Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

such low levels of energy because he didn’t feel anger when doing his job.
    He turned everything off. It wasn’t an act of violence, it was something far deeper. Dahlia struggled to understand. Controlling energy was everything to her. Violence always created energy. Even the buildup of anger in a person created the violent waves that often made her ill. Nicolas didn’t have those harsher emotions roiling inside of him. There was no fear. She didn’t even catch a stray swirl slipping toward her. He waited calmly, his heart and lungs working steadily.

    Dahlia knew the moment Nicolas spotted the assassin stalking them. She was so aware of him, she could almost catch his thoughts. There was no sudden spike in his breathing, but his finger moved along the trigger. One stroke, almost as if testing to insure it was exactly where it was supposed to be. The movement was slow and deliberate and it fascinated her. Although she was watching him, she was still shocked when he pulled the trigger and immediately slid down the side of the roof. He reached out and caught the back of her shirt, taking her with him.

    He dropped her to the ground, signaling for her to run in the direction of the boat. She did as he indicated, sprinting through the swamp, staying low as she followed the path.
    The boat was tied up to a cypress tree. Dahlia waded out into the water to ready the boat.
    She couldn’t help the way her heart pounded when she saw Nicolas coming toward her out of the heavier foliage. He looked a warrior of old, tall and strong and fierce. He didn’t hesitate, but waded straight into the water, pushing the boat into the channel where the reeds grew the highest and could shield them as they made their getaway.

    Dahlia expected a rush of violent energy to overtake her. She even braced herself for it, but there was nothing but cool morning air as Nicolas took the oars and drove through the water with long, smooth strokes. “You missed him,” she said. Somehow it didn’t seem possible. He was so sure of himself, almost invincible in his manner.

    “I hit what I was aiming at,” he answered quietly. “We have to keep moving. I’m hoping I slowed them down, but we can’t count on it.” He forced the oars through the water with his powerful arms and the boat shot through the channel toward open water.

    “I didn’t feel anything.”

    His gaze brushed her face, an odd little caress she felt all the way through her body, just as if he’d touched her with his fingers. “I wasn’t aiming at you.”

    She caught the fleeting glint of his white teeth in what could have been a brief smile.
    One dark eyebrow rose in response. “Has anyone ever told you your sense of humor needs a little work?”

    “No one’s ever accused me of having a sense of humor before. You keep insulting me.
    First you accuse me of missing, and then you try to tell me I have a sense of humor.”

    His face was made of stone, his tone devoid of all expression. His eyes were flat and ice cold, but Dahlia felt him laughing. Nothing big, but it was there in the boat between them, and the terrible pressure in her chest lifted a bit. “And it needs work,” she pointed out.
    “Get it right.” She even managed a brief smile of her own to match his.

    The boat moved silently through the water, taking them through a labyrinth of channels until they were in open water. At once Nicolas started the motor. “You know the area much better than I do. Keep us away from the island where your home was and away from the cabin. You need a route that takes us under cover if possible. They’ll have spotters. We don’t know how well equipped they are, but if we hear a helicopter or small plane, I think it best to avoid them.”

    “I may steal things for them,” Dahlia admitted, “but I’ve spent my entire life in a sanitarium. Even if this all came out, how much damage could I do to them? I’d be labeled crazy. And the sad truth is, I couldn’t go into a courthouse and be in close proximity with so many people and not have a meltdown. None of this makes sense to me.” She pinned him with her dark gaze. “Does it to you?”

    “I’m giving it some thought,” he replied mildly.

    She shook her head in exasperation at his steady, unshaken manner and turned her attention to guiding them, at top speed, through the bayou.

    Nicolas looked at her. She was very small-boned, but perfectly proportioned. The more he was around her, the more of a woman she