Ghostwalker 01- Shadow Game

cage," he snarled, his mouth pressed close to her ear.
    Lily didn't struggle. "Hardly a rat, more like a Bengal tiger."

    But her heart melted at the word "alone." The thought of him alone in his glass cage was heartbreaking.
    When he continued to glare at her she sighed softly. "You know I couldn't come back here without an official invitation. I received it this morning. If I had tried before that, they would have been suspicious. They had to ask me. I made certain I showed no interest at all, and don't pretend you don't know why." She raised her voice, just enough to reach the recorders. "I'm sure you must have heard my father has disappeared. The FBI suspect foul play. I have all of his projects and my own to take care of and with all the work here and at home too, I'm afraid my time is at a premium." Deliberately she glanced up at the camera to remind him they were not alone.
    "You think I don't know it's there?" He hissed the words, anger seething in the deep timbre of his voice. "You think I don't know they watch me eat and sleep and piss? You should have come here immediately."
    Her eyebrow shot up. It was a struggle to keep her face without expression. Her gaze began to smolder. "You're lucky I came at all, Captain Miller." She made a supreme effort to keep her voice soft even when she really wanted to lash out at him. "You know my father disappeared." She lowered her voice even more. "You were there with us, weren't you? How dare you be angry with me!" For one awful moment tears threatened and she fought them back.
    His voice changed completely, dropping an octave so that it whispered in her mind, weaving them together as if they were bound in some way. You can't think I had anything to do with his death .
    The intimacy in his tone robbed her of air. Worse, he was flooding her with warmth and comfort. His thumb was stroking small caresses along her sensitive inner wrist. She attempted again to jerk her arm away from him, the movement reflex, one of self-preservation. His fingers settled around her wrist like a shackle. His fingers were warm, enormously strong, yet he was very gentle.
    "Don't fight, Lily, you'll have every guard in the compound running to save you." There was an edge to his voice as if he couldn't quite make up his mind whether to laugh at the thought or be angry for the accusation in her mind.
    Can you command from a distance, one human being to kill another ? She refused to look away from him, staring directly into his eyes, speaking back to him in the same way, mind to mind. Can you do that ?
    Ryland couldn't look away from the deep blue of her eyes, a mirror reflecting his soul. He wasn't certain he wanted to see what she saw. And he wasn't certain he could afford for her to see him as he had become. There was so much raw anger seething in him.

    The disembodied voice of the guard crackled over the speaker. "Dr. Whitney, do you require assistance?"
    "No, thank you, I'm perfectly fine." Lily continued to stare into Ryland Miller's eyes.
    Challenging him. Accusing him. Seeing him.
    His fingers still circled her wrist like a vise, yet his thumb feathered over her rapidly beating pulse, to soothe her. He said nothing, only continued to look at her.
    Tell me. Can you do that?
    What do you think?
    She studied him for a long while, her gaze penetrating beyond his mask, seeing the predator prowling just below the surface. I think you can .
    Maybe. Maybe it's possible if the person was already filled with malice and capable of killing, wanted to kill, it's possible I could manipulate them to do so.
    I felt your dislike of him. You believed he put you here, that he was responsible for killing the men in your unit.
    I'm not going to deny that, it would be a lie. But you're touching me. Read me, Lily. Did I have anything to do with your father's death?
    Her blue eyes drifted over his face, returned to his glittering gray ones. Am I supposed to believe you can't hide your true nature from me? I see only what you want me to see .
    I'm not shedding tears over his death, I'll give you that, but I did not order anyone to kill him.
    "Peter Whitney was my father and I loved him. I'm crying over him." And she was, deep inside where no one could see. She felt alone. Bereft. Vulnerable.
    His thumb stroked again, sent heat curling through her, sent her pulse skittering. I would be a fool to kill the one man who might save our lives . Aloud he murmured to her softly,
    "I'm sorry he's missing, Lily, sorry for