by TL Schaefer
He became evasive again, just as he had when she’d asked her questions over the last two weeks.
“I can’t really go there, Cam. Not yet, not unless there’s a need.” He left it at that and turned the conversation back to what he’d seen today, what was bothering him. “This guy, this real estate developer from the diner. Something is off about him, but what if he’s just an asshole who’s not going to cause a tragedy?”
Cam thought about his words for a minute. “Okay, going with the premise you’re right, and he’s doing this with intent. That maybe he’s like you. Special. What do you think we should do about it? And should we even act, if it’s not a tragedy?”
Asa shook his head again, almost in despair this time, and Cam would have done almost anything to take that look off his face. The Asa she’d seen a few moments ago was in command, knew his strengths and weaknesses when it came to his gift. This Asa? Not so much, and she hated seeing him adrift, even if what occurred didn’t matter, not in the big scheme of things.
“I don’t know. My talent isn’t telling me anything but the fact he’s somehow wrong. That this is totally screwed up and we need to do something.” His voice turned almost angry. “Jesus, Cam. It’s not like I’m some do-gooder who gets validation from fixing things. Something is actually wrong here, and he’s at the root of it.”
His frustration in expressing his discomfort, with no real solution, was clear.
Cam took a sip of her amaretto. “Fine. I’ll be finished with my episode tomorrow anyway.” Anticipation slithered through her veins. “Saddle up, Asa. We’re about to become investigative reporters.”
SUSIE WAS A VERY WILLING accomplice, given her hero-worship of Cam. She set them up in a nice table across the diner from where they thought the mystery man would sit. And at 0900, he showed. He fanned paperwork across his booth and set up his laptop as if this was his office. He was self-assured, a bit smug, and Asa wanted to punch him.
They settled in themselves, not overly surprised when the mayor dropped in, chatted Susie up a bit, then invited himself to their table.
He got comfortable in the chair next to Asa, then reached across the table to Cam. “Aaron Rogers, Ms. Ryder. Nice to meet you.” Before either of them had a chance to snicker at his name, he turned his attention to Asa. His eyes were much too sharp for someone wearing the mantle of mayor in a little town like Tin Cup, and his next words proved it. “3d Battalion/1st Marines.” He didn’t offer his hand, and Asa didn’t take it as a slight. This man was a warrior, softening middle or no. The Thundering Third had survived the Second Battle of Fallujah, and Asa’d lay even money that Rogers had been there, and had a Purple Heart or three to commemorate the event.
He kept his tone sotto voce. “Susie says our friend Mr. Maxwell bothers you.”
Asa struggled to put his discomfort into words, and finally settled with, “Asa Dobbs, Air Force Pararescue. He just feels wrong.”
Rogers eyeballed him for a moment, then nodded. “Feels wrong to me too, but I don’t know what the hell to do about him. He isn’t breaking any laws and the folks selling land to him don’t seem to feel exploited. While I may think he’s offering below market value, the fact of the matter is that prices here suck. It’s entirely probable he’s offering our ranchers a good deal.” He shook his head, then motioned to Susie for more coffee.
Cam chose that moment for a well-timed subject change. “I just finished an internet video feature on your founding father,” she said, validating their reason for being in town. “I find it interesting so many warriors have come from such a small town.”
Rogers considered her for along moment. “I expect you remember what makes a warrior, Ms. Ryder,” he tilted his head toward Asa. “It’s character, and a willingness to put your buddy’s safety over your own.” He gave Susie a fond glance as she topped him off. “Guys like Mr. Frederick Maxwell over there will never understand that.” He stood and gave Asa a long look. “Thank you for looking after my daughter.”
Cam could see Asa’s confusion and almost laughed. Her noble warrior had protected Susie, the mayor’s daughter, without even realizing who she was. Jesus. This was going to be an adventure.
NOW THEY HAD A NAME, and both he and Cam could do a multitude of legal and semi-legal work with it.
