Cipher (9 page)

A cold one, since his body didn’t seem to have gotten the memo about recovery time and how he shouldn’t have a throbbing erection right after an orgasm, even if he was relatively young and virile.

That’s what you get for dry humping an empath, dumbass,
he told himself viciously as he chattered under the frigid spray.
A change of clothes and a cold shower.
It sounded like the punch line to a bad joke, the kind that didn’t make anyone laugh.

His arousal had subsided by the time he climbed out, toweled off and dressed in clean clothes, but he took a moment anyway, because what came next was more unappealing than leaving the bathroom to talk to Kat.

He stared into the mirror and forced himself to go over the possibilities. She could tell him that it was a mistake, that a moment of horny weakness had made her stumble into his arms. Or—
oh God
—even worse, that it wasn’t right because she was still tangled up with Miguel Mendoza, though she’d talked like that shit was over.

Do it or quit, but you gotta pick one.
Alec’s words, echoing in his head. Sound advice, except that he was pretty sure Alec would kick his ass for about a dozen different things he’d done in the last two days.

“Fuck it,” he whispered, and shoved open the bathroom door.

Kat was huddled on the couch in the other room, one leg tucked under her and the other foot bouncing nervously on the floor.

Her gaze landed on him for a split second before skittering away. “There’s so much stuff, I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you know about the creepy dark side of the psychic community.”

“What you’ve told me, or Derek.”

“Derek doesn’t know much of it. He
couldn’t
, or he really would have locked me in a closet until I was twenty. Empaths…” She dragged in a deep breath and let it out in a shaky sigh. “Lots of psychics are in danger during their formative years. Lots of us have powers that people would love to exploit. But empaths who don’t have fully developed protections are…vulnerable.”

It sounded like Ben’s warning. “Are you talking about the fact that there are people who would use them?”

“I’m talking about
how
people use us. If you get ahold of a strong receptive empath when they’re young, or you can manage to break an adult, we’re trainable. A patient person can make us love anyone, or anything. And I don’t mean make us
think
we love it. It’s real.”

“I don’t understand.”

Kat met his gaze. Held it. “They call it imprinting. Not like baby ducklings or anything, though. They’re not going for filial loyalty. Not usually. Because people are perverts and most empaths aren’t really useful as weapons. But if you strip an empath’s shields and flood them with pleasure, after enough time they’ll associate whatever the hell you’re doing to them with pleasure. Custom-built sex slaves.”

Andrew dropped to a chair. “People don’t really do that shit, do they?” Even as he asked, he knew it was a stupid question. If there was a way to do what she described, of course people would exploit it.

A weak smile curled her lips, and it looked forced. “Supernatural world kinda blows, doesn’t it? So much power, and people misuse it to find creative and more disgusting ways to get laid.”

“Yeah.” And that didn’t explain why she was telling him any of it. “You’re not trying to say this has something to do with me, are you?”

The smile faded. “That’s the scary, bad side of imprinting. The malicious side. But it can happen naturally too. We can grow around someone who’s important to us. Become what they need…and need what they want.”

“Oh.” He leaned back instinctively. “You think that might happen with me.”

Pain tightened her eyes, and she looked away. “No, I’ve got solid training now. Good shields. Someone would have to break me first. But I didn’t have those shields when I met you, and I was young. Infatuated. In love.”

How could hearing that still hurt so much? He was so busy quelling that pain he almost missed the import of her words. “When you met me.”

“I don’t usually have crazy porn-worthy orgasms from making out.” Her voice twisted, turned dry. Morbidly amused. “And trust me, it wasn’t because Miguel sucked in bed. But it didn’t matter how well he brought it, he was never…”

You.
Andrew rose and took a step back. “When? When did this happen?”

Kat slashed a look at him, eyes narrowed and mouth tight. “I don’t know if it happened at all. There’s no test. It’s not a switch or a spell. We all change because of the people in our lives. I just…change on a more fundamental level.”

“It’s got to be reversible.”

“Yeah, maybe with a time machine,” she snapped.

