Keep Me Safe (9 page)

She nodded. “For the most part, yes. Today is the closest I believe he's come. Or maybe he's merely been watching me all this time. Toying with me. And then today . . . ​when I touched the handle of the door to my hotel room, his imprint was all over it. I felt a black wave of such hatred and violence that it staggered me. I was so shaken, so terrified that, before I could flee, he threw open the door and grabbed me. I was able to fight him off and escape but not before he gave me this,” she said, rubbing absently over her bruised jaw.

Caleb's scowl grew even bigger, but he tried to temper his reaction so she'd continue talking. He needed to know exactly what they were up against without him going off his hinges and scaring the hell out of her.

“You don't think I'm crazy for saying he speaks to me in my dreams and that it's not just my worst fears manifesting themselves in my subconscious?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Ramie. For the hundredth time I don't think you're crazy. It would be the height of hypocrisy to discount anything, considering my own sister has psychic abilities and you certainly possess them yourself. So it certainly wouldn't be a stretch to say that it's entirely likely—even probable—that there are others out there who also have special abilities.”

She hesitated a brief moment, licking her lips as if readying herself for what she was about to say. “What ability does your sister have?”

He could hardly refuse to tell her—to trust her—when he demanded her trust and for her to tell him everything about her situation. Even if he was breaking a sacred vow between him and his brothers and Tori.

“She has visions. Of the future. Of what is yet to come. They aren't always clear in their meaning. Sometimes she doesn't
know
their meaning until what she sees comes to pass. It's deeply upsetting to her because she believes she could prevent bad things from happening.”

“That must be terribly frustrating,” she said, sympathy brimming in her voice. Sorrow was an ache in her eyes, making the smoky gray darker, as though shadows of the past were flickering through her mind.

“At least she doesn't have to endure the pain and tragedy of others. In that regard she's fortunate. Unlike you, who suffers right along with every victim that you're helping. You see everything.
Feel
everything.”

She let out a sigh and then sank back onto the edge of the bed, defeat evident in her posture. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. “I should have never asked for your help. I'm putting you and your family in unimaginable danger. Because he'll stop at nothing in his effort to capture me. Life means nothing to him. He'd take out any obstacle to his ultimate goal as if it were only a simple annoyance, like killing flies.”

“Yes, you should most certainly have asked for my help,” he argued. “And I'm going to help you, Ramie. I
will
protect you. This goes beyond the debt that I and my family owe you. I will not allow an innocent woman—I don't care
who
she is—to suffer a fate worse than death.”

A flicker of hope lightened the stormy gray of her eyes. She stared at him as if afraid to believe the unbelievable.

“You can trust me,” he said. “You touched me, gauged my intent. You know I'm not . . . ​evil. So you have to know I'd never hurt you.”

“I do know,” she whispered.

“Then I suggest we move and move quickly. He's not far from here and if he does truly have a psychic link to you, he'll know you're still close. The longer we stay here, the more opportunity we provide him to find you.”

Fear and panic made her tremble, her shoulders and hands shaking. Then she simply nodded her agreement.

Caleb picked up his cell phone and made a series of calls, one to ensure his pilot had fueled the plane and was ready to go at a moment's notice. Then he called Antonio and told him to meet him outside Ramie's room so they could provide a solid barrier around her the short distance from the hotel room to the car waiting downstairs.

When he was finished, he simply held out his hand to Ramie, a signal that it was time to leave. Heaving a deep breath, she slid her fingers over his palm and allowed him to help her to her feet.

“You ready?” he asked.

She squared her shoulders resolutely and then nodded. “I'm ready.”

“Then let's do this,” he said.

TEN

RAMIE
studied Caleb from her position in the plane. He seemed tense and ill at ease. But then wasn't she a stark reminder of what had happened to tear his family apart a year ago? She felt horrible for bringing that all back. But she was truly scared. She knew she'd run out of time and that her stalker was tiring of the game. That he was ready for the final chapter in his morbid fantasy of killing her.

No, she couldn't get a solid read on him, but when he slipped into her mind, she sensed frustration. Impatience. It was why she knew he'd established a link to her, one that she couldn't control. He remained there, a dark shadow in the deepest recesses of her consciousness. He lived to make her life hell. For her to be afraid every minute of the day, both awake and in her dreams.

Never before had she come up against something like this. She tracked evil, could feel it—and the victims' pain. But no one had ever held such a hold on her mind. Never before had she experienced the kind of helplessness—and resignation—that she was feeling now.

He was controlling her. Not physically.
Mentally
.

The day she'd helped locate his victim, when she'd slipped into his mind and the mind of his victim, he'd gotten a lock on her. A reversal of roles because usually she was the one creeping into someone's mind. Not the other way around.

What was the extent of his psychic abilities? Was it how he'd controlled his victims in the past? How he'd been able to lure them by controlling their minds? And was that why he was so frustrated by her, because she wasn't as easily controlled as his other victims? Was it why he viewed her as the ultimate challenge? His ultimate victory?

And then a horrifying thought occurred to her. He had been able to track her as surely as she tracked others. What if he went after Caleb's sister, who'd already endured unimaginable horror? What if he went after Caleb or his brothers? Was she putting them all in terrible danger by association?

“What the hell are you thinking?” Caleb demanded.

She lifted her startled gaze to his to see he was staring intently at her, a frown marring his features.

“You look scared to death.”

“What if I'm bringing pain and death to
your
doorstep, to your family and the people you love?” she whispered. “You're risking your sister, your brothers,
yourself
, by helping me. I'm a reminder of all your sister endured. Is she mentally prepared for that? Isn't there somewhere safe I can go that's away from you and your family?”

