Gift of Fire (28 page)

“It’s too damn hazy,” he muttered. “I can’t tell what’s happening.”

“Maybe it was just an accident—a violent accident,” Verity said tightly.

“No.” Jonas knew better and so did Verity. She just didn’t want to admit it. His talent wasn’t for random violence, like deaths caused by storms or accidents. The psychic ability that had nearly driven him insane was linked to the kind of violence men and women used against each other. “There’s someone else involved. I wouldn’t be picking up anything at all if there wasn’t.” He reached out to touch one of the sickly pale ribbons that coiled around Verity’s feet. The shivering tendril leaped hungrily for him, a nasty little snake that would poison him if he wasn’t very careful.

Faint traces of rage, anguish, and pain washed fleetingly through Jonas as the ribbon tried to coil weakly around his wrist. He quickly released the weak ribbon of emotion and moved back out of reach. Denied its prey, the snake rejoined the looping mass hovering around Verity.

“Are you all right?” Verity asked.

He knew she hated it when he touched one of the dangerous ribbons.

“I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.” In real time he took a step backward, away from the spot where Elyssa had been standing when she had fallen. The hazy image and the psychic corridor vanished instantly.

Verity stood rubbing her arms briskly. “Do you really think she was pushed, Jonas?”

He shrugged. “Something happened out here. Something that involved Elyssa and another person who was feeling both rage and heavy emotional pain. The vision was vague, but you know that I wouldn’t have picked up on it at all if Elyssa had fallen by accident.”

Chapter Fourteen

I suppose it must have been Yarwood,” Verity said quietly as they walked back to the villa, “although I can’t really picture it. He must have found out about Elyssa’s hobby of fooling around with every available male psychic. We heard them arguing, remember? And if he found out what she tried to do this morning he might have really gone crazy.”

“Maybe.”

Verity’s brows came together in a sharp line. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’? What other explanation is there?”

Jonas shrugged. “I don’t know. But Elyssa’s been fooling around for quite some time apparently, and Yarwood hasn’t tried to kill her until now.”

“Maybe he hadn’t realized what she’s been doing all along.”

“It doesn’t make sense. He must know what she’s like,” Jonas insisted.

“Love is blind,” Verity said philosophically.

“Bullshit. I’m in love with you and I’m not blind to all your faults, or all the trouble you cause me.”

Verity dug an elbow into his ribs.

“Ouch! Dammit that hurt.” Jonas stopped and
pulled her into his arms. His eyes held a familiar glitter.

“Oh no you don’t, not out here on the cold, wet ground.” But the excitement was simmering in her veins, too. It had flooded her the instant she’d looked into his eyes. “You know something, Jonas Quarrel? I’ve given this matter of your getting horny every time we go into that psychic corridor a lot of thought, and I’ve come to a few conclusions.”

“I’m not the only one who gets hot after we go into the corridor,” he growled as he nuzzled her throat. “And I’ve told you, I never experienced this particular aftereffect until I met you. Never had the problem all those months I was being tested at Vincent College. Never had the problem when I authenticated artifacts for all those museums and collectors. No, ma’am, never had any problem like this at all. Until I met you, my thoughts were always as pure as the driven snow whenever I came out of a session in the corridor.”

“Don’t you dare imply that I’m the cause.” She felt the heat from his body and her insides began to turn to mush, as usual. Her knees got weak. In another few minutes she would barely be able to stand.

“You know you can’t lie to me, little tyrant,” he said with deep satisfaction. “You feel the same way I do right now.”

“Maybe, but I’ve decided that I don’t get this way because of the corridor,” Verity said, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of propriety. “It isn’t being your psychic anchor that does this to me.”

“No? Then what does it to you?” Jonas didn’t seem very interested in her answer. He was too busy nibbling on her ear.

“It’s you, dammit. Not the experience in the corridor.” She planted her palms against his chest and tried in vain to push him back a step. “You do this to me. It must be the way you look at me or something. I’m not sure, but I know it isn’t the corridor that does it because I don’t start feeling this way until you start leering at me. It’s all your fault.”

