“Keep an open mind,” the lawyer says before she opens the door to the interview room inside the Yatala Labour Prison.

That’s the last thing I want. If I let my guard down even for a moment, the thoughts will flood my mind. I can only imagine the terrible and vile minds inside these walls, and with my supernatural ability to hear people’s thoughts, I could find myself in someone else’s hell. There is no doubt that would totally screw me up for life and that is why I must be extra careful.

I follow her into the concrete-floored room. There is a steel table bolted to the ground and accompanying chairs sitting in the middle of the room. A fluorescent light buzzes from a hanging ceiling fixture and rows of cinder blocks line the room on either side. The heavy door closes and the sounds of the outside world disappear.

“He’s on his way.” The lawyer hurries to the table and slams her briefcase down, then unloads her files.

“What’s so urgent?” I sit next to her and watch her take out a stack of case notes. She called me nonstop this morning. I’d tried to avoid answering the phone, being a Sunday and all, but she wouldn’t give up. So, eventually I answered her despite promising myself I would take at least one day off a week.

“We go to trial next Monday.” Her blonde hair falls over her eyes and she blows it away as her hands work frantically.

“That’s not much time. Did you just get this case?”

She stops scanning the papers and turns her head to look at me. “No, he just insisted you could help.”

I acknowledge her curt response with a nod. She’s stressed, I get it. But it’s my job to ask questions. So, I ask something more important, “What’s the charge?”

Her jaw tightens and nostrils flare as she grits her teeth. I don’t need to hear her thoughts to know she’s had it with my attitude. Her voice was tense on the phone when she agreed to pay me three times my normal consulting rate. Now I understand why. She is clearly overworked and thinks I won’t be able to help in this case. I’m starting to think the same thing.

“Here.” She throws a thick file down in front of me. “He is one hundred per cent innocent, but I would be remiss not to warn you the evidence looks …” she pauses, searching for the right word, “incriminating.”

That explains why he’s behind bars, but what is fascinating is her unwavering belief in her client’s innocence. Of what? There’s only one way to find out. I turn back to the file and scan the first few pages. Murder.

My shoulders slump. Of course, it had to be murder. Topher will flip when he hears this. Now that we are making lucrative money in the private sector offering our new services, he is one hundred per cent against taking cases that are remotely dangerous, like ones involving prison visits. But this lawyer, Rachel, twisted my arm. So, I keep reading.

Reid (Duke) Jackson, the recently appointed President of the Aces Motorcycle Club, has been charged with the murder of his lover, Vivian Stone. It’s unlikely he’s one hundred per cent innocent like this lawyer claims. There must be a reason the police think they have enough evidence to get a conviction and give him no bail.

At the very bottom of the page is the most damning evidence of all; the gun, the casing, and the panties, all with his DNA, found at the crime scene inside his bedroom. The autopsy report stated the woman was shot at close range with a small calibre handgun. His semen was found inside her. This case is as open and shut as they come.

What about the body? I keep reading. A council worker found the body in the mangroves in the Greenfield Wetlands, along the Salisbury Highway. The victim, Vivian Stone appeared to have been shot, then dumped in a place forty-five minutes’ drive from his address. That means he killed her at his house, drove to the Greenland Wetlands, and dumped the body in the swamp before returning home. After all that trouble, why didn’t he get rid of the incriminating evidence? That doesn’t sound right to me.

Maybe the lawyer is right? There’s one way I can find out for sure. Just dive into his head and find the truth myself. But during the drive, I decided against opening my mind, no matter what. It’s one thing to be exposed to everyday people on the streets, but it’s another story in a prison filled with professional criminals and psychopaths. I’ve come a long way since last year, worked hard on my newfound ability, and can control it most of the time. But mastering it seems so far away.

Is my fear worth keeping an innocent man in jail? I hesitate for a moment, then I shake off my doubts. No. I will stick to what I know I can handle. I am almost ninety per cent accurate at reading people based on physical behaviour alone. First, I watch and listen using what I have learned, and then when I’ve made my prediction, I use my ability to confirm if I’m right or wrong. It’s fast tracked my ability to decode human behaviour. So, on this case I will avoid the mind-diving game.

