She leaned forward and grabbed her coffee cup off the desk, wrapping her hands around it to keep them warm. She turned her thoughts to Michael. She'd heard it said that the eyes were the window to the soul, so what did his ebony gaze tell her? That he was a man well versed in controlling his surroundings. That his secrets and knowledge were old. Centuries old.
She frowned and sipped her coffee. That was impossible, of course. And there was more than secrets to be seen in his eyes. There was also warmth, and a hint of passion that called to something deep inside her. She shivered lightly. Maybe it was just as well that he'd revealed a little too much last night. The office opened. Jake stepped in, accompanied by a blast of wind that sent the loose papers on her desk scattering like confetti.
"It's cold outside,” he muttered sourly. He threw his coat in the general direction of his desk and stalked across the room to the coffee pot.
"So tell me something new,” she said, returning her gaze to the street. Michael was out there somewhere. While it was obvious he could take care of himself, worry gnawed at her. Last night her dreams had sent her a warning—Jasper wove a trap around them all, with Michael's death the grand finale.
"I've sent Mary on a trip to visit her mother,” Jake said into the silence. She almost choked on a mouthful of coffee. In the ten years she'd known him, he'd never been worried enough by a case to send his wife away.
His face was bleak. “If Monica is still alive after having that stake shoved in her gut, well, she knows too much about us. She'll come after us, Nikki."
Hunter and hunted, all one and the same. Just great, she thought, and took another sip of coffee.
"At least I'm lucky that way,” she said after a moment. “I have no one but me to worry about." "You must have aunts and uncles out there, somewhere. Grandparents, even. All you have to do is find them, kiddo."
Yeah, she thought sourly. She had them. But they didn't want to know her . She took another sip of coffee, then met Jake's curious gaze. “Mom once told me her family refused to understand the nature of her gifts—they thought she was possessed by the devil. That's why she left when she was sixteen. And Dad's folks disowned him for marrying someone they thought no better than a gypsy." He shrugged. “Times change. You can't be sure how they'd react to you now." She smiled bitterly. “Yes, I can."
She bent to gather the papers from the floor, only to have them scatter further as the door opened a second time. Michael stepped inside.
"Evening,” he greeted softly, his dark gaze enigmatic when it met hers. Intuition delivered two warnings, and her pulse skipped a beat. The wall he'd raised last night would stay in place, and he had something to say she wasn't going to like. She gathered the scattered papers then sat back down.
Jake offered Michael a cup of coffee before moving back to his desk. “So,” he said. “What can we do for you?"
Michael stopped near her desk. Nikki had the sudden sensation of being caught in a small pen between two charging bulls. She leaned back in her chair and eyed them both warily.
"I came to help,” Michael said evenly.
"Really,” Jake drawled. “I find it interesting that Nikki didn't appear to need any help until you arrived on the scene."