Chapter Twenty-One
Blindsided by his statement, Alice had to take a moment to breathe and regain her focus. When she recovered, she realized she was feeling…not depressed. Not exactly. More like deflated, maybe. Disappointed?
“Okay,” she said, pulling herself together. “You have some amnesia that is linked to a violent experience. I did not see that coming, but it explains so much.”
“It does?” Owen looked grimly amused. “Then why don’t you explain it to me?
My fiancée ended our engagement because my para-psych issues frightened her.
I don’t blame her. I checked myself into a private hospital and spent a month trying to figure out if I went mad and killed a man without being aware of what I was doing.
Now I have nightmares wondering if I might do it again. ”
“Oh, right, sorry. I was thinking out loud. I’ve been wondering why you took my case.
I mean, I know that at some point you realized I was in danger and you risked your neck to rescue me—in fact, you are still putting yourself in harm’s way.
” She paused to make sure he understood.
“I do appreciate that, by the way. I’m very grateful. ”
“Sure. Anytime. Not like I had anything better to do.”
She pretended to ignore the bite in his words because so much of the fog around Owen was starting to clear. She was not about to stop now. “My point is that at the start you didn’t realize I needed rescuing. I was curious to know why you took a contract with Kelbrook’s fixer in the first place.”
“I told you, the money was good and you were an interesting case. Also, I was more than a little suspicious of Kelbrook’s motives. I didn’t trust him or his fixer.”
“You are a professional analyst who occasionally consults for law enforcement. You conduct seminars. You publish papers in important academic journals. But you are not a private detective or a gun for hire. I knew there was another reason why you agreed to track down the Deranged Bride.”
“Stop calling yourself deranged, damn it.”
She nodded quickly. “You’re right. Negative self-talk is never a good idea.” She hesitated again, trying to regroup. “Where was I?”
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them. “You were about to explain your theory of why I took your case.”
He was not touching her, but he was looming.
There was no other word for it. Channeling all the energy in the atmosphere.
There was a lot more heat in his aura now—and not the kind that indicated he was gathering and analyzing data.
This was another kind of fire, and it was compelling.
Fascinating. Dangerous, perhaps, but not scary.
A real rush. That should have been confusing or, at the very least, disorienting.
She didn’t feel confused or disoriented. She was suddenly intensely aware that he wanted her, and the knowledge thrilled her to the core. Proximity, she reminded herself. Proximity and shared danger were the factors in play here. Do not mistake impulse for true intuition. Did she care?
Yes. She cared about the truth.
“Did you take my case because you wondered if I had gone through a similar experience?” she whispered.
“Did you think that perhaps we had both temporarily gone mad, lost control of the dark side of our talents, and murdered people without being aware of what we were doing? Were you using me to research your own case?”
“Well, shit.”
She held up a finger to stop him. “I’m aware that no two talents are the same, but there can be similarities, especially when it comes to the side effects and the psychic blowback.”
“What in green hell makes you so sure you know what you’re talking about?”
He sounded like he was grinding the words between his teeth.
“Amnesia is terrifying. I know how you feel. I understand why you were eager to find me and interview me. You’re curious. You’re looking for answers—”
“I am not one of your dream therapy clients.”
“Right, I know,” she said quickly. “It’s okay. You aren’t the first man to become a little obsessed with me. Well, not with me, exactly—with my talent. Randolph Draper, for example.”
“I am not Draper.”
“I understand.”
“Stop saying you understand.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything. I was just trying to clarify a few points.
You probably did a psi profile on yourself in an effort to find out if any of your ancestors had experienced amnesia after using their talents at full-rez.
Or maybe you wondered if you had a new talent that manifested in response to a traumatic event?
They say it happens that way sometimes. People occasionally develop a second talent. ”
He reached out and used one finger to tip up her chin. “Keep going. I can’t wait to hear the rest.”
The physical contact sent tiny shock waves through her. She had to remember to breathe.
