Running Hot

field took on the colors and wavelengths of a person who is calm to the point of being sleepy. Whoever he was, the hunter was not interested in her or in Luther.
    He went past, showing no signs of curiosity about the couple to his left. She had to fight the urge to look over her shoulder.
    “It’s okay,” Luther said quietly. “He’s gone.”
    “Hunter,” she whispered.
    “Yes.”
    She glanced at him, half afraid of what she might see. But his aura was normal again. Maybe she’d been mistaken a moment ago. Perhaps the proximity of the hunter’s fierce aura had confused her senses.
    “You could tell he was a hunter?” she asked.
    “I don’t have your brand of aura-reading talent but it isn’t hard to identify that kind of energy, especially when the guy’s running hot. Didn’t you notice how everyone else on the path unconsciously got out of his way? Even nonsensitives can detect a high-level predator in the vicinity. What did you pick up?”
    “I have to admit I wasn’t taking notes. He was powerful, though, and, as you said, he was running wide open.”
    “Hunting?”
    She thought about it. “No. I didn’t get that from his aura. He wasn’t focused. I don’t think he was after anyone in particular. Maybe he was just out for an evening stroll and felt like running jacked. You know how it is. Sometimes you use your parasenses just because you can.”
    “He could have been checking out the terrain,” Luther said. “Doing a little recon work.”
    “That’s certainly a possibility. But for what purpose?”
    “Good question. Anything else I should know?”
    “One thing,” she said. “Whoever he was, he’s comfortable with violence.”
    “A killer?”
    She hesitated. “I think he has killed, yes, but he’s not a rogue or a freak. He wasn’t crazy or out of control. He wasn’t a sociopath, either. Those are easy to spot. What I saw indicated a cold, almost businesslike approach to violence.”
    “Think he might have been military or maybe a cop?”
    “Possible. Or maybe he’s a professional gangster. Whoever he is, he knows how to compartmentalize.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “It means that regardless of what he does in his day job, he’s quite capable of having a loving wife and family.”
    “About that conversation we had earlier,” Luther said evenly. “The one in which we discussed Fallon Jones’s probability theory as it relates to this job.”
    She swallowed hard. “That would be the theory which, roughly paraphrased, was ‘What are the odds that there will be more than one high-grade talent at that resort?’ ”
    “Yeah, that theory,” Luther said. “I think it may be flawed.”
    “I agree. But I suppose it’s theoretically possible that guy we just passed was an innocent tourist who happens to be staying at one of the nearby resorts. There are a lot of hotels on this beach.”
    “Still.”
    “Right. Still. Hunters that powerful aren’t exactly common on the ground.”
    “No, they aren’t. Neither are high-level aura talents like us.” Luther came to a halt. “So the question becomes, what are the odds that three very strong sensitives would show up on this stretch of beach on the same night?”
    “You’re wondering if this little coincidence is connected to our mission, aren’t you?”
    “Looks like I’m going to have to call Fallon. Talk about a fast way to ruin the evening.”
    She knew the exact instant when he reached for his cell phone because he had to release his tight grip on her arm to do it.

NINE
    He couldn’t see her expression clearly in the moonlight but he didn’t need to in order to know that she was stunned. So was he, but not because he had just touched her.
    They both looked down at where, until a moment ago, his fingers had been firmly wrapped around her upper arm.
    “Damn,” he said. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Just wanted to steer you as far out of his path as possible. Are you okay?”
    “I’m okay,” she said. Wonderingly, she touched his bare arm with her fingertips. “There’s no pain. None. I’m all right. It’s been so long, more than a year. You can’t imagine what a relief it is to know that I’m more or less normal again.”
    “You’re sure you’re all right?”
    “Yes.” She sounded elated, almost euphoric. “Yes, I’m fine.” She paused, staring down at her hands. “At least with you.”
    He liked that, he realized; liked the idea that he was someone