Read Online Accused (Ganzfield) by Kate Kaynak - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Kaynak
Ads: Link
of horrors , he agreed, and I felt the truth in his mind. The worst was the one in which you… in which you were executed. He’d watched from behind a thick observation window as I’d been strapped to a gurney and lethal injection chemicals had been pumped into my veins. That one had haunted him over and over.
Oh. Oh, God. I hadn’t actually made the connection that federal murders were capital offenses. I’d been too busy dealing with the interrogation horrors to realize that execution had been a real, possible outcome. Even though I’d killed four people, I never thought I’d be found guilty of their murders. I knew my actions hadn’t been criminal—and my lawyer had superpowers.
Now who’s polluting whose mind? Trevor tried to force his thoughts in a different direction, but everything was still too intense.
I could feel the terror that this scenario had instilled in him, but it didn’t hit me as viscerally as it did with him. At least everything was okay now. Coleman had made sure I’d never be charged with those crimes again. It was over.
“It’s over.” He said it with more emphasis than he felt, trying to convince both of us. “The stuff from your nightmares… and the stuff from my nightmares… Over. Done. Not happening anymore.”
Over and done.
My hands still framed Trevor’s face. I leaned in and kissed his lips, lightly and impulsively. I felt a surprised little thrill fly through him and I realized how we’d been avoiding kissing without even realizing it. That intimacy treaded too close to the erotic, and I’d been too shell-shocked for anything like that.
I kissed him again, still lightly, lingering longer this time. A growl from his stomach seemed to interrupt, like a disapproving old man saying “ahem.”
Hungry? I asked, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face.
Want to go raid the kitchen with me?
I glanced at the clock on my bedside table; it was nearly midnight. Everyone would be asleep or out on patrol. Good, We wouldn’t have to deal with them.
Absolutely.
We tossed jackets over our nightclothes so our flannel PJ pants just looked like a casual fashion choice. We walked hand-in-hand and shielded our minds together in a joyful déjà vu—we were together, and nothing was going to change that.
We treaded quietly on the steps of the main building. It took me several seconds to recall the door code from… before. I tapped the digits into the keypad. Minders had 24-hour access everywhere, of course. I couldn’t feel Williamson’s thoughts from his apartment on the top floor; he must either be gone or asleep. The old wooden building creaked as we threaded our way through the darkened hall back to the kitchen.
My appetite suddenly roared back into place. Everything looked so good.
Trevor pulled out two trays and set them on the counter. We stocked up—grapes, apples, bananas. Regular fresh fruit seemed luxurious and decadent to me. I grabbed deli meat, bread, and mustard, and Trevor moved his hand up to rest where my shoulder met my neck. It kept our physical connection for shielding while leaving my hands free. I made a couple of thick sandwiches. He continued to search the kitchen telekinetically—the cabinets opened as though ghosts were looking for snacks, too.
Brownies! Score! He cut several out of the large pan, wrapping them in napkins with invisible hands. Trevor then rummaged through a high cabinet, pulling out an insulated pitcher with a screw-on lid. He filled it with milk from the fridge.
We cleaned up the evidence of our raid and I grabbed two large, unopened boxes of cereal as we left the dining hall. Trevor floated the overflowing trays in front of us as we returned to the church, both feeling giddy with innocent deviousness.
Once inside, we sat cross-legged on Trevor’s king-sized bed and had a midnight picnic. The food was simple and wholesome, and I reveled in the gentle explosion of flavor in every grape, every bite of apple. The sandwiches
Oh. Oh, God. I hadn’t actually made the connection that federal murders were capital offenses. I’d been too busy dealing with the interrogation horrors to realize that execution had been a real, possible outcome. Even though I’d killed four people, I never thought I’d be found guilty of their murders. I knew my actions hadn’t been criminal—and my lawyer had superpowers.
Now who’s polluting whose mind? Trevor tried to force his thoughts in a different direction, but everything was still too intense.
I could feel the terror that this scenario had instilled in him, but it didn’t hit me as viscerally as it did with him. At least everything was okay now. Coleman had made sure I’d never be charged with those crimes again. It was over.
“It’s over.” He said it with more emphasis than he felt, trying to convince both of us. “The stuff from your nightmares… and the stuff from my nightmares… Over. Done. Not happening anymore.”
Over and done.
My hands still framed Trevor’s face. I leaned in and kissed his lips, lightly and impulsively. I felt a surprised little thrill fly through him and I realized how we’d been avoiding kissing without even realizing it. That intimacy treaded too close to the erotic, and I’d been too shell-shocked for anything like that.
I kissed him again, still lightly, lingering longer this time. A growl from his stomach seemed to interrupt, like a disapproving old man saying “ahem.”
Hungry? I asked, feeling a genuine smile spread across my face.
Want to go raid the kitchen with me?
I glanced at the clock on my bedside table; it was nearly midnight. Everyone would be asleep or out on patrol. Good, We wouldn’t have to deal with them.
Absolutely.
We tossed jackets over our nightclothes so our flannel PJ pants just looked like a casual fashion choice. We walked hand-in-hand and shielded our minds together in a joyful déjà vu—we were together, and nothing was going to change that.
We treaded quietly on the steps of the main building. It took me several seconds to recall the door code from… before. I tapped the digits into the keypad. Minders had 24-hour access everywhere, of course. I couldn’t feel Williamson’s thoughts from his apartment on the top floor; he must either be gone or asleep. The old wooden building creaked as we threaded our way through the darkened hall back to the kitchen.
My appetite suddenly roared back into place. Everything looked so good.
Trevor pulled out two trays and set them on the counter. We stocked up—grapes, apples, bananas. Regular fresh fruit seemed luxurious and decadent to me. I grabbed deli meat, bread, and mustard, and Trevor moved his hand up to rest where my shoulder met my neck. It kept our physical connection for shielding while leaving my hands free. I made a couple of thick sandwiches. He continued to search the kitchen telekinetically—the cabinets opened as though ghosts were looking for snacks, too.
Brownies! Score! He cut several out of the large pan, wrapping them in napkins with invisible hands. Trevor then rummaged through a high cabinet, pulling out an insulated pitcher with a screw-on lid. He filled it with milk from the fridge.
We cleaned up the evidence of our raid and I grabbed two large, unopened boxes of cereal as we left the dining hall. Trevor floated the overflowing trays in front of us as we returned to the church, both feeling giddy with innocent deviousness.
Once inside, we sat cross-legged on Trevor’s king-sized bed and had a midnight picnic. The food was simple and wholesome, and I reveled in the gentle explosion of flavor in every grape, every bite of apple. The sandwiches
Similar Books