“You apparently did not find the answers in your own psi profile. Naturally, when my case presented itself, you jumped at it. You hoped I could help you figure out what happened during those few minutes of amnesia. Then you wound up having to rescue me and now you’re in danger. Motivations can get very complicated.”
“I’ve got news for you, Ms. Dream Therapist. There is nothing complicated about what I’m feeling right now.”
She frowned. “What, exactly, are you feeling?”
“Like I want to kiss you.”
She froze. “Why?”
“Because I want to kiss you.”
She shivered. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, damn it.”
She reached up to clamp both hands on his strong shoulders. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“All right?”
“I’m getting the feeling that romance was not a big thing at the Ballantine Academy.”
“That just goes to show how little you know about the Ballantine Method. I’ll have you know I taught a sex ed class.”
He looked stunned. And then he started to smile. “You did?”
“Yes, I did. And while we’re on the subject, I think you should know that I want to kiss you, too.”
“You do realize that we’re starting to sound like a couple of AI machines trying to negotiate a sexual encounter.”
“Yes, but I don’t feel like an AI machine.”
“Neither do I.”
“I think we’re both a little confused and disoriented.”
“Nope. I’m not confused or disoriented. I know exactly where I’m trying to go.”
She smiled. “So do I.”
He started to pull her closer but she was already hurling herself into his arms. The result was that she was suddenly crushed against his unyielding chest and his mouth was covering hers in a scorching kiss that rezzed the thrill level to new and dazzling heights.
It was as if fireworks were suddenly going off in the middle of the hotel room.
Although she had never experienced the phenomenon the novels and the poets termed aura resonance, she was sure that was what was happening now.
“Oh, yeah,” Owen said against her lips. “I knew it would be like this.”
“What—?”
There was more to the question, but she couldn’t get the words out because his mouth had taken possession of hers again and her senses were flaring. She wanted to explore the sensations that were swirling through her, but she could not seem to focus.
He tightened his hold on her and deepened the kiss. She gave up trying to analyze her reactions. The room spun around her. She realized he had picked her up and was carrying her to her bed—the big one.
“To hell with Core Principle Number One,” she whispered.
“Remind me, what is Core Principle Number One?”
“Do not mistake impulse for true intuition.”
“You’re right. To hell with it.”
He fell onto the bed, taking her with him. She sprawled across him in what was no doubt an undignified and ungraceful manner, but the position made her keenly aware of his erection. He really did want her, she thought, at least on the physical level.
He caught her face in his hands. “You feel so good.”
She started to lower her mouth to his, intensely aware of the erotic clash of their auras. Whatever was happening between their energy fields had to be the paranormal equivalent of the Old World dance called the tango.
Owen groaned and slid his hands under the top of her pajamas. The feel of his palms on her bare skin sent frissons of pleasure across her nerve endings.
The ominous rumble of Owen’s phone might as well have been the crack of doom. They both froze.
Owen moved first. “Talk about lousy timing.” He eased her to the side and sat up. “If that’s the reporter from the Curtain, I will cancel my subscription.”
She was startled to hear herself give a small, shaky laugh.
Owen got to his feet, crossed the room to the table near the bed, and scooped up his phone. He glanced at the screen.
“It’s Twitchell.”
Her insides turned to ice. She sat up slowly, pulse racing. She never took her eyes off Owen. He put the phone on speaker.
“We need to talk.”
The voice on the other end of the connection was tense and chilling.
“It’s a little late for that,” Owen said. “For future reference, I like to have all the relevant facts before I agree to take a case.”
“Mr. Kelbrook realizes that you were unaware of some of the circumstances under which Radstone was committed to the asylum.”
“Such as the fact that she was drugged and kidnapped by her own husband?”
“By now you should be aware that Radstone is delusional. Given her dangerous talent and instability, it was the most merciful and the safest way to deal with her.”
Owen watched Alice as he spoke to Twitchell.
“You’re a little behind, so let me bring you up to speed.
I am well aware that you were not doing any good deeds when you arranged to have Ms. Radstone locked up.
We both know she is extremely valuable to Kelbrook.
Something to do with the shares in Kelbrook Industries that she inherited from Hampton Kelbrook.
