Street Game

CHAPTER 13

It was late into the night before Jaimie and Javier were satisfied they could find nothing more from the letters. If there was a code, it was a brilliant one they couldn’t decipher, and Jaimie couldn’t accept that Paul or his father would be able to create anything she couldn’t at least get a glimmer of. Maybe it was arrogance, but she’d never failed to see a pattern, even a small one, and she couldn’t detect one now. She pushed back her chair and rubbed at her eyes. “I’ve got the computer analyzing the e-mails, searching for something we may have missed, but I think we’ve got everything we’re going to out of these letters.”

Mack wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her body into his, letting his warmth seep into her shivering body. She hadn’t even realized the temperature was dropping in the room. “Are you both still going with the theory that Paul is Sergeant Major’s son?”

Jaimie put her head back against his chest. “I say definitely. If not, Griffen raised him.”

“I’m going with Jaimie on this one, boss,” Javier agreed. “There was no ‘dad’ or

‘son’ or outward sign of affection, but it was in the feel of it. And why the hell keep the letters at all? He’s a kid missing his family.”

“His last name is Mangan, not Griffen. His mother is Shiobhan Mangan. She’s an ambassador’s daughter, a very diplomatic family. She’s the current Irish ambassador. He’s an American citizen and his file says he was raised here with an aunt. His father is Theodore Greystone. Not Griffen.”

Mack snapped his fingers, irritated with himself. “Griffen comes from money,” he said. “Old money, some blueblood family from the South. I remember seeing a spread in a magazine once and his family had an old plantation dating back years. The name of the plantation was Greystone. I thought at the time that it fit. The columns were all made of huge gray stones and it made an impression on me.”

“What are you going to do?” Jaimie asked.

“Don’t either of you say anything to him.” He turned his head and pressed a kiss against her temple. “Thanks, Jaimie. I hope to God you’re right over this. I like the kid.”

“You gonna kiss me too, boss?” Javier asked.

“If you want. Right on the lips,” Mack offered.

“I’ll pass just this once. Wouldn’t want Jaimie to get jealous.” Javier winked at him, kissed Jaimie’s cheek, and sauntered up the stairs as if he hadn’t been up half the night.

“You’re very fond of that man,” Mack said.

“Very,” she acknowledged. “And so are you.”

“He worries me,” Mack admitted. “They all do, but Javier is entirely unpredictable. There’s no way of knowing how he’ll react to any given situation.”

“You saved his life, Mack. A long time ago, on the streets, he could have gone either way. You pulled him into your circle, and he made the decision to follow your lead. He would have been a criminal.”

“He didn’t have much of a chance.”

“He’s always been different. You gave him a moral code. He didn’t have that until you came along.” She turned her head and looked up at him. “When you talk to me, Mack, sometimes you make me crazy, but I want to try again. Read some books on communicating with women, that’s my only advice to you, because you suck at it.”

A slow smile accompanied the slow burning deep in his groin. She was so beautiful to him. So sexy. She didn’t even have to try very hard. “Now’s not the time to give me good news, honey, not with all the boys camping out in our bedroom.”

“Everything is not about sex.”

His eyebrow shot up. “It’s not?”

Jaimie laughed and shook her head, turning to cut off his step before he made it to the stairs. She circled his neck with her arms. “I’m sorry. For earlier. For accusing you.”

He settled his hands at her waist, his heart squeezing down hard like a vise.

“Don’t think I won’t do it if I have to, Jaimie. That’s part of who I am. I won’t like it, but if I have to put a gun to his head and pull the trigger to save everyone else, I’d do it. You have to know who and what I am. This time, I want you to know who you’re loving.”

Her heart jumped at the word. He rarely if ever used the L word, certainly not to her. “I know. If I told you I missed you every hour of every day, what would you say to that?”

“I’d say you couldn’t possibly have missed me more than I missed you. You tore out my heart, Jaimie. Don’t do it again. I’m not going to be perfect at this. I’d rather you snap me out of it some way. Kick me in the shins. Punch me. Get my attention. But don’t walk out on me when I’m being dense.”

