"What sort of things?"
She wouldn't look at him. He placed a finger under her chin and gently tilted her face upwards. “What did you do, Nikki?” he said, closing his heart to the pain in her eyes and her thoughts.
"Tommy pulled a bank robbery, but it went wrong.” She jerked away from his touch and dashed the tears from her eyes. “I'd refused to take part, and for some reason, Tommy hadn't been able to make me. Instead, I waited a block away with a getaway car. But the police had received a tip and were waiting."
Which didn't explain the pain he could almost taste. “What happened, Nikki?"
"Tommy escaped, and the police and security guards chased him. He came straight back to me. He used my gifts to ... to..."
She hesitated again, and more tears glimmered on her cheeks. He made no move, though he ached to hold her.
She took a deep breath. “He used my kinetic abilities to destroy several police cars. One of the security guards he threw through a store window. The falling glass cut the guard's throat. Another was thrown into a wall and now lives in a wheelchair. I couldn't stop him, Michael. I fought so hard, but I just couldn't stop him."
That was why she'd made him vow never to make her do anything against her will. A sob escaped her control, and he drew her into his arms and let her cry. At least she was finally letting go of the pain she'd held in check for so long. But it wasn't over yet. “How did you escape the police?" She laughed, a bitter, brittle sound that made him wince. “I didn't. Tommy escaped. They told me later that I'd been lucky he hadn't grabbed me as a hostage. They never knew it was me who killed that guard..."
"If one man uses a gun to kill another, you blame the man who pulled the trigger, not the weapon, Nikki.” And that's all she'd been, a weapon. She sniffed, but wasn't ready to let go of the past just yet.
“How did he die?"
"The streets caught up with him. His violence had made him a lot of enemies, and in the end, it came back to him."
Then why did she feel so guilty about his death?
She shifted in his arms, resting her cheek against his shoulder. The warmth of her skin burned into him. He fleetingly wished they could just stay here, on this bed, and forget about everything but each other.
"Because I dreamed it was going to happen,” she whispered. “And I didn't tell him." She was reading his thoughts as clearly as he was reading hers. Link or not, she shouldn't have been able to. “Why not?” he asked, knowing that in the same situation, he would have wished the fiend to hell and laughed as he died.
But Nikki didn't have three hundred years of weariness behind her.
" Oh God ... ” She hesitated, and her hand clenched against his. “I told him that I hated him. I told him he could burn in hell for all I cared. Ten hours later he was dead. I felt his soul leave his body, Michael. I felt it encased in the fires of Hell. I could have stopped it, but I didn't. Just as I didn't stop my parents” death. They all died because of me."
If she'd seen her parents’ death, why hadn't she warned them? Surely not out of hate—she had loved them, that much was clear. “His soul was cursed long before you came along, Nikki. You did nothing more than trust the wrong man."
"But he was good to me. He cared for me."
He was pretty sure the only person Tommy had cared about was himself. But she wasn't ready yet to face that. “He only wanted to make you trust him, make you need him. Where Jasper has tried force and drugs to subvert your will, Tommy used your emotions."
"But I loved him."
Yet even as she whispered the words, there was doubt in her thoughts. For the first time in years, she was looking past her fear and truly seeing the man Tommy had been.
"But he didn't die because of that love, Nikki.” He hesitated, the added, “He was a vicious thug who got what he deserved."
"Maybe. But there's still my parents."
Three hours ago she wouldn't have confided this much. And yet he sensed it wasn't so much trust as the need to finally purge her demons. Perhaps she saw the necessity as much as he. “Want to tell me about it?"
"No.” She took a deep, somewhat shuddery breath. “They were going away without me, taking a second honeymoon and leaving me in the care of a nanny. I was so furious with them. When I had the dream, I didn't tell them."
"You were a kid, Nikki. All kids do horrible things at one time or another."
"Not all kids watch their parents die. Not all kids feel the caress of their mother's soul as she passes away."
Which was surely punishment enough for her childish rush of spitefulness. “Would your parents have believed you even if you had told them? Would it have stopped them from going?" She smiled slightly. “No. They would have seen it as a variation on the tantrums I'd been throwing."
"Then you could not have changed what was fated to happen."
"Maybe. Maybe not.” There was an odd mix of uncertainty and hope in her eyes. He smiled and pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. For now, that mix was enough. At least she'd seen beyond her guilt and released some of her pent-up pain.
The deaths in her past would no longer be a weapon for Jasper to use. It might not be much, but it was a start.
She gently touched the silver cross resting against his chest. “Where did you find it?"
"In the tunnel.” Fear danced lightly through her thoughts. He placed his hand over hers, pressing her fingers against the flesh above his heart. “Do you want it back?" She hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Keep it, if you want." He did want. It was a small piece of her he could take with him when he left. He glanced at the clock. Seven o'clock. Time enough, perhaps, to ease the ache of the past and create a final memory to last a lifetime.
He met her gaze. There was understanding in her eyes, acceptance in her thoughts. Just one more time, he vowed, and reached for her.
Chapter Twelve
The morning light washed across her face, painting her pale skin gold. Michael smiled and brushed the stray lock of hair away from her cheek. She looked so much younger in sleep, almost childlike. Yet the image was a lie. Nikki was an old spirit in a young body. Her parents’ death and her brief time with Tommy had forced her to grow up far too early. She'd lived through the nightmare and somehow survived. Maybe now that she'd finally confronted her memories and guilt, she'd be able to do more than that. Maybe now she'd live—and love—without fear.
He eased his arm out from under her head and watched her snuggle into the blankets. Lord, he didn't want to leave her. Not now, not in the future. But he no choice about either. He ran a hand through his hair and looked away. This morning had been a mistake. He should never have touched her a second time, should never have let their minds entwine so strongly. For now he could no longer deny he was human, with human wants and needs.