The lawyer collapses into the chair and breaks into a yawn. “It doesn’t look good for him.” She turns to me. “I can’t fight this case. Normally, the police screw something up, and I can buy some time with that. But the entire case is by the book.”

I nod along as she talks, although I’m only half-listening. I flick through the next few pages until I see the name of the arresting officer. Fuck. Detective Brian Malloy. Of course, just my luck; my ex-boyfriend that I have purposely avoided for nearly a full year is the one that slapped the cuffs on him.

Funny, that’s how we first met. He arrested me on my first solo undercover case. It was clearly a misunderstanding, but he was always so methodical in his work. And very good at it. But more importantly, he reappeared in my life last year, when all the crazy was happening. Both reasons finally seal this case for me.

“Sorry, I don’t think I can help you.” I drop the file on the table. “I know the arresting officer. He doesn’t make mistakes.” Well, he doesn’t make mistakes at work, but as a boyfriend, he failed miserably.

“I understand. But he stresses that it’s important that you keep an open mind.” The lawyer begs yet again for her client.

I hesitate for a few moments before I nod. What’s the harm in listening to what he has to say? I’m already here. But one thing is for sure, taking this case just got a lot more complicated.

###

The minute he walks in, the intensity shifts. It fills the room like an impending storm. The guards close the door behind him. Every muscle in my body tenses. He walks in with a smile, head held high and shoulders back confidently, winking at his lawyer as he takes his seat. Whether he is guilty of this murder or not, a killer has found his way into the seat across from me. There’s no mistaking it.

It’s times like these when Topher’s voice pops in my head, screaming at me for always getting myself into these situations. I should have told him where I was going, but I already know he would’ve said, “Don’t be stupid”. Now I’m sitting across from an accused murderer and all my senses are on high alert.

Duke is a solid mass of tattoos and muscles. The ink under his prison uniform runs down his fingers and up his neck, covering his entire body. He’s huge; over six foot three and wide like a muscular tank. This man is all predator. He’s dangerous and menacing, but there’s no doubt about it; he’s sexy as hell.

I remind myself that he looks comfortable—even relaxed—in a prison uniform and handcuffs, like he’s been here many times before. That snaps me back to reality, and the sexy part of my thoughts disappear.

The lawyer leans forward. “Duke,” she says, “are they treating you alright? Do you need anything?”

“Thanks, Rach. But I’m fine here.”

And he looks it. Apart from the scruff of his beard, which I am not sure is because of the prison conditions or choice, he looks upbeat for the charges he faces. But I quell my bias as he turns to look at me.

“Thanks for meeting me so quickly,” he says to me.

His voice is seductive and smooth, like whiskey. He’s definitely the kind of man most women drool over, even if he is a dangerous criminal. I shiver, my body responding to his presence as he looks me over. He flashes me a devilish grin, full of charm and danger. But I’m not here to be seduced. I’m here to listen to his side of the story and find the truth. I hold my body stiff for a moment and try to return to a more neutral facial expression.

“That’s okay. You’re paying for it.” I say and lean forward. “What do you hope I find that could possibly outweigh all that evidence?”

“Straight to business?” Duke smirks.

I take a deep internal count to reach five. He is suspect number one. There’s no reason for him to smirk. For all I know, he could be the killer and he is sitting in front of me flirting. It pisses me off. But if I let my emotions overpower me, it’s harder to filter out the thoughts. This is all part of what I have been training for since Bali. Learning to stay centred is my lifeline. Counting to five, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, collecting myself before I respond.

“Mr Jackson,” I keep my voice business-like. “I won’t waste your money, as it’s already Sunday and your case goes to trial next Monday. So, is there anything not in here that could help?” I tap the file.

The change is instant. He sits taller, straighter in his chair, leaning with his elbows out over shoulder width apart, knuckles clasp together. Just by this change of behaviour, it tells me he is ready for business and feels secure in his environment. They are traits I’ve learned to notice over time.

“I didn’t do it.” he says.

The time for friendly banter is over. The president of the Aces MC is in front of me now. “Do you know who did?” I ask.

