Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

“Thank you, Nicolas.” Her voice sounded strangled.

    Everything in him wanted to gather her into his arms. “You’re welcome Dahlia.” He turned away from her because he had to. Because his feelings overwhelmed them both.
    Because she would think it was pity, and she’d hate him for it. Because she was eating him up inside. Watching her take comfort in a silly piece of cloth, as if the damned thing represented her family, her past… And it did. He cursed Peter Whitney as he walked away from her.

    Nicolas wanted to be her comforter, not some scrap of material that should have been tossed out years earlier. Not once in his life had he ever thought he was in over his head.
    Not as a boy in mountains when his grandfather had vanished, leaving him to find his way home. Not in the dojo during training when he was “attacked” by several grown men with much higher rank, not during his Special Forces training or the first time he was dropped into a jungle alone on a mission. But he did now. He had no idea how to bind Dahlia to him.

    As a child he’d grown up without a mother or even a grandmother. He had never really explored emotional relationships or marriage. He’d never been given advice on the matter. The closest he’d really come to seeing a relationship was watching Ryland Miller pursue Lily. The man had lost his mind. Nicolas had a feeling he’d joined the ranks of men losing their minds over women.

    Nicolas shook his head as he moved along the edge of the river, keeping to heavy brush.
    He needed a good position to study the terrain they’d be crossing that evening. He also wanted to get some numbers on the force they’d be facing. It was possible Calhoun was already dead and they were putting their lives in jeopardy for nothing. He was on a reconnaissance mission, and it was familiar to him. He could lose himself in the work and not think about the violence of his emotions when he dragged Dahlia’s body to his. Not think about the heat and the need and the aching hunger. He groaned and closed his eyes, shaking his head, drawing on his inner strength to push her out of his mind. He achieved a measure of calm, but had to acknowledge she was with him, somewhere twisted around his heart and entwined deep inside him where he never was going to get her out.

    Nicolas cut branches from a plant that grew in abundance along the river. He fashioned a covering for himself, taking his time, weaving it into a fair replica of the bushes he would be moving through. He had all day, and he was a patient man. He simply became the plant, moving in slow motion across the reed-choked bank so sluggishly it was impossible to detect him. He lay right out in the open, on his belly, stretched out among the plants and bushes, crawling his way up the river until he had the old dilapidated house in sight.

    Nicolas found a perfect spot, lying in mud on the edge of the river, water lapping at his stomach, reeds and bushes climbing around him, and a good view of his quarry.
    Throughout the day there was little activity at the house. He counted three guards. One was sleepy in the sun, uncomfortable in the heat and humidity, identifying himself as no native of Louisiana. Another paced continually, repetitiously choosing the exact same route as he chainsmoked. The third man took his job seriously. He ignored all exchanges between the other two guards and studiously lifted his glasses to his eyes, sweeping the river, the road, and all surrounding areas of the house with meticulous care. None of the three were the same man who had been on the ferry. That meant at least four were guarding Calhoun, if he were in the house.

CHAPTER TEN
    Contents-Prev |Next

    Nicolas returned to Dahlia well after the sun went down. She sat beneath the trees, looking like a beautiful porcelain doll. Her skin was flawless, so perfect she seemed to glow. There were a few twigs and leaves in her hair, but instead of detracting from the beautiful picture she made, her disheveled hair made him think of wild nights and hot sex. A white sheet with small lilacs strewn across it was spread on the ground. Two paper plates held cold fried chicken and beans and rice. “You’re sunburned,” she greeted, smiling up at him.

    “You’ve been busy,” he observed. He wasn’t certain he liked the idea that she’d been out shopping while the enemy was in the same area, but he kept his opinions to himself.

    “I thought you’d be hungry and thirsty after lying