Maddox stood. 'That's it. Quinn, get out of here.'
Quinn rose unhurriedly from his seat. He moved to Iris's side and touched her shoulder. A jolt of pure, hot terror coursed into her from the point of contact. She gazed up at him, trying to make sense of what she was feeling.
Then she realized it wasn't a real emotion. It was manufactured, built from thoughts and memories and suppositions pouring from the CIA agent's darkened soul. He wanted her to know what terror felt like. He wanted her to know what was at stake.
'Think hard about it, Iris.' He released her shoulder.
She slumped against the sofa, shaking.
'That's enough' Maddox grabbed Quinn and shoved him across the room to the front door. He jerked open the door and pushed the agent through. 'Get the hell out of my house.'
He locked the door behind the CIA agent and turned, breathing hard. His too long hair fell into his face, covering his blackened eye. The other gazed at Iris from beneath the shadow of his furrowed brow.
'You don't have to do what he wants.' he told her.
She laid her head back, her remaining energy bleeding out of herbody. Malignant memories of what she'd just felt from Quinn ate at her soul.
Maddox crossed to her side, settling on the coffee table in front of her. He closed his hand around her knee, his thumb moving gently against the soft flesh on the inside of her leg. A sensation of warmth seeped into her body from his touch.
When he started to remove his hand, she grabbed it, holding his fingers in place. 'Don't.'
Maddox lifted his other hand and placed it on her other knee. He slowly circled his palms over her knees, the touch light and soothing, 'I don't want to hurt you.'
'You're not.' she said. And it was true. Somehow, whatever pain he was feeling was little more than a buzz of awareness, tingling her limbs and belly. But the warmth of his hands on her flesh drove those sensations out of her mind.
'I don't know if I'm the man you need watching over you right now. Iris. This thing-' He shook his head, obviously searching for words, 'This thing goes deeper than I thought or Quinn wouldn't have come here.'
She caught both of his hands, stilled their movements. 'Who is Tahir Mahmoud?'
His eyes narrowed, 'I don't know.'
She looked down at their entangled hands. 'You asked Quinn when terrorists had started using psychics. He admitted he didn't know if they had. That means he already had a terror suspect before he got here, right? A suspect who's somehow led him to the Cassandra Society'
'You're racial profiling, sugar Don't you know that's a no-no?' Maddox smiled, but she felt no humor from him.
'You looked at Tahir this morning as if you knew him.'
Maddox released her hands, but not before she tasted the bitterness of an old, dark rage. 'I didn't recognize him.'
'But you think you know him.'
He pushed to his feet, groaning a little. 'You look tired. Rest here and I'll clean up the mess in the bedroom for you'
'Maddox, don't do this.'
He gave her a look of feigned confusion. 'Do what?'
'Keep secrets from me.'
He licked his lips. 'Everybody gets to have secrets. Iris. You have secrets, don't you? You kept a real big one from me until just this afternoon.'
She looked away, knowing he was right. If his injuries hadn't forced the issue, she probably would still be keeping her ability a secret from him. But that wasn't the only secret she was keeping.
She still hadn't told him about the list of names Sharon Phelps had given her that morning at the seminar. It might be her best clue to Sandrine's where-abouts, and she didn't want Maddox or Quinn or anyone else to start making decisions about what she should do with the information.
Maddox took a long, deep breath. 'Iris, I don't know for sure who Tahir Mahmoud is. And until I do, I don't want to slander him. Okay?'
She met his gaze and nodded. 'Okay.' She patted the sofa. 'Sit here with me a minute.'
Her request seemed to surprise him, but he did as she asked. He felt good against her. Solid, blessedly painless, to her surprise. Even the rage she'd felt from him was gone.
Relief from the constant agony she'd experienced over the last couple of days washed away what was left of her defenses. Tears followed in its wake, spilling down her cheeks in salty tracks, unstoppable.
'Oh, baby.' Macldox brushed at her tears with his thumb, tucking her under his arm. 'It's gonna be okay.'
She shook her head. 'I want to go home,' she confessed, the need overwhelming her. 'I just want to go home.'
He cupped her face. 'We can make that happen. First thing tomorrow, we'll get you to the airport and put you on the first flight back to the States. You don't have to stay here.'
She put her hands over his, 'Yes, I do.'
He gave her a gentle shake, 'No. You don't. You don't owe Quinn a damn thing. You didn't ask for any of this. It's not your job. It's his.'
'I can't leave Sandrine.' she said.
'You don't know she's in trouble. Maybe she really is taking part in that focus group and that's all.'
'It's not true,' Iris said, blinking back fresh tears, 'I know it's not that simple.' She felt it. bone deep.
'Then you go home and let the police handle it.' Maddox's voice was firm. 'It's their job.'
'They don't even think she's missing.'
'I'll keep on top of them for you.'
She smiled, touched by the offer. 'Sandrine's a stranger to you. You might push the matter a day or two, but you don't have any incentive to keep the pressure on. It's up to me.' Iris drew away from him, 'I'm all she has.'
Maddox dropped his hands to his lap. 'What about you? Is there someone who can come down here and keep you company?'
'My sister Lily is pregnant. I guess her husband would come down if I asked him to-he's a cop. But I can't ask that of him.' She brushed the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. 'My other sister. Rose, is in Colorado with her husband, Daniel Hartman. You may have heard of him.'
Maddox arched an eyebrow. 'The profiler?'
'That's the one. They're working a serial murder case out there. I can't drag them away just because my old college roommate may or may not be missing.' She pushed her hair back from her damp face 'Okay. Enough with the crybaby act. I'm getting the room straightened up and get to bed.'
'So, Lily, Rose and Iris.' he said, his lips curving. 'Bet that was fun growing up.'
She smiled. 'Flower power, baby.'
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, 'Are the other flowers as pretty as you, sugar?'
She couldn't find her breath, much less her voice. An ache of longing ran through her, as deep as she'd ever known. When he bent his head toward her. She met him halfway, her lips parting under the gentle pressure of his mouth. He kept the kiss light, his lips moving softly over hers. She curled her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, tightening her grip as the urge to pull him closer and deepen the kiss threatened to overwhelm her good sense.
Maddox dropped his hand. 'I'll go clean up the room.'
'I can do it.' Her voice shook.
He didn't argue, edging away from her.
She stopped halfway across the room and turned back to look at him. He sat half-turned toward her, watching her over the back of the sofa. 'Thank you for what you've done for me ' she said. 'It's way more than most people would.'
'Sugar, I was just showing a little island hospitality. That's all.' He shrugged it off.
But she felt the ripple of pleasure her gratitude gave him. Strange, she thought, that he'd find such satisfaction