It was apparent he had no liking for what she'd said, but one of them had to face reality. She appreciated that he'd responded so quickly, and that he'd taken steps to protect her. But helping her didn't mean he had to become personally involved.

She sat forward, her expression earnest. “Think about it, Caleb. You have no idea what he's capable of. You didn't see or feel what he did to his victims. I did. I live with that reminder every single day and know that he's planned a lot worse for me. I could never live with myself if you or your family became collateral damage in his quest for me. Or that he knew by hurting you, he hurt me.”

Caleb reached across to fold his hand over hers. Warmth traveled up her arm, filling her with undeniable heat. She snatched her hand back, shocked that what she was feeling was . . . ​
desire
. She'd felt the same reaction in the hotel room earlier, but hadn't recognized it for what it was. Now that she was somewhat removed from the hysteria of that moment, she could see that there had been something from the very moment he'd walked through her door.

Judging by his own reaction, he was just as aware as she had been that something had sparked between them. He frowned over her withdrawal but retreated, moving his hand back to his lap.

“I need you to trust me, Ramie. And I understand in your position that it's hard for you to trust anyone. Because you see the bad in people. But you've touched me, felt no sign of evil. So I hope that means you
can
trust me. The very best place for you to be is in my home, where I can be sure of your safety. I have security measures most government facilities don't have.”

At her doubtful look he sighed. “Besides, I want you with me. There hasn't been a day in the last year that I haven't thought about you. And it's not just guilt. Or remorse for what I did to you. There's something between us, something beyond a passing acquaintance. You felt it. I felt it. And I'd like very much for you to trust me and to see what develops between us.”

Her mouth rounded in shock. He was talking about a possible
relationship
? He couldn't possibly mean what she thought he was saying. For one, she didn't
do
relationships. It was impossible when she sensed the worst in others, never the best.

And then there was the fact that they didn't even know each other. Their only connection was one steeped in blood, violence, a bond she hadn't wanted but had been forced to endure. It certainly wasn't the basis for any relationship, much less one that involved her.

And yet he was right about one thing at least. She had touched him. Had felt the very heart of him and he wasn't evil. But did that mean she could trust him? That she could ever let her guard down enough to let him truly see
her
? Could she allow him past her carefully erected barriers to the very heart and soul of her?

At times she felt as though she'd lost herself years ago. Or perhaps she never truly existed. She wasn't capable of having relationships. She was too fucked up, and who would ever possibly care about her or love her with all the baggage that accompanied her? Someone would have to be a masochist to sign up for that kind of clusterfuck.

“I'm not capable of having a relationship,” she said in a low, embarrassed voice. “I have too many issues. Issues that most men aren't exactly lining up to take on.”

He gave her an impatient look, mild exasperation in his eyes.

“I'm not most men, Ramie. And hell, I don't know exactly where this is headed either. I sure as hell don't have all the answers. All I know is that when I look at you, when I touch you, something happens to me. I get all twisted up on the inside and it suddenly becomes imperative that I be near you. I have no explanation for it. You have no idea what it did to me when I realized what I'd forced you to do, made you experience every single thing my sister went through. God. That has weighed on my mind for the last
year
. Knowing that by saving my sister, I hurt an innocent. The very last person who deserved what I did to you.”

She glanced away, the sting of tears burning her lids. Why couldn't she just be normal like everyone else? She'd never asked for her gift—or rather curse. At times she wished that each case would be her last, that somehow she'd have a mental overload and burn herself out, effectively ending the ability to track evil.

It made her selfish. Isn't that what Caleb had accused her of in the beginning? Of being selfish for not being willing to help him find his sister? But she couldn't continue doing this forever. Not when every single victim still burned brightly in her mind with no way to rid herself of the terrible memories.

And her dreams. God, the dreams. Not only did she have a maniac taunting her in her sleep, but there were also all the others, a litany of blood, pain and death. When would it end? Would it
ever
end?

She glanced helplessly back at Caleb, not even knowing what to say to him, how to respond to his impassioned statement. Did he merely need absolution for what he considered his sin against her? Was it guilt driving him?

“I won't push you, Ramie,” Caleb said in a low tone. “I just want the chance to prove to you that we may well have something worth exploring. We weren't brought together by the best of circumstances, but it doesn't mean that the future isn't what we make it.”

“I'm broken,” she choked out. “On the inside. I'm broken where it counts. I'm not even sure I'm capable of love or even
like
. I have no concept of what lovers do. How they're supposed to act. All I've ever known is violence and death. Those are things I understand. Everything else? A normal life, a normal relationship? I can't give you those things. And it's not that I don't want to. God, I'd give anything to be able to enjoy what everyone else takes for granted. Happiness, love, relationships,
dating
, for God's sake. I don't know how to act in social or intimate situations. Why the hell would you sign up for that?”

He moved from his seat and knelt down in front of her so they were eye level. Then he simply curled his hand around her nape and pulled her toward him, his lips pressing against hers.

It was an electric shock to her system. She was assailed by desire, lust, all the things she'd never before experienced. It was overwhelming. She had no idea what she was supposed to do in return.

It turned out she didn't need to know. Caleb took over, brushing his tongue over her lips, coaxing them to open. When they did, his tongue flitted inside, sliding erotically over hers.

He fed hungrily at her mouth, deepening the kiss until she couldn't breathe. She put her hands on his chest, intending to push him away, but instead they remained there, her palms against the muscled wall.

Heat scorched her hands, the very hands she used to tap into the minds of others. But all she felt was answering desire—and determination—that she not push him away. Her fingers flexed, pressing into the solid wall of flesh. Never had she been able to enjoy something as simple as touching another person.