Free Firestorm by Iris Johansen Page B

anything.”
    “You already know more than I do about him. With experience you may learn how to search him out.” He paused. “Or maybe I can help you.”
    “No.”
    He shrugged. “Whatever you say. I just want you to try.”
    “And I don't want Jason or Laura endangered. They've been through enough.”
    “I'll keep them safe.”
    “I'm supposed to trust you? You have a lousy track record.”
    “Okay. I'm not perfect. But I've already called Washington, and they'll have round-the-clock guards. I promise they won't be at risk. I don't want them hurt any more than you do.”
    She couldn't doubt his sincerity. “Thank you.”
    He shrugged. “I'm damn sorry that Trask was responsible for that baby's death. I had no idea he'd followed me to Atlanta.”
    “You should have known. He regards you as a threat. He has to destroy threats that might interfere with Firestorm.” She turned away. “Now I'm calling the hospital and checking on Laura. You make reservations to Washington out of Atlanta for this evening.”
    “We could arrange a private plane from here.”
    She shook her head. “I have a couple things I have to do in Atlanta. And I want to pick up Sam. It's just as well if Trask thinks that I'm only an arson investigator with a very smart dog. I may seem less of a threat.”
    “Good thinking.”
    “Does he know about . . . what you are?”
    “I doubt it. Besides, I told you that I can't get inside his head.”
    “Then why does he consider you such a threat?”
    “Cameron Devers was my brother.” His smile was bitter. “And Trask definitely respects the power of revenge.”
             
    S he took a deep breath as the door closed behind Silver. What insanity was she getting herself into? But it wasn't insanity. The insanity would have been to let Trask be free to wander the world and inflict that hurt and ugliness on anyone else.
    So stop questioning the decision she had already made. The only thing to do was to protect herself as much as possible by finding out as much information as she could. She picked up the phone and dialed Michael Travis.
    “I can't tell you how sorry I am about what happened to your brother and his wife,” Travis said when he picked up the call. “It was a terrible thing.”
    “Yes, it was. I suppose Silver called you and told you what happened. Or maybe I shouldn't suppose any such thing. Maybe you had one of your psychic friends in that weird group of yours focusing on me.”
    “Silver called. He wanted me to be sure and have me contact the authorities and arrange protection for your family. And there's nothing really weird about our group. We're just people trying to survive. No one wanted this talent thrust on them. It just happened. And no one has any desire to exploit it. It's more of a curse than an asset, as you very well know. Some of our people ended up in sanitariums like you. Some committed suicide. And some hid their talent but secretly thought they were insane.”
    “Until Michael Travis came riding to the rescue.”
    “I tried to help,” Michael said quietly. “I've been there.”
    She was silent a moment. “You did help me. And I never thanked you for it. I was just so angry and defensive about being shoved back into a sanitarium after spending all those years in a coma that all I wanted was a normal life. I didn't want to think, talk, or hear about anyone who was . . . like me.”
    “But I think you're ready to hear about us now.” He chuckled. “And I consider it a breakthrough that you're admitting that you're not alone in this.”
    “Then enjoy it. But I'll never join your little coven. I handle my problems myself.”
    “So do we. And there isn't any real organization to our group. The cohesiveness is that we know we can reach out and talk to someone who understands. That's a blessing when half the time we're not sure we understand ourselves. We believe in independence and privacy too, and no one would think of violating that premise.” He