Cash’s blue eyes flicked to Mitch.
“Suck it up, get over it, and get off your ass. Since you’re the only one he listens to when he’s wigged, get him to back off or I’m going to let her go—and no one will like the way she’ll rearrange Quaid’s face. Abernathy looks like hell.”
Cash’s expression tightened with anger, but he stood with a heavy sigh and strode straight to Quaid.
“Quaid, it’s Cash,” he said just before he smacked one flat hand hard against the side of Quaid’s head, the other immediately to his solar plexus. That loosened Quaid’s grip. Cash fisted Quaid’s shirt at the shoulders and shoved him back three feet.
Jessica immediately took Cash’s place.
Mitch knew the quick announcement Cash had given was so Quaid wouldn’t fight back when his mind unsnagged from wherever it had gotten hung up and processed who was pushing him around.
Cash turned, striding back to his seat with a curt “Happy?” on his way past Mitch.
Mitch turned Halina toward him and rubbed his hands over her back. Her fingers clutched at his T-shirt over his belly, scraping his muscles. He flinched with pleasure. His attention refocused on the feel of her against him and the thrilling rip of electricity through his body everywhere she touched.
Jessica pulled Quaid to the sofa by the arm and Mitch held on to Halina. More because she felt so damn good than because she needed him. He knew damn well she didn’t.
The others moved back into the open living area behind them, sitting at the dining table or on the sofa with Jessica and Quaid. Kai returned to the kitchen, scowling and rubbing his ribs.
A quick, hot release of breath exited Halina’s mouth and tingled over Mitch’s chest. With his back to the others, Mitch closed his eyes in pleasure and gritted his teeth. She felt so damn good. And he needed her again so damn badly. Badly enough to throw every ounce of good sense he owned—which had dwindled considerably over the last thirty hours—into the icy waters of the Truckee River.
“What were you saying about Abernathy’s tattoos?” Quaid asked.
Halina lifted her head and pulled out of Mitch’s arms. She looked around him to address Quaid, but she stayed close, her hand on one side of his waist.
“Mitch shot him near Portland,” she said, her voice hard, confrontational, “but now Kai feels him here. I said that’s a long way to go with a bullet in his leg, but Keira said they identified him at the emergency room through your description of his tattoos.”
Quaid was still looking at Halina like he’d seen the second coming of Christ—mystified and awed. “I worked with Abernathy over the last few years on military ops in different parts of the world. I know his tattoos. And one bullet in the leg isn’t going to stop this man.”
Halina’s shoulders slid lower. Her gaze fell to the carpet and she whispered, “Shit.”
“Once, in Islamabad,” Quaid said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Abernathy’s Jeep hit an IED and flipped. Broke his arm in two places, his collarbone, jaw, ribs. Then an army of Taliban fighters descended on us with AK-47s and Abernathy was shot three times, collapsed a lung. He still saved two other guys and crawled to the rescue chopper. The guy has nineteen lives.”
“God,” she murmured, dropping her head and rubbing her eyes. “I’m glad I didn’t know that last night.”
Halina sagged sideways against Mitch. Her waist felt so small beneath his hand. Her hip so firm against his crotch. He wanted to drop his mouth to her neck, slide his hands down her taut belly and slip them inside the front of her jeans. He wanted to feel her, all soft and hot and wet.
“You can see why it’s important to get ahead of this guy.” Kai wandered toward the sofa with various concoctions trapped in a group between his two big hands. “We might be able to do that if you could see the future. So how does it work?”
She lifted her head again, crossed her arms. Mitch expected her to pull away, but she continued to lean against him, as if in a silent request for security. He didn’t know if she was doing it consciously or unconsciously, but he didn’t care. He shifted to pull her back against his chest. Then he put his hands on her waist and held her firmly against him.
“What do you mean, how does it work?” she asked.
“I mean, what triggers them? What do you see in these visions? How far in the future? How accurate?”
She hesitated. “They’re . . . different. The visions are related to people I’m close with, but they come at different times. They’re not reliable . . . exactly. Some are flashes of the immediate future. Some are more detailed, but I have no idea how far in the future they are.” She paused, shot a half glance over her shoulder as if thinking of Mitch, but didn’t meet his gaze. “But I do know they’re pinpoint accurate. I’ve seen them come true time after time.”
Her words slammed his stomach. His mind vaulted back to the memory of her writhing in a nightmare, crying his name only to wake and tell him she’d seen him with another woman. On-top-of-the-world happy. No, her visions were not pinpoint accurate. Or . . . she’d lied.
Again.
“Other than that,” she said, refocusing on Kai, “I know next to nothing about them. I have to keep myself from getting too close to anyone so I can avoid having them.”
One of Kai’s brows fell. “Why would you do that?”
“That is a really stupid question.”
Her patience for all this was thinning, and she was probably ready to blow, but the you-can’t-be-that-dense bewilderment in her voice almost made Mitch laugh.
“You’re empathic, right?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said with a so-what tone.
“Can you sense exactly how I’m feeling right now?” Halina asked, her body quivering with tension against his.
Keira eased back from the table, and Mitch met her gaze. Her expression signaled a warning, and he slid the hand at Halina’s waist across her belly so he’d have an arm around her if she lunged for Kai.
“Whoa. Whoa.” Kai put his hands up, palms out. “Hold on. Relax—”
“I can’t relax when you’re pushing me.” She leaned forward, her fingers digging into Mitch’s forearm, prying it away from her belly. When he didn’t relent, she shot an angry glance over her shoulder.
“We’re in this together, Hali,” he murmured.
An unexpected softness appeared in her beautiful light aqua eyes before she looked away. The tension melted from her fingers. Her body relaxed back into his. An irrational amount of accomplishment and happiness and hope rushed through his head and filtered into his heart.
“Hey, look,” Kai said. “We’re all one big ugly family here. We’re all battling the same dragon. Which reminds me, where’s your phoenix?”
Her phoenix. Mitch hadn’t thought of that. He pictured her naked body the night before as she’d let the robe slide down her sleek form. Then again as she’d turned and walked away. His cock pushed at the dense fabric of his jeans and the supple curve of her ass. The way she met his pressure had to be his imagination. Had to be because of the way his mind slid right into the memory of lifting her and letting her fall back on his shaft, slamming into her at the same time.
All his blood screamed south. He had a sudden rush of dizziness. Just as he had then. Only he was still throbbing in his jeans—not inside her. He whispered a curse.
“You know,” Kai went on, “your scar. The one that looks like a phoenix. We all have them—from exposure to the chemicals.”
Kai leaned down, pulled off one sock, and hiked up the leg of his jeans to reveal a reddish-purple mark starting on the top of his foot and traveling up the side of his leg.