She touched her tongue to her bottom lip, a sign he recognized as being nervous. Mack kissed her. Hard. Long. With his heart and soul. He never wanted her nervous when she talked to him. She could twist him up inside like no one else could and maybe that did set his teeth on edge, but he’d pay that price if it meant having her. Keeping her. Waking up every morning to her. He wanted to grow old with her. He wanted her there by his side when he died.

The problem with kissing her was it caused other much more intense reactions. His body immediately made urgent demands, hot and hard, and so painfully full he could barely stand the touch of his jeans. Worse, there was no way to stop kissing her once he started. He devoured her mouth, loving the velvet heat and the way she tasted. His hand slipped beneath her shirt to cup her breasts. “I can barely stand not touching you,” he whispered. “I love your skin. The way you taste. Your mouth.” He bit on her lower lip, tugged, and then teased with his tongue. “You’ve got me hurting like hell, baby.”

“I do?” She reached down to slide her hand over the thick bulge in his jeans.

“How very unfair of me.”

He buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder. “I’m so tired, Jaimie. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I’m doing.” He whispered the words into her stillness, her peace. Jaimie was his haven, the only refuge he had, and he’d been lost without her. Without her quick wit and ready smile, the devotion in her eyes and her soft, sweet, welcoming body. She seemed magic and she could wipe out every ugly thing in his life. “I need you, Jaimie. Right now, baby.”

To make him forget the image of pulling out his gun, putting it to Paul’s head, and pulling the trigger. He would have done it himself, never putting it on one of his men to carry the burden. Just the thought that he could have done it sickened him. He wanted to forget what kind of man he was. Not one who would plan the death of a friend or an untried kid on his team. He wanted to lose himself in the magic of her body and just be hers.

Jaimie heard the need, the ache, in his voice. This wasn’t about wild, uninhibited sex. This was something altogether different. She framed his face with her hands and looked into his eyes-eyes full of shadows and guilt. She tipped her head and pressed kisses along his mouth and throat, giving herself to him. Offering herself. A gift. She opened his shirt and kissed her way over the heavy muscles, her hands on the front of his jeans, parting the material.

She heard his soft groan as she circled the impressive girth, her fingers stroking caresses over familiar territory. Before she could kneel, he caught the hem of her shirt.

“I have to look at you,” he whispered, that hoarse edge stealing into his tone, the one she loved. He yanked her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor. Catching her around her back, he urged her into him, bending her nearly backward as he unhooked her bra, spilling her breasts into the night air.

He buried his face in the soft, warm mounds, kissing her, breathing her in. He could hear the blood rushing like a drug through his veins. His heart pounded hard. There was no way a man like him, so dark inside, so lost, could find a way out of his own skin. Jaimie with her unreserved generosity could take him into paradise. He turned his head and flicked a taut nipple with his tongue. Of course her body responded. She always responded. She always gave to him no matter what he asked.

“Everything,” he whispered and took possession of her breast, driving her up fast as only he knew how to do. The flicks of his tongue, the edge of his teeth. Suckling hard and then gently. Giving attention to both breasts until she was nearly sobbing.

“Let me,” she pleaded.

“Are you sure?”

“Let me,” she said again.

He lifted his head from her soft enticing body. Her eyes were liquid, her breath coming in ragged gasps, lifting her breasts in time to her rough breathing. Her mouth was exquisite. Sexy. Pure fantasy.

“I want you in my mouth,” she said, her voice a sensual plea.

He knew she was doing it for him, but he could believe her when she looked at him like that, as if bringing him pleasure was the most important thing in her world.

“I love the taste and feel of you. I missed you, Mack, missed all that power filling my mouth and throat.”

He was going to embarrass himself just listening to her voice, the ache there. The need and desire. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she slowly knelt, sliding his jeans from his hips. His cock was hard, jerking in anticipation, already leaking small droplets. There was nothing sexier than a beautiful woman, bare breasted, hair in disarray, looking at up at a man with a wealth of love and wanton lust in her expression.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, of his Jaimie, so ready to enjoy pleasing him. He had dreamt of this, night after night. Of her eyes. Her mouth. Her soft, feminine curves. He couldn’t begin to think of taking another woman. There was only Jaimie, with the pads of her fingers working magic on his cock. Stroking flames over his sensitive skin.

