Read Ghostwalker 01- Shadow Game for Free Online Page B

breath, dragging air into her lungs to center herself. Daddy, tell me where you are, I can't see anything of value. Let me send help .
    The men are prisoners. You'll have to free them. Captain Miller and the others, get them out of there, Lily. I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry. I should have told you what I did right from the beginning but I was too ashamed. I thought the end results always justified the experiment, but I didn't have you, Lily. Remember that, don't hate me. Remember I never had a family before you came along. I love you, Lily. Find the others and make it right.
    Help them.
    Lily's body jerked as she felt her father being dragged across the deck. She realized whoever was dragging him thought he was unconscious. She caught a brief glimpse of a shoe, of wrists and a watch, then nothing at all. Daddy! Who is it? Who is hurting you ?
    She flung out her hand as if she could hold him there, hold him to her. Stop the inevitable.
    There was silence. She was connected: she rocked when the boat rocked, she smelled the sea air and felt the pain wracking her father's body. But his blood had drained out on the deck of the boat and with it, most of his strength. Only a small flicker of life remained.
    He had to reach for the words, images in his mind, to communicate with her. Donovans.
    Lily, let go now. You can't stay with me .
    He was fading fast. Lily couldn't bear to let him go. No ! She wouldn't leave him to die alone. She couldn't. She felt the burn of the ropes on his wrists, on hers. He had closed his eyes. She never saw the face of the killer. But she felt the bump of the rail, the free fall, the plunge into icy water.
    Break off ! The command was a roar. A strong directive issued by a powerful male. The masculine voice was so strong, so authoritative, it actually drove her away from the scene of her father's murder and left her floundering alone in the library of her house, rocking back and forth, a low keening wail of grief coming from her raw throat.
    Lily forced her mind back under control, driving out all panic while she reached for her father. There was… complete emptiness. A black void. She stumbled to the hearth, knelt, and was sick in the brass kindling bucket. Her father was dead. Thrown, like so much garbage, into the ocean, still alive, to drown in the icy waters. What had he meant saying Donovans was responsible? Donovans wasn't a person, it was a corporation.
    She rocked back and forth, hugging herself, seeking some kind of comfort. She couldn't save her father, she knew in her heart he was already gone from her. She could hear herself weeping, the pain so deep she could hardly bear it. Her instinct was to rush to John Brimslow and Rosa for comfort. But she didn't move. She continued kneeling there by the fire, rocking back and forth, the tears running down her face.
    Lily had never felt so alone in her life. She had a gift, yet she hadn't been able to save her own father. If only she had allowed the contact earlier. She had been too busy protecting herself. He had suffered such pain, yet he had held on and forced the connection. He had no real talent, yet he had managed the nearly impossible, wanting her to promise to set things right. She felt cold and empty and frightened. And alone.
    The warmth stole into her mind first. A steady stream, pushing through her guilt and anguish. It moved through her body, wrapped around her heart.
    It took minutes before she recognized she wasn't alone. Something, someone , had gotten through the thick protective walls of the house and, with her in her vulnerable state of grief, had entered her mind. The touch was powerful, stronger than she had ever encountered, and purely masculine. And she knew who it was . Captain Ryland Miller. She would have recognized his touch anywhere.
    She wanted to be comforted by him, accept what he was offering, but he had hated her father. Blamed him for the incarceration and deaths of his men. He was a dangerous man.
    Did he have something