Murder Game

  "Don't," he said softly. "Let me have you."

  "I gave myself to you," she said, not lifting her face from his chest.

  He picked her up, cradling her close to him. "It isn't enough. I need tonight."

  She couldn't pretend she didn't want it either. She might never have another night like this one. She didn't touch men. She didn't dare risk it. Yet she'd given everything to Kadan, opening her mind, letting him feel her pleasure, share it, until he'd driven her over the edge, the sensations she'd never expected to be able to experience, hers to hold forever.

  "What happens tomorrow?"

  He shook his head. "I don't know, Tansy, but we have now. Tonight. This one time for us. Let it be for us."

  She wavered, afraid if she took it any further, she'd never be able to get anything of herself back. She had convinced herself love wasn't for her. A man of her own was impossible, and she was too pragmatic to give herself false hope. But here he was, offering her the chance of a lifetime, one night with a man utterly and completely devoted to her pleasure. She read that in his mind, how much he wanted her to feel.

  She nodded slowly, knowing she could never resist him, pushing aside every thought of the morning and what she would have to face. There was only this night for them. This one night, and she was taking it for herself.

  He carried her to the sleeping bag, grateful it wasn't far. His legs were rubbery and he doubted he had much strength left. Her eyes were enormous, and he found that peculiar shine very sexy, or maybe that was just his body reacting to her scent and heat. He laid her down and followed close, massaging her shoulders and neck. That soft, vulnerable neck.

  "You're so beautiful."

  "You make me feel beautiful." She loved the feel of his fingers on her skin. There was a brushing stroke he used that sent the most amazing electrical sensation sizzling through her body. "How do you do that?"

  "That's classified."

  Tansy looked up at his face, so still and chiseled and masculine. So serious. She burst out laughing. "Your lovemaking ought to be classified too. You've worn me out."

  "Have I?" His hands shaped her breasts, cupping the soft weight of them. "We're not finished by a long shot, Tansy," he whispered softly as he lowered his head to flick her nipple with his tongue. One hand slid along her thigh to rest on her mound. "You don't feel like you're worn out." One finger slipped into her wet channel and her muscles instantly reacted, clamping down hard. He leaned into her, blowing warm air across her breast. "No, baby, you want more. You feel very much like you want to start all over again."

  He turned her body onto her side, spilling her breast into his mouth. They lay on top of the sleeping bag under the stars, his arm around her waist and one hand nestled between her legs.

  Tansy cradled his head to her, her fingers stroking through his hair. Each time his tongue or teeth grazed or flicked her nipple, a flood of liquid heat bathed his fingers. She did want to start all over again. She had one night with him. She wanted to learn everything, do everything, make this night last forever. She closed her eyes and savored the feel of his mouth at her breast.

  CHAPTER 5

  Tansy woke to the smell of coffee. She kept her eyes closed tight, not wanting to face what she'd done throughout the night. The man may have been exhausted, but Kadan had given her everything she could ever have wished for and more. Sharing mind and body was an experience she'd never thought she'd ever have, and one far beyond anything her imagination could have conjured up. But now she had to face the light of day and what she'd done. Just about everything one could do--and with a stranger.

  How could she ever look Kadan Montague in the eye? Would he expect her to just follow him down the trail into hell, now that she'd allowed seduction? Because she'd been a willing participant--she couldn't deny that, even to herself. Especially to herself.

  She risked a glance at him and her heart nearly stopped. He was calmly breaking camp. Most of her things were packed, and even as she watched, he'd already opened her locked camera case and extracted her precious cameras and footage as if he owned them. The pounding in her heart roared in her ears. What had she done?

  We can do this the hard way. He had warned her. She could never say he hadn't warned her. She'd allowed him to talk her into coming back to camp on her own. He'd used her own nature against her. Hell, he'd studied her, he'd admitted that. He knew exactly which buttons to push, and he'd pushed them by revealing the childhood story he'd never shared with anyone else. How stupid could she get? It probably wasn't true. She wanted to weep for her own stupidity, but there was another side that was furious at the deception.