She leaned forward and he watched, mesmerized, as her tongue slid out and she licked him like an ice cream cone. His entire body shuddered in reaction. Her mouth engulfed him, her tongue sliding over the crown and then teasing the underneath. She knew exactly what he needed, every spot. Every stroke. He had been the one to teach her. She’d been so inexperienced then, and she looked just as innocent now, a tempting, beautiful innocent seducing him with her mouth.

He watched her through hooded lids, unable to take his eyes from the sight of her. Loving him. Lavishing attention on him. Giving him the priceless gift of herself. Jaimie didn’t just suck his cock to get it over with, she made love to him with her mouth. She suckled and caressed, alternating rhythm, one moment hard and tight, the next gentle with a dancing tongue, paying attention to his every reaction. She made him believe that she enjoyed giving him pleasure, that at that moment in her life, bringing him absolute pleasure was the most important thing in her world. He heard his own groan. Felt his already hard cock swell. He didn’t want to finish in her mouth, as sexy as that would be; he needed to be inside her body. He needed to feel her soft skin sliding over his, her channel sheathing him, hot and tight. He wanted to be surrounded by her. His hands were on the sides of her face, holding her head back while she took him deep. It was almost more than he could bear to stop, but he forced himself under control.

“Strip, baby, hurry. I want to be inside you. I have to be inside of you.” His voice had gone so hoarse he barely recognized it. His lungs burned. His hand circled his cock, stroking, keeping the fire high as she shrugged out of her clothes. Everything in him went to molten heat, converging in his aching, swelling shaft, at the sight of her shedding her clothes, revealing her bare, peach-soft skin. She never questioned him. Never protested. She was whatever he needed. There was no other like her in the world. His Jaimie. He caught the mop of curls and pulled her mouth to his, taking her kiss, feeding on her sweetness, on the spice of her, while his other hand cupped and kneaded her soft breasts. First one, then the other, as he devoured her mouth.

“Are you ready for me, honey?” he asked, his hand sliding low to test her wetness.

“I’m always ready for you,” she answered. “I crave you.”

His heart jumped, and then slammed hard against his chest. “Put your arms around my neck, Jaimie,” he instructed. He lifted her in his arms, skin to skin, her breasts pressed tight against his chest. Just the feel of her made his cock ache with need.

“Wrap your legs around my waist, sweetheart. Lock your ankles tight.”

Because she was so generous, so giving, she opened herself to him without reservation. His eyes burned. His throat felt raw. He could lose himself for a little while in her-forget the ugliness of the places he’d been, the carnage he’d seen. He gripped her hips tightly and slowly, and inch by exquisite inch, sheathed himself inside of her. He could forget the life or death decisions he had to make, the brutality of his life, just live inside her for a short while and know what peace was. He felt her body open to his, unfolding like a flower. So tight, so hot, so velvet soft. He pushed into that hot, wet channel, felt her surround him, grip him hard, and draw him into his secret paradise. There was nothing like her in the world, no other place he’d rather be. His breath hissed out between his teeth as she settled over him, so tight she was strangling him, setting him on fire. The roaring in his head quieted. The jackhammers ceased. There was only the volcano roiling in his belly and the fire streaking through his veins.

There was only her smile. Her eyes. Her luscious body wrapped around his. There was the way she loved him. All of her. Everything. There was tenderness, something he hadn’t known about but she taught him.

She moved then, riding him slowly, her gaze locked with his, her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders. She arched her body, her breasts moving with every undulation of her hips. She was beautiful. Sexy. Uninhibited. The fall of her hair, the sheen on her skin, the way their bodies came together, sent his nerve endings into overdrive.