Jonas chuckled, sounding pleased. “Well then, that’s just as it should be,” he said complacently. “Let’s go upstairs and find a whip. It’s my turn.”

“Jonas!” She blushed hotly.

But he was already lifting her into his arms and carrying her through the villa door.

Maggie Frampton was hovering in the main hall. She peered uneasily at Jonas and Verity. “I wondered where you two had gone.”

“We just took a little walk,” Jonas said smoothly. “Verity is exhausted.”

“I know what you mean,” Maggie said wistfully. “I used to get that same exhausted look on my face when Digby invited me to go down to the torture chamber.” She turned and walked heavily out of the hall.

“She really misses him,” Verity said softly. “It’s going to be hard on her when Doug sells this place.”

“Speaking of a hard-on,” Jonas murmured as he started up the stairs, “let me tell you about my little problem.”

“I’ve seen this problem of yours before, Jonas Quarrel, and it’s not little.”

Maggie listened to Quarrel’s bootsteps ringing on the stone as he carried Verity up the stairs. Her hands bunched into broad fists. More than anything else she wanted them all to leave. She just wanted them out of here. Digby would have felt the same way.

How he would have despised Preston Yarwood. Yarwood was nothing but a clever con man, Digby would say. And he would have kicked Oliver Crump and his silly crystals out the front door, too. Maggie didn’t like the way Oliver watched everyone and everything from behind those little round glasses. Something told her he saw far too much.

And as for Slade Spencer, Digby wouldn’t have tolerated him and his drugs for a minute. Maggie frowned as she thought about Spencer. There was something vaguely familiar about him. She wished she could put her finger on it. When she got the chance, she decided, she’d have a little peek at his things upstairs. It would be easy enough to do; she had a master key to all the rooms in the villa.

But the main problem around here was Doug and Elyssa. They held the fate of the villa in their hands.

Later, Verity, who was lying on her stomach, propped herself up on her elbows and leaned over Jonas to get his attention. He opened one eye and regarded her with lazy indulgence.

“You’re glaring at me again. Didn’t your father ever warn you about frown lines?” he asked. “Pests are at high risk for them. They need to take extra precautions.”

Verity arched her brows. “Such as?”

“Such as smiling at their lovers a lot and practicing saying yes.”

“I say yes to you far too often. Look where it gets me.” She tilted her chin to indicate the tousled bed.

Jonas contrived to look hurt. “I do it all for you, and this is the thanks I get.”

“For
me
.
”

“Sure. Think of it as a beauty treatment. Keeps you toned and lubricated.”

“Some beauty treatment. It’s going to turn me into a giant whale during the next few months,” Verity complained.

To her surprise, Jonas’s expression sobered. He drew a finger along the line of her jaw. “Are you scared, honey?” he asked gently.

Verity automatically started to deny it, but reality stopped her. “A little,” she admitted.

“Don’t be,” Jonas ordered softly. “I’ll be there with you. We’ll handle it together the same way we handle those transitions into the time corridor. No sweat.”

Verity’s mouth curved. “ ‘No sweat.’ I’ll remember that promise.”

He touched her lips with his fingertip. His golden eyes were brilliant and very, very serious. “You do that.”

She sighed and rested her chin on his chest. His strength was always a source of reassurance and security. It was true there was a wide streak of the primitive in Jonas, a side of him that knew and understood far too much about violence. But she would never need to fear him. “I do love you, Jonas.”

His gaze was intent. “Just as well, since we’re going to be married.” He went on quickly before she could argue the point, “Now tell me why you were glaring at me a minute ago.”

“I was not glaring at you. That was an expression of thoughtful concern.”

“Excuse me. Why were you glaring at me with an expression of thoughtful concern?” He ruffled her curls.

“I was thinking about Elyssa and Preston Yarwood.”

“What about them?”

Verity lifted her chin and hunched forward with sudden intensity. “Jonas, when we were talking about the possibility that Yarwood was the one who pushed Elyssa off that cliff, we forgot about another possible bad guy. Someone we haven’t even considered.”

Jonas tilted his head to one side on the pillow and studied her serious expression. “You mean whoever owns that boat down in the cove?”

