"Because she was my friend."
"And your friend was involved in murder."
The anger that had been bubbling under the surface surged to life, a flash so sharp it momentarily erased the fire of need. “No, she wasn't. Nelle had nothing to do with Jontee's schemes."
"And you knew this for sure?"
Despite her fury, she hesitated. Truth was, she couldn't be one hundred percent certain, because she'd never actually used her telepathy skills to invade Nelle's mind and check. And why would she? Nelle had been a good friend, and one she trusted. Besides, once the news of the murders had started getting out, they had discussed it. Nelle had been as shocked and as disbelieving as everyone else.
"Why are you asking this?"
"Because Nelle James is someone we've never been able to track down."
"So naturally, you jump to the conclusion that she had to have been involved. I mean, it couldn't be something as simple as her using a false name in that place, now could it?"
"Like you, you mean?"
"Yes.” She glanced at him. “And you always did think I knew more than what I was saying."
"That's because you damn well did. It's thanks to you—or rather, the information I pulled out of your mind—that I caught Jontee."
"Pulled being the operative word.” She hesitated and took a deep breath, trying to calm old anger. “That hurt, you know. Physically and emotionally. You might as well have thrown me up against the wall and punched the information out of me."
His brief look was almost contemptuous. “I think you're overstating it. I've done it before, many times, and most of the time the person I was with wasn't even aware of it."
"But were most of those other mates telepathic, like you? Me?"
He frowned. “No."
"There's your answer, then."
"Why would that make any difference?"
She shook her head. He couldn't see the wrong in it, couldn't see the harm in it, even all these years later. And why would he? He'd been there to catch a murderer, and she was no more than an available scrap of wolf with whom he happened to share an amazing sexual relationship. That was all she'd been, all she'd meant to him.
She just wished she could have said the same about him. Life would have been so much easier—then and now.
She stopped the car at the first available space close to the basketball courts and pointed across the road to the park. “There's Denny, in the blue and black.” She glanced at Cade. “Let me talk to him first."
"Afraid I'll hit him?” Cade said, voice wry but edged with contempt.
She snorted softly. “Hitting would get you into trouble. But raping his mind? You've already proven yourself more than capable of that."
He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh, bruising her. “It wasn't rape of any kind, Vannah."
"Then what else would you call forcing entry into another telepath's mind?” She wrenched her arm away from his and climbed out. The cool wind ran fingers through her hair, chilling her scalp but not her anger.
Damn him for being here, she thought as she slammed the door closed. And damn her memories and her attraction and her lack of control for letting him get to her. She was a ranger and a grown woman now, not that silly, senseless teenager. She ought to know better.
She walked around the car and across the road without bothering to wait for him. But his footsteps told her he wasn't far behind. It was like being followed by a storm cloud ready to break across her back—his presence was that dark, that furious.
Denny glanced up, his face paling a little when he spotted them. He caught the ball, and for several seconds, he looked as if he was going to run. Then a smirk touched his thin lips.
"Morning, Ranger Grant.” His gaze went past her, and his bravado slipped a little.
If Cade looked as scary as he felt, Savannah couldn't actually fault the kid for being a little frightened.
"Who paid you to drop that note under my wipers?” she said, as she stopped.