Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

anywhere but at him. What had ever possessed her to blurt out such intimate details to a perfect stranger?

    “You were afraid they’d control you through the dog?”

    Dahlia was silent for a moment, undecided whether to keep going or to end the conversation. Finally she nodded. “Everyone seemed to be in control of me, and I didn’t want it to go any further.”

    “How could they control you?”

    She shrugged. “I needed the house and the remoteness of the location.”

    “You have money, Dahlia. A lot of money. You could get your own house in a remote location.”

    She ducked her head; the amethyst spheres swirled in her fingers. He watched as they spun in her palm with remarkable precision. In minutes they were no longer in her palm but floating beneath her fingers, continuing the smooth action of rotating just as if her fingers were doing the manipulating.

    “Dahlia.” He said her name to get her attention and waited until she reluctantly looked up at him. “You allowed them to control you. Why did you do that?”

    She was silent so long he thought she might not answer him. “I wanted a family. Milly and Bernadette and Jesse were the only people I had. I stayed to keep them. It was a trade-off.”

    Nicolas bit off a word he rarely used and turned his head away from her to stare out the window. For a moment his vision blurred and he blinked rapidly to clear it. “It was a hell of a trade-off, Dahlia. You might have been better off with the dog.” The moment the words were out he wished he could take them back.

    Dahlia stood up and shoved back her chair. Her hands were shaking. She put them behind her back. “I need a little space if you don’t mind.” If she burst into tears she would never forgive him… or herself.

    “Wait.” He took one step toward her. Glided silently. It felt more predatory than anything else and her heart pounded in alarm. She gave ground, taking a step back even though she knew better. Step to the side, never back up, they just keep coming . A standard training rule.

    “Dahlia, I know I’m making mistakes with you. With us.” He set his coffee cup on the table and rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning when he noted she immediately went into a fighter’s stance. “I’m not used to being with other people any more than you are. I don’t know how to talk to women any more than you know how to talk to men.” He grit his teeth for a moment, feeling like he was making an ass of himself, but he pressed on.
    “I don’t always know the right thing to say. I’m bound to say something that hurts occasionally. Work with me here. Professionally, there’s no problem, I know exactly what to do, but personally…”

    She shook her head. “I don’t know how to be personal about anything, Nicolas. You’re not going to get any real help from me.”

    “So we have to learn together. Is that so bad? We have common ground. We’re both GhostWalkers. There are only a few of us in the entire world. I saw your books. We read the same books.”

    “What books?” She challenged.

    There was a small silence. “I’m sure we have the same dictionary.” Nicolas watched her mouth soften and shape into a small smile. He snapped his fingers. “ Zen Mind Beginner Mind . There you go, I wore out two copies. You had one on your bed. I brought it with me in the pillowcase.”

    “You can’t have my copy—I love that book.” Dahlia was ready to forgive him, mostly because he tried so hard to put her at ease. “You must be hungry. We’ll need groceries. I thought maybe if I walked around a bit and let myself be seen, they’ll come to us and we won’t have to work so hard looking for them.”

    “That was a sniper out in the swamp, Dahlia. If they sent a sniper, they were looking for a kill.” There was no way to soft-soap it. He wasn’t prepared to have her wandering the French Quarter, setting herself up as a target.

    She nodded. “I figured that out. When you said he was like you, I thought at first you meant another GhostWalker, but you would have said like us . You didn’t, so he had to be a sniper. How did you know he was following us?”

    “Instinct, a sixth sense, my grandfather’s spirit whispering in my ear. I don’t know.
    When I’m out there, it comes to me and I know.”

    “Does he do that? Does your grandfather whisper to you?”

    There was no amusement in her voice She wasn’t making fun of his beliefs. There was interest and perhaps a