Nicolas followed her, feeling a fool. He knew part of the problem was the close proximity of so many men to Dahlia. He was still fighting off the feeling of watching her slip through his fingers. Combined with his fear for her safety, he was reacting to the amplification of his own emotions by the very energy he was drawing away from his men and from Dahlia. He sighed. So much for self-discipline and control.
I’m sorry, Dahlia. I really am.
She wanted to stay angry with him. There was a form of protection in staying angry, but the aching sincerity in his voice was her downfall. She took the hand he held out to her. He drew her close to him, so close she could feel the heat of his body through the thin material of their clothing.
“I’m good at what I do, Nicolas. If there’s danger, I’m careful to keep it to a minimum. And my size is an advantage. I work at night when most people are already gone. Most of the time, I’m in and out and no one is ever the wiser.”
“Dahlia,” Kaden said, “you must have to travel. Do you fly? How do you get around the traveling aspect of your job?”
“Private plane. I always use the same pilot. He’s ex-military as well and works for the NCIS. He was a Green Beret. Most of the men I’ve met from the NCIS division were in some kind of Special Forces training.” She looked at Kaden. “That’s not normal, is it?”
“Are they GhostWalkers, Dahlia?” Kaden asked.
“I have no idea.” She shrugged lightly and then pushed a hand through her hair. “Maybe. Maybe that’s the connection between them. They all seem to know one another and are close. Max is the pilot, and when I’m with him, I never seem to have problems. We don’t talk much, so I didn’t give it a lot of thought. He’s very quiet.”
“Max who?” Kaden signaled to Tucker to bring out the satellite phone to call Lily. The more information they had the better.
“Logan Maxwell. Everyone calls him Max.” She watched as Tucker talked into the phone, relaying the information. It amazed her that Lily was on the other end. For so long she didn’t know if Lily was a figment of her imagination or if she were real. Now, she was almost afraid to believe in her.
Tucker looked at them, his expression grave. “Someone’s been trying to track us. They’re using sophisticated equipment to do it. This place might not be safe anymore.”
Dahlia felt her heart thud. None of the men looked particularly concerned. They were used to the violence in their world. She took a deep breath and tried to look unafraid. It wasn’t so much the terror of having mortar rounds fired at her, so much as the onslaught of the violent energy seeking her out in the aftermath. It seemed such a weakness in the face of the strength the other GhostWalkers possessed.
Nicolas slipped his arm around her shoulders. “How do you contact Maxwell for a ride when you’re heading out for a mission?”
“Jesse usually arranges transport, but I also call Henderson’s secretary and she arranges it for me. She gives me the location of a small field and a time. Max is always there well ahead of me and ready to take off.”
“So let’s do that. Call the secretary, what’s her name?” Kaden asked.
“Louise Charter. I’ve never met her face-to-face, but I’ve spoken numerous times with her on the phone. She’s a nice woman.”
The men exchanged a long look. Dahlia’s eyebrow shot up. “What? You aren’t going to tell me that Louise is behind all this. She’s close to sixty. She’s the widow of an FBI agent.”
“We’ll see,” Kaden said. “Let’s arrange for transport to the DC and Maryland area so we can pay a little visit to the agents. I think it would be most helpful to get to know them.”
“And dangerous,” Tucker pointed out. “If they’re GhostWalkers.”
“And if they are, where did they come from? Why haven’t we heard of them?”
“Calhoun knew about us,” Nicolas said quietly. “He recognized my name, and he didn’t bat an eye over my talking telepathically to him. He knew.”