  Give the girl a night to remember. He'd been in her head. He knew how alone she'd felt, how different. She'd practically climbed all over him. Tansy suppressed a groan. She couldn't, for one moment, blame him. He'd warned her from the beginning he meant to take her back. He was ruthless, willing to use whatever means were available to him--and she'd opened the door for him to use sex. Damn him. Damn her. Now she had to figure a way out, because she wasn't going anywhere with him.

  Kadan kept his head down as he methodically packed Tansy's things. It was possible she didn't realize that the more they used telepathic communication, the easier it became to slip in and out of each other's mind. He had been reluctant to separate himself from her. He couldn't remember lying with a woman in his arms and feeling utterly content--at peace. Whole. And now she was lying there, regretting their night together, the night that meant the world to him. What did he expect? Her to come to him open, with a huge, happy smile?

  Her thoughts were raw and self-accusing. He knew exactly which buttons to push, and he'd pushed them by revealing the childhood story he'd never shared with anyone else. She wanted to weep for her own stupidity, but there was another side that was furious at the deception.

  Deception? Anger and hurt wrapped up so tight he couldn't tell one from the other. Kadan, the GhostWalker with ice in his veins, felt the burst of temper rush through his system, and he turned toward Tansy, reaching into his pocket.

  "Hey! Catch!" Deliberately Kadan flicked the small game piece he'd found at the last crime scene through the air toward her.

  The object gleamed in the early morning sunlight as it came toward Tansy's head. She reached up in one quick motion and snagged it out of the air just as she caught his thought.

  Damn me for trusting you. I told you the one thing about me not another living person knows, and you believe I used it to get you in bed. There was fury, but more than that, there was hurt.

  She'd hurt him. Her fingers closed around the smooth edges of the object he'd thrown to her, and her heart sank as vicious, violent energy greedily swarmed over and into her. She tried to drop the game piece, but it was already far too late. Worse, she hadn't prepared herself. She heard herself scream, deep inside where no one could hear, as oil poured into her mind, slick and black and filled with sludge, carrying the weight of the dead and dying, the pleas and protests, the begging voices, the sickness that rose with the dark stench of blood. Kadan had said the blood was like a second skin, but it was worse than that, it seeped inside through her pores, until blood was inside her mind, sticking to everything she was, every part of her soul, dripping like wax off a candle and fusing with her like a hot weld.

  Kadan heard screaming, the cry of an anguished animal, filled with pain, with agony, but she was completely mute, the blue gone from her eyes to be wholly replaced by the silver violet shine. Eyes of glass. His stomach lurched as he flung the bag he was packing onto the table and raced to her, gripping her hand, prying at her fingers. "Drop it! Drop it now."

  He'd read the reports, but he hadn't understood. Damn it, he hadn't understood. Now he did, and he thought he was going to be sick. He was there with her now, in her mind, and the reality of what she felt--what she went through--was far, far more devastating than any report could ever have described.

  "Damn it, Tansy, drop it now!" Bile rose. He'd been angry. He never allowed ange
r. He stayed in control, because when he made the decision to hurt someone, it had to be based on logic and reason, not emotion. "Tansy . . ." He whispered her name and pulled her limp body into his arms.

  There was so much blood. He liked that. The splash and splatter of it. Like a painting and he was the artist. He'd wanted a different card. He couldn't use the women. Either of them. The girl was fourteen and the mother--ah--the mother. She was beautiful. And such a fucking snob. He would love to force her to watch him do the daughter first. But he'd lose points. How many points if he fucked them both? Would it be worth it? They'd all be mad at him, but what the hell, he deserved a little fun.

  It wasn't his fault that he pulled the wrong card. The sound of their voices sobbing and pleading were better than any high, better than any aphrodisiac. He'd done the husband first. Macho man. Idiot, thought he could keep his family safe. Then the son. Waste of time killing the brat, but he didn't want to bother with the kid screaming. No, now came the fun. He had hours for fun, but if he indulged his fantasies, he'd lose points. Whatever should we do?