He’d hurt her feelings, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Don’t get snotty, Kat. I’m not worried about myself here. This isn’t fair to you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest in a blatantly defensive gesture. “Yeah, I was scared before you started backing away like you’re afraid I’m about to rape you. How much scarier do you think this is for me when you act that disgusted?”

The fear he’d been holding inside exploded in an unstoppable rush. “I’m not disgusted, I’m fucking freaked out. Can you give me a goddamn minute to process this?”

Kat rose stiffly. “You had a right to know, so I told you. But I don’t know if that’s what this is, or if I’m bent in some other way. Maybe I have a kink for shapeshifters who blew me off.”

She couldn’t have meant to marginalize what they’d shared, but he closed his eyes and turned away anyway. “Thanks a lot.”

Her breath hissed out. “I’m sorry. My shields aren’t—I didn’t mean—” Moments passed in silence. Then, “Sometimes pride is all I have left.”

“After
what
?” he asked. “Did I take that much from you? Did I hurt you that much?”

“I loved you. I
killed
for you. And I was never what you needed.”

It stopped him cold, and he turned to face her again. “If that’s what you think happened between us, then you don’t get it at all, Kat.”

“Maybe not.” She looked tired. Older than her years, her blue eyes numb. “But you needed time. Space. Alec to help you adjust, and Derek to be your friend. Anna, even if it was only for a while. You never needed me. Not once.”

He’d needed so many things from her, but one most of all—her safety. It had just turned out to be the one thing he couldn’t personally ensure, the one reason he’d had to push her away. “You’re so sure of that, and there’s nothing I can say, is there? Not a single damn thing.”

“You don’t
say
you need someone. You just do, or you don’t.” She rubbed at her face and dropped back to the couch so fast the springs creaked. “We can drown in words, and it’s never going to help. We’re both wrong, and we’re both right. That’s life. A big fucking mess.”

“You’re right about one thing.” The admission came grudgingly, but he forced it out. “Talking isn’t going to get us anywhere, not now. Not like this. So we may as well order room service and rest up for tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She looked down. Her fingers closed on the hem of her baby-blue tank top, folding and unfolding it over and over. “I should have told you before. I would have, if I’d thought it was a possibility. And it might not be it, but if it is…” She swallowed. Cleared her throat. “I’m not your responsibility.”

He tried to stay silent, but it didn’t work. “Bullshit.”

Kat didn’t look up. “I don’t want to be your responsibility.”

It didn’t change the facts, not for either of them. “I get it.”

“Do you?” Her hands stilled. “I don’t want to be your
responsibility
.”

“Yeah.” He understood better than she knew. “You don’t want that to be
why
. I get it.”

“Okay.” She rose without looking at him. “Would you order me a cheeseburger? I need to check my mail and see if Ben’s found anything else.”

A big fucking mess.
“Yeah, okay. Cheeseburger.”

Her eyes met his for just a moment. There was longing there, and pain, a weary resignation he could almost feel as she turned toward the bedroom.

Andrew snatched up the room-service menu and cursed viciously. A big fucking mess, just like she’d said, and nothing but time would help.

If anything does.

Chapter Six

The safety deposit box looked mundane—until you touched it. It zinged with energy, and the lock refused to yield, even with the key.

Andrew sighed. “If it weren’t practically vibrating with magic, I’d say maybe we had the wrong key.”

Frustrated, Kat twisted the key again. “Do you think it’s a spell? A charm?”

“It has to be. The question is, what’s the trigger?”

Whatever it was, the knowledge had died with the woman who’d given them the key. “Words, maybe? Or…well, it couldn’t be anything I wouldn’t have access to, unless my mom expected me to find a spell caster.” Abandoning the key, she ran her fingers along the metal edges of the box’s lid, tracing every irregularity until she found a small indentation.

She tried to wedge one finger under the edge, but a quick tug proved that the metal was unyielding—and unforgiving. Pain zipped up her hand as her fingertip slipped over a sharp spot.

Magic crackled through the small room and then vanished.

The lock clicked, and Andrew reached over and lifted the lid. One edge bore coppery traces of her blood. “I guess that answers it. Are you okay?”

Kat winced as she checked her hand. “Yeah. Just looks like the world’s ugliest paper cut.”

