SHE PROBABLY WOULD FIND OUT everything more quickly than was comfortable for him, Grady thought with amusement, as he watched the door close behind Megan. He was just lucky that she had too much on her plate to concentrate on anything but Molino. It was going to be an interesting dance trying to keep her spinning fast enough so that she wouldn't have time to stop and think. He wasn't sure how much she had sensed in that cave as her mother had died and how much she had been able to understand through the haze of pain. It was incredible that she was willing to undergo that kind of pain again.
No, not incredible. He had been counting on that strength and determination when he had decided he had to have her help. No one knew Megan the way he knew her. From the moment he had met her at Sarah's beach cottage he had felt a bond that had developed and strengthened over that summer. He had tried to keep that bond safe and fraternal but he'd never been able to feel like a brother to Megan. She had always been mature for her age and so damn alive and glowing that it was hard as hell not to reach out and touch her.
He remembered one morning he had been watching her lift her face to the sun, her throat arching as if the breeze was caressing it. Lord, she had a beautiful throat and shoulders. He was young but no inexperienced boy, and he was so hot for her he'd nearly had a meltdown. He'd had to turn on his heel and walk away from her.
How many times had he had to walk away from Megan that summer? It had been a sensual, tender, bittersweet experience being with Megan those months. And after the link, in a weird way, he had felt as if she had become part of him.
Yeah, sure. If she was part of him, then he must be a masochist to plan on putting her through what was waiting for her in Paris. He was just along for the ride. She was the one who was going to suffer.
Then accept it and get the show on the road. He reached for his telephone and quickly punched in the number he had for Venable with the CIA.
"I may need some help," he said as soon as Venable picked up. "Megan Blair is being targeted by Molino and I don't know what's going to be coming down. I want you to be ready."
"In Atlanta?"
"Not right now. Probably Paris. We're going after the Ledger."
"Shit. Can't you keep her out of it?"
"No, I need the Ledger. Guilt feelings, Venable?"
"Hell, yes. I've always wondered if I could have prevented that nightmare with Sarah at that camp in the jungle. Maybe I could have done something different. I was so damn young and eager and I went by the book."
"We were both young and I've had a few second thoughts myself over the years."
"But not enough not to use her daughter."
"You've been after Molino for as long as I have. We have a chance to get him and the Ledger. I need Megan to do it." He paused. "I didn't call you to discuss this, Venable. Will you help me when I need it?"
"Dammit, of course, I will." He hung up.
It was strange that it was Grady who'd had to be the one to take the hard line about Megan Blair, instead of Venable who'd had years of working with the CIA. No, not really. That episode with Sarah had affected all of them. Venable was a fine agent and there was probably nothing that he could have done differently on the night of the raid. Grady had thought he'd done his best and yet it hadn't been good enough either.
But it mustn't happen this time. No mistakes, dammit.
He quickly dialed another number.
MEGAN STOPPED IN SURPRISE IN the kitchen doorway. "What on earth are you doing here, Harley?"
"Waiting for you." Jed Harley grinned as he rose to his feet. "And catching my breath. Grady didn't give me much time to get over here." His glance went to the small suitcase she was carrying. "You're traveling light."
"My computer is in the suitcase and my medical bag is in the hall. I don't intend to make this an extended trip. Where's Grady?"
"He went ahead to prepare the way. He asked me to make sure you got safely to Paris." He gave a half bow. "I'm to deliver you physically intact and emotionally serene. What do you think my chances are?"
"How do I know? Probably not very good. Maybe fifty-fifty. Serene isn't how anyone can describe my mood these days."
"Then I'll have to rely on keeping you alive." He took her suitcases. "Let's go. I don't think you're too pleased about me substituting for Grady and being on the move may keep you from venting. I have very tender feelings."
He was right. She had felt disappointed when she had come into the room and seen Harley sitting in the chair Grady had occupied. She supposed she should have been relieved. The time she had spent with Harley in the waiting room had been comforting. She had found him very sympathetic in his slightly off-kilter way. On the other hand, there was nothing comforting about Grady. She was wary all the time she was with him. She was always on edge and walking a fine line between suspicion and tentative trust. Lord, it had better be tentative. He had already admitted that he had not told her the entire truth. Yet the disappointment still existed. Perhaps it was because every moment with Grady was a challenge, the challenge he issued and the challenge his presence made her confront in herself.
