Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

mind on saving their lives or tracking his quarry. As they walked in the general direction of the popular restaurant located on the bluff overlooking the river, he struggled to make sense of the havoc Dahlia wrought on him.

    Dahlia was a firestorm to his ice. Where he was cool and calm, she was fiery and seemed out of control, battered by the very energy of every living thing. Where did she fit into the universe? How did someone like Dahlia survive in a place so hostile to her nature?
    And why was it so damned necessary to him that she survive in a place with him?

    He could accept the physical attraction, even though the intensity might be disastrous.
    He could even accept his deep need to protect her. He was always the one that looked out for his men, and he took the role seriously. That was part of his character and he was well aware of it. But to find himself obsessed—and that was a good word for it— was uncomfortable. He was trying to keep them both alive, and all he could think about was Dahlia. The sound of her voice. The way her smile flashed at him unexpectedly. It was unnerving how much he thought about her.

    “Don’t think about it too much, Nicolas,” Dahlia advised in a low voice.

    “About what?” He kept his voice even with an effort. She said she wasn’t telepathic on her own and didn’t read minds. He didn’t want her reading his confusion. Until he knew the answers, he wasn’t willing to share the questions.

    “Whatever it is you’re thinking about. It isn’t worth getting more upset over.”

    “People have upsetting thoughts, Dahlia.”

    “I know. Believe it or not, I’m a person, and I actually do think about things. I even have regular emotions. I once saw a man kick a dog, and I got so upset three houses behind him caught fire. I was nine years old.” She glanced up at him, checking to see how he took it. Telling him something important. Something they both had to know. “Can you imagine if I ever got into an argument with my husband? He’s silly enough to disagree with me over the amount of milk that goes into tea or some other inconsequential thing.
    Poof. He goes up in smoke.”

    When he looked down at her, she was already looking beyond him to the river. “What happens when you feel pain?”

    “From the overload?”

    “No, just regular pain. You stub your toe. You get a cold. You get punched by some man in the street because I’m too slow on the trigger.” There was a hiss of anger in his voice.
    It came out of nowhere, that slow smoldering burn that seared his belly and flared with a dark heat that threatened to consume him. His palm slipped over her stomach and lay there gently. The touch was meant to be impersonal, to soothe her. To take away the pain.
    It turned into something altogether different. Not sexual, but intimate. And her skin burned through the thick material of the dark sweatshirt. Or maybe it was his skin. He shouldn’t have been able to feel her, yet he did.

    She closed her eyes against the emotions swamping her. Or maybe it was energy, she honestly couldn’t tell anymore. She wanted to run away from him. Away from everyone.
    Her head pounded and her skin itched and felt too tight for her body.

    “Don’t try to run out on me, Dahlia,” Nicolas cautioned, reading her easily. His voice roughened, sounded edgy. “You’re so busy trying to keep an emotional distance you’re forgetting what we’re doing here.” He pulled her from in front of the window where her face could be reflected and drew her around the side of the building, pushing her back into the heavy shrubbery.

    Her black eyes blazed at him. “Of the two of us, you’re far more afraid of emotional commitment than I am. I may have limits, but at least I put myself out there. You’re so busy taking care that nothing disturbs your perfect tranquility that you’ve forgotten to live your life.”

    The air fairly crackled with electricity. Nicolas could feel the rising energy beginning to surround them. It fueled the raw emotion building inside of him. He also glimpsed their quarry walking along the street toward a small blue Ford that was parked a block up from them. The man seemed to be in no particular hurry, almost sauntering as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

    He glanced around, saw a taxi parked close to a restaurant. Certain the cab was waiting for customers, Nicolas had a twenty-dollar bill in his hand when he signaled. He kept a firm grip on the nape of