Thirty steps. Things were clicking into place, and the door in her mind creaked ominously, threatening her sanity. She’d been so close to peace. So close.

“You were adopted, Tansy, and Dr. Whitney allowed some of the children he experimented on to be adopted out. He usually kept tight tabs on the girls, so I’m asking you, did you see him while you grew up?”

Had she seen him? She shivered, suddenly cold, thrown back into childhood memories she didn’t want to have. Seeing Whitney was one of the few things she and her parents ever fought over. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She would never forget that man, the way he looked at her as if she wasn’t human. He was cold and dispassionate, studying her the way a scientist might an insect. She’d begged her father not to leave her alone with him, but he would grab her mother’s hand, looking upset, and walk out of the room, pulling her mother with him. It was the only time she felt vulnerable and without their support.

“Yes.” Her voice was so low, she doubted he could hear. She made an effort to push back the images crowding into her mind. “He was—oily.” Whitney had only to touch her skin and she would drown in a black vat of oil, suffocating under the thick stain of a twisted mind. She hadn’t recognized the feeling, or identified it yet with sickness in her earlier years, but the ooze had poured into her until she couldn’t breathe, until she choked, smothered by his megalomaniacal personality.

Kadan breathed in and out, hating himself. He was hurting her. He was even skating close to her edge of sanity. He could feel the pain in her like a knife through his body and mind. He’d studied every report on her. She was very sensitive, especially to violence, and he was a violent man. She didn’t need to feel anything when she touched him or any of his belongings. In spite of the fact that she claimed her talent was gone, there was no way that it had disappeared. He was both an anchor and a shielder, which meant he could hold all psychic energy at bay and direct it away from her.

“You know your parents had to have known.”

She spun around so fast, her aggression blasting him hard enough to kick in his reflexes. His hand closed around the hilt of his knife before he could stop himself. She was thinking about kicking him in the chest, but she controlled her temper, her blue eyes shimmering with that strange violet light that intrigued him. It had to be an enhancement, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was used for.

Kadan lifted his hand, palm out, before she could speak. “Don’t be angry with me. I’m giving you the facts. You want to hear them, don’t you?” He kept his voice calm, soft, that little bit hypnotic. She was susceptible to sound; he could tell by the way she relaxed in spite of herself. “You seem like the kind of woman who prefers knowledge.”

“Don’t make assumptions about my parents.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but he damn well wanted to do a number on her parents. They were both considered geniuses, and they must have guessed exactly what Whitney was up to. Sharon Meadows wanted a child at any cost, and she was more than willing to keep her mouth shut about Whitney in order to have one. With their money and connections, they could have had any child, why this one? Why one so damaged?

And why had Don Meadows agreed to stay quiet as well? Why not simply get another child for Sharon and blow the whistle on Whitney’s experiments? He needed to look a little closer into Don and Sharon’s government contracts as well as their personal lives, because their silence didn’t go with the kind of picture his reports had drawn of them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, allowing his voice to grow warm like spreading honey. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

She knew his accusation was true, but she refused to allow the thought into her mind. She needed time and he didn’t blame her. If he could have, he would have spared her that, but they were going to have to work fast to figure out what was going on.

“If Whitney conducted these experiments on military men . . .”

“Specifically men trained in Special Forces,” he interrupted.

“Great. That’s all I need.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyes. “If you’re military and no one has heard of GhostWalkers, this information has to be classified.”

“It is.”

Tansy swung away from him, keeping her back to him to hide her expression. He didn’t need to see her face or look into her eyes to know she was in pain. He swore silently as he followed her up the trail toward her camp.

“Don’t tell me any more,” Tansy cautioned. “Really. I don’t want to know any more, not if it’s classified. You want something from me I can’t give you. There’s no need to say another word about whatever is going on. Find one of the other girls.”

“They can’t do what you do.”

He refused to lull her into a false sense of security, or lie to her, or even try to soft-soap her. She was going to be walking into hell with him. The only thing he could do for her was to try to give her all the truth, and to give his word that he’d be standing beside her the entire time. That was all he had for her.

“I can’t do what you think I can.”

They were nearing the top of the trail. The sun was setting and the colors changed abruptly as they topped the ridge. Orange and red poured down from the sky like molten fire. Tansy paused to survey the colors and Kadan stepped up beside her, admiring the view. Below them was a valley and then beyond that another granite peak. Stretched out as far as the eye could see was pine and fir forest. Small natural lakes and a few spilling waterfalls dotted the hills while the setting sun washed the granite in gold.

“There’s a big difference between can’t and won’t,” Kadan said, keeping his eyes fixed on the beautiful sight surrounding them. “I think if you let me explain what’s going on, you’ll understand why I needed to come all this way to pull you out of retirement in spite of the fact that your last case landed you in the hospital. I wouldn’t have made the decision lightly.”

He said it so matter-of-factly. Landed her in the hospital . As if it had been a small vacation for her—or as if she had been slightly wounded. Tansy swallowed the bile rising and began meticulously counting again, keeping her mind on her foot placement as she hurried along the winding trail to her campsite.

