“He did. He wasn’t far behind when you ran into me, remember.” He cast me a curious look. “Why don’t you want to believe that some part of the man still cares for you?”

I sighed. “Because it would just lead to heartbreak, and I’ve really had my fair share of that this lifetime.”

“But it could also lead to happiness, and that’s what you’ve been searching for all these centuries, isn’t it?”

A smile ghosted my lips. “It’s not going to happen.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Yes.”

“I still think you could at least talk to the man—he obviously has something he wants to say.”

I crossed my arms—a move I was well aware spoke of a need to protect myself. “And I think that you should keep your nose out of this particular aspect of my life.”

“Impossible.”

“Then how about you concentrate on driving?”

“I am one of those rare males who can actually concentrate on two things at once.”

I snorted. “Then think about the fact that if something does happen between me and Sam, the sexual part of our relationship is finished.”

“As I’ve already said, that is already a foregone conclusion.”

Or so he’d dreamed. When I’d combined our spirits and saved his life, I’d apparently not only created the link that allowed us to now communicate telepathically, but I had also leaked some of my ability—or curse, depending on how you viewed it—for prophetic dreams.

I shifted slightly to look at him more fully. “Have you had any more dreams?”

“No. And don’t change the subject.”

I blew out a somewhat frustrated breath. “If I agree to talk to Sam when all this shit is over, will you drop the subject as of now?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Done,” I said.

“I expected a follow-through report.”

“And I expect that won’t be at all interesting.”

The navigation system politely informed us we’d missed a turn. So much for his being able to concentrate on two things at once.

Holdright Industries was in one of the new industrial estates in Cranbourne. Jackson pulled into one of the parking spots at the front, and we both climbed out. The building was unremarkable—a typical metal-roofed concrete warehouse with a two-story office section stuck onto the front. The reception area was on the small side but comfortably furnished.

A middle-aged woman looked up from the reception desk and smiled. Unlike the woman at Rosen Pharmaceuticals, this one was actually genuine. “Welcome to Holdright Industries. How may I help you both this afternoon?”

I showed her my badge. “We need to talk to someone in charge.”

“Sure. If you don’t mind waiting a couple of minutes, I’ll ask Frank to come down here.”