Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“Leave it out for a few minutes just to make certain the glue is going to hold. If it does, you can put it back in your jacket and leave it. If not, we’ll apply a thin layer to ensure it stays. It should be fine though.”
She came closer and looked over his shoulder to see the screenshot on his phone. “It’s in code.”
“I’ll run it through our computer.”
At once, her lungs began to burn. Her heart began to pound. He couldn’t do that. “No. Absolutely not, Gideon. That could get me killed. If you do that, anyone with access to your computers will see it too. Can’t you just find a way to do it yourself?”
Gideon sighed and waved her back toward the couch. “Sweetheart, we need to do some talking. I don’t think you really understand what it is I do, and you need to. There are things in my past that you need to know that concern you.”
“Maybe you should send that screenshot to me and permanently delete it from your phone before we start this talk. At the end of it, I can send it back to you.” Rory had no idea why she made the challenge to him, but she suddenly felt very threatened.
His dark brows drew together. “What’s wrong, Red?”
“I don’t know. Something. You tell me. Suddenly, I just feel something is wrong.” Her phone vibrated, she looked down, and the screenshot was there. Gideon held up his phone and the image disappeared.
Rory breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
He wrapped his hand around hers and tugged until she went back to the sofa with him. “I want to talk to you and hopefully make everything clearer for you. And I want you to know about me, about who and what I am and what I do.”
Rory wanted to know everything about him. She’d talked a lot about herself. Too much. He hadn’t talked much about himself. She knew more about him from Javier than from him. She sat beside him, just as she’d done before, turning to face him, pulling up her legs onto the cushions beneath her skirt, the way she did to feel comfortable.
There was still that little nagging doubt in her gut, a worrisome flag she ignored because she wanted this to go well. She wasn’t the best at relationship talks, so she was going to keep her mouth shut as much as possible and let him do the talking. She hoped to find out about his childhood and his career.
“Do you remember when we talked about tattoos a few nights ago, and you showed me yours? I have one on my arm.” He pulled his shirt off and turned his shoulder toward her. “All of my brothers and sisters wear this symbol on them.”
Rory looked at his biceps. He had two tattoos. She knew the significance of the top one instantly, but she didn’t know why. The spot above her temple gave off the weird sensation so strong that she wanted to gag. She pressed her finger to it hard in an effort to keep from getting sick. She had to look away. The moment she did, he pulled his shirt back on.
“You can see them.”
“I’m not blind.”
“Do you recall ever hearing the term ‘GhostWalker’?”
“No. I’m not really much for watching television, Gideon. I don’t know where you’re going with this.”
“You know you have some psychic abilities, right? You know I do. That’s part of the connection we have. I have a way with birds.”
“You did send the owls to wake me up.” She pounced on that. She had known.
“That’s how you know when something is wrong with me, and I know something is wrong with you. That’s part of the reason we bonded so quickly. We have strong psychic chemistry as well as physical and emotional.”
“That makes sense.” She believed in psychic gifts. Some people had them stronger than others, and some people worked at developing theirs. She had deliberately tried, mostly because she had so much time on her hands being alone so much.
“Have you ever heard of a man named Dr. Peter Whitney?”
He spoke quietly. Gently. His eyes were focused, intense, his gaze never leaving hers. She felt as if he held her captive, refusing to allow her to look away from him. He held one of her hands, his thumb sliding back and forth over her inner wrist right over her suddenly pounding pulse.
The name felt like a punch to her midsection, hard and mean. She hunched, trying to absorb the shock of pain. The spot above her temple wiggled and spasmed, desperate to slip off. The combination made her dizzy. It was difficult to breathe, and black spots began to appear in front of her eyes.
“Rory. Keep looking at me.”
She heard him calling her name from a distance, but he sounded very far away.