Page 43 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

Lake’s hand closed around my elbow, hauling me upright. “We’re done here.”

I didn’t argue, leaning into him as he guided us toward the exit. My ears rang, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out Geoffrey’s laughter as it followed us.

Nothing felt real until we were outside and the cold air hit my face. Lake steered me to a wall and had me sit. I concentrated on breathing, fast, shallow breaths eventually slowing to deeper ones. “He said he didn’t do it,” I said finally.

“You couldn’t read his mind?”

I shook my head.

Lake sat beside me, the thigh pressed to mine offering a comforting warmth. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Yes.” It startled me how much it mattered in such a short time.

“He was lying. Why would he tell you the truth?”

“No reason.”

“And why lie?”

That took more thought. “He enjoyed watching me squirm,” I said. “I was a worm on a hook.”

“Exactly,” Lake said. “That’s probably the most fun he’s had in years.”

“Thanks for getting me out.”

Lake shrugged. When I tuned into his thoughts, he was thinking about the tree a few feet from us. It was a common tactic people used when they didn’t want their thoughts read. The more time I spent with Lake, the better he was getting at it. Normally, he retreated into historical facts. On the train, it had been Napoleon. Now, nature. Endearing, yet frustrating.

We sat in silence for a while, Lake still thinking about the damn tree while I contemplated the feeling of being chewed up and spat out. Facing up to things was tiring. “Let’s get a hotel tonight,” I suggested. “One with a restaurant where we can stuff ourselves.”

“I can’t—”

“My treat,” I said quickly. Lake was proud and refused to admit that he wasn’t exactly flush when it came to money. But you only had to look at all the things his ex had taken that he hadn’t replaced to see the truth. Hell, he hadn’t even gotten himself a bed. “Thanks for coming with me. I’m sure there’s a long list of stuff you’d rather have done today. Like root canal surgery.”

That earned the laugh I’d been aiming for. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It would be nice not to get straight back on a train.”

I stood, my legs a lot less jelly-like. “Then it’s settled.”