Shaking off yet another worry, she rummaged in the vanity drawers for a hand mirror and wiped off the steamy mirror over the sink so she could check out the back of her neck. It took a bit of maneuvering, and she ended up sitting on the vanity with her back to the big mirror while she held the hand mirror with one hand and pushed her hair completely off her neck with the other hand.

It looked like a burn, as Ash had said. Like two burns, actually, very close together, just below the hairline at the base of her skull.

Even in the warm, steamy room, the chill that swept her body left gooseflesh in its wake. She had to concentrate fiercely in order to hold the hand mirror steady long enough to study the marks until she was certain of what she already knew.

They were the marks of a stun gun, a Taser.

And what they very clearly showed was that someone had held the gun to the back of her neck and discharged an electrical current directly into her body.

Into the base of her brain.

It took less than ten minutes to blow-dry her short hair, and that didn't allow Riley enough time to think much past the numb realization that in all likelihood a killer had stood over her twitching body and emptied into it from a weapon meant to incapacitate a target a potentially deadly amount of electricity.

Riley had used a Taser. She had also been Tasered herself. She knew what the weapon was capable of, and what its normal aftereffects were. There was nothing normal about this.

The marks on her neck indicated sustained contact, with both voltage and amperage considerably higher than the manufacturer had ever intended for the device.

The question was, had her attacker deliberately used an amped-up stun gun knowing it could be a lethal weapon? And, if so, was she alive by design or only by accident?

Either way, the attack could explain her headaches and the memory loss, and the dulled-or absent-senses. It could even explain her unusually frequent need for more fuel.

An electrical jolt to the brain could scramble a lot of things in the human body.

It could also cause a hell of a lot of problems, some worse than those she was coping with now. And the fact that those problems hadn't yet manifested themselves didn't mean they wouldn't.

Great. That's just great. Somebody tried to fry my brain, probably tried to kill me, and he's still out there running around loose-with a big advantage.

He knew who she was.

And she didn't have a clue who he was.

With her hair dry and no more excuses to linger in the bathroom, Riley went into the bedroom to put on one of her customary sleep-shirts. She took a moment to sort through their scattered clothing and lay Ash's more neatly over a chair, and despite everything felt a flicker of amusement when she picked up the sexy underwear she had, at the last minute while dressing for their date, chosen to wear.

She doubted he'd even noticed it.

With that wry thought in mind, she chose a football jersey sleep-shirt, exchanged her towel for it, and headed for the kitchen.

You can think about all this later. Figure out what's going on later. Right now you just have to get through tonight. You have to act normal and be Ash Prescott 's summer lover.

If that's what she was. Or maybe she was, despite his denial, the trophy he had taken away from his boyhood rival.

There was a cheerful thought. Not.

"Perfect timing," Ash said as she joined him. He was transferring the two halves of a large omelet onto two plates on the work island. He had already set out silverware and napkins, as well as poured two glasses of wine.

Riley took her place on one of the stools at the breakfast bar and looked at him with lifted brows. "Wine? You know that makes me sleepy." She hoped he knew.

"Yeah, well, I think maybe you need to sleep." Ash put the pan in the sink and brought the plates to the bar.

Riley left her brows raised and waited.

He was frowning just a little, and before she realized what he was going to do, he grasped her wrist and lifted it slightly so they could both see her fingers trembling. "Your tank's not just empty, you're running on fumes. After finishing a sizable meal about three hours ago."

"A gentleman wouldn't talk about how much I eat," she said, keeping her tone light as she reclaimed her hand and took a sip of her wine.

"That's not what this is about, and you know it. Was it the scene in the woods? Is that what took so much out of you?"

"Well…scenes like that do, usually." She started eating, hoping the calories would kick-start her sluggish mind.

Oh, I'm in fine shape, I am. If I was half as responsible as I'm supposed to be, I'd have Bishop recall me to Quantico. Tonight.

"Because of the clairvoyance?"

Riley was only a little surprised he knew about that. It wasn't something she often confided on short acquaintance-or even long acquaintance, in most cases-but the man was in her bed, after all. And at least his knowledge answered one of the questions she'd been asking herself.

One down, at least a dozen more to go.

She nodded. "It takes more energy, yeah. Especially a murder so…horrific. Everybody around me is tense, frightened, sickened-and usually worried about their nearest and dearest. Sorting through all that…"

"Takes a lot of energy." He was still frowning, still intent. "So this happens whenever you work on a case?"

"To varying degrees. I tried harder than usual today, probably because I wasn't getting anything. That happens sometimes too." Information she hoped would head off at least some of his questions.

Ash picked up his fork and began to eat, but after several bites said, "I had the impression you used your abilities as just another investigative tool."

"Generally. They often give me an edge in an investigation-but not always. This is very good, by the way." She indicated her plate and the omelet, already half-finished. Sure, keep wolfing down food-that'll solve everything.

"High-calorie," he said in a tone of sudden amusement. "I put in extra cheese."

Riley had to laugh, albeit without much amusement of her own. "Sorry-I didn't expect to get involved with anyone this summer, much less during a full-blown investigation."

"Stop saying you're sorry. Feeding you is not a problem, believe me." He smiled, then added casually, "So business and pleasure don't mix too well in your world?"

"They both take energy." Riley lifted her glass in a small salute. "One more than the other, sometimes."

"You didn't answer the question."

It was a potential out for her. Maybe. One less pretense she'd have to keep up. If she told him the investigation would demand all her energy, all her attention, then maybe he'd step back out of her personal life for the duration.

Except that she didn't think he would.

Or maybe you just don't want to believe he would.

Finally, she said, "It's never come up for me, so I don't know. We'll find out, I guess."

He gazed at her steadily for a long moment, then smiled again. "I'll order a couple more cases of those PowerBars."

"Good idea," she said.

The wine had its usual effect on her, and she was yawning hugely by the time she crawled into bed a few minutes later. "Probably should have checked the doors," she murmured.

"I did. All locked." Ash got into bed beside her but before turning out the lamp on the nightstand paused to reach into the top drawer. "Here-I know you won't rest easy until this is under the pillow."

Riley blinked at the gun he was holding casually by its barrel, then took it from him. She checked it automatically to make sure the safety was still on, then slid it underneath her pillow.

She always went to sleep on her right side, a habit that made her turn her back to him as she lay down. It was clearly a routine he was accustomed to, since he turned out the lamp and settled down behind her without comment.