled-on pile of paperwork and maps strewn about her living room.

She'd been so close.

Ryan had come
for her. Amanda didn't know why her sleeping mind was so ridiculously pleased, but the minute she'd recognized his face, she'd felt settled. Grounded. How a man who'd turned her instincts upside-down and shifted her perception of reality with his talking dog and supernatural ability could be an anchor at a time like this had to be a testament to the way Jackson's appearance left her frozen inside.

Her mind recoiled. Safety shriveled away as she found herself alone with those memories. Her partner was not only alive, he was a serial killer. He'd assaulted her and left her for dead. Amanda battled the memory. They would stop him. The 16th would protect the city and bring Jackson to justice before he could carry out the rest of his plan.

But they didn't know about her research. They didn't know it was Jackson.

She had to wake up.

Stuck on repeat behind her eyes, Jackson's haunting, serious expression and the almost-bored purpose behind his movements took her prisoner. She thrashed in the darkness with silent screams.

"The water will cleanse you."

Taser probes on already shocked nerves.

Frozen, unforgiving water.

Pressure from the stream hammered her spine, bled through her tank top, and encased her muscles in ice as she tried to rouse.

Handcuffs.

Trapped.

Amanda didn't know if she shivered in her head, or with her entire body.

"Spirit-mate his. These thoughts help no one."

Amanda tried to answer, but she couldn't lift her head. She couldn't get free. Pain, exploding in her mind as she called for help that would never arrive.

"Remember. Remember you are safe."

The strength and familiarity of a solid chest. Caring, careful arms. Warmth and sensation, when she'd never thought to feel her fingers again. Hands, gripping hers like a vise, belonging to the man who'd saved her so many times but who couldn't protect himself from the simple tick of a wall clock.

Ryan.

Fault lay with her for his loss of control. He'd reached for her anyway, in pain, suffering. The way to help him, to steady him until he could handle the overload to his super ears, had taken her over like an old, soothing rhythm. Examining the connection too deeply threatened to bury her in emotions. Why was her voice so much safer for him than his brothers'? Amanda needed better questions. Facts.

Ryan was Klepto.

Her heart squeezed so hard she was afraid it would shatter.

He'd let her see beyond his fake glasses. Why had he kept the mask on, when he was innocent of murder? Why had he lied?

Questions she needed to ask him face to face, not hide somewhere in her head. Facts. She should have picked up on the truth sooner.

"He wanted to protect you,"
Romeo said.

"I could have been doing my job instead of chasing shadows."
With the solid thought, her world warmed, and the memories slowed to a trickle. She worked toward consciousness.

"You are angry."
Romeo's baritone voice trembled in her mind.

"You can hear me."
She could still help them stop Jackson. Amanda struggled, but her eyelids felt stapled shut.
"Romeo, tell him. Tell Ryan it was Jackson. My grid is on
—
"

"They have maps. And now a name as well."

They would stop him. Ryan would call Dale, and Dale would have those hidey-holes and drop locations staked out before morning.

"Rest, Spirit-mate his."

Facts. Pain in her head, before Jackson had used the second cartridge in her Taser.

"Romeo,"
she thought to him,
"When Jackson attacked, I . . . called for you. The same way you talk to me."

Romeo didn't respond.

"You answered, I think."
He'd used the strange names he had for her, for Ryan.
Spirit-mate his.
Spiritwalker.
"You were in pain."

Silence from the telepathic dog she'd begun to consider a quirky, impossible friend.

"Do you do this a lot? Not answer questions?"

"You ask a lot of them. It's hard to keep up."
A wolfish, mental smile.
"But none of those were questions."

She hoped Romeo drove Ryan half as crazy.
"Why did I feel your pain?"

"We shared a link, as we do now,"
he said.
"I felt your emotions, and you, in turn, shared mine."

"Physical pain, though?"

"Your rejection hurt."

"I hurt you."
Her stomach rolled with shame. She'd blocked him from her head. Had she sent some kind of telepathic punch at the same time?

"It is done, Spirit-mate his."

