Street Game (GhostWalkers #8)(69)
Author: Christine Feehan

“Yes, Top.”

“That’s boss to you,” Mack corrected.

The kid hid a smile, his eyes lighting up. “Yes, Top . . . boss.”

“You know we’re going to talk about the old man and the things you’ve been keeping from me. I’ll want to meet with him.”

“Not in his office, Top . . . boss.”

Mack’s eyebrow shot up. His eyes met Kane’s. If their commanding officer was compromised, and Paul seemed to be telling them he was, they were all in trouble.

Why hadn’t Griffen found a way to reach out to him? He really hated mysteries. If someone wanted them dead, just come at them and make the try.

He sat back in his chair. “They sweep his office every day.”

Paul kept his eyes fixed on Mack. “Yes, they do.”

“Damn it. Why didn’t the old man tell me?”

“He said you’d figure it out.”

So the old man had expected him to figure it out. How? Without Jaimie experimenting with him they would never have discovered Paul. But maybe they weren’t meant to find out about Paul. Griffen had sent Paul to him as part of the team—not as his son. He hadn’t revealed the asset that Paul was because he didn’t want the boy compromised. Griffen would never have told Mack that Paul was his son. The sergeant major had expected him to figure out that he was compromised.

How?

He did what he always did—he found Jaimie. She sat tailor fashion on her bed, listening. What do you think? he asked.

The suicide missions. You obviously had a bad feeling the moment the orders came down. What tipped you off?

It was the one thing that didn’t make sense, unless Griffen was working with Whitney. But if he wasn’t working with Whitney, then the suicide missions didn’t make sense at all. He would never set up the men in his own command. Mack pressed his fingers into his throbbing eyes. Griffen should have found a better way to get through to him. He must have subtly warned Mack, enough that he picked up on it, but not in a way that tipped anyone else off.

The boy was looking at Mack as if he was going to save the world—save his father. He stretched his legs out in front of him, feeling old and tired. A few minutes earlier, Jaimie’s soft body was wrapped around him, taking him away from reality, but this—blood and death and the planning of it—was his reality. He felt very alone.

Weighed down. Sometimes he thought his back might break under the load.

Look at me.

Her voice shimmered in his mind. Soft. Tender. Like that of an angel. Like sex and sin. Like love and devotion. Everything. There she was. He lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting hers.

I’ll be here for you. Every minute, Mack. You can do this thing better than anyone else. It’s a gift.

It’s a burden.

A gift. You are extraordinary. You’ll find a way out for Griffen, for Paul, for Kane and Brian. You aren’t alone. We’re with you. I’m with you.

She sent him her slow, sexy smile. The one that reminded him how her lips felt wrapped around his cock, how it felt to be sliding in and out of that hot, wet world, her gaze locked with his. Just the memory of her soft moans aroused him, made him so hard he could barely move with the aching demand. Other times, like now, just the touch of her mind in his, the feeling that she could be aroused just by the brush of his hand along her br**sts, or thighs, settled his mind right along with his gut.

Paul smiled at him. “Your energy and Jaimie’s merge and the patterns weave together. It’s very strange and really cool.”

Sharing himself with Jaimie was far too intimate to have anyone else “reading”

their energy. He couldn’t explain how he felt to her, let alone to anyone else. And he certainly didn’t want his emotions dissected in some psychic experiment. Jaimie was wrapped up tightly inside him, in his heart and soul. If Paul could see that, it left him stripped and naked, vulnerable to the world. Abruptly he pulled out of her mind, shutting down his raw feelings for her.

She blinked. Frowned. Looked down into her hands.

Mack let out his breath and diverted Paul’s attention from his own energy. “So tell me about Gideon. What’s going on with him? What can I do differently to keep him from overloading? Do you have any ideas to keep all of us from overloading?”

Paul nodded. “I’ve been working on a few things.”

He seemed eager now and Mack realized it must have been hell for a natural healer to keep from doing the very thing he was born to do. He wanted to talk about it with someone who would understand and value his contribution.

“Each pattern of colors is unique to the individual and to their psychic abilities.

Most have more than one talent in varying degrees. Some are stronger than others.

Whitney manipulated the brain’s filters as well as opening up more areas in the brain to be used. Obviously you’re dealing with individuals and because everyone is different, each body and brain reacted differently to his enhancements. Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough for him. He also added genetic enhancements.”

Mack nodded. “We’ve all learned to live with what he did.” It hadn’t been easy.

His team had been lucky. He knew not all those experimented on lived through it.

And more died during the initial training period.

“Gideon has a different weave to his pattern. It’s almost translucent, as if I can see through it. The colors are lighter, less dense. Jaimie has similar threads. The less density means she absorbs more energy as it swarms toward her. The violent energy punches through her weaves leaving holes, some tiny and others a little larger. Your energy strengthens the weave and prevents the tears.”

Mack pushed a hand through his hair. Paul was talking about how he saw each person’s psychic energy as an indicator of their health. Paul could figure out a lot of the problems with his team members, but they couldn’t share his unique talent with anyone else, no matter the need, because it would endanger his life. He’d given Mack a huge leap of faith by offering to help Gideon and exposing his true talent to them.

Paul’s safety was a huge responsibility. There could never be any accidental reference to his healing of them.

His gaze strayed to Jaimie. She listened but, like the others, said nothing. He knew they were all aware of the enormity of what Paul was handing to them. He sent her a small smile. See, baby, there’s a reason why you’re so soft inside.

Faint color crept up her neck and into her face at the intimate tone he used.

“I think with Gideon, he gathers energy around him like a shield,” Paul continued, jerking Mack’s attention back to the boy. “It builds up until he needs to release some of it. His brain can’t take the continual battering. The first sign is, of course, a headache.”