The lawyer shoots me a look with raised eyebrows. Apparently, she didn’t like that question. I look back at Duke, who doesn’t flinch.

“No,” he says and runs his hands over the arms of the chair, wrapping his fingers around its base.

It’s a tell I’ve seen before indicating withheld information. It shows self-restraint, like he’s holding something back. So, I’ll put his answer in the big fat liar pants on fire column. I know there is a biker code, and snitches get stitches. But damn, I need some help.

“Okay,” I say. “So, they found the evidence at your house? What happened?” He must give me something to go on.

“That entire scene was a setup. The gun wasn’t one of mine. They planted it.”

It’s the old-fashioned “I was framed” plea. It’s convenient and unlikely, but I play along. “Who are ‘they’?”

He leans forward and puts his elbows down on the table. “My bet? The cops.”

My eyebrows shoot up. The cops? We have just jumped into conspiracy land. Not only is he framed, but he believes the cops, Brian, are the ones setting him up. The chances of winning this case just plummeted. But he also tilted his head back, exposing his neck as he spoke. That’s a sign he’s not threatened and shows openness to me. Another well recorded finding from my training. I think he really believes the cops set him up. This lands him in the truthful column.

“The panties?” Well, I had to ask.

He bites down on a smile that’s trying to break free. “No, those I had.”

There is an uncomfortable silence between us for a few moments. Or maybe just for me, as Duke doesn’t seem fazed at all.

“Okay, so you kept her panties?”

“Yes.” He also doubles down on that answer with a nod. “Although they were in a drawer, not where they said they found them.”

“Like, you literally keep a drawer full of left-over panties at your place?”

He laughs aloud. “No, she left them there. She probably wanted a reason to call back, for another round.”

“Duke would need a walk-in closet if that was the case. Let’s be real,” the lawyer chimes in, giving Duke a wink along with what I guess she thinks is a compliment.

The way she is looking at him seems a lot more than just a lawyer-client relationship. It definitely seems like her panties have made his stash. I’m not sure if it’s entirely legal, but I don’t suppose Duke would care too much about that.

I need to reign in this interrogation. The signs point to him being honest overall, but he is hiding something. This is what I was worried about—not being sure. From just watching him, he looks to be telling the truth. I need to revisit the first question that he wasn’t honest about, but I know if I want the truth, then I’ll have to use my ability. Something I really didn’t want to do.

But if I’m going to take the case and sell it to Topher, then I have to be sure he’s innocent. My brain is telling me to not be stupid and risk jumping in his mind, but I have to know the truth.

With my decision made, I prepare to tap into my ability. I need to focus, and to do that, I need to centre myself. With a deep breath in, I let it out slowly, and repeat the process, until I’m calm. The energy shifts within me, filling my insides with an exhilarating fullness, a buzzing in my veins that spreads through my body until it’s completely filled. I focus on the energy, funnelling it to my mind, concentrating on only one thing: him.

Duke looks at me with a question in his eye, like he can tell what I’m doing. But there’s no way he could know what is about to happen. I release my breath and relax my shoulders, letting my mind open. The connection is instant, and for now at least, I am in complete control.

Without hesitation I ask my question, direct and abrupt, giving his brain no time to prepare for the answer. This I’ve found gives me great results. “Who killed her?”

Instantly, his mind races. Has to be The Devils Rejects’. Why else was I called to that meet? A peace deal between clubs? Bullshit. Then this shit goes down right after. Has to be The Devils Rejects.

Just like that, the first thought after a direct question tells me my answer. It’s worse than I thought. The Devils Rejects are a known rival biker club. I’m petrified of bullets, as I should be. Do I want to be in the middle of a biker war?

“He already answered that question,” Rachel answers for him.

Well, they both think she has. I’ve already got my answer. I’m just about to tell them both adios and sorry, but another private investigator can jump between two clubs. However, his next thought takes my breath away.

Wait, can she hear me? What the fuck? How does this work? Why is she frowning? Yes, she can hear me, I think. She’s the only one that can help. Hello … hello, are you there?

My mind races as I try to make sense of his thoughts. White dots cloud my vision, and my heart thumps wildly in my chest. This biker knows about my abilities, but how? It’s impossible. There’s no way he could know. I shake my head to get a hold of myself and focus again on the biker’s thoughts.

