She went to stand at the window, stomach clenched, all her senses revved to the max, and listened for footsteps in the hall. It was full dark now. In spite of her determination to show no fear, she felt like a gazelle at the waterhole. The realization made her mad, which proved to be a good thing. Anger gave her strength.
She heard the footsteps only faintly and only just before the crisp, authoritative knock on her door. Mr. Jones did not make a lot of noise when he walked.
She took a deep breath, steeled herself and crossed the room to open the door.
She had no preconceived notions of what Mr. Jones would look like. Her memories of the Night of Fire and Tears were not clear on that point. The events had taken place against a backdrop of shadows, shouts and chaos. She had hidden her face against Vella’s shoulder, afraid to look at the very dangerous Mr. Jones. Even at the age of six, long before the psychic side of her nature had developed, she had sensed the power in the man who stormed into her father’s lab that night.
One glance told her that this Mr. Jones was not the same one who had frightened her and Vella all those years ago. The first Mr. Jones would be in his sixties by now. This man was only a couple years older than she was. She could not take any comfort from that fact, however, because the aura of power that surrounded him was as strong or stronger than the one that had emanated from the other Jones.
The Mr. Jones standing in front of her was tall. Even with her boots on she was a couple of inches shorter than him. He was lean and virile, a man who was centered and comfortable in his body and his masculinity, a man in full control of himself. His hair was short and dark and his eyes were a shade of blue that made her think of glaciers and gun-metal. He wore a black leather jacket, black crewneck pullover, dark pants and low boots.
She knew immediately that this Jones was every bit as dangerous as the one who terrified her on that long-ago night but for some crazy reason, she wasn’t frightened. The invisible energy he generated stirred the hair on the nape of her neck but she wasn’t scared, she was curiously excited. A heightened sense of awareness fluttered through her. Mentally she groped for a one-word description of the unfamiliar feeling that was sweeping through her. Her brain supplied it immediately. She was thrilled.
“Raine Tallentyre.”
He said her name as a statement of fact, not a question, as if he somehow recognized her, which was impossible because she was very, very certain they had never met. She would have remembered, she thought. There was simply no way she could have forgotten him or that low, controlled, compelling voice. It was a voice that could coax a woman into bed or challenge a man to a duel at dawn. It sent another shiver of raw sensation through her. She took a step back trying to put some distance between the two of them while she pulled herself together.
“I’m Raine Tallentyre,” she said.
“Zackary Jones. Call me Zack. I’m here to make a deal with you.”
Okay, obviously she had just fallen down the rabbit hole.
“What kind of deal?” she managed.
“I need your help.” He held up a manila envelope. “In exchange, I’ll give you this.”
She glanced at the envelope. “What’s in there?”
He smiled the slow, confident smile of a man who is very sure he is holding all the high cards. “The missing pieces of your family history. Inside this envelope is your heritage, the one you were denied when your father was kicked out of the Arcane Society.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. I’m the man with the answers to the questions you’ve been asking all these years.”
Six
He’d chosen his strategy the way he always did, with cold, calculating psychic intuition based on what he knew and could sense about his opponent. The path across Raine Tallentyre’s threshold had been clear to him as soon as he finished reading the files that Fallon Jones had provided. Very few people could resist the lure of learning the secrets of their past.
Figuring out a person’s weak spots and anticipating their moves was part of his talent. He wasn’t particularly proud of it but it was something he did very well. Most of the time.
What he hadn’t factored into the equation was his personal reaction to Raine. Energy flooded through him, heating his blood and triggering an unfamiliar anticipation. He couldn’t look away from her fascinating eyes, didn’t want to look away. Her voice, soft and vibrant, was a siren’s call to his senses. He could feel the power in her. It drew him as surely as her scent and the subtle challenge that she radiated.
He’d been waiting all his life to meet a woman who could do this to him. That, his level-ten mirror talent intuition warned him, made her potentially the most dangerous woman he had ever met. And the most alluring.
“You’re from the Arcane Society,” she said. It was not a question.
“I’m a member of the Society,” he agreed. “Just as your parents and your aunt were. So are you, for that matter.”
“No.”
He held up the envelope. “According to your file, your parents registered you at birth.”
“My mother is dead and the Society expelled my father.”
“True. But no one forced you or your aunt out of the community.”
Her dark brows rose above the black frames of her glasses. “That’s something of a technicality, isn’t it?”
“Sure, but it’s a big one. After your father’s death it was your aunt’s choice to keep you and herself away from the heritage that belonged to both of you.” He moved the file in his hand ever so slightly, just enough to draw her attention back to it. “Well? Do you want answers, Raine Tallentyre?”
Her fantastic eyes focused briefly on the envelope he held. “That depends on the price I’ll have to pay to get them.”
He smiled and mentally rolled the dice, enjoying the rush that came with trying to outmaneuver her.
“What the hell.” He held out the envelope. “The file is yours, whether you decide to help me or not.”
She took it, even more wary now. “What happens if I refuse to help you?”
He shrugged. “Then I lose my bet.”
She hesitated but he sensed her unwilling curiosity. He was counting on it. With her aunt gone, Raine had been deprived of the last link to the part of her family history that explained why she was different. How could she resist?
He knew, probably before she did, that he had won. His mirror talent picked up the faint tightening at the corners of her sensitive mouth and the small, almost imperceptible movement of one hand.