Nasty bit of fraternal revenge from beyond the grave. Impressive in its own way.”
“Where did you get that wild story?”
Alice held her breath, silently willing Owen not to mention Brooke Wyatt’s name.
“Travis Poole knew what was going on, and evidently he was not entirely sure he could trust his own family. He left a video detailing the entire plan. It is now in a very safe place.”
Alice allowed herself to breathe again.
“You’re lying,” Twitchell said without inflection. Just a statement of fact.
“In that case there’s nothing more for us to discuss.” Owen’s voice was as devoid of emotion as Twitchell’s.
“Fuck it. Wait. Don’t hang up. All right, the woman is worth a lot to us. How much do you want? And before you answer, I’ll warn you right now, Kelbrook will not allow you to continue blackmailing him. If we agree on the terms, it will be a onetime buyout.”
“You don’t understand, Twitchell. I’m not the one doing the deal. Those shares belong to Ms. Radstone. I’m just the go-between. I will ask her if she has a price. She will want to consult with a lawyer and an accountant. That will take time.”
“You mean you need time to come up with your own price. I’m not buying that ghost shit about acting as an altruistic go-between.
I see it all now. At some point you realized you had stumbled into a real diamond amber mine.
You grabbed Radstone and now you’re manipulating her so that you can get control of those shares.
The only way you can do that legally is with marriage.
Locking yourself up for life with a madwoman is a high price to pay for those shares.
Take some advice from someone who has been close to Dunstan Kelbrook for a very long time—I know how he operates.
Believe me when I tell you he will never let those shares go out of the family. ”
“They already are out of the family,” Owen said quietly. “When Ms. Radstone decides how she wants to proceed, I’ll give you a call.”
“I need a day and a time for that call.”
“A week should do it.”
“You’ve got forty-eight hours. Like I said, this is a onetime offer. If you don’t take it, Dunstan Kelbrook will throw all of the resources of the company at you and the woman. You have no idea how dirty he will be willing to go to get his revenge.”
“After that scene at the Hotel of Dreams, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.
All right, forty-eight hours. But just to be clear, if anyone tries to grab Ms. Radstone or forcibly remove me from the picture in the meantime, the video that Travis Poole left will be released to the Curtain and every other media outlet you can think of. ”
“I’ve got to admit, you surprised me, March.
That doesn’t happen very often. I assumed you were exactly what you looked like—a consultant who preferred to lock himself inside his study so that he could create genealogical charts and write papers only five or six other academics would be likely to read. ”
“We’re even, then, because you surprised me, Twitchell. I knew you were Kelbrook’s fixer, but I never realized you did double duty as his personal trigger man.”
There was a short, sharp silence before Twitchell spoke in a dangerously low voice.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“If there is one glaring, indisputable fact about what happened at the Hotel of Dreams on Travis Poole’s wedding night, it’s that he ended up dead.
Thanks to the video, we know that his bride didn’t drive him insane and force him to jump off that roof.
That leaves us with a very interesting question—who pushed him? You are the most obvious suspect.”
“Be very careful, March. I’m warning you—”
“Let’s skip the threats. Ms. Radstone and I have a lot to talk about.”
“Make it clear to her that this is a onetime offer.”
“I’m sure she understands. I’ve had you on speaker since the start of this call.”
There was another brittle silence.
“You’re fucking her?” Twitchell asked. “Unbelievable. You said there was one solid fact on the table: Travis Poole is dead. But I’ve got another equally solid fact for you—Radstone’s talent is very real and very dangerous.
She was diagnosed at the age of twelve. That’s why she wound up at the Ballantine Academy.
The bitch is capable of driving you into a nightmare that will make getting lost in the Underworld without nav amber look like a walk in the park.
All she needs is physical contact, so you might want to rethink the fucking. ”
Owen did not respond. He ended the call, never taking his eyes off Alice.
“No,” he said before she could say anything, “I can’t prove I’m on your side. You’re going to have to trust me if you want to stay out of Serenity Gardens.”