Toxic Game (GhostWalkers #15) - Christine Feehan Page 0,142
to older women or young children as they volunteered information without even realizing they were doing it.
She managed to look as though she wasn’t a tourist, but a woman who had chosen the city as her home and knew it intimately. He knew that was one of her gifts—blending seamlessly in, looking as if she belonged, her sunny nature inviting others to talk to her. He was watching a master at work and recognized it. He found he was inexplicably proud of her, as if her accomplishments were his own. He could see why Whitney considered her one of the best trackers on the planet.
He stayed close but tried not to be seen if at all possible. His looks, usually an asset, were just the opposite, drawing attention he didn’t want. His body was intimidating, all muscle, a predator moving among sheep, and it showed. She could get far more information without him. She knew the local customs and dressed accordingly. She also bargained for everything.
In the morning she’d gotten them some amazing fruit and pancakes. She seemed obsessed with pancakes, and he liked watching her eat them. She didn’t hold back at all from showing her enjoyment. Her laughter rang out often and she was so quirky with her dancing eyebrows and other expressions that she got the most stoic individual to laugh with her.
Draden found himself actually fantasizing about having a little boy with curls in his hair and freckles sprinkled across his nose, holding her hand and laughing with the men and women she approached to ask questions. There were always children ringing her, as if she were the center of the universe, and for him, she had rapidly become just that.
She moved from group to group easily. He never stepped too close. He was going to be remembered if anyone interacted with him. He was a big man and he couldn’t do much about his looks unless he wanted to wear a disguise. She’d laughed about that and dismissed the idea out of hand, telling him not to be so vain. It took him several hours of watching her as they moved deeper and deeper into the underbelly of Palembang to realize she had some gift that prevented others from describing her. She was using that same gift to shield him as well.
The moment Draden realized she had to be using some psychic ability, he did his best to remain in the shadows. Using any gift for a prolonged length of time took its toll. Just like the body of a runner who runs miles and is in top shape, but at some point becomes exhausted. In this case, the brain did.
He’d never watched someone like Shylah work before and it was very intriguing, almost as if she were following a psychic footprint rather than a human one. She seemed to follow a path instinctively, skipping groups of people to hone in on some lone man rocking himself back and forth beside a gated wall. From there she went deeper into the city, away from all tourist areas, into places that others might fear.
She obviously had the scent of her prey and was running them down. The three scientists should have been long gone from Sumatra, but while every law enforcement agency was looking outside of the country, she was moving on a sure, set path, totally believing she could find them, even though she was hunting much later than the others.
Night fell as they continued slipping in and out of doorways and alleyways. Shylah offered money in some cases and stood talking for longer periods of times with the informant. More often, she smiled, shook her head and thanked whomever she spoke with politely. Watching faces, more than once, his hand slipped to his knife. She had money and appeared to be a woman alone asking questions in the wrong places. She looked as if she might be easy to rob.
This looks like a good bet. Three men rented a small apartment just south of here a few blocks. They were sweaty, on edge and according to my man, Bakti, here, they were up to no good. One, clearly Agus Orucov, did all the negotiations to get the apartment for a week.
A week? Draden thought that over. Why had they left the forest just to hide out in Palembang for another week? How long specifically? Seven days? Six? If it’s a week, Shylah, we’re right behind them. He couldn’t believe that. Why would they stay