  He squatted down beside the woman, smirking, high on the power. She'd do anything to live. Anything at all he wanted. Too bad, baby, your death is in the cards . . . He began laughing at his own joke.

  Tansy could hear a far-off voice calling her name. The voice sounded familiar and she tried to concentrate on it. She was in a labyrinth of the dead. So many bodies. So much blood. The victims begged and pleaded. Debased themselves. Endured both physical and emotional torture, and she went through it with them, helpless to aid them. Sometimes she could see their faces, the desperation in their eyes, the pleading. Sobs welled up. She couldn't reach them. She couldn't touch them. She couldn't stop their killer.

  "Tansy, drop it! Damn it. Hear me. Feel me. I'm real, they're not."

  The voice was stern, commanding, penetrating through the blood and gore. For a moment she was aware of being in two places, the long blood-filled tunnel with glassy eyes staring at her and a hand gripping hers. And then the killer laughed and clothes ripped and women screamed. A child pleaded, the voice hopeless, dragging her down, down into the oily black and red sludge where she took a breath and went under.

  Screw them all, doll face. We've got all day to get acquainted. Fight me. I want you to fight me. See how pretty your daughter looks with all those cuts over her breasts? Nice red stripes.

  He slowly took off his belt, knowing two pairs of eyes were mesmerized by him.

  Won't she look even prettier with nice wide stripes all over her? Come on over here, doll face. Crawl on your hands and knees, right past your old man who didn't do a thing to save you. He would have given you up, begged me to use you however I wanted just so I didn't kill him. He wasn't strong. You needed someone strong. And now it's too late. Crawl over here and put that whiny mouth of yours to work while I teach this little girl what a real man is. If you'd chosen the right man, none of this would have happened, would it?

  He caught the woman by her hair, yanking her head up, sticking his face next to hers. Spit ran down her face as he shouted at her.

  Would it?

  Kadan tried prying open Tansy's fingers. He was going to lose her if he didn't pull her back. Her face was nearly gray it was so pale. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead. Her pulse was out of control, her eyes staring at something that wasn't really there.

  "Drop that fucking thing." His voice didn't even sound like his own. He growled the command in a demonic voice. Kadan Montague, the killer who had ice for blood, was desperate, terrified he was losing her.

  Swearing, he dug the pads of his fingers deep into her wrist, finding the pressure point that would open her fingers, slamming her hand against the ground at the same time. The game piece flew a couple of feet and rolled free. Tansy's body convulsed. Blood trickled from her mouth and nose. Kadan knelt in the dirt, his body blocking the early morning sun while he tried to wake her. He shook her, called her name, and then left her to get water.

  Tansy choked, coughed, turned her head and then rolled to her knees, her stomach rebelling, the retching relentless. Waves of dizziness disoriented her. She wiped her face, and her hand came away smeared with blood.

  "Here. Drink this." Kadan thrust a bottle of water into her shaking hands and a jacket around her nude body.

  Tansy tried to raise it to her mouth, but she spilled droplets everywhere. Kadan reached around her, his hand closing on hers, steadying the bottle.

  "Take a drink." His voice was gruff.

  Tansy did, swishing the water around and spitting it out to cleanse the oily taste from her mouth. It didn't go away. Her mind seemed unusually calm, and she had a bad feeling she wasn't the one controlling the voices. She took a couple of more cautious sips, letting the cool liquid trickle down her throat, before she looked up at Kadan.

  "They're still there in my head, aren't they? Just like always. You're stopping them."

  He nodded. "Why in the hell when that fucker knew you were chasing serial killers didn't he give you the tools to work with?" Fury shook his voice.

  Tansy took a deep breath and let it out. "I presume you're referring to Dr. Whitney."

  "Didn't your parents call him in when you became ill after chasing a killer?"