The databases he still had access to within Global Dynamics gave a long list of real estate deals. From a security standpoint, they were fine, but he red-flagged several for being slightly suspicious.
Cam’s sources were a bit more colorful—and descriptive.
“Slimeball, dirtbag, exploitative motherfucker,” Cam pursed her lips as if holding of a bout of laughter. “He’s made some friends, that’s for sure. But nothing illegal, nothing he can be prosecuted on. He’s an asshole.”
Asa didn’t want it to be that simple, didn’t want to accept the fact that sometimes people were just dicks.
“I want to talk to him.”
Cam snorted. “Honey, that man will run away from you so fast he’ll look like the roadrunner in the cartoons. You’re oozing menace right now.”
“Hey,” he protested, “I can be subtle, I can make nice.”
Cam sobered. “Not to someone who sells shit for a living. You’ll scare him off.” She sighed. “I’ll talk to him.”
Asa laughed outright. “Yeah, like you’re any better, Cam. You’re scarier than most of the Army grunts we worked with.” He could tell she took it as a compliment.
“You forget, I was a reporter. I can keep a straight face while being mortared on live television.”
Huh. She had a point there. “Okay, you talk to him.”
Cam blinked as if she hadn’t expected him to give in that easily.
He wasn’t stupid. There was so much wrong with Maxwell that he couldn’t quite vocalize. If Cam could talk to the guy, get her own take on it, he’d feel a thousand percent better with whatever course of action they took, even if they did nothing.
But before she went within ten feet of the guy, Asa was going to make sure Cam had some basic blocking techniques. He wasn’t sure if it would work without the drugs he’d been indoctrinated with, but anything was better than nothing.
For the next two hours he poked and prodded and pushed, working off of memory, both of his own training and what he’d seen at GD with both the Talented and normal humans. For two hours Cam cursed his every move, his every word, even his parentage. And in the end, all they could do was hope it took.
CAM SAT ALONE IN THE diner the next morning, waiting for Maxwell to appear. Asa was behind the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, Susie keeping him informed of the goings on.
Maxwell came in at nine on the dot, sat in his traditional booth, and cracked open his laptop. He worked for a few minutes, then his gaze strayed to her, as they’d intended.
Today she’d donned a feminine lavender blouse and gray slacks. She’d blow-dried her hair, and the contrast between the half-gray and half-black locks was striking. She knew how she looked when she bothered to take the time, and today she was going to exploit it.
Maxwell fidgeted on his laptop a bit, then rose to his feet and approached her.
“Ms. Ryder?” he asked, and extended his hand, “Fred Maxwell. I just wanted to tell you how much I loved your work in the war.”
She shook his soft, very pampered hand. This man wouldn’t know a war if it blasted him in the ass. “Very nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell. Would you like to join me?”
The words popped out of her mouth without warning. This hadn’t been part of the plan at all.
Maxwell settled himself at the table, keeping eye contact with her. “Thank you so much. I heard you were doing a feature on the history of Tin Cup.”
“I am,” she said, and again, the words seemed to come of their own volition. It was as if her primary goal in life right now was pleasing this man.
“It’d be great if you’d just find another town to do your story on,” he said, laying his hand over hers on the table.
She felt the push of his mind against hers, the moment she crumbled before his intent. “Sure,” she agreed, “Anything to help out.”
He gave her hand one last squeeze, then stood and headed back to his table. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Ryder. I’d imagine you have other stories to pursue, ones far more interesting than anything Tin Cup has to offer. Now.” His voice was filled with so much self-satisfaction it made her stomach clench, but she stood, as if on wooden legs, left a five on the table and walked out of the diner, heading straight for Betsy.
Asa was a minute behind her, slipping into the RV silently.
He grasped her by the shoulders, locking their eye contact. “Look at me, Cam. Really look at me.” His gaze, his voice, seemed to bring her back from a fuzzy void.
“Fucker is talented, that’s for sure.” Anger zinged his voice, brought her even closer to the surface before she started to dive again.