Verity groaned. “I should have known you’d already thought of it. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I was too involved in other matters,” he said in a lofty tone.

“You mean you were in too much of a hurry to get your jeans unzipped. Honestly, Jonas, for a man with a respectable academic reputation, you have an amazingly primitive mentality when it comes to some matters. Obviously a Ph.D. is no guarantee against simpleminded lust.”

Jonas widened his eyes in astonishment. “Did you think it was?”

“One has certain illusions about academia.”

“Only someone who never suffered through the formal academic process could harbor any illusions about it. Be grateful your father never sent you to a real school. Come to think of it, I’m inclined to ask Emerson to supervise the education of our kid.”

“We’re straying from the topic here,” Verity pointed out. It was oddly disturbing to have Jonas discussing the education of their baby.

“Were we straying? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Another example of your simplemindedness.”

“My simplemindedness is all your fault,” he said dismissively. He gave a huge yawn, then he flashed her a wolfish grin.

“About that boat in the cove,” Verity said determinedly.

“I’ll have another look at it in the morning. Did you notice anything special when you opened the locker to get the tarp for Elyssa?”

Verity shook her head, trying to remember. “No. I didn’t see any log books or identification papers. But I wasn’t looking for them, either. Jonas, that boat means there’s someone else on this island.”

“Like Doug said, probably a tourist who’s camping here for a couple of days.”

“In this weather?”

Jonas contemplated that silently for a few seconds. “I’ve heard these Northwest types are very hardy,” he finally said. “It could be a devout fisherman.”

“Then where is he? Why didn’t he notice Elyssa? Why didn’t he appear when the rest of us went down to the cove to get her?”

“He could be camping a long way from where he left the boat. He might know nothing at all about what happened to Elyssa.”

Verity declared, “He might have been the one who pushed her.”

“Which leaves us with the question of why he would want to hurt her,” Jonas concluded. “When you get right down to it, Preston Yarwood is still the only one around with an honest-to-God motive.”

“It looks that way, doesn’t it?” Verity agreed gloomily.

“Verity.”

“Hmm?” She knew that tone in his voice. It was the one Jonas used when he gave a command he expected to be obeyed.

“I’ll see if I can find the guy who owns that boat in the morning,” Jonas said slowly. “In the meantime, whatever else happens, I want you to be damn sure you aren’t alone with Yarwood.”

“I still can’t quite picture him as the violent type.”

Jonas wrapped his hands in her hair and pulled her face close to his for a quick, hard kiss. “For a woman who was raised in some of the seediest island towns in the Western Hemisphere, you sure don’t know much about men or violence. With Emerson Ames for a father, how could you grow up with such a streak of naïveté?”

“I am not naïve!”

“Yes, you are. In some ways.” Jonas gave her a strange, speculative look. “I find it kind of endearing. Underneath that prickly exterior, you’re sweet and soft and gentle, inclined to see the best in everyone until you get hit over the head with evidence to the contrary. You’re a soft touch, honey. And I don’t want you hanging around Preston Yarwood unless I’m in the immediate vicinity. That’s an order.”

Verity’s smile was a little too soft and a little too sweet. “Did I ever tell you how I get weak in the knees when you turn all macho?”

“That’s very interesting, Verity. I don’t believe you’ve ever mentioned it. You want me to tie you to this bedpost while we discuss this weakness of yours, or would you prefer the one on the other side? Maybe all four at once?”

She started to tickle him unmercifully. There were some distinct advantages to having lived with a man for a while—you knew exactly where he was most sensitive.

If the atmosphere at lunch had been strained, the mood at dinner was stretched almost to the breaking point. It snapped just as the meal ended.

Things started out quietly enough. There was a subdued tension hanging over the stone room, but Verity assumed that was only to be expected. She didn’t know if the others had come to the same conclusion she and Jonas had about the cause of Elyssa’s fall, but she knew the subject was on everyone’s mind.

Maggie Frampton served the meal of leftovers in stony silence. Verity had a hunch her headache had returned. Slade Spencer made his appearance after having apparently served himself several drinks in the salon. He handled his knife and fork with exaggerated care. Anyone who drank the way Slade did had some serious ghosts, Verity decided.