Can you hear me? he thinks with his eyes locked on mine.

I don’t confirm, just in case. Instead, I ask, “Who are you?”

He glances at his lawyer, then to me, “Duke, President of the Aces MC.” But as soon as he finishes talking, his mind keeps going. I’m Reid Jackson, Apax of the Shifters in the southern hemisphere. I need your help, Elita.

Shifters? Apax? I swallow, hard.

“We’ve already gone over this,” Rachel interjects, clearly annoyed. “Duke, this is pointless, let me—”

“Rach, give us a minute, yeah?”

“But—”

“I know you can’t leave the room, but please …” He gestures for her to stop talking.

She immediately gives me a side eye death stare.

Elita, I need your help. Please, I know what you can do, and you’re the only one who can help me. His eyes plead with mine, while Rachel’s eyes move between us at the lingering silence. I know this isn’t within protocol, but King Leo isn’t around, and I couldn’t get his okay before I approached you.

Something inside me snaps at the mere mention of that name. “Why the hell would you need his approval for my help?”

I’m filled with the internal rage I still hold against him. The man who betrayed me last year, swearing to protect me from the underworld that had threatened my life. It was Leo, the King of the Immortalies, who stormed into my life, touching the mark on the back of my neck, setting off a chain reaction that would change my world forever. I trusted him, his promises, and his love but he used me for his own gain. Once I produced his heir to the throne, he left me alone to bury our twin daughter who didn't survive the birth, whilst he took our son to be raised in the Immortalie realm, leaving me shattered and broken.

“Huh?” Rachel looks between us, baffled by my sudden outburst.

But the anger has taken hold of me, and I’m losing my patience with her. My self-control is slipping and this could get dangerous. Out of everything I thought I would have to deal with in here, I never considered that he would be a possibility. I can’t even think his name, let alone being unprotected and open to thoughts inside the worst possible place: a fucking prison. This needs to end soon.

“I’m five seconds from walking out that door,” I say in a calm but firm tone, barely able to keep the fury inside. “Get to the point. What do you want from me?”

“I need your help,” Duke says. He stares at me with his grey eyes, looking serious as he continues talking in his head. No one else will be able to get a confession. The Devils Rejects killed her. I know it, the club knows it, and whatever dirty cop that planted the evidence knows it, too. But there is no evidence to prove it. Only you can confirm it, only you can get the confession. It’s known in the Underworld what you can do. You can hear the thoughts of others. I didn’t kill that girl. I’d never lay a hand on a woman. Please, I really need your help.

My last encounter with a Shifter was an attack on my apartment that ended with my old boss dead and me going into early labour. It almost killed me as I lost consciousness from the pain and blood loss, only to wake with the agony of losing both my children, Nate and Anna. Although Anna had come to me in my dreams many times, Nate was taken from me before I even saw him or held him in my arms.

Now this Shifter wants me to help him. He has no idea who I am, but he’s about to find out. Every instinct inside me screams to tell him to go to hell. But I don’t. Because even if everyone from that world has left me behind. I still need answers and now I’m going to get them.

“You want my help?” I ask. “Then you answer my questions first.” He nods slightly, still looking at me with those eyes.

But Rachel’s jaw drops, and she stares at me in disbelief. “How dare—”

“He said for you to shut it,” I snap. My nerves shot to hell after the turn of events. Duke puts his hand out to either calm me or her, as it looks like she is ready to fight.

Bring it, I think to myself. I’ve been training hard all year, and I’m filled with pent-up aggression and now barely hanging on by a thread. I learnt how to defend myself against humans, at least. I can take her, if she wants a fight then I will damn well give her one.

Elita, Rachel is a Shifter too. But she doesn’t know who you are. That is top level information, only for certain ranked members. She is not one of them. I am trying to keep the information limited to those people and am honouring the laws King Leo put in place to protect your privacy. Listen, I know you’re human and you’re not completely under the Immortalies’ control—

“Damn straight.” I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. A defiant look on my face.