Harley sighed. "You're not rushing to pat my head and swamp me with sympathy. Usually that tender-feelings line gets a more enthusiastic response."
"Bull." She smiled. "You don't need anyone to pat your head. You wouldn't know what to do with that kind of hogwash."
"I could learn. You're not buying it? I guess I'll have to try another tack. Let me think about it." He took her arm. "On the way to Stockholm."
"Stockholm? I thought we were going to Paris."
"We are. By way of Stockholm. Grady needs a little time to pave the way."
"And you don't want Molino to know where we're going if he's following us?"
"Oh, he's following us. But he won't be for long. Once we're in Stockholm, we'll vanish in the mist. Come on, we'll miss our British Air flight if we don't step on it." He smiled as he took her elbow. "I promise I'll make the flight interesting for you. I didn't get the chance to display my wit in that waiting room. I was too busy being kindly and consoling."
"You did a good job." And he was doing a good job right now. She realized she hadn't been nearly as nervous and apprehensive since he had appeared. Harley was not only distracting her, but his gentle touch nudging her toward the door was giving her the same sense of comfort and ease as it had in that hospital waiting room. "But you should stick to what you're good at. Admiring someone's wit is too exhausting for me at the moment."
"What a relief. The pressure is off."
And the pressure was off her too, she realized. She had a long flight to think about all the elements that had turned her life upside down.
And many, many hours to prepare herself for the next encounter with Grady.
Was that Grady's purpose in arranging for Harley to take her to Paris? Possibly.
"Let's go." She went ahead of Harley through the door. "The sooner we start, the sooner we get this over."
"SHE'S ON A FLIGHT TO STOCKHOLM," Peter Sienna said as he turned to Molino. "Darnell said the plane took off forty minutes ago."
"Was she with Grady?"
"No, Grady left her house almost two hours before she headed for the airport. Darnell thought you'd prefer that he stay and watch the Blair woman. She boarded the flight with Jed Harley, the man who was with her at the hospital."
Molino muttered a curse. "Which is the same as her being with Grady. Harley has been working for him for the past four years. Who do we have in Stockholm?"
"No one. But Max Wieder is in Berlin. Should I call him and tell him to go to Stockholm?"
Molino nodded. "I want him at the airport when that flight arrives. They may board another flight from there and I want to know where they're heading." He grimaced. "Besides, directly toward Grady. This has to be his work."
"He's trying to protect her?"
"Maybe. But he wouldn't have to send her out of the country to do that. I'd bet he has her working on the Ledger."
"Working?"
"If she's a freak like her mother, she may be able to help him find it."
"Oh, I see."
Sienna's expression was bland but Molino could sense his skepticism and even perhaps a touch of scorn. He knew Sienna didn't believe in all this psychic mumbo jumbo. He wished to hell he didn't. Even when Steven had died, Sienna had thought it had been caused by normal means. What did he know? He had been in Miami when Steven had been killed. But Molino had known it was that bitch. He had watched it happen.
The remembered pain washed over him again. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch. He had seen to it that she rotted in hell, but her daughter was still alive. And so were all the other ugly freaks who were like her.
But not for long.
He would ignore Sienna's scarcely hidden contempt as he had all these years. He could resent but not blame him for not believing that Steven had been a victim of that witch. Sometimes when Molino woke in the middle of the night he didn't believe it either.
But it was true until he could make it a lie. Until he could wipe out those freaks.
Until he could destroy Megan Blair and find the Ledger.
"WE'RE BEING FOLLOWED," HARLEY'S GAZE was fastened on the rear view mirror of the rental car they'd picked up at Stockholm airport. "Black Volvo. One man, I think. That probably means surveillance, not murder."
"How comforting," Megan murmured. "May I point out that there was just one man in the car that ran me off the highway?"
"Yes, but I wasn't with you." He grinned. "My reputation would be much more intimidating. I'd strike terror in their hearts."
"I don't find you intimidating."
"Because I've made an effort to tone down my aggressive nature for you." He glanced again at the rearview mirror. "I'm going to have to lose him. I don't want him on our tail when we reach the dock."
"Dock?"
"We're taking a speedboat to a private airport up the coast. We'll be flying to Paris from there." He pressed his foot on the accelerator. "Hold on. Here we go."
