Book 3 in the Hidden Senses Trilogy
Paranormal Romantic Suspense
Ian MacTavish is a loner and finds it easier to stay that way. The constant barrage of other people’s thoughts is exhausting, and relationships are even more troublesome for someone with his “talent”. Using his skill has brought him considerable financial reward, and allowed him to stay uninvolved and unencumbered. When a night of harmless mind surfing leads him further into a twisted plot of chaos and murder, his appearance at the police station surprises him most of all.
When you first entered someone’s mind, it was like stepping into a dimmed room. You never quite knew what to expect. Ian MacTavish knew he should not be in here, but with what the guy was thinking he was obligated to poke around a little bit more, wasn’t he? Someone’s life was in danger here. He had to do this even when he knew the risks.
You can’t go in too far. He held that thought as he went just a little deeper into the mind where he was trespassing. Well, it was trespassing. There was no other way to describe what he could do. He could listen in without even trying, or he could wander right in and poke around. This time he needed more information to save someone’s life. Not just someone, but a cop. Ian was the last person to be a hero. In his line of work he preferred to stay in the shadows and out of the spotlight. Not this time. His conscience wasn’t going to let him know and not act.
Wow. He focused on the state of this mind. It was a mishmash of incomplete thoughts. Usually there was some sort of consistency to the human mind. The more intelligent the subject the more uniform it was throughout. This one was a whole drawer full of mismatched socks.
Focus Ian. In, get what you need, and out like last year’s trends. All he had to do was find some images or memories that would lead him to the identity of the inebriated brain he invaded. As weak as this mind was, the chance of being pulled in and trapped seemed highly unlikely—but that didn’t mean he was foolish enough to go behind one of the doors. Ian thought of the areas of the brain as sections with doors. There weren’t any real doors, but there were thresholds, ones you couldn’t see. He only sensed them and he’d learned early in life that crossing the wrong one was a remarkably good way to remain trapped inside the other head indefinitely.
Cautiously, he turned his attention to the surrounding thresholds. They were weak but he wasn’t taking any chances and headed to the dullest hued one first. Yes, he saw them in colours...mostly. Staying just outside it, he sought what was on the other side. Man, there is a lot of dark in this person. Not much of an IQ but there’s a whole lot of death and pain in this soul’s world. The images held there were blurred and faint, which wasn’t surprising as drunk as this fool was. On the positive side, blurry memories were a good thing because they looked pretty grim and bordered on gore.
Step into a world of magic and passions. . .
All Things Paranormal