“If we try to rush in, people are going to die. He’s prepared for that. He can’t get rid of the evidence, even though he thinks he can. There’s too much of it, but we don’t want anybody else dying.”
Jones continued to watch him. “Can you hold it together?”
“No choice.”
A heavy sigh came from Taylor. “If I’d known Jillian and Dez together would hit you this hard, I wouldn’t have paired both of them on you. I just . . . shit. I knew there’d be ghosts, and it felt like it was the way to go. I miscalculated. I’m sorry, Joss.”
Guilt churned inside him. It wasn’t Jillian and Dez that had him so twisted up. It was Dru. Ella . . . Amelie . . .
A whisper of her voice drifted through his mind.
A name he hadn’t heard . . . not from her . . . in far too long.
Thom . . .
Hissing out a breath, he spun away. In a clipped voice, he said, “Get word to me about the next plant.” Then he took off, running for the car, before his head exploded. Once he was there, he leaned back against it, lifted shaking hands to his face.
Thom . . . Now you remember, he thought bitterly.
Now. When he discovers she’s been shacking up with a guy who had his hands in some of the worst crimes known to man.
He could have accepted a lot of things.
But Joss didn’t think he could live with that.
More . . . he just didn’t want to.
Briefly, he opened his mind, just a little.
Stay out of my head, Dru. I don’t want you now.
There was a faint pause. Followed by, You sodding bastard. As if I’d let you near me. Stay the fuck out of my head, my dreams, my life.
He curled his lip. Sure thing, duchess. He wouldn’t be doing that. Unless she was actively engaged in what Whitmore was doing, he didn’t want to see her going down with the others. He . . . hell, maybe he was getting soft, he didn’t know. But he couldn’t let her go down over this, not unless she was involved in it. But he could walk away. That much he could do.
I’ll see you around your sugar daddy’s place sometime, but don’t worry, I’ll keep my distance.
If you had half a brain, you’d keep your distance from him entirely, you wanker. Now stay out of my head.
He distinctly felt a snap fall between them. Like she’d shut a door. Curious, he pushed against it, but it was a pretty solid wall. Not as good as those who’d gone through the kind of training he’d had, but she wasn’t green the way he’d been when Jones had found him.
Self-preservation, he figured. She’d have to develop decent shields to stay sane around Whitmore.
Groaning, he slammed his head back against the SUV.
Life was such a bitch. She could sucker-punch you right after you thought she was giving you one hell of a gift.
Traitorous, ugly bitch.
* * *
DRU ran harder.
Hitting the control on the treadmill in Patrick’s private gym, she inched up to seven miles an hour, the muscles in her thighs screaming. She’d been pounding away at the miles for a good forty minutes and she’d thought she was done.
Then she’d heard him whispering into her mind.
I don’t want you now . . .
Like she was the dirty one?
Sodding bastard.
If she could just get her—
“You look like you’re feeling better.”
Caught off guard, she stumbled and went flying backward.
Ending up on her ass at Patrick’s feet, she sat there, panting, dazed from the pain, her chest aching from the exertion, her heart pounding.
And as Patrick crouched down, fear exploded inside her.
The monster in his eyes . . . it was thirsting for blood, she thought.
“Hello, Ella. As I said, you look to be feeling better.”
Swallowing, she tried to calm the racing of her heart. Had to keep her calm here, now more than ever, even though she was oddly more terrified than she’d ever been. And she didn’t even know why. “Yes. I guess I just needed some rest. Champagne and I never did get along very well, although I never thought a half a glass would do me in like that.”
“A half a glass,” he murmured. He reached out, caught her wrist, stroking his thumb along her skin.
Flash, flash, flash.
Slut, little whore . . .
She saw herself through his eyes, and whether it was her fear or the sheer power