have ever been sold . . . the guy who sold it screwed up. They aren’t supposed to take stuff from the girls they grab, but this one does. He takes whatever jewelry he sees on them and pawns it. This . . . I saw it in a store and for some reason, I had to touch it.”
“You’ve got psychometry,” he said quietly.
“Yeah. It’s the weaker gift and I thank God for that.” Shaking her head, she scooped the necklace up and tucked it back into her bag. “If I had a stronger connection to what was going on, I think I’d go insane. It’s hard enough sleeping right now.”
Joss could completely understand that. “Booze helps.”
“Jose Cuervo and I are practically best friends right now.” Still holding his eyes, she leaned forward. “You’re down here because you’re after a slaver. I’m down here because I’m feeling those girls . . . those women he takes. I can help you. I’m supposed to help you.”
Joss continued to stare at her, and then he sighed, skimmed a hand back over his hair. “He may like your face, your body, but I think your hair is going to piss him off. Can we fix it?”
She shrugged. “Dreads aren’t like pigtails. They don’t come out the way a braid does. Save me for the last. It’s not like he gave you a lot of time. Save me for the last, and then put me in there. The only other option with my hair will be cutting the majority of it off . . . and he wanted long hair, right?” Nalini paused and shrugged. “My hair’s the least of the problems in the long run. Even if you get me in there and he decides I don’t suit, then I’ve been there and I can still help.”
“Not if he decides to shoot you between the eyes for not being what he needs,” Joss snapped.
“Not going to happen.” She shook her head. “And I think you know it. I wouldn’t be down here if I wasn’t supposed to help somehow. I’m here. Use me.”
Use me.
Joss rubbed his forehead. Use me, she says.
The big problem, that was exactly what he needed to do.
And she’d already managed to take care of what he’d thought was going to be his biggest problem . . . informing Jones about how he planned to go forward with this bitch of a job.
He slanted a look at Jones. “I assume you know what I’m planning to do.”
Jones stared at him. “I figured that out after I hauled the bastard out of the trunk last night and saw the very vague resemblance. Are you certain you can pull this off?”
“No.” Joss shrugged. “But the idea has been in my head almost from the get-go. The kid you pushed on me planted the idea in my skull, so I’m assuming that’s how she foresaw it. Hopefully she didn’t foresee me dying, but if she did, I don’t want to know that.”
I’m not going to die, he told himself. I’ve got too many reasons to be here.
“I still need two more girls. Biracial, and a Latina.” He paused and then added slowly, “We need to use agents on this. Preferably from within our own unit . . . the quieter we keep this, the less chance there is of fucking it up.”
“I’ve got an agent who would be perfect for the biracial woman you need. Her name is Vaughnne MacMeans.” Jones sighed and smoothed down his tie. He caught Joss smirking at him and he dropped his hand. “And she’s a telepath . . . her reach is pretty much limitless. I think you’ve worked with her a time or two.”
Joss grunted.
Jones could work out the logistics. He needed to get back into position for now.
* * *
“WHERE have you been?”
At the sound of his voice, Dru had to lock her knees to keep from collapsing.
She laid her keycard on the table and looked up, smiled. “Patrick! What a wonderful surprise.”
He continued to sit in the armchair, watching her. He’d been out of sight, hidden by the wall. Lying in wait, she thought. Like an alligator.
“Where have you been?” he asked again.
“I went running.” She gestured to her clothing and smiled, shrugged. “I needed to burn off some energy.”
“And our facilities here aren’t adequate?”
Careful . . . careful . . . Dru smiled at him even as she desperately, selfishly prayed, Please God . . . let him leave, business, he doesn’t want