"Clearly that means something."
Not a question.
"'Spirit-mate his?' 'Spiritwalker?'"

"That is not mine to answer. Listen,"
Romeo said instead.

Ryan's presence in her kitchen. Low, urgent murmurs, plans that sounded a lot like they dealt with Jackson. She strained to do as Romeo asked, but though she was sure she picked out the gist of the conversation, it wasn't precise enough to know what they were up to.

"I can't hear him clearly,"
she finally thought to Romeo.

Weariness tugged at the strange link between them and Ryan's voice faded.
"I am sorry. Listening is . . . a tiring exercise."

The dog sounded so distressed Amanda sent soothing thoughts and apologies his way. Romeo wanted to help, but he was stuck in recovery right alongside her because of pain she'd caused.

"Can you hear them without pulling me in? What are they doing?"
Amanda asked.

"Research."

"For Dale? They aren't going after Jackson without him, are they?"
She frowned inside her head.
"Romeo, tell him
—
"

"Tell the Spiritwalker yourself."

That single, odd name. Dozens of questions. For once, Amanda hated a puzzle.
"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm having trouble getting out of bed."

"Talk to him."

"Talk . . . "
Amanda fought for understanding and control of her vocal cords. Exhausting.
"I can't."

Frustration, then disappointment, seeped into her mind. As if Romeo honestly believed this was something she should be able to do. She gave a mental shake of her head, but a dreamless sleep beckoned.

"Just make sure he calls Dale,"
Amanda thought toward the dog before full unconsciousness won.

Ryan jerked a
hand through his hair and watched the steady rise and fall of Amanda's chest. Dawn lent a cheery glow to her peaceful expression. He'd spent the night relaying her leads to both Lieutenant Dale and his brothers
—
who, as Klepto, had the advantage of less official resources
—
and after casing possible body drop locations based on Amanda's map, everyone was exhausted and short on temper. Ryan didn't want to be sleeping when she came to, but he was reaching the point of no return.

"The grumpy one took your car."
Romeo's eyes gleamed from the crack in the doorway.

Ryan made a half-hearted attempt to raise an eyebrow. "You'll have to be more specific."

"The little one?"

Oh, Jay was going to love that moniker. "I told him he wouldn't find a coffeemaker. Where's Zach?"

"Sleeping."

Romeo nosed the door the rest of the way open and came to Ryan's side before sitting back on his haunches. Ryan automatically dropped his fingers to scratch behind the German shepherd's ears.

"Your Spirit-mate has questions you can't answer. I suggest you call for reinforcements."

"While we're suggesting things, how about you stay out of her head and stop making her Listen to my secrets? We have her research. We know it's Jackson. You're both tired enough as it is. Stop plundering." They didn't have time to deal with Romeo's fascination with Amanda's brain as well as catching a killer.

First things first.

"I didn't pull the name from her mind. She called me."

Ryan paused, glancing down at his companion's intent, furry face. "That's more than Listening."

"Yes."
Romeo arched his neck into Ryan's fingertips.

Not good. Amanda, linking on her own with his spirit guide? No wonder she had questions. His brain rattled with an uneasy number of them as well. Like it or not, he needed to make time for damage control. She wasn't up yet, and her lieutenant's people were on shifts patrolling for Jackson. His brothers couldn't play Klepto by day. They needed downtime.

Ryan rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand. "What did you do, Romeo?"

"The Keeper might know. Might not."

"The Keeper?"

"Of the stories,"
Romeo said, as if it were the most reasonable explanation on the planet.

"Do you mean Brennan? Why can't you ever give me a straight answer?" Any kind of answer was an improvement over the silence he usually got in return, but Ryan was tired, frustrated, and needed something concrete for a change. "You're my spirit guide. So . . . guide."

"I can't read."
Romeo's tongue lolled out of his mouth in a grin, but he rose to all fours stiffly, like a far older dog.

Ryan sighed. "Now you're just being difficult. If I call Brennan, I might as well be admitting everything she's translated is true. She'll find out about our abilities, our spirit guides, not just you. I can't do that to my brothers."