  She nodded. "It seemed part of the adoption agreement. He arranged the adoption and my father seemed to think he was the best person to treat me. I had to recount, in great detail, how each case affected me."

  "He could have helped you deal with it better."

  "I usually did deal with it better. If I prepare my mind for the shock, I can control the energy and voices for a short time. Unfortunately, the times became shorter and shorter, until I reached the point of really being useless. And I can't get them out of my head once they're in there." She took another drink of water, savoring the cool water when her throat felt raw.

  "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

  Her eyes met his. He looked as if he meant it. She shrugged. "I guess you had to try."

  Kadan shook his head, refusing to take the out. "I wasn't thinking about the job when I threw the game piece. It was left behind at the crime scene. There's always a piece left behind. There seem to be eight different pieces, and one of the eight is always left at each scene."

  "Because you have eight players."

  Kadan blinked. Sank down into the dirt beside her. "What do you mean, eight players?"

  "It's a game. A game of murder and there are several players. It stands to reason if there are eight game pieces then you have eight players. Have any of the game pieces repeated?"

  "Four of them. Two on the East Coast and two on the West."

  She was silent a moment, her expression thoughtful. Blood continued to trickle out of her mouth and nose. Kadan couldn't stop himself from wiping it away. The sight bothered him more than he cared to admit. She didn't pull away from him, and he was connected so tightly with her that he could almost follow the speed of her brain as she began computing data with small facts she'd pulled from the brief glimpse she'd received of the killer's mind.

  "It's possible he's on a team. He was concerned about losing points if he raped the victims." She looked up and he swore she blinked back tears. "He did rape them, didn't he? Both of them. He wouldn't have been able to stop himself. He likes what he's doing and he needs the rush of it. He needs it more than he wants to win the game."

  Kadan nodded his affirmation. "They were both raped."

  "Control really matters to him. He kept taunting them about choosing the wrong man. Is it possible the wife knew him? It was odd the way he acted. He doesn't like rejection and obviously feels superior to everyone, men and women. He fed their terror, and the more afraid they were, the higher he became."

  Kadan didn't want to interrupt her. She was fascinating. Her mind was fascinating. He'd worked with some great minds, yet here was a woman, without training, who thought like a detective, her brain compiling data faster than he'd ever seen.

  Tansy swept
a hand through her hair, frowning when her fingers caught. He tried not to notice the disarray of her hair, falling like tangled silk around her shoulders and down her back. Her breasts held faint marks, marring the perfection of her skin. He'd done that. Those were his fingerprints on her. His body stirred no matter how hard he tried to control himself.

  "Why don't you get dressed?"

  For the first time she seemed aware of her lack of clothing, frowning, a little confused while she looked around her. She nodded and rose unsteadily. Kadan caught her arm to make certain she didn't fall. Tansy pulled clothes from her backpack and moved out of his sight. He didn't like it, but he couldn't very well insist she dress in front of him. He spent the few minutes of her absence fixing her a cup of hot coffee.

  Tansy was back a few minutes later, her face a little swollen as if she'd been crying. She took the coffee mug and blew on it. "Do the murders follow one another? In other words, if one is committed on the West Coast, then does one follow on the East Coast? Are they alike?"

  He shook his head. "Similar. Well planned. More than one person has to be in on the planning, but only one actually performs the kills. At least that's what I think. There's never been any evidence of more than one killer at a crime scene. The murders are connected by the game pieces. They're unusual, carved out of ivory and very distinct."

  Tansy looked around. "Where are my gloves?"

  "Why?" His gut protested the question and the answer in her mind.

  She flicked him a reprimanding glance. "Don't be silly. I need to take a look at the piece. I haven't really examined it and I can't touch it without gloves on."

  "I don't want you to touch it again."

  She sighed. "Look, I've already got the voices in my head and they aren't going to leave me alone, so I may as well do what I can to at least point you in the right direction. I pick things up even through gloves if the impressions are strong enough. I have a feeling this man kept the piece with him through the entire planning stages and liked holding it in his hand."