Dancing with the Devil (Nikki & Michael 1)

She sat up abruptly. Averting her gaze from his, she pushed her hair back behind her ears. How did you react to a man who had saved your life and yet was still so much of an enigma?

"A simple thank you would be sufficient,” he said quietly. She glanced up sharply. “I've never met anyone who can read my thoughts as easily as you appear able to.” Tommy had been able to read her thoughts, but not so easily, unless she'd been angry or tired. Michael shrugged, ebony eyes regarding her warily. “Telepathy is a strong gift in my family. Over the years, I've honed its use."

She had an odd feeling he wasn't speaking of blood relatives when he spoke of family. She frowned, but turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Jake opened the door and entered the room

"Thought I heard voices,” he commented, stopping just inside the doorway. “I hate to have to rush you, Nik, but—"

"Trevgard's getting anxious,” she finished with a sigh.

"I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Want a cup?"

"Yes.” She tried to ignore the ache that ran through nearly every muscle and pushed to her feet.

“Michael?"

"If it's strong and black, I'll drink it."

He stood quickly, touching her elbow as she swayed slightly. She smiled her thanks and moved into the office, aware of Michael close behind her. Ready to catch her if she fell, she thought wryly, though her weakness was no joke.

Jake placed her coffee on the desk. Michael accepted his cup with a nod and sat on the edge of her desk.

Trevgard swung around to face her as Jake returned the coffeepot to the hot plate. “So tell me, did you find Monica or not?"

Nikki sighed. “Yes, I found her.” She didn't mention the fact that Monica might be dead. She didn't have the strength to face the old man's fury right now.

"And?” he demanded.

"And I'll try to bring her back with me."

Not alone, you won't.

She looked at Michael warily, wishing she knew more about him. Instinct told her to trust him, yet there was something about him that made her uneasy. She would not refuse his help, however. Nothing on this earth could make her go into that building alone to find Monica. Not with a young madman on the loose, wanting her.

"Then you really can find my daughter?” Trevgard's voice was an odd mixture of hope and anger. She returned her attention to him. “I think so. I've got a general idea of direction; it's just a matter of driving around until I find the right building."

"Then what went wrong before?” Jake asked, moving back to his desk.

"Ever heard of out-of-body experiences?"

Jake nodded. “Never believed them, of course."

She smiled. He hadn't believed in psychic talents, either, until they'd saved his life. “It was something akin to that. Except my spirit, soul, metaphysical body—whatever you want to call it—was forcibly drawn away from my body and trapped."

"How?"

"I honestly don't know.” But she wished she did, so she could prevent it from happening again.

"It took a lot of psychic power to create and hold that net,” Michael commented quietly. Nikki regarded him thoughtfully. “And a lot strength to pull me in. Yet he still had enough left to hold the intensity of the web as long as he did."

Jake's eyebrows rose. “Web?"

She took a sip of her coffee, then nodded. “Yes. A net of some sort held me captive. I don't know what he was trying to achieve. I wasn't really there. He couldn't physically harm me." Though he could have killed her, had he held the net long enough.

"Control.” Michael's expression was grim when it met hers. “He was after control."

"So I wouldn't be able to fight him if we ever met.” Cold fear ran down her spine. She had come so close.

"The man's a fiend,” Jake swore and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don't suppose you can give a description to the police?"