In Destiny's Shadow

Melina didn’t know what to say. She felt ridiculous. How could she explain reaching for him like that? He must think she was coming on to him. All right, she found him attractive, even compelling, but she was a mature, rational woman. She wasn’t ruled by her impulses. She clenched her jaw and looked up.

God help her, she wanted to reach for him again.

“On second thought, Melina,” Anthony murmured, turning away, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

There were only a dozen people in the hotel dining room—November seemed to be a slow time of year for the Pecos—so Anthony had his pick of the tables. He chose one at the far end, near the terrace doors, where the ventilation system and the music that played through the speakers in the wall would mask any conversation. The spot also provided him with a good view of all the exits and the courtyard beyond the terrace, as well as everyone in the room.

He draped his jacket over the chair back, ordered coffee, then angled himself so he could study the other guests over the rim of his cup. Beneath the wrought-iron chandelier that hung in the center of the beamed ceiling, four men in suits sat at a round table. Businessmen, from the look of them, he decided, likely no threat. A young couple, possibly honeymooners, were at a table secluded behind a clay planter full of cacti. A small, middle-aged woman with a colorful fringed shawl draped around her shoulders sat by herself in a corner. The rest of the patrons were seated in pairs or alone, all of them occupied with their meals, none of them particularly suspicious.

Still, Anthony remained alert, observing their reactions as Melina entered through the archway from the lobby. He looked for anyone who paid too much attention, or was trying to seem as if they were paying no attention at all. He was confident no one had followed Melina and him when they had left the Grand, so they should be safe here for a while, but he couldn’t afford to let down his guard.

And he couldn’t afford to get distracted, either. What was happening to his control? Maybe it was fatigue. Or maybe it was Melina. The mere sight of her walking across the room toward him was making his pulse race.

She had a straightforward, no-nonsense stride, her slender legs making quick work of the distance to the table that Anthony had selected. She likely had no idea how tantalizing she looked, with her hair tumbling in rich curls over her ivory sweater, and her skirt swaying in rhythm with her hips. Her boot heels clicked delicately on the wood floor, a sweetly feminine sound. Her chin was lifted, her fingers were wrapped around the strap of her shoulder bag and there was no smile on her face—she was obviously prepared for business. Yet, except for the honeymooner, she drew the regard of every man she passed.

Anthony wiped his palms on his thighs and rose to hold out her chair.

She seemed startled by the courtesy—startled enough to look at his face.

Oh, hell, Anthony thought. She wasn’t helping his concentration. The moment her gaze met his, her eyes darkened. A flush pinkened her cheeks. Beneath her sweater, her breasts lifted with her quickened breathing.

He’d wondered about it last night, but after what had happened—or almost happened—in her room a few minutes ago, there was no longer any doubt in Anthony’s mind. It was obvious to him that Melina was as attuned to the sexual connection between them as he was.

The strength of the connection likely puzzled her—she would have no way of understanding the source. Few people outside his family knew the full extent of his special, psychic ability. Fewer still knew about its peculiar side effects.

Anthony’s ability was a legacy from his mother’s Gypsy heritage. He could sense and control energy fields. That was how he’d caused the transformer in the alley to overload, and how he’d guided the live wire into swinging in the direction he’d wanted. It was how he’d deactivated the electromagnetic lock on Melina’s hotel room door a few minutes ago when he’d heard her moan. Normally, he was extremely precise in his manipulations. Sometimes, though, the excess power he gathered in order to exercise his talent…spilled.

In the right circumstances, the effects of the stray energy were the same as arousal—accelerated pulse, increased sensitivity to touch, raised sexual awareness. Not everyone sensed it. When they did, Anthony did his best to tamp it down.

He hadn’t been very successful tamping anything down when it came to Melina. The effect had never been this strong or this swift before.

He was careful to avoid touching her as he pushed in her chair, yet a trace of her perfume reached him, anyway. It was a mixture of floral and musky tones, soft and sensuous, making his nostrils flare. For a greedy moment, he inhaled. He thought about sweeping aside her hair and pressing his nose to the pulse point behind her ear.

She wouldn’t object, not if he opened the connection fully. The fact that he could smell her perfume meant her body heat was already elevated. They fit together well. And he’d been so alone for so long….

But he couldn’t do it. Damn, he was crazy to consider it. The safety of his family was at stake. He wouldn’t risk it for what would only be a fleeting pleasure, a temporary relief. He knew what he wanted from Melina. How many times did he have to remind himself that it wasn’t this?

He returned to his chair, picked up his coffee and drained the mug. The liquid was no longer scalding, but it was hot enough to burn his tongue. He concentrated on the prick of pain. It was almost as effective as a cold shower. He reined in his power as well as his thoughts.

Melina cleared her throat and busied herself with her purse. Her hair swung forward, hiding the blush on her cheeks.

She looked embarrassed, as well as confused, Anthony thought. That was understandable. He judged she wasn’t the kind of woman who normally got carried away by her passions; several times he’d seen her try to suppress them. She had the right idea. It would be easiest for both of them if they didn’t acknowledge this…complication.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, withdrawing a small notepad from her purse, “I’d like to get started right away.”

He glanced around the room to verify that no one was sitting close enough to overhear. “Fine with me. That’s what we’re here for.”

“Exactly,” she said. There was a small earthenware vase of dried wildflowers on the table. She pushed it aside and set her notepad in front of her. Her hands weren’t quite steady. She took a pen from the pad’s spiral spine and clicked it a few times with her thumb.

He spotted a waiter approaching. “Breakfast is on me, Melina,” he said.

“Thanks, but this is my interview, so breakfast is on the Daily Journal.”

“You must have a generous boss.”

“Yes. We work well together.”

Something in her tone caught his attention. Before he could pursue it, the waiter arrived to take their orders. The moment he left, Melina flipped through her notepad to a clean page and made a scribble at the top. “All right, Anthony. You claim your friend was attacked by Titan’s people.”

He thought of the last time he had seen Jeremy. The man he had known for almost twenty years had been unrecognizable. He’d been swathed in bandages, hooked up to machines and fighting for his life. “Claim? There’s no doubt there. I know they did it.”

“Because they wanted information about you and your sisters. Is that right?”

He nodded. “My sisters and I used to work for Jeremy Solienti, the man who was attacked. I still do.”

“The first thing I’d like to know is why Titan is interested in your family. Was this the prelude to an extortion attempt?”

“He didn’t want money. He wanted us.”

Melina looked up. “But why?”

It had taken Anthony months to figure out the answer to that question. He decided to give her only part of it. “To understand that, you have to know Titan’s real identity.”

Melina’s fingertips whitened as she squeezed her pen. “This had better be on the level,” she said.

“It is.”

“I’ve been tracking this guy since June, when he started moving his drug network from Europe to North America.” She lowered her voice. “Interpol had nothing on his background. He seemed to appear out of nowhere with his one name. He’s a fanatic about secrecy. No one I’ve talked to will tell me who he is or where he came from, so how do you know?”

Anthony saw the spark in her eyes. He had a moment’s regret that it was because of her story, not him. But this was what she was here for. “Tell me where he is,” he said.

She frowned. “I promised to call you when I’m ready to break my story. You can be there when he’s arrested.”

“Not good enough. I need to know now. Every minute he’s free is too long.”

“That’s not the deal we agreed on.”

“We’re making a new one.”

She tossed her pen down. “Don’t play games with me, Anthony.”

“It’s no game. I know who Titan is. I saw him commit his first murder. How much is that worth to you?”

She braced her forearms on the table and leaned toward him. “Who is he?”

“Where is he?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you what I know as soon as you tell me who Titan is.”