Chapter 4 #2
She sank onto the sofa, hugging her knees as she watched Jake standing uneasily a few feet away. After he had come to her rescue, they’d been intent on getting to safety. Now that they were alone together, it seemed everything had changed.
As she watched him standing awkwardly in the living area, she asked, “Sorry you brought me here?”
“No.”
“Your face says otherwise. You look like you’re going to fly apart with tension.”
“I’m thinking about the guy who barged in on you. How did he know you knew Evelyn?”
“He said my name was in her day book.”
“That solves one mystery.”
“But you’re thinking about us, too.”
“Okay. Yeah.”
She swallowed. She’d been avoiding Jake Harper because of what she’d sensed between them. Maybe that had been the wrong approach.
“You might as well sit down,” she said.
He waited a moment then took the gun from the waistband of his pants and set it on the table before lowering himself to the other end of the sofa, still eyeing her.
“What are you thinking now?” she asked as she studied his uncertain expression.
“That I’ve had a lot of weird experiences in my life, but I’ve never run into anything like this.”
“Which part?”
“The whole deal. Evelyn Morgan. Her murder. The mind reading stuff.”
The mind reading stuff--which was triggered by touching, as far as she could tell. She felt a strong compulsion to reach out and touch him now–for a lot of reasons--but she thought it would be better to keep her hands to herself. For the time being.
Trying to fill the silence, she said, “I have more experience with psychic . . . phenomena than you do. Murder, not so much.”
He laughed. “Yeah.”
“I was afraid to find out what was between us. Maybe that’s a mistake.”
“Why?”
“Because when the guy was getting ready to handcuff me, I had the strong feeling that you were going to show up to rescue me.” She dragged in a breath and let it out.
“Well, at least I knew something was going to happen to change the equation. I didn’t know for sure that it would be you until I saw you standing in the doorway.
Why did you come rushing over to my place? ”
He blew out a breath. “I’d been thinking about you all day.
I told myself that I should ask you some questions.
I guess that was an excuse to see you. On the way to your shop, I felt .
. .” He stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know what to call it.
Anxious, I guess. Like I knew something bad was going down.
Specifically, I was sure you were in trouble. ”
“Lucky for me.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “Thanks for being honest. Did you ever feel something like that before?”
“I’ve had hunches that turned out to be right.”
“Like what?”
“Sometimes when I’m negotiating, I have a sense of how far the other guy’s willing to go.”
“That could just be experience.”
“When I was a teenager on the streets, I was pretty good at picking places to sleep where I knew I’d be safe.”
She nodded, thinking that none of that was exactly evidence. “Did you ever have mind to mind communication with anyone else?”
“No. Did you?”
She shook her head. “Only you. In fact . . .” She let the sentence trail off.
“Are we going to stick with honesty?”
“It’s not that easy. I’m not used to revealing myself.”
“Neither am I. But it may be to our advantage.”
She dragged in a breath and let it out, wondering what he was going to think of her. “Okay. I’ve never felt close to anyone. Not my parents. Or anyone I called a friend. I was always alone in a way that made me . . . sad.”
She’d never admitted that to anyone. She wanted to look away, but kept her gaze on him and saw him swallow.
He swallowed hard. “Same with me.”
“Why do you think it’s true?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know why. But I always felt there was something missing. Something I should be able to have but couldn’t attain.”
“Yes! That’s the way I felt. Like there should have been more–but there was no way to reach it.”
They were both silent for several moments. When he didn’t speak, she said, “Something’s going on between us. We hardly know each other and yet we know each other better than anyone else we’ve ever met.”
He nodded.
“We ought to see if we can make it stronger.”
He kept his gaze fixed on her. “Why?”
“For starters, for safety.”
He considered that and asked, “How?”
She kept her voice steady. “I think you know. As soon as we touched, we made a connection. It brought you to me when I was in danger.”
“And you’re thinking that if we get closer, it will strengthen the connection between us and make us both safer?”
“Don’t you?”
“I think there are risks as well as benefits.”
“What risks?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve taken risks before. What’s different now?”
His gaze turned inward. “When I was a teenager, trying to make it on my own, I had nothing much to lose. I was at the bottom, and there was nowhere to go but up. I took a lot of chances. I mean, living on my own. Dealing with adults who would have no compunctions about raping or murdering a boy.”
Her insides clutched. “Did . . .”
“No,” he answered quickly.
“You think being successful has made you more cautious?”
“I hate thinking of myself that way.” He gave her a direct look. “Your experience is different. You came from a stable middle class home.”
She laughed mirthlessly. “Where my parents didn’t approve of their daughter trying to make a living in what they considered a nutty profession.”
She kept her gaze on him, thinking that this was a strange conversation but that both of them were using it as a way to postpone action.
“So you’re willing to take chances. But not with a woman?” she asked.