Page 38 of Shattering Dawn
“Shit.”
He did not realize he had spoken aloud until Amelia paused in the act of opening the car door and turned toward him.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“I was just wondering if you’re going to fire me,” he said.
“What? Oh, no, of course not.”
“Because you don’t have any other viable options?”
“No.” She cracked open the door, jumped down to the pavement, and turned to look at him. “Because I’ve seen your aura and your energy prints. I’m not afraid of you, Gideon, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“You trust your ability to read energy well enough to make a decision like that?”
“Call it my photographer’s intuition.”
“Then why the silence after dinner?”
“No big deal. It’s just that after Pike called it occurred to me the best way to determine whether or not he’s the stalker would be forme to make an evening appointment with him. I’ll need to get him into a dark place, but that shouldn’t be too difficult. A lot of restaurants are dimly lit, and then there are parking lots and the gardens at my apartment complex.”
He thought about that for a beat. “That’s not a bad plan, as long as I’m with you or close by when you meet Pike.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “I came up with the idea all by myself.”
“Is that the only thing you’ve been thinking about for the past half hour?”
“Well, no. But trust me, you really don’t want to hear about the other stuff.”
He took a breath and exhaled with control. “I think I do want to hear about the other stuff.”
“Are you sure? You won’t like it.”
“We’re working as a team. It’s best if I know what you’re thinking.”
“Okay, if you insist. Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I never lose my temper.” He paused. “Hardly ever.”
“Right, the compartmentalizing thing. Well, the truth is, I was thinking about your talent.”
He groaned. “I had a feeling that might be it.”
“It must be a very difficult ability to live with,” she said gently. “I don’t enjoy reading auras and prints. I can’t even imagine how awful it would be to pick up the vibe of other people’s nightmares. I imagine that kind of energy affects your own dreams. No wonder you’re big on control and focus and compartmentalizing. It explains your paintings, too. I’ll bet they are how you cope with the bad stuff. Worst of all, your talent must be murder on your personal life.”
Blindsided, he stared at her, struggling to recalculate. “Are you telling me you feel sorry for me?”
“Sympathetic,” she corrected quickly.
“I don’t need sympathy, damn it.”
She held up a hand. “I warned you that you wouldn’t like the answer to your question.”
He pulled himself together and opened his door. “You’ve got that right. I sure as hell don’t want you feeling sorry for me.”
“Look at it this way. We’re even now.”
He climbed out of the car, reached back inside for his cane, and looked at her across the width of the cab. “What’s that supposed to mean?”