Silver Master (22 page)

In retaliation, he caught her wrists and anchored them in one hand above her head. She taunted him with a sexy, seductive smile that let him know more clearly than words that as far as she was concerned, she had won the small battle.

He kissed the smile off her mouth, leaving her gasping for air and twisting to get free. He moved his hand down the length of her body, over her breasts, past her soft belly. He found the wellspring of her damp heat and explored the swollen flesh until she went wild.

He could have sworn that invisible energy flared between them. In some way he could not explain, he was resonating with her on the psychic as well as the physical plane.

Her release gave him more satisfaction than anything he had ever experienced before in his life. He had to cover her mouth with his own to stifle her little scream of pleasure so that it would not reverberate downstairs and arouse Betty Furnell's curiosity.

When the last of the tight little shivers inside her was finished, he released her wrists. She immediately rolled him onto his back and took him inside her.

“My turn to be on top,” she whispered, eyes alight with sultry challenge.

She was wet and tight and welcoming. Nothing had ever felt so good.

His climax hit him in surging waves that dazzled his senses a thousand times more than any dose of alien psi energy ever could.

Perfect.

AN HOUR LATER SHE WAS IN THE KITCHEN MAKING
breakfast. She had showered and dressed in a pair of snug, dark brown pants and a crisp white shirt. A brown head-band restrained her freshly washed hair.

Araminta and Max watched the breakfast preparations from the top of the refrigerator. Both were munching slices of fresh, sweet amberglow melon.

Davis emerged from the bedroom hallway, dressed once more in the black T-shirt and black trousers. The masculine satisfaction in his eyes made Celinda grow warm all over again.

He watched her pull the pan off the heat. “Trig said you think the relic could be used as some sort of mind control device.”

So much for cozy chitchat. She braced herself for the battle.

“I think it's possible, yes, especially when it's pumped up with alien psi underground.” She divided the scrambled eggs onto two plates. “I have a hunch that it requires someone with my type of talent or something similar to resonate with it, however. That's why it sat unnoticed in the Guild vault all these months.”

“Trig also said that you want to see it turned over to a medical research lab. But if it really is a potential weapon, it's better off under lock and key in the Guild vault.”

She put the pan down and looked at him. “We're in dangerous territory, and there are no guarantees. But if the device is turned over to a reputable lab with a lot of fanfare and media attention instead of being handled secretly by the Guild, it is far more likely that it will be studied with a view toward its therapeutic properties.”

“How do you know that?”

“The medical world has a long history of working with medicines and machines that can kill as well as cure. The Guild will think only in terms of using it as a weapon.”

Davis was silent for a while.

“You may be right,” he said eventually.

“I know I'm right. This is the only way to go, Davis. You have to trust me.”

“I'm going to call Wyatt as soon as we finish breakfast, but I can't promise you that he'll see things your way.”

“I think he will be reasonable if you remind him of a couple of small details,” she said quietly.

“What details?”

“First, if he tries to take that relic without my permission, I'm going to go straight to the media and put out the word that the Cadence Guild discovered an alien mind control device and is conducting secret research on it.”

Davis wasn't impressed. “Wyatt can handle the media. Who do you think the reporters are going to believe? A disgraced matchmaker from Frequency City or the head of the local Guild?”

She winced. “That was cold, but you're right. Okay, that brings us to the second little detail.”

“Which is?”

“I just told you that I don't think there are many people around who can figure out how to work that device. That's probably why Araminta wanted me to have it in the first place. She must have sensed that I could resonate with it. I wouldn't be surprised if she thought it would make a nice toy for me.”

They both looked at Araminta, who was unruffled by the attention.

Celinda took a deep breath and prepared to play her high card. “You can inform Mercer Wyatt that I will cooperate in research on the relic only if that research is conducted in a respectable medical lab and if the results of that research are made public.”

“Well, hell,” Davis said, stone-faced. “Nothing I like better than starting off the day by blackmailing my one and only client.”

Some of the tension she had been feeling receded.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

“Don't thank me. This is a long way from a done deal. And even if Wyatt agrees to make arrangements for a medical lab to study the device, you'll still have to figure out how to convince Araminta to go along with the plan.”

They both looked at Araminta again.

