Because of the woman he considered his mother, he’d gotten a handle on his ability from a young age. When she’d died, he’d been devastated. And then Aunt Danielle had arrived, looking so much like his mother it hurt to see her. The same green eyes, the same smile and gentle mien. Though Michelle had been two years older, there could be no doubt the women were related.
He’d always thought he had his mother’s eyes, and now he knew he did. Danielle’s eyes.
With a sigh, he poured himself a bowl of cereal and sat down to eat. His metabolism had kicked into high gear again, and he needed to sustain his energy for the fight to come. Malcolm Dixon was a bad, bad man.
He knew what his sweet mother had seen in him, though. Handsome and muscular, Malcolm was a man’s man. He’d served in the army for a time before becoming some type of pharmaceutical sales consultant—or so he’d said. He traveled all over the place, but he always came home with a gift for Danielle. He’d seemed to really love her, as much as he hated Nathan. Nathan had never understood why his uncle loathed him. He’d never given the man any problems, had in fact looked up to him, the way a boy admired a father figure. But Malcolm had been anything but loving.
He rubbed his thigh, under his shorts near his buttocks, where Malcolm liked best to let the strap fly. Not enough to scar, but enough to leave welts that took time to heal. A careful abuser. He was always cold and in control when he beat Nathan. Never a hothead, but a true predator who knew exactly what he was doing. Nathan could only thank God his uncle had never sexually abused him. The very thought made him cringe.
He stared down at his empty bowl and poured another.
Avery paused in the doorway, looking sexy as hell in sweats and a skullcap. “Lucky Charms? Really?”
“Don’t even think about screwing with my cereal. You touch one magical marshmallow, and I’ll make your life a living hell.”
“So what else is new?” Avery muttered—not quite under his breath—before he turned away.
Nathan couldn’t help grinning when the door slammed. Having Avery annoyed with him put everything right with the world. The past would always be there, but the future had possibilities. He ate two more bowls of cereal and left the bowl for Avery to clean up when he returned. But on his way out of the kitchen, he made himself look into the far corner, the one place he’d avoided since arriving at the house.
The cellar door was the same. A thick oak wood painted black with a dead bolt high on the frame, too high for a slight twelve-year-old to reach…
A foot shoved him hard, and he tumbled down the stairs. He landed on his ass, a few bruises to add to the ones currently there. Something skittered in the pitch-black, and he bit back the cry that would fall on deaf ears. The cold bit deep into his flesh and bones. A soul-weary exhaustion filled him. When would this end? And then the footsteps… It wasn’t over yet. And that made everything worse.
“Come here, Nathan. Come to Uncle Malcolm and take your punishment.”
Punishment for what, he’d always ask. And every time, his uncle would beat him harder for not knowing. A smarter boy would have made something up, but Nathan had been stubborn back then, like now. He’d never deserved any of Malcolm’s abuse. He’d avoided his aunt after each occurrence, not wanting her to know, because Malcolm had warned him that if she did, he’d hurt her too. And then that one day he hadn’t been careful enough, and Danielle had seen the hint of a welt under his shirt…
Nathan shrugged the memories away as he exited the kitchen. Not yet. But soon, he’d go down those stairs. He’d get past his fears and find the strength to defeat his uncle. And in the doing, he’d find out what the hell had really happened seventeen years ago, when his uncle had tried to kill Danielle and instead ended up with Nathan’s knife in the center of his chest, where his heart should have been.
Chapter Four
Avery returned to find Nathan frowning at his laptop. “What’s up?” His breath came out in rasps. The temperature outside had lowered to twenty degrees. And though the sidewalks were cleared of snow, he’d still run through several mounds of the white stuff to reach a greater distance. Between the run and last night, he felt like a new man. One able to take on a murderer and a playboy too sexy for his own good.
Christ, when would this desire go away? He tried to ignore his erection and sat down across from his partner. Maybe sex with Nathan wasn’t a good idea, not if it distracted him from keeping an eye out for danger.
“Ian finally found what Jack couldn’t.”
Avery snorted. “I bet that fried Jack’s ass.” Ian Ryder, their newest addition to the team, had been and probably still was a master forger. The guy had contacts all over the place, in law enforcement and underground. When psychic means failed, they could turn to Ian for help, and Ian never let anyone—Jack especially—forget it. Personally Avery liked the guy. Ian was small and cute and funny. Not threatening, and not his type, though Ian had offered several chances to get to know him better.
Nathan glared at the computer.
“Okay, I’ll bite. What the hell has your panties in a twist?”
“Dickhead.” The standard response he typically received from Nathan. Avery had been worried that this morning might be awkward. To his pleasant surprise, being around Nathan felt normal. Just…enhanced…by that sexual tension he now knew they both felt.
“Still waiting.”
“It’s just, here. Look for yourself.” Nathan spun the laptop around. He wore a dark sweater and jeans, his hair looked damp, and he smelled like soap. Clean and handsome and so fucking close. Avery could easily see himself tying Nathan up and having some fun. Later. After the mission, he reminded himself.
He took a look at the laptop and frowned. “This is beyond PWP clearance. How the hell did Ian get this?” Most of the names and locations had been blacked out, but Avery saw enough to understand just what Malcolm Dixon had done that had necessitated his travel all over the place. “I hate to break it to you, Nathan, but your uncle is even worse than you thought.”
“He traveled a lot. Not as much as I liked, but the three years I spent here were tolerable because he was selling drugs.” At Avery’s questioning look, he added, “Pharmaceuticals. So we’d been told.”
“So Danielle didn’t know what he really did for a living?” He’d decided to call her by her first name, because he could see Nathan had yet to deal with her passing.
“Who the fuck knows?”
Avery could feel Nathan’s frustration.
“She apparently had a hard time with the truth.” Nathan rose to his feet and began pacing the kitchen.
The time had come for some answers, things the files hadn’t mentioned about Nathan’s early years. “Tell me what happened that night, when you thought you’d killed him.”
Nathan stopped in his tracks.
“Tell me. I know a little about him, but we need a whole picture of the man. Hell, even you don’t know as much as you thought you knew about him.”
Nathan’s jaw clenched. Then he blew out a breath. “I hated him.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“My mom died when I was ten. I moved in here at my aunt’s insistence. She wanted me; he didn’t. I know he served in the army. That he was a Ranger, I think. But he got out to be with her more. Then he found a job selling drugs to hospitals or something. I only knew he went away and left me the hell alone. But that last time he came back, he was different.”