Under Threat by B.J. Daniels (reading the story of the .TXT) 📕

she should call him Vaughn, and knowing they were doing a very weird, and very nearly flirting thing, yeah, it made her body respond in unwelcome ways.

She was too warm, and a little shaky. Not the kind Vaughn could see, but the kind that was internal. The kind that messed with her equilibrium.

She should really look away from that ice-blue gaze, but she simply stared. She really should stop. Any minute now.

“You know, not believing in hypnotism isn’t exactly unconventional. It’s just common sense.”

Well, the man sure knew how to kill a moment. She walked farther into the living room and decided to take a seat on the comfy-looking couch. Men like him never could accept there might be a softer way about getting information than torture or the like.

“What exactly do you think hypnotism is, fun? Magic?”

“That’s the point. It’s not magic. It’s not real.”

“That’s because you have the wrong perception of what hypnotism is. It’s not about magic. It’s not about getting someone to do something against their will. It’s about giving the person being hypnotized a safe place to express something that’s hard for them to express. It’s about finding a center, finding calm. It’s not tricks. It’s not getting someone to bark like a dog on stage. It’s showing someone who has every reason to be afraid of talking a calmness inside themselves that can allow them to give information they, deep down, want to give.”

She knew she was lecturing, but he was always ordering her about, so maybe turnaround was fair play. “You can’t make someone do something under hypnotism that they don’t want to do. The thing is, they want to do this. They just have a mental block. Calming their breathing and giving them that safe place gives them the tools to get over that block. It’s not magic. It’s not supposed to be magic. It’s a tool.”

He was silent for a few moments, and she thought maybe she’d surprised him with her answer. When people actually sat down to listen to how she explained hypnotism and why it worked in terms of witnesses, they tended to understand. Even if they didn’t necessarily believe in it, they at least understood that no one thought this was some magical cure. Most people sneered at it a lot less once she explained. She had a sneaking suspicion that Vaughn was not one of those “most people.”

“If they want to give us the answers, then what’s the point of you? Why don’t they just, you know, give us the answers?”

“Let’s use Herman as an example,” she replied, relaxing into the couch, crossing her arms over her chest, refusing to back down to his disdain. “He knew that he was going to die. He knew that talking to you was going to get him killed. But let’s start at the beginning? How did you get Herman to come in?”

Vaughn narrowed his eyes at her and stood there for a few minutes of ticking silence. As though he wasn’t quite sure that she was worthy of the information. It made her want to smack him.

“He was pulled over. Since he had warrants, he was brought in.”

“And then you and Ranger Stevens decided to question him because...?”

“Because he was connected to a case that we believe has to do with The Stallion.”

“So, here is this man who has a family, daughters and a sick wife. He’s scared of his boss, but he also knows that his boss is doing something incredibly wrong. So his conscience is telling him to talk to the police, his common sense and survival instinct are telling him not to talk to you. When you’re in that kind of moral dilemma—where you want to save yourself, but you want to save others too—it’s hard to make a choice. It’s especially hard to make a choice that you know will put you in even more danger than you’re already in. Having something to blame your answers on is freeing. It takes the personal responsibility off you, and then you can unburden yourself the way you really want to. I would bet money that if you somehow got The Stallion into one of your interrogation rooms and I tried to hypnotize him, it wouldn’t work. It only works on people who are conflicted. A part of themselves actually does want to talk, or they don’t.”

“Did it ever occur to you to tell people this before you walk into an interrogation room?”

“Did it ever occur to you to trust the order of your superior who clearly did trust me and believed that what I was doing was useful?”

“The minute I start believing someone just because he’s my superior is the minute I become a subpar police officer.”

“Conventional.”

She thought for a second that he was going to smile. His surprisingly full, nearly carnal lips almost curved before he stopped them and pressed them into a line.

“Have you changed your mind about hypnotism?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to hypnotize you?”

“No.” Again that little quirk like he might smile, or even laugh.

“I bet you have some juicy secrets you’re just dying to tell me.”

“There will be no secret sharing, Ms. Torres.”

“What else are we going to entertain ourselves with for the next few days?”

“We could discuss whatever it was that you looked up on my computer.” This time he did smile, but it wasn’t a particularly nice one. It was sharp edges and a little bit of smug self-satisfaction.

Ugh. Why did he still have to be hot even when he was being smugly self-satisfied?

None of that. None. Of. That. “I just checked to see if you had Wi-Fi,” she returned, smiling as saccharine as she could manage.

“All the way out here you thought I might have Wi-Fi?”

“You never know.”

“Why don’t you be straight with me, Natalie.”

“How about I start when you start.” Some of that flirtatious ease from earlier was cooling considerably degree by degree.

“I’ve been nothing but straight with you.”

“No, you’ve been vague at best. Considering I’m mixed up in all