Hold on was right, she thought as Harley made an abrupt right down a narrow street and then screeched a left down the second boulevard.
"He's still with us," Harley murmured. "He's pretty good. It's going to take a little skill. What a pleasure…"
Pleasure? The next fifteen minutes were like riding a roller coaster, Megan thought desperately. By the time Harley was satisfied that they had lost the Volvo and they had arrived at the dock, Megan was dizzy and completely disoriented.
"Don't they have traffic police in Stockholm?" she asked as she got out of the car. "I'm surprised we didn't get stopped."
"Actually, Stockholm is very law-abiding and the traffic control is very strict here. Which is why we should jump in that speedboat and get out of town. I'm sure we've been reported a dozen times." He helped her into the boat. "I don't think Grady would like us to be detained."
"You should have thought of that before you started driving as if you were at the Indianapolis speedway."
"No, those drivers are skilled, but they have no spontaneity. I'm much better at street driving than they are. Did I mention I was once a stunt driver in Hollywood?"
"No, you didn't. You said you were once an EMT driver. What else?"
"Oh, all kinds of things," he said vaguely as he started the boat. "I like change." He shot her a glance. "And I'm not like Grady or you, who are shackled by that psychic stuff. I do what I like and let other people tote the heavy burdens."
"How nice for you. But I have no intention of being shackled by anything but my own will. I chose medicine and that's what I intend to do."
"Good for you." He gunned the boat. "Then I only have to feel sorry for Grady."
GRADY WAS WAITING FOR THEM when their chartered flight landed at a small airport in Chantilly, a short distance outside Paris.
Megan felt the familiar tension tighten her muscles as she watched him cross the tarmac toward their plane. The wind was blowing his jeans and navy blue sweater against his lean body and there was something… different about him. Before he had given the impression of contained power, but now his stride was purposeful and charged with energy. The power was present but it was no longer contained. It was channeled, flowing, ready to ignite. She instinctively braced herself as if to combat that energy.
"It's okay," Harley murmured, studying her expression. "You can handle him."
Of course, she could. And that change in Grady's demeanor could be her imagination. She nodded, rose to her feet, and headed for the exit. "No doubt about it. He just looks primed."
"He's in action mode. He usually does." Harley followed her down the aisle. "But maybe not this much…"
"Any problems?" Grady asked Harley as he helped Megan from the plane.
"A tail in Stockholm. I got rid of him."
"By driving like someone from an old Steve McQueen movie," Megan said dryly.
"I'm better than that," Harley protested. "That stunt driver would never have managed to shake that tail. He was pretty good." He glanced at Grady. "What next?"
"I've made reservations at an inn nearby. I've arranged for one of the cottages on the grounds. We'll stay there while you go check everything out."
Harley nodded. "I'm on my way. I'll rent a car and start tonight." He headed for the tiny terminal at the end of the runway. "Get her something to eat. She wouldn't have anything but peanuts on that flight from Atlanta." He grinned back over his shoulder at Megan. "I wouldn't want anyone to think I hadn't delivered you in tip-top shape. I take pride in my work."
"Whatever it is?" She made a face. "Now you're acting like a mother hen. I don't believe that was one of your previous occupations."
"God, no. Now that's scary. Much too much responsibility."
She found herself smiling as she watched him disappear into the terminal. Harley was odd and quirky and not like anyone she had ever met but she felt more at ease with him than she did with people she had known for years.
"You like him." Grady's gaze was fastened on her face. "It doesn't surprise me. Most people gravitate toward Harley."
"Gravitate? That's a strange word to use."
He shrugged. "It fits. He draws people to him like a sun does a planet."
"I think he'd laugh at that simile." She smiled. "Or maybe not. He'd probably be flattered and take it as his due."
"You did manage to get to know Harley well on the way here." He took her elbow and nudged her toward the waiting car. "I believe I'm a little jealous."
She shot him a skeptical glance. "And I believe you're lying to me. Why?"
"Because I'm detecting a hint of intimacy. For the past twelve years I've been the one living intimately with you." He stared directly into her eyes. "I don't like anyone else coming that close."
She felt a surge of heat move through her. His words had come out of nowhere, surprising her. So had her response to those words. "You may have been living intimately with me but it was completely one-sided. And do you think I haven't had genuine intimate relations with other men during those years?"