“Cam,” Asa’s voice sounded far away, and she shrugged away his hands as she prepared to step into the cab of the RV. She needed to leave, move on from Tin Cup. Now. Maxwell had said to do it.
Asa grabbed her arm and swung her around, cupping her shoulders, but she struggled against him. She needed to do this. Nothing else mattered.
Then Asa’s mouth was on hers and her world splintered into a thousand pieces.
She gasped as sensation speared through her, hot and heady, then jerked away.
Asa looked at her with wide eyes, arousal and guilt warring in is expression. “Cam?” he asked.
She swiped her hand against her lips and let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. Jesus. What the fuck was that, Asa?”
He looked chagrined and she realized he’d misinterpreted her question.
“It was the only way I could think to bring you back,” he admitted. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she snapped, and watched his head whip back as if she’d struck him. Instant chagrin rolled through her. Dammit, she could have handled that better, but her synapses were still firing wrong. She gentled her tone. “We’re good, Asa. I was asking what happened in the diner.”
His expression changed from stricken to pissed in a heartbeat. It warmed her that he thought so much of her that he’d worried a kiss would be a transgression. And what a kiss it’d been. But she didn’t have time to think about it. Not when he was her partner. Not when Maxwell was definitely being a bad player.
He settled into a dinette chair. “I think he compelled you,” he said, almost wearily. “I’ve seen it a few times, and yeah, pretty sure that’s what he did to you.” He swiped a hand across his face. “Jesus, Cam, this guy is talented.”
Anger and more than a bit of shame coursed through Cam. “I failed. After all the training you gave me, I failed.”
Asa surged to his feet. “You did not fail,” he said furiously. “We’ll just keep at it, and keep at it until no one can ever force your mind again.”
ASA STUDIOUSLY IGNORED the fact he’d kissed Cam-freakin’-Ryder and focused his thoughts on the douchebag still sitting in the diner. Even through the big picture window he looked like an asshole. An asshole who’d dared to lay his hands on Cam. Dared to make her feel less. When she was so much more it was staggering.
But their anger wasn’t going to change what had happened.
Legally, there wasn’t a damn thing they could do to Fred Maxwell. Asa knew he could call Global Dynamics and ask his boss, Heath Farrell’s, advice on this, but something stopped him. He wanted to do this on his own. Prove that he didn’t only deal in tragedy. Even if only to himself.
Hell, he may have to call Heath in the end, but he wanted to try it his way first.
He walked into the diner and waved to Susie for a cup of coffee, as if he hadn’t left her thirty minutes before, albeit in the kitchen. The tables were about half full, and every eye watched him as he wandered in. Either the mayor or Susie were horrible gossips, but a crowd would only make this better.
A rancher in his go-to-church Wranglers and checkered shirt was seated across from Maxwell.
Asa settled in next to the rancher, rather enjoying Maxwell’s flinch at the impropriety. He reached across the table, holding out his hand. “Asa Dobbs.” He waited, leaving his hand hovering over the table until Maxwell had to take it, or appear rude.
Asa felt his fingers, soft and pasty, brush his, and took advantage, crushing the man’s hand in his own. It was petty, but it felt really good. “Nice to meet you. I hear you’re a real estate developer.”
Maxwell wrenched his hand back, sweat dotting his brow. “I am,” he said, and Asa could feel the power behind his words. It was a good thing Farrell had trained him how to blow past compulsion, and pretty much any other talent out there.
Maxwell continued. “You should leave now. I’m in the middle of a deal.”
Asa scratched his chin, enjoying the hell out of this. “See, I don’t think it’s a deal you’re making, as much as it is a steal.”
Maxwell was looking at him with wide eyes. “No stealing going on here friend. Now leave me to my business.” The power practically thundered in his words.
Oh hell, no way this guy didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
Asa leaned forward, his voice low, conspiratorial. “See, Maxwell, here’s the thing. I know what you’re doing. How you’re using your power to screw these people. Today, it ends.”
