“You have got to be kidding me.” Keith Gillette dropped the knife he’d been holding, the vision seared into his brain for all eternity. Thank you, my loving druid ancestors. Bastards. “That’s just… ew.”


The detective pushed her glasses up her nose, ignoring the disgust on his face. She’d be cute if she wasn’t colder than a polar bear’s ass. Those blonde curls and baby blue eyes weren’t meant to be stuck in an interrogation room running psychics through their paces. The gun at her hip and the badge around her neck did nothing to dispel that air of fragility, but Keith had seen what the cop could do. He’d watched her put down a man twice her size once. He’d been impressed enough to request her as his liaison.


The visions he’d gotten the one time he’d managed to touch her badge had sent him reeling into the men’s room to empty the contents of his stomach. What had been done to her had left her the walking dead emotionally. “What did you see?”


“I saw two people doing things two people shouldn’t do with a knife handle. Gah. I need to scrub my brain out with bleach.” He rubbed his forehead and tried to will the vision away. He had a bad feeling about this.


She stared at the knife, showing emotion for the first time. Of course, that emotion had to be curiosity rather than the rampant disgust he’d expect from anyone else. “Are you sure?”


He shuddered. “Trust me, Detective Handlebar—”


“Handelvar.”


“Whatever. That’s a vision I could have done without.”


“Did they enjoy it?”


He stared at her, not certain he’d heard right. “Excuse me?”


“Answer the question, please. Did they enjoy it?”


It was only through sheer force of will that he didn’t get up and walk away. Who knew working with the PsyCops would be such a literal pain in the ass? He shifted at the phantom physical memory of… ew. “Yeah. They totally got off on it. Have I ever mentioned I’m not into gay porn?”


Megan Handelvar smiled grimly. “You are now.” She pointed to the knife. “The last man who held that died under mysterious circumstances. They found his body inside the museum, just outside the new Cairo exhibit.” She leaned forward and tapped the blade with her gloved finger. “He was mummified, his body completely drained of fluids, his brain and internal organs removed. The only thing missing was the linen bandages.”


“You’re telling me this why?” Oh please, dear God, let it not be what he thought it might be. Neither of them might survive it.


She nodded, confirming his worst fears. “Afraid so. Sorry, Keith, but I need your help on this one.”


He closed his eyes and tried to beat back the truth. “No.” He’d been the one that got away, the one that had turned a smiling, pretty girl into the detective standing before him. Keith knew exactly what that bastard had done.


He’d seen it. The last time Keith had tried to capture him he’d wound up scarred, blinded in one eye in retaliation. That had been the only time Megan had shown him real emotion.


Of course, anger hadn’t been what he’d been going for, but you took what you could get when the woman you secretly loved was encased in ice.


“Yes.” The touch of her hand surprised him. He stared into her pale blue eyes and remembered things he’d rather forget, like how much she’d loved that asshole and what he’d done to turn her so cold. “Jack’s back.”