Tasha had slept all day and now into the early evening. Sleeping deeply. She hadn’t even stirred when the security guard from downstairs had indeed come to check on her; Brodie had invited the guard in and even encouraged him to peek into the bedroom, which he had done. And since it was obvious Brodie had made himself comfortable in the living room, a sports event on TV and the scent of coffee apparent, the fixings for a sandwich out on the kitchen counter, the guard had relaxed and had left the condo reassured that Tasha was in no danger. Not something Brodie agreed with, except that she was in no danger from him. After what had happened at the coffee shop, he wasn’t sure of much else. The connection he apparently had with Tasha after she had looked into his mind had caught him completely off guard. Over the years, he had been “read” or “scanned” by many psychics he was aware of, and quite possibly a few he’d had no awareness of; like most nonpsychics, his mind normally provided only minimal shielding against a psychic’s probing, and he’d only ever been able to actually feel the most powerful psychics when they scanned him.