He let her set that lazy, mind-blowing rhythm for as long as he could stand it, let her drive him to the very edge of his control, a slow, sensual ride. She made small circles with her hips every few strokes, sending electrical sparks sizzling through his groin and smoldering in his belly. His cock was on fire, his body no longer his own, but hers. She took him higher and higher, her sheath gripping his cock so tight his teeth clenched as streaks spread through his body driving out everything but bliss. Ecstasy.

There was nothing but this ride. Their bodies coming together, the blood roaring in his ears, the feel of her soft skin, the sight of her perfect breasts. His fingers dug into her hips, signaling to her that he meant business now. That he was taking control. She laughed softly. Her breath warm. Her eyes slumberous. Her body fiery hot. She did this little thing with her muscles that dragged over his sensitized cock, increasing the friction. He drove harder, deeper, letting the fire consume him, burn through him, burn him clean, burying himself again and again in her heat- his heat.

He dreamt of her like this. Liquid heat surrounding him. Her soft moans. Her soft pleas begging him to fill her body, to never stop. He didn’t think he could live without her. He’d been without her once, and he knew what he’d lost. What a gift she was. He swore the energy between them became more powerful when he took her. Every sensation seemed to intensify when he pounded into her body, sheathing himself again and again.

He felt the shiver moving through her body and knew she was close. Her soft little cries grew breathless. Urgent. He waited. He needed. Everything in him gathered and centered, waiting. He plunged into her wet heat again and again driving her closer to the edge.

“Mack. Please. Oh, God, please.”

Satisfaction. Elation. A powerful aphrodisiac. Her need of him. That soft little plea that meant the world to him. He needed that plea almost more than she did.

“Oh, yeah, baby. For me,” he whispered, his voice harsher than he intended. Her entire body shuddered. Vibrated. Rippled with shocking intensity. And then he heard his own hoarse shout as she locked down on him like a vise. He felt the boiling in his balls, the rise of his ejaculation, jet after jet of hot seed, the hot release milked out of him by her strangling grip. Her body contracted over and over, rippling through both of them, tearing up through her womb to her belly and breasts. His body bucked against hers, matched her shudder for shudder. Waves of pleasure shook him as he emptied himself deep in her. He felt absolutely free. Absolutely light, as if she had lifted a huge burden from him.

He held her close, burying his face between her neck and shoulder, feeling the ripples course through her body, feeling the grip and release of her body surrounding his. He loved this moment, when they were joined together, when the blood roared and pulsed exactly where they were joined and their hearts beat there together, in the center of their beings. He felt they shared the same skin. He was no longer Mack

McKinley, the brutal man who made life-and-death decisions. He was clean inside. She’d saved him for a little while longer.

He turned his head and took possession of her mouth. He let her legs slowly drop to the floor, all the while kissing her, his mouth fastened to hers, melded there together, taking the very breath from her lungs. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. He kissed his way down her throat, licking at the sheen on her skin, finding the valley between her breasts, tugging and rolling her nipples while her body shuddered in reaction. She moaned low and long in her throat, sending sparks of arousal streaking through him, although he was spent and sated.

Her face was flushed, her mop of unruly curls damp. He framed her face, staring into her eyes. Jaimie. He could barely breathe with the overwhelming way she made him feel. Emotion welled up so strong it shook him.

She smoothed back strands of his hair. “I love you, Mack.”

The intensity in her voice shook him. He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers while his hands shaped her body. He wanted all night-weeks, months, years-with her. Her eyes changed. Went dark. Shadowed. Her body, so soft and pliant, stiffened, and she pulled away. An inch, no more, but it might as well have been a chasm and he wasn’t having it.

He bunched her hair in his fist and pulled her head back until she couldn’t look away from him. “Tell me.”

She hesitated and he tightened his grip, his teeth coming together with a snap.

“We’re not doing this. Tell me.”

“Do you love me, Mack?”

His breath rushed out of his lungs. He should have known-should have been ready. Love. What did that mean? That a man couldn’t escape? That he didn’t own his own soul? He detested that word. There wasn’t a word for what she was to him, what he felt for her. She was part of him, like breathing. She was the rising sun, the stars overhead. The most turbulent storm imaginable. Everything. Was that love? Was that what she was asking?

