Hostage by Kay Hooper

could read her most of the time when he was awake—she really didn’t want her thoughts or emotions to disturb his sleep.
    Do I broadcast my dreams? Damn. Note to self: Ask Reese if I broadcast my dreams. Ask like it doesn’t matter.
    Right.
    She knew herself to be a wary woman when it came to personal relationships with men; the horrific events that had awakened her psychic abilities slightly less than three years before made that a given. 3 And it had only been back in January of this year, after all, that she had met Reese DeMarco—just as he was ending an unusually long and dangerous undercover assignment that had nearly cost him his life.
    So neither one of them was especially unburdened by emotional and psychological baggage. Or scars. The opposite, in fact; it probably would have been extremely difficult to find two people who had been in darker, more evil places conjured by the human psyche than Hollis Templeton and Reese DeMarco.
    Outside the SCU, at any rate.
    But after what had happened to Diana, Reese had made his interest in Hollis crystal clear. Life was short, a brutal lesson they had both learned, and DeMarco had not wanted to find himself in the position of regretting that he had not spoken up about his feelings.
    After that . . . not very much had happened between them. Not, at least, of the romantic relationship variety.
    He had the advantage of being a powerful telepath often able to read her emotions and thoughts—not that she could hide them, since she “broadcast,” especially at stressful moments—so perhaps he simply knew she wasn’t quite ready to take a lover just yet. Perhaps he knew that the ever-growing psychic abilities Hollis had been coping with left her too vulnerable to deal with anything more at this point in her life.
    Perhaps.
    Hollis didn’t exactly resent his self-appointed watchdog status. The SCU team had become her family, a place where she felt welcome and understood, and she was well aware that DeMarco was never questioning her strength
or
her ability to take care of herself when he made sure she ate regular meals and rested when she could. He just saw or knew that she tended to get so focused on the job at hand that she forgot more mundane matters. And that, unlike some of the other team members, her reserves of strength and stamina were rather dramatically tapped and drained by her abilities, especially when she pushed herself.
    And she nearly always pushed herself.
    So . . . was he merely taking care of his partner? Or taking care of a woman in whom he was interested?
    Hollis wasn’t sure there was much of a difference when push came to shove. He was at her side, a strong presence she could count on, and that meant a lot. It was something she had never really known before in her life. And they had developed, over these last months, a kind of humorous banter that at times did a dandy job of lessening tension in a situation. He helped keep her spirits up, and called her on it when she was being gloomy or pissy for no good reason.
    Hollis had a shrewd idea that he had also been asked by Bishop to keep an eye on her. She knew they were worried about her, Bishop and Miranda, because her abilities weren’t just growing—they were leapfrogging. And that was unusual.
    Unheard of, really.
    So nobody quite knew what it meant, the way her abilities were developing. Maybe it would prove to be a good thing.
    Or maybe not.
    Maybe her brain would reach its breaking point, short-circuit, and she’d end up stroking out or going into a coma.
    It had been known to happen.
    Hollis winced, making another mental note, this one to update the living will all SCU agents kept on file back at the office. Because she didn’t want to live hooked up to machines. She didn’t have Diana’s nightmares about that, but just the possibility made her skin crawl.
    Then, realizing, Hollis frowned down at herself, ran light fingers over her forearm, and felt the gooseflesh. Felt the fine hairs