Tansy swept a hand through her hair, frowning when her fingers caught. He tried not to notice the disarray of her hair, falling like tangled silk around her shoulders and down her back. Her breasts held faint marks, marring the perfection of her skin. He'd done that. Those were his fingerprints on her. His body stirred no matter how hard he tried to control himself.
"Why don't you get dressed?"
For the first time she seemed aware of her lack of clothing, frowning, a little confused while she looked around her. She nodded and rose unsteadily. Kadan caught her arm to make certain she didn't fall. Tansy pulled clothes from her backpack and moved out of his sight. He didn't like it, but he couldn't very well insist she dress in front of him. He spent the few minutes of her absence fixing her a cup of hot coffee.
Tansy was back a few minutes later, her face a little swollen as if she'd been crying. She took the coffee mug and blew on it. "Do the murders follow one another? In other words, if one is committed on the West Coast, then does one follow on the East Coast? Are they alike?"
He shook his head. "Similar. Well planned. More than one person has to be in on the planning, but only one actually performs the kills. At least that's what I think. There's never been any evidence of more than one killer at a crime scene. The murders are connected by the game pieces. They're unusual, carved out of ivory and very distinct."
Tansy looked around. "Where are my gloves?"
"Why?" His gut protested the question and the answer in her mind.
She flicked him a reprimanding glance. "Don't be silly.
I need to take a look at the piece. I haven't really examined it and I can't touch it without gloves on."
"I don't want you to touch it again."
She sighed. "Look, I've already got the voices in my head and they aren't going to leave me alone, so I may as well do what I can to at least point you in the right direction. I pick things up even through gloves if the impressions are strong enough. I have a feeling this man kept the piece with him through the entire planning stages and liked holding it in his hand."
Kadan swore as he turned away from her. She was gone from him. She had distanced herself from him and he felt the barrier even in her mind. He couldn't blame her. He even understood, but damn it all, she belonged to him, and the separation after sharing her body and her mind was unacceptable. He could barely breathe with the thought of losing her for good.
Reluctantly he handed her the game piece. It was a small stallion, anatomically correct. She took it between two fingers, turning it over and over. Her index finger began to stroke along the horse's neck, where there was no wild mane.
"He's the Italian Stallion. He likes being called that. He enjoys knowing he can manipulate women, and his friends know it. He makes the claim that it's their responsibility to keep their women away from him, not his."
"Italian Stallion is so trite. It's been done too many times."
Her gaze jumped to his face. "I'm sure it has."
He wasn't Italian, but he felt like she was accusing him of seducing her. Damn it. Maybe he had. He hadn't told her the story of his childhood on purpose. It had slipped out. He'd been horrified, but he couldn't stop talking, couldn't stop the flow once the dam had been pierced. He hadn't told the story to seduce her, or even to gain sympathy. He was in her mind. Sharing each other. He saw her. Saw inside of her. She was-everything.
Tansy studied the carving from every angle. "He wants this identity more than he wants his own. He encourages this one. Mostly they just call him Stallion. Who are they?"
Her finger was mesmerizing, rubbing the neck back in forth, almost in a caress. Kadan remembered the feel of her fingers stroking over his shaft. He'd been so hard. So thick. He'd never been quite like that before, full to bursting. Looking at her, with her hair all over the place, no makeup and that remote look on her face, his heart contracted. And yes, even now, the breeze carried the faint scent of cinnamon, although now it mixed with his scent.
"His friends," Kadan guessed.
"They're close but apart. They hide in the shadows. The night is ours."
His head came up alertly. "What the hell are you saying?" He snatched the game piece from her hand. "What do you mean by that?"
Tansy turned her shimmering eyes on him. Now he knew what those eyes did. They saw inside, where people never were meant to see. She was seeing too much. Where was the ice in his veins? Where was his cool?
"I didn't mean anything. I saw the words, that's all. He believes he is invincible at night." She pulled off the gloves and dropped them on the table as if she couldn't bear them against her skin.
Kadan shook his head. "I don't believe it. There aren't that many of us. Eight? Eight killers? GhostWalkers?" He shook his head again. "I won't believe that."
"So the phrase has meaning to you?"
He glanced at her sharply. She'd grown up around detectives, and her question, in that casual voice, sounded just like one.
"You're my partner," he said gruffly, staking his claim. "Don't forget that." Before she denied it, he shoved up his sleeve.
"Oh my God, how did I not see you were hurt last night?" Tansy asked. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"It's nothing. A scratch. I sewed it up. I'm showing you the tattoo."
There was an expectant silence. At first she didn't see anything on his arm, but then when he released a little bit of psychic energy, allowing it to swirl close to her, she could see the strange crest.
"The GhostWalker crest. The night is ours. It's in our creed," he explained, his expression grim. "I don't believe in coincidence. But eight… That would be an entire team." He shook his head. "No way, Tansy. I know them all."
"They're under a lot of strain. You know it better than anyone, Kadan," she said softly, watching him carefully. "The headaches, the continual pressure of the outside world, it could drive anyone insane. I ought to know."
"But you didn't brutally kill people. And you sure as hell haven't done it for fun. These bastards are doing it for fun."
She rubbed at the frown creasing her forehead. "So why are the GhostWalkers under suspicion? I'm not certain I get that part."
She still had blood at the side of her mouth. He hated the sight of it. Pouring water onto a cloth, he closed the distance between them. "So far we have ten murders. Five on each coast. Each was similar but very different and each had a game piece left on-site, some game pieces being used more than once."
"That doesn't explain the GhostWalker tie-in."
"You jumped over me, Tansy. Right over the top of me," Kadan pointed out. "You know we're genetically enhanced and can do things other people can't. There are strong indicators that whoever is committing these crimes can do things that would be deemed impossible. Most of the murders on the West Coast have occurred in either Seattle or Tacoma, Washington. The murders in North Carolina are near the base there as well. We believe whoever is committing them is in the service."
"Where are the GhostWalkers?"
"Scattered around, on missions. They have residences, of course, but they are often on both coasts."
"Has anyone tried to eliminate them as suspects? If they're in the military, someone has to know where they are on any given day, don't they?"
Kadan noted that Tansy was swaying, her hands still un-steady, although she tried to cover it up. He stepped closer to hen ignoring the way she stiffened when he put his arm around her waist to steady her. "The GhostWalkers operate outside ordinary parameters. They don't answer to anyone but their team leader and either the general or the admiral. Both men run teams. The missions are classified and often involve travel outside the United States without a paper trail. In other words, it is difficult to tell where the truth is because once set loose, they have the ability to travel in and out of the country and even state to state without anyone knowing. Of course we're checking into that as fast as we can, but it isn't easy, especially since I can't reveal the investigation to them or the fact that they're under suspicion."