Running Hot

SIX

The rental car that had been booked for Andrew Carstairs was waiting at the end of the short flight to Maui. J&J was nothing if not efficient, Grace thought.

“Want the AC on?” Luther asked, getting in behind the wheel.

“No thanks. I don’t like air-conditioning unless it’s absolutely necessary. I’d rather roll down the windows.”

“Same here.” He put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot.

She contemplated her initial impressions of Luther Malone. They could be summed up in three potent words:

Powerful, controlled, fascinating. Okay, there was a fourth word that came to mind:

exciting. There was something indefinably electric in the atmosphere, at least on her side of the car. At various times in her life she had found other men attractive but she had never experienced anything quite like this fluttery little rush of sensual anticipation. It stirred all her senses in unusual and interesting ways.

Power was always interesting; power that was ruled by the kind of exquisite control that Luther wielded was especially intriguing, at least to her. One glance at his aura had told her that he was no level eight— more like a level ten or higher. Obviously he’d managed to keep that little fact out of the files. She couldn’t hold it against him. She’d faked her own ranking, too. Powerful talents were slapped with the label “exotic” within the Society. The term did not convey admiration or respect. At best, other sensitives tended to view strong sensitives of any kind with a degree of caution. At worst, they avoided them. Power might be interesting but it could also be dangerous.

The photo on Luther’s new driver’s license had not lied. He was as hard-looking in person as he was in the picture. His eyes were brown, too, as advertised. But it was an almost feral shade of amber. It made her think of dark jungles and forbidden passions. Not that she’d had much experience with either.

“I love the air here,” she announced, inhaling deeply. “It’s intoxicating. Makes me want to put my head out the window like a dog.”

“Hawaii has that effect on a lot of people.” He glanced at her, his eyes unreadable behind his dark glasses. “How are you doing without the gloves?”

The question annoyed her. She looked briefly at her hands, neatly folded in her lap, and then raised her chin.

“I told you, I can deal with it.”

“You’re sure? I noticed that you kept your hands under your raincoat on your lap for most of the flight.”

“I would not have taken this assignment if I thought I couldn’t handle it.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’re fretting. I’m making you nervous.”

“Maybe I’m just curious?”

“You’re fretting,” she repeated evenly. “I suppose I can’t blame you for your lack of confidence but try looking at this situation from my perspective.”

“Which is?”

She raised her brows. “I’ve got a bodyguard who isn’t comfortable carrying a gun and needs a cane to get around.”

“Fallon told you about the gun thing?”

“Yes.”

He meditated on that for a long moment and then nodded once. “You know, you’re right. From your perspective, those facts would not at first glance appear to be reassuring.”

“Luckily for me,” she said coolly, “I took a second glance.”

“At my aura,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“I’m an aura talent. That’s what I do.”

To her surprise, he smiled faintly. “What did you see that was reassuring?”

She sat back in the seat and concentrated on savoring the wonderful air.

“I saw a lot of sheer bullheaded determination,” she said.

“Bullheaded determination is a good quality?”

“It means you’ll do whatever you need to do to complete this mission. What’s more, you know your own power and how to control it. You feel confident about your talent so I do, too.”

She saw a lot more than that but she was not prepared to go into details. Some things you just did not talk about on a first date. The thought made her smile.

Luther was silent for a moment, processing what she had said. Then his hands tightened on the steering wheel. “You can see things like determination in an aura?” he asked, half curious, half disbelieving.

She turned her head to look at him. “Didn’t Mr. Jones tell you about the little twist in my talent?”

“He said you could read a person’s psychic profile. Guess I didn’t understand exactly what that meant. I’m surprised they haven’t got you working as a parapsychologist.”

“I don’t have the academic background to work as a counselor.”

“How did you end up in Genealogy?”

“I applied for a position in the Bureau. I like psychic genealogy. It suits my talents. How did you end up as a bartender in Waikiki?”

“It suits my talents.”

She knew a conversational dead end when she ran into one.

“Right. Speaking of your talents, what’s the plan for finding our bad guy?” she asked. “Do I just stroll around the resort like a drug-sniffing dog looking at auras?”

His mouth twitched a little. “We’ll try to be a little more cool than that.”

“Even if we’re very cool, it probably won’t take long to spot Eubanks. Powerful talents of any kind are rare. What are the odds that there will be more than one level-nine strat staying at the resort?”

“That’s what Fallon Jones said.”

“If anyone knows probabilities, it’s Mr. Jones.”

“I’ll tell you a little secret about Fallon Jones,” Luther said.

“What’s that?”

“Most of the time he’s right but occasionally he screws up and when he does, it’s never in a small way.”

She thought about that. “Maybe that’s because he’s so sure of himself and his talent that he doesn’t always allow for other possibilities. Or maybe because he’s overworked. I have the impression that he’s under a tremendous amount of pressure these days.”

“You do realize that he’s a first-class conspiracy theorist who just happens to have a good track record?”

“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “But I admit that it is a bit unsettling to think of Mr. Jones in those terms.”

“Pay is good, though,” Luther said.

She smiled. “Yes, it is.”