Something is hunting in the bayou…
Psychic Evangeline Broussard is certain nothing will ever induce her to work with law enforcement again—until a serial killer starts using her small bayou town as his own personal hunting ground. The powdered sugar on her beignet though is being forced to work with Special Agent pain-in-the-ass, Nick Garrison, whose cynicism toward her psychic ability is matched only by his hotter-than-a-Louisiana-summer sex appeal.
Nick’s opinion of so-called psychics is carved in stone, as well as on his heart, which puts his best friend’s little cousin squarely off limits, regardless of how much the sassy, Cajun, spitfire turns him on. But when her supposed sixth sense, and a leak in the local police department, put her in the crosshairs of the killer, she’s the only one who can save them all.
Nick tensed. Hell, he might not know all that much about this psychic shit, but damned if that didn’t sound like a dangerous move on her part. He didn’t like it. Not even a little bit. “Finish it. What the hell happened this time?”
“It was worse.” She brought her hand up and rubbed her forehead. “Waaay worse. I think he sensed I was there. Basically, he sucked me in and spit me back out. It was like a mental sucker punch.” She shook her head, her eyes wide pools of confusion and dread. “I’m really not sure about everything because I passed out and woke up with a bloody nose.”
Nick’s gut churned, bile rising to the back of his throat. She was doing her best to cover it up, but he could practically smell fear leaking from her pores. He clenched his fist, the desire to smash something running strong within his veins. He wasn’t alone. Remy looked ready to explode.
Questions hammered at him. One standing out above the rest, how the hell was he supposed to protect her from something he couldn’t see? Confusion and frustration clashed within him.
The shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes were more pronounced due to the lack of color on her face. She appeared more than a little lost, and he could only imagine how helpless she must feel.
The idea of this killer gaining access to her mind…, he couldn’t even go down that road or he’d lose his grip.
“Did you recognize him, or anything that could tell us who he is?” Remy asked, his tone quietly controlled.
“No. I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold on long enough. But I got a flash of Grace. She was alive and fighting back.”
“My God, Evie. If the killer can do that to you, he has to be one powerful psychic. What’s to stop him doin’ it again?” Remy asked.
“I don’t know, but I think it was only possible because I tried to reach out and establish a connection with him.”
The shudder rippling through her spoke volumes.
The knot in Nick’s stomach grew to basketball size proportions. The idea of the killer having access to Evie’s head at any time, sent ice water rushing through his veins chilling him to the core. He wanted to pound the bastard into the ground.
“Not to take away your apparent enthusiasm for getting into the mind of a killer.” Shit, he hated her getting anywhere near the killer, even mentally. “But did you for one second think about the possibility that he might detect your presence while you were in there mucking about in his brain? You just said Madam whatever-her-name-is was aware of you trying to get into her head. What made you think the killer wouldn’t be? And just what’s to stop him reaching out to you? What’s to stop him from recognizing your energy now and tracking it back to you?” A knot of fear lodged in his chest. “If he wasn’t aware of you before, he sure the hell is now.