“I don’t know how to give you the words you need, Jaimie. I can only show you. I show you every time I touch you. Can’t you feel it? Will that ever be enough for you?” Because God help him if it wasn’t. He couldn’t lose her again. Her eyes searched his face inch by slow inch. He held his breath, feeling as if at any moment his world could come crushing down. Her eyes changed. Went soft. Went liquid. Her body moved against his. Her slow smile warmed him, settled the churning in his stomach.

“I feel it.” Why hadn’t she noticed before? The answer was in the million things he did for her. Jaimie pressed her mouth to his and then trailed kisses along his throat.

“Do you have any idea where my clothes are? I seem to lose them whenever I’m around you.”

Mack gathered her shirt and bra, handing them to her a bit reluctantly. “I like you naked. We need a little more privacy.”

She laughed and snatched up her jeans, heading for the bathroom. “I have to agree with you there.”

Mack dressed slowly. He’d never understood the tremendous pull Jaimie had always had on him. Quite frankly, he’d resented it for a long time. Until she left. Now he wanted to get over that spurt of idiocy. Feeling vulnerable and raw was a small price to pay to have her.

She was sunshine and laughter. She was everything good. He wanted to be those things for her. He needed to be there for her just as much as she was for him. He had to figure out what she needed most and provide her with it, because she deserved anything and everything he could give her. If the tremendous emotion he felt for her was love, he hadn’t been prepared for the enormity of it and it all belonged to her. He wanted to make her life the best.

Jaimie emerged from the bathroom. She could take the air from his lungs just by her smile. She held out her hand and he wrapped his fingers around hers.

“Come on. I’m tired. I need a bed.” She tugged at him.

He followed her up the stairs, although the last thing he wanted to do was to get back to business.

The men sat in a loose circle talking. They turned their heads as Mack and Jaimie entered the third floor together. Paul lost color and he glanced as if for assurance at Javier, who just shrugged. Silence fell on the softly speaking group. Gideon lay asleep in Kane’s bed and Mack crossed to him first, bending low to smooth back the few stray strands of hair as a father might a child. Gideon was actually asleep and looked peaceful, the lines of strain etched deep in his face somewhat eased. Jaimie smiled at Mack, her smile a little sad, and slowly released his hand, the pads of her fingers sliding over the skin of his. He could feel that touch burning right through his body and tingling in the crown of his cock, but then it burned deeper, wrapping around and squeezing his heart. He watched her go into the bedroom area before he reluctantly turned to the others.

Mack walked up behind Paul, and smacked him hard on the back of the head.

“That’s for being an idiot.” He cuffed him a second time and went on through to the kitchen. “You and your old man both are idiots. Consider that taking a hit for the old man.”

He poured himself a cup of coffee, added cream just to keep from looking at the kid. Silence stretched, a razor-sharp edge along the nerves. He sipped at the hot brew and turned slowly, fixing a cutting stare on the boy. Paul looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

Mack seated himself across from the kid, in the chair Ethan had vacated. “You look like hell. I’ve never seen a psychic surgeon at work. Does it take a lot out of you?”

Paul shrugged. “Depends on how bad the injury. Gideon’s been using himself up. His energy is a little different and I suspect what boosts others doesn’t always help him. The weave of energy.” He frowned, trying to puzzle out how best to explain it.

“Energy is usually in waves, surrounding every person and object. Some is very low-level, other times it’s a surge of power. All psychics feed on that energy. Sometimes it’s good, and sometimes not so good.”

“In the way violent energy harms Jaimie,” Mack said.

“Exactly. She’s more sensitive than the rest of you. I can see it in her color patterns.”

“What color patterns?” Mack asked.

Paul waved away the question. “I just see differently. It began at a very early age.”

“Is that when your father decided to change your last name? Did he recognize what you were and tried to protect you that many years ago?”

Paul swallowed and looked away, shaking his head.

“What father wouldn’t?” Mack said, as if the boy had answered him. “Tell me about Gideon. I’ve been worried about him. We’ve all been. What’s wrong with him?”

