“You think Smith sent the other guy to watch the marina?” she asked.
“I do,” he said in a flat voice, then added, “Too bad we don’t know the detective’s name. I’d like to warn him to watch his back.” He raised his head, his gaze locking with hers. “You could be in danger.”
A frisson went down her spine. “Nobody followed me. I don’t have a sign on my van or anything.”
“Let’s hope there’s no way to connect you.” He stopped pacing and turned to her. “We need to be able to protect you. Hurling napkins at Smith’s men isn’t gonna cut it. Let’s go out and try some of those fireballs he mentioned.”
She glanced toward the window. “It’s light out there.”
He laughed. “A fireball will show up a lot better in the dark.” He followed her gaze. “This is a pretty big property, and there are a lot of trees between you and the road.”
“My parents planted them for privacy.”
“And we’ve got it. Nobody is going to see what we’re doing up here.”
She nodded. “Fireballs,” she mused. “How are we going to work it? Conditions have been pretty dry here. I wouldn’t want to start a blaze.”
“Let’s set something up in the driveway, like target practice.”
She thought for a moment. I have a metal step stool. We could put...”
“Tin cans on it,” he supplied.
Now that he had suggested something positive to do, she felt better. Hurrying to the pantry closet, she retrieved the step stool along with a grocery bag with empty cans ready for recycling.
From behind her, he said, “I wish I could help you.”
“Youaregoing to help me by giving me the power to do it.”
She took the step stool outside and set it on the blacktop about ten yards from her workshop. When it was in place, she opened the recycling bin and fished out several cans. “They’re not going to burn.”
After setting one of the cans on the stool, she surveyed the arrangement. “I guess we should aim perpendicular to my workshop. We don’t want to setthaton fire.”
“I’m thinking that a shot isn’t going to go wild. We’ll be focusing on the can,” he said.
Nevertheless, they also faced away from the house. Olivia backed up almost to the front windows, and Travis moved in behind her, pulling her into a close embrace, so that his body almost felt like it was part of her.
“I think you have to generate the attack,” he murmured. “I’ll give you power like we did with the napkins.”
She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the can, not sure exactly what she was supposed to do. Then she thought about a battle she’d seen in a space opera movie. As the ships fought each other, beams of light shot out from each ship toward the other. She struggled to summon something similar—a beam of destruction that would damage the can.
Good,Travis approved.
She felt him pouring energy into her, and as he did, she kept her imaginary beam on the can.
Sweat broke out on her forehead as she tried to create some kind of ruinous attack on the innocent can that had held diced tomatoes. At first, nothing happened. In frustration, she willed her mind to produce the effect she wanted. And suddenly it happened, almost like a death ray striking the can. It started to glow, then leaped up into the air. Thinking it might explode, she pressed her hands over her face until she felt the can clatter to the blacktop.
“I think we did it,” she marveled as she hurried over to the ruined vessel. It lay on its side, the exterior charred and the metal partially melted.
Wow,Travis gasped.I guess Smith was right.
Let’s try again.
Don’t touch the can.
I won’t.She got a rake and pushed the target out of the way before setting another on the stool.
I need to be able to do it, too,Travis said.Let me see if I can direct the power.
