Untouched. Samantha Hunter

effective use of our resource in this capacity will require research to prevent overloads. The resource seems to experience great deal of pain when not protected from overload, though all of its physical indicators show no permanent damage. Increased healing capacity? More experiments need to be done to define its upper and lower ranges of sensitivity.

      He’d known that Risa had mind-reading abilities, but no one outside of her handlers really knew the total extent of her powers. Most knowledgeable of all was the author of the reports, Dr. Peter Laslow, who’d been studying and training her since birth. Now Daniel knew everything, too, and he was having difficulty reconciling it all. Little he read in the reports seemed reflective of the woman he’d met in the store today.

      He winced every time Laslow referred to Risa as “the resource” or “it.” Daniel knew it was to protect her identity should the files get into the wrong hands, but still. She’d been just thirteen years old when that entry was written.

      She’d been used for just about everything he could imagine—interrogations, most frequently. When she was barely more than a child she’d spent weeks on end meeting with some of the worst terrorist suspects on the planet, probing their minds for what information she could relay to her handlers.

      The notes detailed a string of collapses occurring with increased frequency in the adolescent years. Some were more serious than others as they discovered and tested the limits of her powers. They’d eventually developed ways for her to filter what her mind grabbed on to, to protect herself—not out of compassion, but because they couldn’t risk losing her as an asset. After her accident, she’d suffered frequent blackouts and headaches; Daniel wondered if they were still happening.

      He’d seen the ravages of terrorism. The images were scarred onto his mind. But Risa had actually been inside of the minds of people who committed, or intended to commit, some of the worst crimes in history. She’d learned their languages and had been a part of them when she explored their minds. What did that do to a person? Could she ever adjust to ordinary life?

      Hell, he’d had a wonderful, loving childhood. Even in the course of his work, he hadn’t been subjected to half of what she had, but he didn’t think he could ever go back to ordinary life again. In fact, he knew he couldn’t. Once he’d seen the utter destruction one person could wreak upon another, and even more disturbing, what he himself was capable of, there was no way to work back from that.

      The thought distracted him—his situation at the moment was difficult. There were eight messages on his room’s phone, all from his family. Three were from his mother. Anna hadn’t wasted any time getting the word out. They were voices from another lifetime—familiar and foreign all at once, connecting to something deep inside of him he’d thought was gone. But he had no intention of responding, at least not until he knew what was going on with Risa. Just being around his family could put them in danger if Risa were aligning herself with bad people. Daniel would rather risk his family’s ire than their safety.

      Levering himself up, he grabbed his keys. He was back on task. Rereading the files reaffirmed his mission, reminding him why he was here. Risa could be a threat. She’d also been a victim, the way he saw it, but he had to push that aside and deal with the facts. If she was a problem, he’d have to take care of it.

      It was still light outside, but it would be dark soon enough—the long days of summer weren’t here yet. The air had a nip in it, though his leather jacket was comfortable. He slid into the car, pulling into traffic and heading toward Risa’s apartment complex.

      When he got there, he saw Risa getting into a car with Kristy. They were dressed for a night out, Kristy in snug black pants and a tight white top, and Risa in a flirty dress that showed way too much leg as she slipped into the passenger seat. The alarm buzzed in the back of his mind again—she didn’t come off as the antisocial woman he’d been sent to watch. He fell in far enough behind that he couldn’t be spotted, and followed.

      

      “I DON’T SEE HIM.”

      Kristy craned her neck, looking all around the Sand Bar, a small local tavern overlooking Cape Cod Bay. The tide was low, and the mud flats stretched out far ahead of them. Some people were walking and a couple of dogs were splashing in puddles of seawater. The picnic tables and outdoor seating were not available; it was early May, but still a little cool in the evenings.

      Risa scanned the bar with her. A few patrons had gathered in small groups, talking and sharing plates of greasy-looking food. Risa’s beer sat on the table in front of her; she’d tried it, but she didn’t care for the bitter taste.

      Some more people filed in, and another person set the jukebox to playing. It was fascinating to watch, to feel part of the world, though she knew Kristy was growing worried that Ben wasn’t coming. It was almost nine o’clock. Risa tried her hand at comforting Kristy.

      “He’s probably just late. Maybe he had to pick someone up?”

      “I suppose. Let’s not list punctuality as one of his virtues, then.” Kristy made a valiant effort to turn her attention to Risa and away from the door. “The beer isn’t working for you?”

      “Not really.”

      Just then, a waitress came up to them and put two colorful-looking drinks on the table.

      “We didn’t order these,” Kristy objected.

      The waitress nodded over to the corner of the bar with a wink. “Those guys sent them over—said you two should have something more colorful.”

      Kristy looked again, and raised her glass to the guys at the table in a measured motion of thanks, before returning her gaze to the door.

      “I wish Ben would get here. We’re going to start getting picked up left and right if we’re just sitting here alone.” She sipped her drink and made an appreciative sound in Risa’s direction. “Try this one, it’s a daiquiri—you’ll find it much better than beer, I think. Might as well enjoy them—mixed drinks are expensive.” She grinned, sipping again.

      Risa took a tentative sip, and her eyes widened in pleased surprise. “This is good! We should go over and say thank you.” She sipped again.

      Kristy shook her head and reached across to place her hand over Risa’s.

      “Wow, you really are out of touch, huh? Listen, those guys are way older than us, and they’re only out here looking for one thing.”

      “What’s that?”

      “You don’t want to know. Smile nicely, but not in the way that invites them over—nod once, then cut eye contact. If they come over, let me handle it.”

      Risa shrugged, doing as she was told, enjoying the drink. It was more like a dessert, almost. Better, perhaps, than her beloved chocolate pudding.

      “Take it easy—that’s going to go to your head…oh! There he is—he’s here!”

      Risa looked up from her drink to see Ben Richter walk into the bar; he was with two other men. They didn’t see her or Kristy, and walked in the other direction toward some empty seats at the bar.

      “Crap, he’ll never see me from way over there….”

      “You’ll have to arrange a meet,” Risa said conspiratorially, frowning when she saw her drink was almost gone. “But don’t be obvious. Finish your drink, and then go up to get another one. You can get one for me, too.”

      She felt great. She couldn’t remember being this relaxed, and it was all to the credit of the frothy pink beverage. She wanted another one, but was willing to wait for Kristy to finish hers.

      “Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

      Risa made a pooh-poohing gesture, waving away her friend’s concerns. “I’m fine. Believe me, I know my limist, uh, I mean, limits. They spent years testing them.”

      Kristy’s eyebrows shot up as Risa scanned the bar, continuing. “I have a better idea. Let me go get the drinks. It will probably be smoother