Araminta muttered something. Max promptly scampered down onto the counter and pried the lid off the cookie jar. He removed a cookie and drifted back up to his perch. Araminta took the cookie from him and began to nibble daintily.

“We both know that dust bunnies have some psychic qualities,” Celinda said quietly. “I'm hoping that if she senses that I really don't want that relic, she'll lose interest in it.”

“Sure about that?”

“No,” she admitted.

Davis sat down behind the counter and picked up his coffee mug. “Maybe you can distract her with a really big wedding cake. She didn't get a chance to finish the last one.”

“That's a thought.”

“Something else we should talk about,” he said.

“What's that?”

“You can't go to work today or any other day until this situation is under control.”

“Davis, my job is very important to me.”

“I realize that. But keeping you safe is my first priority. I can't protect you and work on this case at the same time, not if you insist on going into your office at Promises, Inc.”

“But Mrs. Takahashi won't understand.”

“She will when I call her and explain that this is Guild business.”

He was right. Morosely she surveyed the eggs and toast. “My worst nightmare. I've become Guild business.”

He cocked a brow. “Your
worst
nightmare?”

She sighed. “Okay, not my worst nightmare. But a nightmare, nonetheless.”

She sat down beside him. They ate their eggs and toast in what she thought was a surprisingly companionable silence, given that three minutes ago they had been locked in a contest of wills. Maybe it was the early-morning sex.

“Probably the early-morning sex,” Davis said. “It seems to put me in a good mood.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Don't tell me you can read minds. Going invisible I can deal with. Mind reading is a deal breaker.”

“I can't read minds, but sometimes I'm a really good guesser. That's what makes me such a hotshot private investigator.”

“No doubt.”

Someone knocked on the door.

“I'll get it,” Davis said.

He eased himself off the stool and went into the small front hall. Celinda listened to him greet their visitor.

“Good morning, Mrs. Furnell,” he said. “You're looking very bright and cheerful today.”

“Thank you.” Betty sounded pleased. “Everyone always says that orange is my color.”

“Everyone is right,” Davis said.

“I wondered if I could borrow a little milk for my cereal. I ran out, and it's too early to go to the store.”

Celinda stifled a sigh. “Come on in, Mrs. Furnell. I'll get the milk for you.”

Betty appeared, beaming. “Thank you, dear.” She was, indeed, very bright and cheerful looking in an orange track suit trimmed with purple racing stripes and a pair of neon orange running shoes.

“How was the wedding?” she asked.

“It was very pink and very lovely.” Celinda slid off the stool and went around the counter. “My sister looked beautiful.”

“You must show me the pictures.”

Celinda tried and failed to resist the good manners impulse. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“I would love one, dear. Thank you.” Betty smiled benignly at Davis. “The two of you came in quite late last night. I thought I heard a third person, too.”

“My assistant,” Davis said. “He had an important message for me.”

“I see.” She beetled her brows at him. “I must say, it was an odd time to deliver a message. He stayed for quite a while, didn't he? I'm sure I heard him leave around four.”

Something clicked inside Celinda's head. She looked up from the mug that she was filling with coffee.

“You never miss a trick here, do you, Mrs. Furnell?”

Betty winked. “Not much gets by me, dear, and that's a fact. This is a very quiet place. Sound carries.”

It hadn't been all that quiet recently, Celinda thought. Whoever had searched her apartment the other night must have made some noise. Furniture had been turned over and drawers had been emptied in what had appeared to be a frenzied haste.

Celinda glanced at Davis, who responded by raising his brows in silent question.

She turned back to Betty.

“Mrs. Furnell, did you by any chance hear some unusual noises from this apartment three nights ago?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Celinda saw Davis go very still.

But it was Betty's reaction that startled Celinda. First, she went completely blank, as though utterly baffled by the question. Then she stiffened. Her fingers fluttered nervously.

“No,” she said quickly. “No, I didn't hear a thing.”

Celinda caught the sudden flaring of agitated psi energy. Betty was experiencing a sudden amount of stress.

“Are you certain?” Celinda pressed gently.

“Absolutely certain. I heard nothing.” Betty frowned. “I don't allow any loud noises from this apartment. Told you that when you took the place. I didn't see anything, either.”