Rachel is frowning, watching Duke and I sit staring at each other. She’s about to open her mouth again, but he turns to her.

“Enough, Rachel. Just ignore us for a bit. No interruptions.” His voice is firm and authoritative. Her eyes narrow at me, but she stays silent.

I smile back at her, a full-blown, ha-ha-you-got-told-off smile and she throws another death stare at me.

Duke shakes his head, watching the two of us. A smile creeps across his face and his thoughts quickly jump from business to sex and naked bodies. He imagines in vivid detail what he wants to do to me, her, and both of us together. It’s not surprising, as men always seem to get side-tracked with this line of thinking. But when he thinks of whether I’m worth a war with Leo, I cough to remind him I can still hear him and not just when he wants me to. It’s common for thoughts to veer off into tangents, and hard to control, so it’s not entirely his fault.

His eyes widen, and the smile disappears. Redness creeps up from his neck to his cheeks, which is weird since he’s so cocky and sure of himself. I wouldn’t have pegged him to be a blusher.

I raise my eyebrow at him and shake my head.

Did she just hear all that? He thinks.

I nod.

He skims his hand over his face and shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I mean, I was thinking but—”

“It’s fine. Let’s just move on.” I’ve heard enough about Leo today. Each mention of his name makes the anger inside me burn. I need out of this. But not before one last question.

“One year ago, I had a problem with …” I pause just before I say Shifters, but remember, Rachel is oblivious to our secret conversation. So, I get creative, “Some angry cats at my house. They weren’t friendly and nearly killed me.”

That wasn’t us. There have been renegade Shifters who have joined the Uprising. We don’t take what they did lightly. I know what happened, and when we find them, they will be punished. The bomb that put you in the hospital was not us, and neither was the attack on your house. That’s why I can’t stay here much longer. If we are tried under human law and convicted of murder, they will strip me of my position as Apax. Whoever has set me up wants me gone for a reason.

“Who’s up next for your position?” They would have the most to gain from him being locked up.

“That call is above me right now. But no one from my club,” he says.

Well, the answer lies with the person who killed the girl. Or the person who planted the evidence. Either way, the man sitting across from me is innocent. Shifter or not, president or not, he didn’t kill that girl and that means a murderer is still out there. I can’t turn my back on that.

But I don’t want to risk being exposed any longer. I need to get out of his head. I use the same reversal technique I learnt in Bali and close my eyes. I focus on the inner silence I’ve trained myself to find. There is a unique shift in energy, like a shield protecting me from the intrusion of thoughts. Once I’m in that place, I open my eyes and look at him.

He’s quick to catch on, not missing a beat, clearly aware of the change in me.

“I’m sorry.” he says. “You know about the threesome thing.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I let out a heavy sigh and relax my tense muscles. “You’re not the first.”

“What is it like?” He leans forward and his voice is inquisitive.

I quickly look at the lawyer. She glances at us like we are crazy, but is resigned to staying out of it. From what I’ve been told, I am the only living person that can truly hear people’s thoughts and I’m glad it’s not public knowledge. She looks down and continues to read whatever has her attention on her phone.

“Disappointing. People suck,” I shrug. “But most people are decent.” I look toward the door, a door inside a prison where there is no doubt some vile thoughts. The lump in my throat is still there, remembering the things I have heard; worse still, the things I felt on such a deep level. “Some not so much.”

He locks eyes with me and says, “I didn’t kill that woman. That is not who I am.”

“I know.” I pick up the case file in front of me. “I’ll take the case.”

“Thank you.” He slumps back in the chair and his whole body relaxes.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I say as I stand up. “The only way to get you off this charge is to either get a confession from the killer or discredit the evidence. Both are very hard to do if you want to submit them in court.” Even hearing a confession from someone’s thoughts is useless without proof.

“If you need anything, tell Rachael or the club. They’ll take care of it.”

I nod. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Duke,” Rachel says. “We need to talk about some other business.”

After we say our goodbyes, I leave them to it and think about the pile of research that awaits me. I pull out my phone as I walk through the halls of the prison. I fire off an email calling for an early morning meeting to get the entire team on board with the new case. For me, it’s going to be a long night, but I am ready for the challenge.