The Mind Keepers (The Mind Readers) (20 page)

Annoyed with their little
display of mutual flirtation, I looked away. Every day it was the same. Even
though she was a year younger, guys always fell for Lizzie’s innocent and
charming personality. I supposed it didn’t hurt that Lizzie was as hot as a
supermodel with a body straight from a Victoria’s Secret catalog. While I
was…well…
me
.

“She’s on your father’s side,”
he explained.

“Figures.” Anger fought with
surprise. As much as I wanted to know what the heck was going on, my pride
wouldn’t allow me to ask questions. I wanted nothing to do with my father, the
man who’d abandoned us years ago for his secretary. How cliché. And I sure as
heck wanted nothing to do with his family, a family who hadn’t even deemed it
important to send a birthday card once in a while.

“She’s left you something.” His
warm breath brushed across the back of my neck, stirring the loose tendrils
that had escaped my braid.

I shivered, an unwelcome
response to his nearness.

“Oh my gosh!” Lizzie cried out
in excitement. “What’d she leave her?”

Curious, I glanced over my
shoulder. “Money?”

He frowned, as if finding talk
about money vulgar. Typical snob. “No.”

“Can I sell it for money?” I
asked just to annoy him, and it worked.

He sighed, obviously
exasperated. “Well, not exactly.”

I turned back around, hiding my
grin. “Then I’m not interested.”

How had this man found me,
anyway? I did as much as possible to keep my address a secret, not wanting to
incur the retaliation of some two-timing husband.

Kelly was smiling at the target,
leaning into him a little too desperately. Was he pulling back? I should have
been coaching her, not thinking about my father, now of all times. Yes,
ironically I coached Kelly on how to flirt. Me, a seventeen-year-old who rarely
dated. But that was beside the point. How dare my father’s family leave me
something. I wanted to shove whatever it was down their throats and hoped they
choked on it. I didn’t need anything from my father’s family…ever.

“Emma,” Lizzie hissed. “You’re
being rude.”

I glared at Lizzie. Had my
sister forgotten how our father’s family had ignored us when we’d needed their
support the most? She was way too forgiving for her own good. I sure as heck wasn’t
going to appease some deathbed sense of guilt.

The man sighed. “Ms. Watts, I
don’t think you understand.”

I turned around once more, my
anger flaring. “Oh, I understand completely. You don’t seem to, though, so let
me spell it out for you. I want nothing from the family who abandoned us when
my father left. I want nothing from the family who never called, not even sent
a card. Do you understand now, Mister…”

I didn’t have his name. My rant
would have been so much more effective if I’d had his name. He pushed his
glasses up the bridge of his nose. There was a bump there, as if it had been
broken during a fight. I doubted this suit had fought anyone, unless it had
been bullies picking on him in school.

“Owen Emerson. I’m Mr. Emerson.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Mr.
Emerson,” I sneered. “Whatever it is my aunt left me, give it to charity. Now,
please leave so I can do my job.”

His annoyed gaze flicked to
Kelly, then back to me. I could imagine what he thought of my “job.” The look
of disgust was plainly written across his handsome face. “Ms. Watts, please
listen to me. I can’t give this gift away. It’s quite…impossible.”

I could admit, if only to
myself, that I liked the way his voice sounded; smooth, deep, and lyrical. I
completely understood why women so easily fell for an accent. Yes, his accent
was hot, and I hated myself for thinking so.

“Nothing’s impossible, Mr.
Emerson.”

“Eh, yes.” He hesitated, rubbing
the back of his neck. “Of course, but in this case, there really is no way to
donate this gift.”

“Really?” Lizzie asked, butting
her nose into the conversation. “I’m Lizzie, by the way.”

They shook hands like the best
of friends. I tried not to curse at her. Really, whose side was she on?

“Nice to meet you,” he said.

“So, what do you mean,” Lizzie
asked. “Why can’t you give the gift away?”

His gaze flicked from me, but
not before I noticed the unease. “Well, I suppose that’s not entirely correct.
Perhaps there is one way to dispose of this gift.”

“Yeah?” I prompted, resting my
camera on my knees. He had the most interesting scar on his jaw, a thin line
that looked almost like a knife wound. No way. Was probably from a paper cut.
“How?”