Celinda exchanged glances with Davis.

“She didn't ask you if you'd seen anything, Mrs. Furnell,” Davis said. “Celinda just wondered if you'd heard anything.”

“Didn't see anything or hear anything.” Betty was becoming more anxious by the second. She put her fingertips to her temple. “I'm getting a headache. I don't want to talk about this any longer.”

Celinda took one of her hands. Betty's violently disturbed psi energy flooded her senses. Up on the refrigerator, Araminta and Max stopped whispering sweet nothings to each other and fixed Betty with alert, attentive expressions.

“It's all right, Mrs. Furnell,” Celinda said quietly. “I understand that you didn't hear or see anything the other night. There's no problem. You can relax.”

Betty looked at her with a dark, haunted expression. “I didn't hear or see anything,” she repeated, desperate to be believed.

“I know,” Celinda said.

Betty seemed to take some comfort from the reassurance, but she did not return to her previously cheerful, inquisitive state.

“I should go downstairs,” she said, her voice dulled with pain. “I need something for my head.”

“Mrs. Furnell, I might be able to do something about that headache if you'll allow me.”

“Thank you so much, dear. I would really appreciate that. I rarely get headaches. But for the past couple of days they've been bothering me. Every time I think about—” She broke off, blinking in confusion.

“Think about what?” Celinda probed cautiously.

“I'm not sure.” Betty shook her head, bewildered and frightened. “I get them when I think about
something
. But I can't recall what that something is, if you see what I mean.”

“Was it something that happened the other evening?” Celinda asked.

“No, nothing happened the other night. It was just a dream.” Betty's psi energy kicked up violently again. “Did you say you had some pills, dear?”

“I think I may have something more effective.” Celinda smiled encouragingly. “Will you allow me to use it?”

“Yes, anything. I can't stand this feeling. It's worse than a headache. To tell you the truth, I'm afraid I might be going senile.”

Celinda released her hand. She raised the plastic lid on the cookie jar, reached inside, and took out the ruby amber relic.

“What's that?” Betty asked, frowning with curiosity.

“One of Araminta's toys.”

She touched Betty's hand again and rezzed a little energy through the relic.

Instantly she could clearly detect Betty's sparking, flashing psychic wave patterns. It was relatively easy to identify the most disturbed rhythms and trace them back to a distinct location on the spectrum.

Cautiously she went to work, soothing and strengthening the chaotic pulses until they resumed a normal rhythm.

Betty grew visibly calmer. Her distraught expression cleared miraculously.

“How do you feel?” Celinda asked.

“Much better.” Betty blinked and then smiled. “My headache seems to be gone. That's amazing. What did you do, dear?”

“It's a form of psychic meditation that I've been studying lately,” Celinda said, keeping things vague. “It's supposed to be very relaxing.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I understand why it might work on you, since you're the one studying the technique, but why did it work on me?”

“I'm not sure,” Celinda admitted. “The instructor said it has an effect on others around the practitioner.”

“I suppose it makes sense,” Betty said. “Psi energy does radiate, doesn't it? Everyone knows that some people, such as myself, who are highly intuitive, often notice when others are upset or depressed.”

“Exactly,” Celinda said. “Now, do you remember if you heard or saw anything unusual from this apartment three nights ago?”

“Oh, no, dear, I'm sure that nothing out of the ordinary—” Betty broke off abruptly. Her eyes widened with indignation. “Good heavens, the
burglars
. How could I have forgotten about those two dreadful men? I was going to call the police but—” She halted again, looking baffled. “But I didn't.”

Davis turned slightly on the stool and rested one arm on the counter. “Why didn't you call the police, Mrs. Furnell?”

“Why, because it was all a dream.” Anger flashed across her face. “No, that's not right. I didn't call the police because that dreadful man told me that it was a dream. And I
believed
him. He said that if I tried to remember the dream in detail I would get a terrible headache.”

“Can you tell us exactly what happened?” Davis asked.

“I heard noises from up here. Thought the two of you had come home early and were, well, you know.” Betty waved one hand. “Doing what couples do. But after a while, I realized that something was not right. I came up here with a key and opened the door. There were two men in here. I knew that they were burglars and tried to back out, but they had heard my key in the lock.”