The Unwanted (A Novella of the FBI Psychics) Read Free Page B

and tell me why I’m here,” he said flatly. “I wrapped up a case today, I’m tired and I’m hungry and I wasn’t planning on boarding a plane back to Virginia at the end of the day, either.”
    Destin shot him a dark look.
    He ignored it.
    Oz just smiled. “Don’t worry…I plan on letting you catch some sleep first. The flight doesn’t head out until noon tomorrow. You’ve got time to sleep, grab a meal, all of that. You know, you used to be a lot more charming than this, Durand,” she said as she leaned forward and laid two files flat on her desk. “Is Jones working all the fun out of you?”
    “He keeps me working and he does it without the mind games…so maybe. Can we get on with this?” Leaning forward, he grabbed one of the files from the front edge of Oz’s desk.
    Destin leaned forward at the same time and their hands brushed against each other. Such a simple touch and electricity sparked through him. A muscle jerked in his jaw, but he managed to keep any other reaction hidden—he thought. Locked down good and tight behind his shields, even though the shields weren’t really necessary to keep the distance between him and Destin.
    She could pick up on random thoughts and emotions, but she had to look for them and he doubted she’d be looking for that from him. Beyond that, her empathy was a very specific, very strange sort. It reacted to violence—specifically sexual violence, for reasons nobody really understood. Not even Destin—probably especially Destin. Caleb had his theories, but the one time he had really tried to push…well, she locked down so tight on him, pulled back. It had been the beginning of the end for them.
    Settling back in his chair, he flipped open the file and studied it. Not a lot to go on, but they’d made do with less. He skimmed each report while Destin kept hers closed in her lap. He heard a soft breath and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, watched as she laid her hands on the file, flexed them, and squared her shoulders.
    Steadying herself… He didn’t know whether to be relieved or bitter. Three years they’d been together and he’d tried to get her to prepare more for the cases they’d handled, but she hadn’t once tried. She’d always jumped in, feet first and fists ready. He’d been the one to pull her back time and again, to keep her from attacking suspects and totally blowing their cases straight to hell.
    Three years, and she hadn’t once shown any interest in learning some caution, some self-control. But she’d gone and done it at some point. He recognized the signs well enough. He used the techniques himself and it had saved his ass more than once when her impulses bled into him during the times they worked together. If he didn’t get grounded before linking, he got lost in her, lost in her passion, lost in her fury.
    He made himself focus on the file again, blocking her out. Seven rapes reported. There were probably more. Some women who were confused, scared—or in denial. Guy had been very careful. Used a rubber, so no semen samples. Bruising, minor vaginal tears for the most part… He clenched his jaw as he read each report, fought to remain dispassionate. Fought to make himself go cold.
    He knew from experience that the more he could distance himself from the crime, the more he could help the victim, especially when he was working with empaths like Destin. It was hard, though, and by the time he finished reading the reports, there was a nasty, vicious headache taking gleeful bites out of his brain matter.
    Destin had already closed the file. He glanced her way but she had her eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell as she took a series of deep, steadying breaths. Without opening her eyes, she asked, “You said we fly out tomorrow. I assume once we land, we get to work immediately?”
    “No time like the present,” Oz said. And then she glanced at him, that strange smile on her face once more.
    They both stood, Destin moving slower