In fact, she found his beard, neatly trimmed to a point and sporting streaks of grey that gave him a distinguished air, sexy as all get out. “Maybe. Not very comfortable for kissing though.” Dammit. Did I just say that out loud? This was becoming a bad habit.
“Were you planning on kissing me?”
She scrunched up her face. She had said it out loud. Time to screech this conversation to a halt before she said something that got her in real trouble. “Sorry about the knife.”
His grunt told her he’d caught the change of subject. “Was it your nightmare or having a stranger in your bed that set you off?”
“Both.” She lifted her head from her hands and scooted around to face him, crossing her legs. That she was comfortable with him as she sat there in a t-shirt and pajama shorts, and he in nothing but his boxers, struck her as odd. Though she didn’t mind the eye candy his bare chest provided.
“Tell me.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t take the softly couched words as a command, more an invitation.
“I’m guessing Delilah didn’t share much with you about me?”
His lips quirked. “Remind me to thank her for that, by the way.”
She gave him a half-smile. “Like most telepaths, I came into my powers when I was seventeen.”
“Did your family have any history of Psys?”
She shook her head. “Not that they knew of. I had a great-aunt who’d been institutionalized at the same age for schizophrenia. One day, she just stopped talking.”
Cain nodded. In families who didn’t already know the signs, blaming mental illness was common.
“I was taken to a series of doctors because of the voices in my head.”
Another nod.
“One of those doctors turned out to be a Psy. With my parents’ permission, he had me taken to what they were told was a hospital to treat my illness.”
“But it wasn’t?”
Quinn swallowed. “No. It was a…cult, for lack of a better word. Not unlike being slaved out. I was taken to a facility in the middle of the wilderness, impossible to escape. I was used for my powers.” For two long years. She shuddered.
“How did you get out?”
As usual, the black hole where that memory existed sneered at her. “I don’t remember. I woke up in a hospital. Delilah was there. She said her team got me out. After I recovered, she got me my job here and this apartment.”
“When was that?”
“Six years ago.”
A flicker of emotion passed over his face, too quick for her to catch. “Where were you held? Do you know?”
“Somewhere in Alaska.”
He was silent so long she wondered what was going on in his head, but his expression was carefully neutral.
“What’s your nightmare?”
She blinked at his sudden question, then inhaled before speaking. “I’m still there. Trapped. Used. Terrified. I promised myself I’d never be vulnerable again. Delilah helped by having me trained to fight.”
Again that flicker behind a mask of blankness. What was running through his head?
“I might be able to see more about your escape. Do you want to know?”
She’d bet her life the offer was a rare one for him to make. “So Retrocognition is another one of your skills?”
A hum of affirmation.
“Why?”
He seemed to understand what she was asking—why was he helping? “Maybe knowing will help your nightmares go away.”
Doubtful. They came to her every night. Still…maybe finding out was worth the try. She licked her dry lips. “Okay.”
He gazed deeply into her eyes, as if searching for any shred of doubt, but she gazed back steadily. Finally, he nodded. “I have to touch you.”
Quinn grimaced. “Okay.” Physical touch could be weird for Psys—a constant bombardment of their senses making it difficult for them to form relationships. For her, the connection could make the voices in her head, the ones she’d learned to block out, louder. Although come to think of it, today at work, when he’d touched her to gain her abilities to translate, nothing had happened. Weird.
Cain reached out and placed both hands on either side of her face. Again, no amplification of the voices. If anything, an unusual peace settled over her. Was he using his power on her? But no, a psychometric couldn’t soothe. Maybe being near another Psy helped?
He closed his eyes and inhaled deep and slow. “I see caves? Cells?”
“Where we lived. An abandoned mine system.”
“You’re locked in a room.” His lips tightened. She knew what he was seeing. How pitiful her living accommodations were. The room where she’d been held had sported a bed and small table. Overhead lights swung from the rock ceiling, but she hadn’t controlled when they were on or off. At least she’d been well fed and had books supplied.
“I wasn’t kept in there all the time. Mostly at night. They needed my…services…too often.”
“You’re asleep.”
His brows drew down. “Loud noises. An explosion.”
Why couldn’t she remember?
“Gunfire now.”
Total black hole for her.
“It’s gone quiet.” He continued to concentrate. “Someone’s coming down the hall. You can hear footsteps. The door is opening—”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“What’s happening?” she whispered.
“A man opened the door. He’s holding a samurai sword. You asked him if he was there to kill you.” The way he said kill made her shiver. A bottomless depth of fury laced the word. Why? For her? At her captors?
“What’d he say?”
“He said he was there to get you out. That you’d be okay now.”
Cain opened his eyes, a blaze of heat lashed at her from his gaze—anger, desire, triumph, something darker that she couldn’t identify. A confusing cocktail of information. He didn’t need to say the words for her to hear the emotions.
She licked her lips. “What did I say?”
He didn’t speak. She wasn’t even sure he caught the question, too intently focused on her. Her lungs squeezed tightly, making it difficult to breathe. Carefully, she placed her hands over his. “Cain?”
He jerked slightly under her touch. “You kissed him.” The words were dragged from him—rough and tortured. His gaze dropped to her lips, and need pulsed through every nerve in her body. What was going on?
“Daniel?”
With a low groan, he pulled her to him, his lips covering hers in a kiss both possessive and demanding. Sensation blew through her, the heady scent of his skin, the rasp of his beard against her face, the taste of his tongue as he claimed her mouth. Needing more, she practically climbed into his lap when, suddenly, the tenor changed. Gentle hands pulled her away as he broke the kiss.
“Not a good idea.”
He set her away from him, on her side of the bed, then got up and left the room.
CHAPTER 5
Ten days later, Cain followed Quinn into her apartment. After putting her purse and laptop bag down, she stood there with her hands on her hips.
Concerned, he put a hand to her shoulder, her tension screaming at him through the stiffness of her shoulders. “Hey. You okay?” She’d been unusually quiet at work today.
“We’re not getting anywhere, Cain.” Frustration filled every syllable.
Quinn Ridley truly cared about the people the Mauritollans had taken and were selling to the highest bidder. After learning about her history, he understood why she cared so much. That she hadn’t run away in terror, to protect herself, impressed him. That he shared her frustration connected him to her in a way he didn’t understand and was reluctant to explore.
He still hadn’t told her that he was the man who rescued her in Alaska. As soon as she’d described that night, he’d known. Maybe he’d known on some level anyway, having the strangest sense of already knowing her since meeting her in that coffee shop. But he didn’t want her distracted by the past. He needed her focus on this situation. Hell, he needed his own focus on this situation. He shouldn’t be thinking about that kiss—one that hadn’t ever quite left him in all these years.