Shadows shifted as the sun dipped lower and the wind picked up, ruffling the trees. With the breeze came a rush of sound, voices murmuring, slyly laughing, the first burst of visions, blood splashed on the walls. A soft moan escaped, fear clogging her throat. She pressed her fingers hard against her eyes. “You have to go. You have to go now.”

They were on the edge of her camp, her space, her sanctuary. He couldn’t come here, couldn’t be allowed to take it away from her.

“I want to go,” he said quietly. “I would if I could, but too many people will die if I do.”

Tansy shook her head in despair, glanced at the radio and then away. She could call her father and he might be able to put a stop to this. If he had known the military was sending someone with a request, he would have warned her—or would he have? In one revelation, this stranger had changed her entire world all over again.

She drank from a bottle of water, keeping her back to him, trying to sort out the things he’d told her. “Does my father know you’re here?”

“Only the general. This mission is classified.”

“I’m not in the military.” Tansy sank down into the one lawn chair she’d brought and forced her gaze to meet his.

He spread his hands out. “Do you think I want to come here and upset you like this? People are dying . . .”

She sighed. “People are always dying, Mr. Montague.”

“Kadan,” he corrected. “And not like this.”

She closed her eyes. “I can’t do it anymore. Yes, I do have some special gifts. I can leap high and I have fast reflexes, I can feel violent or threatening energy, but I fried my talent, or short-circuited it, or something, when I fell while I was climbing. Maybe it happened when I went to the hospital. I honestly don’t know, but when I touch things, nothing happens. And I’m grateful for that. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”

Kadan shrugged out of his pack and stretched, loosening his muscles as he surveyed the campsite. She knew what she was doing; sheltered from prying eyes even from above, the camp was comfortable, protected, but could catch the breezes coming in.

“I have a gift for sound, Tansy, and you’re lying. I can hear it in your voice.”

She shrugged. “You can think whatever you like, but I can’t help you. There are a few others I’ve heard of, psychics that can track killers. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You need me to go after a killer.”

“Not just an ordinary killer, a GhostWalker. I’ve got an enhanced Special Forces-trained killer on the loose, and I need to track him down and eliminate him immediately.” Kadan reached for the coffeepot, dumped out the old liquid, and began filling the pot with water.

Tansy flicked him a glance from under long lashes. He moved with fluid grace, at home in the wilderness, completely confident in his abilities. He scanned the surrounding area several times, and she knew that if she asked he could tell her where everything in the camp was positioned and the best escape route available to them should they need one. She’d worked with men like him, cool under fire, dangerous as hell, yet he had something different, something even more. Power clung to him.

“I can’t help you.”

“The GhostWalkers are like you, Tansy. Their lives have been changed forever. They have the same headaches, the nosebleeds, the seizures. They’re good men and women and they are under fire every minute of the day. They carry out missions no one else could touch. They put their lives on the line every day. You’re one of us.”

She shook her head, keeping her voice calm and firm. “I wish I could help you, I really do, but I lost the one talent you need.”

He sighed softly. “I swear to you, Tansy, I don’t want to do this the hard way. I want you to understand how important it is so that you at least comprehend why I had to come up here to get you. The GhostWalkers are considered too dangerous to be under suspicion like this. I’m under orders not to trust any of them. I can’t confide in them or ask for help or even tell them that their lives are in jeopardy just because of what they can do. These are my friends, my teammates. Men I’ve trained with and gone into combat with, men who have had my back and saved my life. Some of them have families.”

She recognized that he was a man of few words, that he rarely explained himself, but that he was going out of his way to do so for her. I don’t want to do this the hard way. Her heart jumped, but she kept her face composed.

“Were you given orders to bring me back?” Men like Kadan Montague carried out their missions no matter the cost to them—or to anyone else. She waited. Holding her breath.

“Yes.”

“Whether I agree or not.” She made it a statement, but there was a breathless plea in her voice she couldn’t stop.

Chapter 3

Kadan sighed. “Let’s just take one thing at a time. What do you have for dinner? I’m a fairly good cook.”

Tansy’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t sit still with the rush of adrenaline. He was going to force her to go back with him. Tansy leapt from her chair and paced across the ground to where she kept her food supplies, needing the action to hide her thoughts. There had to be a way to escape. She knew the mountain like the back of her hand. If she got out of his sight, she could get away and hide. If he really had a tight timetable, he wouldn’t have the time to look for her. But she had to keep it together and not panic.

She turned from the crisp cooler and found him inches from her body. He was so silent she hadn’t heard him approach. Worse, she hadn’t sensed him either. She was used to feeling the energy that radiated from people, but with him, there was nothing at all to warn her he was close. She realized she was holding her breath. She inhaled and took the scent of him into her lungs. Deep inside, her body sizzled and burned in an unfamiliar way. Fear shimmered through her, not at the prospect of this man attempting to force her compliance, but because as rough and scarred as he was, he filled her senses and mind with a sensual heat she couldn’t ignore.