Paul looked relieved to talk about someone other than himself. “I’ll try to explain it to you, but I have to sort of give you a starting point. It’s more than color I see, it’s all about the patterns. When violent energy rushes toward Jaimie, it invades and damages the actual patterns. Everyone with psychic energy has very distinct threads. Some merge together. Your energy and Jaimie’s merge, intertwine, and build a stronger base. I’ve not seen other couples, but I suspect that might happen with committed pairs. I have to study it a bit more.”

There was eagerness in Paul’s voice, an enthusiasm Mack had never heard before. Jaimie got that same exact tone when she was on to something in her work.

“I joined the GhostWalker program with the hope that I could learn more about what I could do and why I saw people the way I do, but”-Paul shrugged-“it seemed best not to admit to anyone that I was that different.”

“So you played down your skills.”

Paul nodded.

“What you really mean is, the old man found out his good friend Whitney was doing a lot more to the psychics than anyone had agreed upon and some of them were dying.”

Paul’s nod was barely perceptible. “Some were in bad shape. And he was taking apart anyone different. I looked at his color pattern and I knew…” He shook his head.

“Knew what?” Mack asked softly.

“That he was damaged beyond repair. He’s psychic and his pattern was all over the place. I could see it in his brain, the madness. He believes in what he’s doing. I knew if he found out what I could do-what I could see-he’d take my brain apart to figure out how it worked. I was the one who exposed what he was doing to…” He broke off and looked around the room. “To Sergeant Major.”

“And he told you to play down your abilities.”

Paul shook his head. “I was already doing that. Whitney’s a brilliant man. His weakness is thinking no one else is quite as bright as he is. His ego defeats him every time.”

“So he never guessed about you.”

“No.”

“And the old man decided to put you somewhere safe.”

Paul sent Mack a half smile. “You were the safest person he knew.”

“Did it occur to either of you I might blow your brains out, thinking you were betraying us? Your old man needs a lot more than a slap upside the head.” Mack glared at the boy. “I considered just shooting you and getting it over with. I’m not one for mysteries in my own backyard. Are we clear?”

“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 breasts, 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.”

“We all get those,” Mack agreed.

Paul nodded. “Yes, because we’re using parts of the brain never really used before. Whitney activated neuro pathways that we’ve never used as well. Those pathways don’t remain static, they grow in strength and branch out. Some of you have probably already begun to feel the effects.”

Mack nodded. “Some of the talents are getting stronger, but so are the repercussions.”

“We have to find a way to get our bodies and brains used to the new enhancements.”

“We’ve done that already, haven’t we?”

Paul shrugged. “But once Whitney opened the flood-gates, your psychic abilities will continue to grow. Whatever genetic changes he introduced to your bodies will continue to grow. If he really does have a breeding program and he paired you with someone, that attachment will grow as well. How could it not? Your psychic pattern with Jaimie is so closely woven, I doubt if you could break it. If Whitney managed to pair you along with your already tight connection, you’d have a hell of a time trying to live without each other.”

“He’s putting a man and a woman together whose skills complement one another, isn’t he?” Jaimie guessed. “So they can work together in the field as a fully functioning unit.”

“I haven’t seen any couples together other than you and Mack,” Paul said. “But I suspect so. I’ve been trying to keep track of observations without leaving a paper trail anyone can find.” He looked up at her. “If they were to access my computer.”

She smirked. “Piece of cake. Your bad luck that I wrote that program. I take it Whitney doesn’t have access to it.”

“Very few people do. It’s experimental.”

“What did you do for Gideon?” she asked.

“I drained off some of the psychic energy and it allowed him to sleep.”

Kane stood up. “I’ll use his bed and leave Gideon here, if that’s okay with you, boss.”

Mack nodded. “Okay, kid, I have a message I want to get to your father. Use your impossible-to-hack-into program and tell him I want a meeting. I’ll tell you when and where.”

Paul nodded.

“Everyone get some sleep. Lucas, relieve Marc in a couple of hours. We’re going to have some major work over the next few days.”