“Death.” He looked down at us,
those green eyes shimmering with sincerity. “The only way to get rid of this
gift is by dying.”

Lizzie’s gaze went wide. A look
of pure horror, or was that excitement, crossed her perfect features. My sister
did love the drama. “Death?” she whispered.

I sat upright and laughed. He
looked so serious that I couldn’t help myself. Between the two of them, I felt
like I was in the middle of one of those daytime soaps my mom liked to watch.
“What, exactly, is this supposed gift?”

“Emma,” Lizzie interrupted,
nudging me in the side. “The target’s looking this way!”

I jerked my head toward Kelly.
The target watched us, frowning, while Kelly tried desperately to regain his
attention, even so much as shoving her breasts in his face.

“Crap!” I grabbed a fistful of
Owen’s shirt and jerked him down. He landed with a thud half atop me. Lizzie
had somehow managed to crawl under the lilac, but I was barely aware of my
sister. No, I could only seem to focus on the guy whose body was pressed to
mine.

“Ms. Watts, this is quite
inappropriate,” he hissed.

I would have laughed at his
outrage, if I hadn’t been offended. I was a healthy, attractive female and he
was complaining? Was he gay? The hot ones always were. Or was Lizzie right, did
I need a makeover that badly? I shifted, attempting to put distance between our
bodies, but the movement only brought us more fully together.

“Bloody hell.” He started to
rise, but frantically I grabbed the lapels of his jacket, using my weight to
hold him to me.

“Lizzie, is the target still
looking?”

“I don’t know.” She crawled out
from beneath the bush and peeked between the branches. “Oh no.”

I stiffened. “What?”

“He’s coming!”

Just at that moment I heard
“Abort!” in my earpiece.

“Crap.” I released my hold and
shoved my palms against Owen’s hard chest. He didn’t budge. “Move, man!”

He quirked a dark brow in an
imperious way that annoyed the heck out of me. “What, now you want me to get
up?”

“Don’t be difficult!”

With a glare, he jumped to his
feet in a fluid, easy movement I couldn’t help but admire. Almost like someone
who had studied the martial arts. But I didn’t have time to contemplate that
little suspicion. I was much less graceful as I scrambled to my feet.

“You!” I heard someone scream
behind me.

“He sounds angry.” Lizzie stated
the obvious as she stumbled to her feet.

“Crap, crap, crap.” I snatched
my camera from the ground. I couldn’t afford to leave it behind. “Run, Lizzie!”

I didn’t bother to look back.
The target huffed toward us. I wasn’t worried about Kelly. She knew to leave
and regroup at the apartment later. But Lizzie was stumbling over her own feet,
thanks to her ridiculously high heels.

“Who the hell do you think you
are?” the man screamed. He’d probably have a heart attack and I’d be blamed.
“Did that witch put you up to this? I’ll sue! I’ll call the police!”

People were staring, turning to
look toward us. My cover was totally blown. It sure as heck wasn’t good for
business to be seen. I jumped over the curb and onto the asphalt. As long as
Lizzie could keep up, we’d make it.

“Ms. Watts, we really need to
talk,” Owen called out.

“Sorry, borrowed the car. Have
to get it back to the rightful owner.”

“This is important!”

I latched on to Lizzie’s arm and
dragged my sister across the parking lot. No man, or woman, left behind. “I’m
not interested, Mr. Emerson.”

I dared to glance back. Owen was
merely standing there looking just as put together as when he’d arrived. Not a
speck of dirt marred his suit; not a hair out of place. A freaking god.

“Whatever it is, I don’t want
it,” I added.

With that said, I turned back
around and raced across the lot toward the beat-up Toyota. As I climbed inside
and pulled out of the parking lot, I couldn’t shake the bad, bad feeling that
this wasn’t the last I’d seen of Owen Emerson.

Chapter 2

Owen

“What the hell do you think
you’re doing?” The man, realizing he’d lost Emma, apparently thought to take
his anger out on me.

Ignoring him, I watched the
small car tear out of the car park. I’d just met her and already she was
leaving me to clean up her mess. Was it possible to dislike someone so
intensely after only having had a five-minute conversation?