Maxwell tried, for a few moments, to give the shocked “I don’t know what you’re talking about” look, before his ego took over. Asa actually watched as the man made the decision.
“What are you going to do about it, little man?” he sneered. “I’ve done nothing illegal, and it’s not as if you can shout to the world that I have some superpower. Go back to your hag reporter girlfriend and leave me alone.”
The rancher to Asa’s left was watching them like he would a tennis match, his gaze ping-ponging between the two of them. Maxwell reached out, touched the rancher’s hand. “It’s okay, just a bit of tomfoolery between two old pals. Our deal is still on, still the best deal you’ll ever see.”
The push in his words was like a punch to Asa. He stood. He’d gotten what he’d come for. Proof.
As much as it galled him to walk away, it was what he needed to do right now. Let Maxwell feel superior. He’d continue to be sloppy while Asa came up with a plan.
Chapter Four
Cam didn’t much care for Asa’s plan, and had to wonder how much latitude her new companion had had within the military and his “consulting” job now. She was still smarting from her failure to repel Maxwell’s compulsion, but that wasn’t what was driving her now. Or so she told herself.
“It may come to a physical altercation, Cam,” Asa warned her as they sat in Betsy, going over options.
Cracking skulls appealed to her on a primal basis, but no so much when it came to dealing within the bounds of the law. She had the distinct feeling Asa had been drifting on the edges of those boundaries for more than a little while.
Yeah, Maxwell was a scumbag. Yeah, he was probably cheating people out of their money using this talent Asa was fired up about. Hell, she was just as fired up. But despite the talent piece of this equation, what Maxwell was doing happened every single day out in the world. Maybe not by guys using mysterious powers, but by people who found joy in taking advantage of their fellow man. It was the way it worked, the way it had always worked.
She considered Asa over the rim of her lowball tumbler, ice cubes and amaretto cooling her fingers through the thick glass. “So you’re going to stalk this guy, put the pressure on, and then, what? Hope he cracks and takes a swing at you? What then?”
Asa glared at her for a moment, the relaxed back into his camp chair with a sigh.
“Hell, Cam, I don’t know. Someone else always took care of the business end of my visions.” He rubbed a tired hand over the scruff of his jaw. “But this is one I have to deal with. Maybe I should call Heath, see what he recommends.”
“I
think it’s time you clued me in about this mysterious Heath,” Cam took a sip. Asa had only mentioned him once or twice, but it was obvious he held the man in high regard.
“He’s my boss, but I really can’t say more,” Asa offered the bare minimum.
Cam barely stopped from rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I figured that much out myself. How can he help us? Help Tin Cup?”
“He understands the Talented, probably better than almost anyone who doesn’t have power. Hell, probably better than the Talented do.”
“Let me guess. He stole you away from the Air Force to work in your mysterious consulting job,” Cam guessed, and saw she’d hit the mark by his barely perceptible flinch. “You feel loyalty to him, that much is for sure.” She took another tack. “How did you resist Maxwell’s magic juju?”
“With the same training I tried to teach you,” Asa replied, his eyes gone faraway. “Most of us go through it, in addition to a drug regimen. Maybe that’s why it didn’t work for you.”
He shook his head as his gaze came back to her. “But we have to keep trying to make you safe, not just from Maxwell, but from anyone.” His words were absolute and comforting. Then he continued. “I do know I’m not going to let this guy continue to take advantage of people. If he’s prepared to take their money, what else is he willing to do? How much of a stretch is it for him to make someone do his bidding sexually? I don’t want girls like Susie anywhere around him.”
His argument took the air out of Cam’s rationale against cracking skulls. He was right, at least in that respect. Maxwell was a predator. “Where do we go from here?”
“I stick to the asshole like glue, get to know his mannerisms, watch for an opening. Until I have at least that, I don’t want to call Heath.”
“Who has the power to make Maxwell completely disappear,” Cam finished softly, her stomach churning when Asa didn’t bother to tell her she was wrong.