Murder Game (GhostWalkers #7)(55)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Keep laughing, you hyenas,” Tansy sniffed. “I’m not making either of you tea.”

“Come on, now,” Tucker said. “You can’t blame us for laughing. Kadan’s like the hound from hell.”

Ian nodded. “The devil himself.”

She made a face at them. “You’re both awful. You know you don’t have to stay with me. I can look after myself.”

She’d been considering trying to put some more pieces of the murder puzzles together, but she needed to be alone to do it. She was certain Kadan hadn’t told his friends anything. They were suspects, although Kadan didn’t suspect them for one moment. She couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t have some reaction even through her gloves if they were serial killers, but one never knew. She placed a mug of tea in front of each of them.

Tucker drew back, looking at it as if it might bite him. “Ma’am?”

“You’re supposed to drink it.”

Tucker exchanged another long look with Ian before delicately picking up the mug as if it might bite him.

“You too,” Tansy demanded when she caught Ian smirking at his partner. “It’s good for you. I carry a special blend in my backpack. It will soothe your nerves.”

Tucker screwed up his face. “I have nerves of steel. I don’t need this sh . . . stuff.”

“Maybe we can find some whiskey to dump in it,” Ian suggested, staring down at the brew with evident apprehension.

She was fairly certain their outrageous reactions to a cup of tea were meant to distract her, and she let them, teasing both men about being such babies.

“Are either of you married?”

“Nope,” Ian said. “Women just don’t appreciate my particular charm.”

Tucker shook his head. “Got no problem with the charm, but they’re too danged high-maintenance for me.” He winked at her. “Course now that Kadan’s taking the plunge . . .”

Her head went up. “What do you mean he’s taking the plunge?” It would be just her luck that Kadan would be engaged. The moment the thought entered her head, she realized just how much the possibility of her parents betraying her with Whitney really had shaken her. She’d been in Kadan’s head numerous times. There was no doubt his feelings, confused though they might be, were still genuine, still raw and strong and true. He couldn’t fake that; no one was that good. She would have known.

Tucker hooted again and slapped his thigh. He even took a healthy swallow of tea.

Ian nearly spewed his. “Getting married. Hitched. The old ball and chain.”

“Are you implying that Kadan’s getting married to someone? Just who would that be?” She knew now; how could she not? It was so like Kadan to tell everyone but her.

“You, of course,” Tucker said.

She noticed his eyes had gone cool and watchful, as if he was waiting for a sign from her that she wouldn’t let his buddy down.

“He told us you were his fiancée and he planned on snapping you up the moment this is all over. Said he’d do it before, but he couldn’t chance the paperwork.”

“He said that, did he?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How odd that he forgot to say it to me.”

Tucker shrugged his massive shoulders. “Not so odd when you might rip his heart out. He’d be smarter to just get the deed done before you think too much on it.”

Yeah, that sounded like Kadan, although it surprised her that Tucker could see into his soul like that. But then Tucker was an interesting man. All of Kadan’s friends were. She felt a little guilty making small talk and waiting for them to leave the room so she could wash up, but she was leaving these men to guard her parents while she went off hunting a killer. She had to be absolutely certain she wasn’t leaving the killer with the people she loved. She filled the sink with soapy water, carefully watching the door until they were gone, before peeling off her gloves.

Tansy sank into a chair and studied Tucker’s mug from every angle before cupping her hands around it, palms not quite touching, hoping she wouldn’t have to actually touch the thing to gain impressions. She closed her eyes, allowing the energy to wash over and through her. He’d been lying to her—he was worried about Kadan and the others and wished he was there, guarding their backs. He was very uneasy that he wasn’t with his team, at his usual place, watching over them, protecting them in the middle of a firefight. He worried that Kadan might be in over his head with her.

She had an immediate impression of strong loyalty; this was a man who stood by those he loved, his friends, and was honor bound and very patriotic. Flashes of his past ran through his mind, missions that had gone sour. The Congo. Colombia. She saw images of Kadan, streaked with blood, crashing through a door, face grim, guns blazing, shouting hoarsely. Smoke curled around them, thick and dark. Tucker, a man draped over his shoulder, ran through a gauntlet of flames and gunfire while Kadan and Nico, providing covering fire, ran on either side of him. Ryland led the way, automatic stuttering, and behind Tucker and the wounded man were Gator and two others she didn’t recognize.

Tucker wasn’t a serial killer, and she didn’t need to know anything more about his past. She forced her hands away from the energy field and curled her fingers in her lap, waiting for her mind to clear. The familiar throbbing at her temples warned her she’d been using her gift too often and too close together, but, although she was certain she would find that Ian wasn’t any more guilty of murder than Tucker, for her parents’ sake, she had to be certain.

She took another deep breath, blew on her palms, and leaned forward to surround Ian’s empty mug. His energy was fainter than Tucker’s, and for a moment her heart jumped, afraid she might have to actually grasp the mug. That would plunge her in far deeper than she wanted to go. She inched her palms closer, until she was a hairs-breadth away. Then she was in the wave of energy, and impressions raced into her mind.

Like Tucker, Ian was worried about his unit, particularly Kadan. The man rarely shared personal information, and Ian was certain a lot more was going on than Kadan was telling them. Ian didn’t like the fact that he’d never heard of Tansy and that he had the feeling she was one of the “lost” girls; that was bad news because it would mean Whitney would be hunting her.

That sent a shiver down her spine. She forced herself deeper into the impression, wanting to get it over with. He wasn’t a killer, but he’d certainly killed. There was Kadan again, this time dressed in jungle combat gear. The team was sitting, buried to their noses in mud, down in a swamp with alligators and snakes, barely breathing, sharing telepathic communication that Kadan and Ryland seemed to maintain together for the rest of the men. Saw grass waved above their heads, but even so, they each used a straw to breathe through the mud and few inches of water above their heads.