"Oh, yes. One of them was a lukewarm affair during your sophomore year in college. It didn't bother me at all. The other was with that young Latin boy. What was his name? Julio something." His lips thinned. "Now your going to bed with him bothered the hell out of me. You were feeling too much. It was a cross between screwing you myself and erotic voyeurism. It was disturbing as the devil. After that I had to find a way to close myself off from you during intimate moments."
Her cheeks were stinging as the color flooded them. "Are you trying to embarrass me? Stop talking like this. You're almost a stranger to me."
"Almost." He opened the door of the car for her. "But that's the key word. You knew me very well that summer on the beach."
"I thought I did." She got into the car. "What are you doing, Grady? What are you up to?"
"My, how suspicious you are. You said you wanted me to be honest and aboveboard with you. I'm merely obliging."
And exerting that charisma and sexuality that had drawn her to him all those years ago. "Why now?"
"Because we're going to be very close in the next few weeks. I want to get everything out in the open so that you can focus. I don't intend for anything to get in the way. There's only one element that could cause immediate trouble." He got in the car and started the engine. "And there can't be any distracting subtle undercurrents. Sometimes they can be worse than-" He broke off as he backed out of the parking space. "You don't want to hear this, so I'll cut it short. I want to go to bed with you. I'd like to do everything that Medera kid did to you and more. From the moment I caught sight of you at the zoo, I wanted it to happen. Hell, maybe before."
She couldn't speak for a moment. "You're right," she finally said unsteadily. "I don't want to hear this."
"I'm almost through. If you see me looking at you as if I want to jump you, it's because I do. You're not going to have to wonder or worry about what I want or what move I'll make if you give me a chance. That part of me is purely basic and entirely selfish." He drove out of the parking lot into the street. "On the other hand, your primary value to me isn't between your legs. I'm not going to jeopardize having your help just to drag you into bed."
She tried to keep her voice level. "Are you done?"
"Yes. Is that aboveboard enough for you?"
If you could call being in the middle of a red-hot oven above-board, she thought. The rawness of his words could have offended her. Instead, they had aroused her. She was tingling, short of breath, and her body was readying. Memories of the Grady she had known that summer and this other Grady; darker, more dangerous, more experienced, seemed to blend and become one.
"Frank enough." His dark eyes were glittering in his lean face, holding her own. Her mother had compared him to a Renaissance prince and she could see it at this moment. The sensual curve of his lips, the hollowed cheeks, the expression that was as knowing as it was passionately intense. She quickly looked away from him. "It doesn't bother me that you want to go to bed with me as long as you don't try to rape me. If you did, I'd knock your socks off. Now may we talk about something else?"
"By all means." He made a face as he glanced down at his lower body. "This conversation is making me very uncomfortable. But I thought it necessary to clear the air before we moved forward. You're too sensitive not to have become aware of what I was feeling."
Clear the air? The air between them was so charged with electricity that she could scarcely breathe. "For God's sake, can we stop talking about how horny you are and get down to why I'm here? I believe that's a little more important."
He stared at her in surprise and then threw back his head and laughed. "Sorry." His eyes were twinkling. "The state of our horniness is of utmost importance to men. It tends to dominate our world." He turned onto the highway. "I'll try not to bore you with the subject from now on. There's a restaurant up ahead. Suppose we stop and get dinner? Harley was very concerned about your lack of food intake. I'm sure he'll ask me about it when he reports in."
He had changed, turned down that sexuality as if it was a lamp that had burned too bright. It was still there, but she could ignore it now. "I could eat something. I was a little edgy flying to Stockholm."
"I know." He pulled off the road and parked in front of Le Petit Chat, a long, low-timbered building with diamond-shaped, beveled glass windows. "That's why I sent you with Harley instead of forcing you to cope with me."
"I guessed that was your reasoning." She suddenly turned to him. "It was reasoning, wasn't it? Just how much is normal and how much isn't?"
"Can I read your mind? No. Am I extraordinarily sensitive to what you're feeling? Absolutely. You've instinctively learned to block me from controlling you, but that sensitivity remains." He got out of the car and came around to open the passenger door for her. "But even if the link wasn't there, I would have known that you needed an escape from me. It's just good sense."