I brushed a leaf from my vest,
frowning over a smudge of dirt that marred the material. I’d get a bloody
demerit, thanks to her. The Consulate had taught us to keep up appearances at
all times; we were professionals, after all. Yes, upon occasion we were
required to use brute force, but that didn’t mean we had to dress like cavemen.
“I assure you,
sir
, I had nothing to
do with this.”

I gave the man a bored glance,
hoping he’d take the hint and leave. Apparently the look hadn’t been dismissive
enough.

The older man’s jowls quivered
with righteous indignation. “You tell your woman—”

I held up my hand, having no
wish to go further with this topic. “She’s not
my
woman.”

As if I’d date someone like her;
the idea was insane. I glanced reluctantly at the car park, a space now devoid
of frustrating women. A female who wasn’t even polite enough to listen to
reason. A woman whose job it was to destroy marriages. Hell, what would the
elders think?

Besides, it would be
unprofessional to date a client, even if I could admit to myself that she
wasn’t half-bad to look at. Blonde hair, brilliant blue eyes, hot body. But
that innocent face belied the mouth and crankiness of a seasoned sailor. What
had I gotten myself into? Bemused, I started to walk away, hoping to regroup
with a pint somewhere.

“See here.” The man grabbed my
shoulder.

Instinct flared to life. I
dropped my briefcase. Before I could think twice about the rationality of my
actions, I spun around, grabbed the man’s wrist, and flipped him over onto his
back. I couldn’t deny the thrilling sense of release I felt at the physical
exercise. No matter how much training, how much education…East London was still
buried deep within me.

“Sir, it would be best,”
for both of us
, “if you went back to
your dinner.”

We were drawing a crowd. Chair
legs scratched against the deck as families turned to get a better look. Shite,
attention wasn’t good at all. One of the first things we’d been taught was to
blend in. One visit with Emma, and I’d lost sense of everything I’d been
taught. I’d become that pathetic street sod once more, my education falling to
the wayside.

“Do we have an understanding?” I
growled, pressing my foot into his chest and keeping him pinned to the ground.

Sweat broke out just below the
man’s receding hairline. I knew fear when I saw it. “Yeah, sure,” he grunted.

Disgusted with myself, the man,
and the entire situation, I released my hold. He didn’t look back as he
stumbled toward the restaurant, scurrying like a rat to garbage. Just as I’d
thought, the man was a bully who, when pushed back, easily gave in. I’d dealt
with plenty of bullies in my youth, before the Consulate had come for me. I’d
even been one a time or two.

I sighed and swiped my hands on
my trousers, as if that could erase the memory of a crappy childhood. Restless,
I picked up my briefcase and started down the footpath that led toward the
beach. My body didn’t seem my own, my thoughts annoyingly jumbled, my skin
tingling with an awareness that hadn’t been there before I’d met Emma. Even if
my rational mind refused to acknowledge her as my client, my body knew the
truth. I was stuck with the chit.

“Owen, my boy.”

A human would have been startled
by the old man’s sudden appearance, but I’d seen too many odd things to be
startled by much. Jotham wore his typical green robe, which was inconspicuous
enough where we resided, but ridiculous-looking here amongst the humans and
their shorts and T-shirts.

Jotham seemed to neither notice
nor care about the sudden attention. “Come, let us walk.”

I bit back my refusal. I didn’t
want to walk; I wanted to go after Emma, force her to understand. Or maybe I
wanted to return home and beg them for a new assignment. But I couldn’t because
then I’d have to admit I’d left without permission. Of course it really wasn’t
in their hands, but in the hands of fate.

And fate could have a wicked
sense of humor.

We followed the footpath to a
boardwalk that ran the length of the beach. Me in my suit, and Jotham in his
long green robe. Yes, we looked insane. I completely understood why those along
the beach were drawing their children closer. They most likely thought we were
from some odd religious sect invented by humans to justify their existence.

“Well done, lad.” Jotham
strolled unhurried down the boardwalk, his hands clasped behind him. “You’ve
found her, and have taken care of the initial meeting.”

“She ran away.” I scoffed. “The
woman refused to listen to reason.”

I couldn’t see the old man’s
lips smiling through that thick white beard, but those faded blue eyes crinkled
at the corners, looking suspiciously like amusement. “Well, that happens
sometimes.”