He poked at the contents of the box—a lone manila envelope. “Want me to open it?”

She almost said yes, but felt like a coward. “No, let me see.”

He handed her the envelope. Kat opened the top and upended it, spilling out a black square of plastic. She stared at the blocky Iomega logo, confusion warring with abject disbelief. “A zip disk? Are you kidding me?”

Andrew eyed it with raised eyebrows. “It
has
been in here a while.”

Somewhere around a decade, which she supposed explained the outdated method of data storage. “Yeah, well, my netbook isn’t going to read this. And I doubt Staples is selling external zip drives these days.”

“There’s always eBay, or maybe your friend Ben has one lying around.”

“Maybe.” Kat tugged off the scarf Sera had knit for her and wrapped it around the disk for extra padding, then tucked it into her bag. “Figures none of this could be easy.”

“Finding the place was pretty damn painless.” He cast his gaze around the tiny room, with its bare desk and one-way mirror. “Is that all that’s in there? Clean it out and let’s go.”

The box looked empty, but Kat ran her fingers along the inside, as if she might find a hidden catch or secret compartment. Instead she felt the smooth metal of the box and not a damn thing else. “That’s it.”

His hand grazed the back of her shoulder. “Then where to now?”

Warmth followed the path of his touch, streaking through her to settle low in her belly. Kat closed her eyes and thought of ice, of the vast snowy expanses of Antarctica, Alaska, or—hell, a walk-in freezer. Cold. Safe. She used the brutal training Callum had given her and wrapped herself in chilly quiet.

It was enough. Barely. God help them both if he touched more than her shoulder. “If we get to the car, I can use my phone. I was thinking of checking Craigslist. Maybe I can find someone who wants to unload some old computer parts. I’m better with hardware than Ben is, anyway.”

“Local’s quicker than an online auction,” he allowed as he guided her through the door.

Outside the sunlight seemed too bright compared to the chill in the air. Not so cold—the red LED display on the bank’s sign put the temperature at a reasonable fifty-two, but a decade in the South had thinned her Boston-born blood. Kat let Andrew herd her toward the SUV, forcing her brain to stay on the puzzle of the zip disk and how she’d retrieve its contents.

If she concentrated on that, she could pretend the previous night had never happened.

“What are you thinking?”

“Zip drives.” Only a little lie. “And what might be on the disk. I mean, I don’t know what file types they might be, or what sort of software I’d need to read them. It’s got to be important though, right? If people are killing over it?”

“Important to someone.” He unlocked the SUV and pulled open her door. “I don’t know if it’ll give you your answers, but it was important to your mom.”

Inside the vehicle, Kat tucked her bag between her feet and fiddled with her phone as Andrew climbed in. “This is all crazy, isn’t it? Us, acting like we’re in the supernatural version of
National Treasure
. Safety deposit boxes and snipers… This is crazy. Nuts.”

He buckled his seatbelt and shook his head. “The crazy part is that I’m getting used to it.”

It was hard to get out the words, but she needed to ask one question. “You still want to see this through?”

“Hell yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

Relief. Confusion. Andrew had her twisted in knots so complex she couldn’t begin to see how to unravel them. Talking to him about anything serious felt like the first time she’d tried to understand recursion. Maybe
they
were recursive, cycling back through the pain they’d caused each other, each hurt built upon the last. He hurt because she hurt because he hurt because she hurt…

Back and back until they hit the base case. The night she’d lost control and nearly destroyed them both.

She had to say something. To find some rapport, casual small talk to fill the time between awkward moments that were too real. “I’m glad you’ve got all that new training then. If we’re about to embark on a caper adventure, I’ll need an action hero.”

His brows drew together. “That isn’t who I am, Kat. Why I train.”

So much for light hearted. “I know. I’m just… It’s a joke. Laugh.”

His mood didn’t change. “I’m not a hero.”

“Who gets to decide that? Is there a guild? A committee?”

Finally, a hint of a smile appeared. “You can’t take my word for it?”

“Don’t see why I should,” she retorted, then smiled. “You’re not taking mine.”

“Fine, you got me. I’m a hero, and this is a big damn grand adventure full of thrills and spills.”