"You're telling me the truth?"
"I'm telling you the truth. I might omit telling you something, but it would be stupid of me to lie to you." He smiled. "Because you're extraordinarily sensitive to me too. It works both ways."
"Because of the link? I don't need you any longer to block the voices. Can't you just break the link?"
"I don't know. I don't know how it works. I've never linked with anyone before. That's why I didn't want to do it that night in the cave. I didn't have any choice." He helped her out of the car. "So we may be stuck with each other."
"I won't accept that."
"Why not? You weren't even aware of me for the past twelve years."
But she was acutely aware of him now. She couldn't separate the mental and physical, past and present, but there was definitely a disturbing bond. "I don't like Peeping Toms. Even if you can't read my mind, I don't appreciate having anyone able to tell what I'm feeling. My emotions are just as private as my thoughts, dammit."
"I'll try to keep that in mind." He opened the door of the restaurant. "In the meantime, you can practice your French by reading a menu and listening to the waiter extol the catch of the day."
THE CATCH OF THE DAY WAS SALMON and it was prepared with typical Gallic excellence.
"Dessert?" Grady asked as she finished the last bite and leaned back in her chair. "I'm sure Harley would endorse it." He grinned. "Though you probably don't need it. You ate like a truck driver."
"It was good. And I was hungry." She shook her head. "But no dessert. Coffee, maybe."
He motioned for the waiter. "Café,'s'il vous plaît."
"And I did manage to understand the waiter," Megan said as the server hurried away. "But why should I have to understand French? You're very fluent. You rattled off our dinner order as if you were Gallic-born and-bred."
"Because I don't know exactly how being a Listener works."
"What?" Her brows lifted. "There's something you don't know about all this psychic business?"
"Don't be sarcastic. Listeners are very rare. Even Michael Travis's group doesn't know much about them." He added, "And there's a hell of a lot I don't know about a hell of a lot of things."
"For instance?"
"If the voices are issuing from a French or German or Italian, will the echoes the Listener hears be in that language? Or are the echoes an emotional transmittal that are translated in the language and understanding of the Listener?"
"Oh, for heaven's sake." She frowned. "Am I to understand I'm supposed to not only listen to these damn voices but have to translate them?"
"We'll only know that when you try to access them." He was silent while the waiter poured their coffee and then discreetly vanished. "Regardless, you'll have to try."
"I don't have to do anything. It's my choice." She lifted her cup to her lips. "We made a deal. If this will help me get Molino, I'll try to do it."
"It will help you get Molino."
"Who am I supposed to hear?"
"Edmund Gillem."
She moistened her lips. "Is he… dead?"
"Yes, he was supposed to have killed himself six weeks ago."
"Supposed?"
"He's dead. He probably did commit suicide. But I need to know the circumstances."
"Why?"
"I'm searching for a Ledger. I believe he knew where it was."
"And you think I'll be able to find out?"
"There's a strong possibility." He paused. "Or I wouldn't make you go through this. It's going to be ugly."
"You're warning me."
"Yes. Just because I want you to do this is no sign I want you to go in blind. Be prepared, Megan."
She gazed down into the coffee in her cup. "That Ledger must be very important to you."
"It's important to quite a few people. Do you want me to tell you about it?"
She thought about it. Then she shook her head emphatically. "I don't want to know anything about it. I don't want to be involved in what you're doing. I want to find out what you want me to find out and then go after Molino."
"Ah, I see. You want to stand apart until you can go in for the kill?"
She flinched. "If that's the way you want to put it."
"It's the way it is." He shrugged. "And I can't blame you. You're still teetering on the bank of the quicksand and trying not to fall. It's perfectly natural to try to protect yourself as much as possible." He gestured to the waiter. "Are you ready to leave? The inn is about twenty miles from here and it seems pretty comfortable. At any rate, we'll only be there for one night. Providing Harley does his job and we get you in safely."
"Why shouldn't it be safe?"
"I just like to be certain. There's a possibility Molino might have staked the place out or hired someone to watch or report."
"I can't believe he's expecting a Listener. That's too weird."
"No, he was expecting me. But I managed to slip in and out in Rome without him knowing I was on the grounds."
"What grounds? Where are we going?"
He threw down cash on the waiter's tray and rose to his feet, "The circus."