He'd played with fire and lost his heart.
He rose from the bed and moved across to his clothes. Jasper had to be his first priority, now more than ever. He couldn't risk the fiend capturing her again. Anger washed through him, and he savored its taste. It would help him hunt this morning.
But anger did little to erase Jasper's stain from her mind. While her mind might merge with his and make them one, Michael knew he could never hope to control her.
But neither would Jasper. He'd do whatever it took to prevent her becoming a puppet to Jasper's desires. Even if it meant killing her. At least then Jasper wouldn't be able to call her back from the dead. It was only his own victims he could recall.
The thought sent a chill through his soul. He heard soft steps coming down the hall, and tensed. After a moment, he realized it was only Jake. He finished buttoning his shirt, then moved back to the bed. Bending, he gently kissed her cheek. She stirred and murmured something, but her thoughts were full of warmth and contentment. For the moment, at least, she was free from Jasper's taint. But how long would it remain that way?
He had no idea, and it worried him. If Jasper called—truly called with the full force of his vampire abilities—what would happen? In three hundred years of existence he'd met no one who could resist such a call. But then, until Nikki, he'd met no mind he could not fully control. Maybe her psychic strength would give her an edge where all others had failed.
Damn it, he had to find Jasper first and kill him. And Monica was the key. If he knew his enemy, the teenager would be on her own by now. Jasper very rarely kept his women, turned or not, for more than a week or so.
But she would know where her master was, and one way or another, Michael intended to get that information out of her before she died.
After several hours of aimless driving, he finally had to acknowledge their quest was futile. Nikki was right—they needed her help. Lyndhurst was a damn maze; Monica could be anywhere. Michael rubbed his chin wearily, then winced as the sun caressed his arm. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, and glanced at the clock on the dash. It was nearly ten.
"Let's call it a day,” he said into the silence.
Jake gave him a quick look. “Why?"
Michael shrugged. “I can't take much more of the sun."
"Oh."
Fear washed through the silence. He crossed his arms and controlled the urge to touch Jake's thoughts. For the first time since he'd turned, he wanted someone to accept him without any sort of force. He smiled slightly. Nikki was a bad influence.
After a moment, Jake cleared his throat and gave him another quick look. “Where to, then?" He glanced at his watch again. It would take them too long to get back to the hotel. He gestured to a small bar just ahead. “Feel like a drink?"
"Anywhere, anytime."
Jake's grin was slightly forced, but at least he was making the effort. And it would be good to sit back and wait out the day's heat with an icy beer. If he couldn't be with Nikki, at least he could sit and enjoy a drink—a normal pastime in his otherwise abnormal life.
Jake stopped close to the entrance, and Michael climbed out. The sunshine raced heat across his unprotected flesh. It was a warning he dare not ignore.
He ran up the steps and ducked inside. The interior of the bar was dark and cool and smelled of sweat and stale smoke. It didn't matter. All he needed was someplace to wait out the worst of the day. He ordered two drinks from the disinterested barman then moved across to a table hidden in deep shadow. Jake sat opposite him and took a sip of his beer. He smacked his lips in appreciation, then gave Michael a shrewd look. “So,” he said, “just what do you plan to do about Nikki?" He knew Jake wasn't referring to the fact that they'd left without her. The man saw too much. “What's this,” he asked lightly. “A little fatherly inquisition?"
Jake shrugged. “I've known her a long time. I don't want to see her hurt."
"Neither do I.” He took another mouthful of beer, but its taste had soured. “When did you two meet?" Jake smiled. “When she was sixteen. She saved my life."
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. “How?"
"I was tracking a runaway for his parents and got cornered by his gang. Nikki came out of nowhere and faced them all down."
It was easy to imagine the skinny little ball of fierceness she must have been. He smiled slightly. Nothing much had changed. “So, she was a hellcat even then."
"But a vulnerable one,” Jake said sharply. “Her toughness is just a shell."
"I know."
Like he knew she had problems with trust, that she feared commitment because everyone she'd ever loved had died. The knowledge didn't make things easier, or help him decide how to proceed. Not that he could proceed.
He met Jake's gaze squarely. “I'm here to do a job, nothing more. Nikki knows that."
"Women are strange folk, buddy. What they know and what they understand are often two very different things."
True. But that wasn't the case with Nikki. She didn't want him close, didn't want anyone close. She might concede to physical attraction, but would definitely allow nothing more. “I don't think that'll be a problem here."
"Until the last few days, I would've agreed with you. But you've cracked her shell, and no matter what either of you might say, I have eyes. I can see what you're both denying."
"I'm not denying I'm attracted to her, just saying that I've been honest with her.” Honest where it counted. Up to a point, anyway. “Believe me, I have no desire to hurt her." Jake nodded. “I just needed to know she's in safe hands. Let's enjoy our drinks, my friend." Michael picked up his beer and made no comment.
Nikki blinked the sleep from her eyes, then flipped the sheets away from her face. Bright sunshine caressed her skin, filling her with warmth. She felt contented and lazy and, for the first time in ages, happy. Like a big, fat cat rolling in the sun.
And this is one fat cat who's not had enough, she thought with a grin, and reached across the bed. Only Michael wasn't there.
Fear leaped through her. The hotel room was silent, empty. She clenched her fists against the sheets. They'd left without her.
"Damn you both,” she muttered and flung the blankets aside, climbing out of bed. If they thought they had her beaten, they were wrong. She'd just have to go after Monica alone. The thought sent a chill down her spine. She ignored it and quickly dressed. Jake and Michael had forgotten one major point—she was still the only person who could accurately pinpoint Monica's whereabouts.