Caleb’s scowl grew even bigger, but he tried to temper his reaction so she’d continue talking. He needed to know exactly what they were up against without him going off his hinges and scaring the hell out of her.

“You don’t think I’m crazy for saying he speaks to me in my dreams and that it’s not just my worst fears manifesting themselves in my subconscious?” she asked in a disbelieving tone.

“Ramie. For the hundredth time I don’t think you’re crazy. It would be the height of hypocrisy to discount anything, considering my own sister has psychic abilities and you certainly possess them yourself. So it certainly wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it’s entirely likely—even probable—that there are others out there who also have special abilities.”

She hesitated a brief moment, licking her lips as if readying herself for what she was about to say. “What ability does your sister have?”

He could hardly refuse to tell her—to trust her—when he demanded her trust and for her to tell him everything about her situation. Even if he was breaking a sacred vow between him and his brothers and Tori.

“She has visions. Of the future. Of what is yet to come. They aren’t always clear in their meaning. Sometimes she doesn’t know their meaning until what she sees comes to pass. It’s deeply upsetting to her because she believes she could prevent bad things from happening.”

“That must be terribly frustrating,” she said, sympathy brimming in her voice. Sorrow was an ache in her eyes, making the smoky gray darker, as though shadows of the past were flickering through her mind.

“At least she doesn’t have to endure the pain and tragedy of others. In that regard she’s fortunate. Unlike you, who suffers right along with every victim that you’re helping. You see everything. Feel everything.”

She let out a sigh and then sank back onto the edge of the bed, defeat evident in her posture. “What are we going to do?” she whispered. “I should have never asked for your help. I’m putting you and your family in unimaginable danger. Because he’ll stop at nothing in his effort to capture me. Life means nothing to him. He’d take out any obstacle to his ultimate goal as if it were only a simple annoyance, like killing flies.”

“Yes, you should most certainly have asked for my help,” he argued. “And I’m going to help you, Ramie. I will protect you. This goes beyond the debt that I and my family owe you. I will not allow an innocent woman—I don’t care who she is—to suffer a fate worse than death.”

A flicker of hope lightened the stormy gray of her eyes. She stared at him as if afraid to believe the unbelievable.

“You can trust me,” he said. “You touched me, gauged my intent. You know I’m not . . . ​evil. So you have to know I’d never hurt you.”

“I do know,” she whispered.

“Then I suggest we move and move quickly. He’s not far from here and if he does truly have a psychic link to you, he’ll know you’re still close. The longer we stay here, the more opportunity we provide him to find you.”

Fear and panic made her tremble, her shoulders and hands shaking. Then she simply nodded her agreement.

Caleb picked up his cell phone and made a series of calls, one to ensure his pilot had fueled the plane and was ready to go at a moment’s notice. Then he called Antonio and told him to meet him outside Ramie’s room so they could provide a solid barrier around her the short distance from the hotel room to the car waiting downstairs.

When he was finished, he simply held out his hand to Ramie, a signal that it was time to leave. Heaving a deep breath, she slid her fingers over his palm and allowed him to help her to her feet.

“You ready?” he asked.

She squared her shoulders resolutely and then nodded. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s do this,” he said.

TEN

RAMIE studied Caleb from her position in the plane. He seemed tense and ill at ease. But then wasn’t she a stark reminder of what had happened to tear his family apart a year ago? She felt horrible for bringing that all back. But she was truly scared. She knew she’d run out of time and that her stalker was tiring of the game. That he was ready for the final chapter in his morbid fantasy of killing her.

No, she couldn’t get a solid read on him, but when he slipped into her mind, she sensed frustration. Impatience. It was why she knew he’d established a link to her, one that she couldn’t control. He remained there, a dark shadow in the deepest recesses of her consciousness. He lived to make her life hell. For her to be afraid every minute of the day, both awake and in her dreams.

Never before had she come up against something like this. She tracked evil, could feel it—and the victims’ pain. But no one had ever held such a hold on her mind. Never before had she experienced the kind of helplessness—and resignation—that she was feeling now.

He was controlling her. Not physically. Mentally.

The day she’d helped locate his victim, when she’d slipped into his mind and the mind of his victim, he’d gotten a lock on her. A reversal of roles because usually she was the one creeping into someone’s mind. Not the other way around.

What was the extent of his psychic abilities? Was it how he’d controlled his victims in the past? How he’d been able to lure them by controlling their minds? And was that why he was so frustrated by her, because she wasn’t as easily controlled as his other victims? Was it why he viewed her as the ultimate challenge? His ultimate victory?