“You learned several forms of martial arts.”
“Yes, and for the most part, because I was doing something physical and most of my instructors enjoyed what they were doing, it was fun. Later, as I got older and they were serious about training me, I was faster than the instructors, and some of them would get angry.”
“Honey, that’s entirely understandable. You’re barely five feet tall, and you can’t weigh a hundred pounds. To make matters worse, you’re a girl. Kicking some man’s butt is not ladylike.”
Dahlia heard the teasing note in his voice and for the first time didn’t bristle at his pointing out her diminutive size. “I’m a good eater, in spite of my size. You might be able to live on that stuff in your backpack, but I want real food. I’m volunteering to go grocery shopping.”
“I’ll call in an order. There must be someone who’s willing to earn a delivery fee. That’s what cell phones are for.”
“Aren’t you afraid your name is on a hit list right alongside mine?”
“They have no idea who I am. No one got a good look at my face, and the only one who might have been able to identify me was the sniper they set on our trail. He’s not in any condition to tell them who I am.”
“How would he know?”
He shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t know. Most likely he didn’t, but we have a feel for one another. How we walk a path, that sort of thing.”
“I see.” She didn’t, but she was becoming restless. “I need to walk around outside, Nicolas. It isn’t you, really, you’re being really supportive, but even Milly and Bernadette never spent more than fifteen or twenty minutes with me unless we were outdoors.”
“Am I projecting sexual energy?” He was watching her hands again. She was whirling the amethyst spheres beneath her fingertips, never touching them, keeping them afloat in the air just beneath her palm.
“There’s always energy, but that’s not it. You’re amazingly low-key. Most of the time, unless it is sexual, I don’t feel anything. You’re a very restful person to be with.”
“How about going out into the courtyard, Dahlia? You can sit out there and relax. I’ll make a list of things we need and call in the order and then make us something to eat.”
She nodded. “Thanks for being understanding. I really appreciate it.”
“Dahlia.” He stopped her before she made it to the door. “Is it something I can help you with?”
She should have known he would see beyond mere words. Dahlia shook her head. “I’ve always relieved the buildup by physical activity. You saw my gym. I can wait until dark and use the rooftops. I get a little shaky is all.”
“Are you hurting?”
“It isn’t bad—and don’t offer pain meds. I don’t take them. I have a fairly high tolerance, and I get by.”
He waved her toward the courtyard. Dahlia didn’t hesitate. She needed to be alone. Part of it was she didn’t want him to see her as she really was. She put her hands out, fists clenched around the spheres. Both hands were shaking. She was used to her routine, the sanctuary of her home. Interacting with Nicolas was exhilarating, but it took its toll. She began to jog around the courtyard, all the while keeping the spheres moving beneath the fingers of both hands.
* * *
CHAPTER SEVEN
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Dahlia paced back and forth in the small bedroom, her mind refusing to give her peace. Something was wrong. She’d walked the entire parameters of the house several times. She jogged in the courtyard. Her dinner, a traditional Cajun dish, wasn’t sitting well in her stomach despite having been cooked to perfection. She missed something. Granted, she’d lost everything, and she’d been distracted by running through the bayou and practically sleeping with a man, but she never had so much trouble figuring things out. It was right there, within her grasp, yet she couldn’t quite reach it.
She leapt onto the bed and raced halfway up the wall, taking refuge in physical activity. Someone wanted her dead. They shot Jesse. Was it possible the very people she worked for had sent a team to kill her? Her bare feet beat a small tattoo on the lower part of the wall as she ran lightly around it, circling several times before attempting to race up the wall to the ceiling. Why did they shoot Jesse and not kill him? They would know he didn’t know where she was. She was late. She never had contact with Jesse until she reached her house. It was always set up that way. It never varied. She didn’t carry a cell phone or a pager or anything else. Once he gave her the mission, she planned it and carried it out alone. Why did they shoot Jesse? Just to torture him? It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t the first time a recovery had taken a wrong turn, though she always completed the assignment, but there was a strong possibility the attack on her home and family was connected.