by Mary Wine
She slid into the passenger seat and felt a distinct sense of relief.
Only it was coming from Devon.
“So, how far did you say this road trip was taking us?”
He turned the car on and pulled back into traffic. “I think we’re close.”
“If there’s nothing there, will you agree to go to a hospital?”
His knuckles were white again. He didn’t answer until they’d once more merged into traffic on the interstate. She filled her thoughts with the question, doing her best to make sure he heard her.
“All right, Kalin. Deal.” He nodded as though he was trying to convince himself it was the right decision. She could feel his rejection of it.
She just hoped they weren’t heading into a nest of Gold Tooth’s competition.
Sheriff Brice Campbell crossed his hands over his chest and stared at his wife. Time stretched out until he sighed and broke the silence.
“You hate that thing.”
She nodded and left Brice waiting for an explanation. Her attention was on the forest outside their mountain home. That in itself wasn’t out of character. He’d learned early in their relationship to accept that conversation wasn’t her strong suit and that the forest was the place she felt most at ease. There were times, like tonight, when he was jealous of the comfort she found among the trees.
She snapped her head back to him. “I’m sorry. I’m distracted.”
He opened his arms and she came to him. She snuggled against his chest for a long moment before speaking.
“I asked Jacobs to put it on me because I just can’t drop this link. It persists.” She looked back toward the dark forest. “I think I might follow it without realizing.”
“In that case, it’s a good choice.”
Brice lifted his Stetson off his head and hung it on a hat stand. Beyond the windows of his home were two black helicopters used to deploy his wife and her unit. They were military grade, the weapons loaded at all times. Every room in his house had panic buttons and there was a barracks building five hundred feet from the landing pad for the Rangers. His quiet mountain home had transformed into a very classified base since he’d married a psychic Operative.
But it did tend to cut down on unexpected callers. If being the local sheriff didn’t deter people, the armed men would.
It was worth it. His wife fascinated him and he was more in love with her than the day they’d married. He turned around as he heard the scamper of his son’s feet. Jared ran into the living room, his fatigue pants smeared with mud and grass stains. He had his mother’s emerald-green eyes. At just five years old, he smiled as he barreled toward Brice.
“Daddy!”
Brice gathered him close as Jared kissed him on the cheek. The potentially deadly perimeter of his home didn’t bother Brice. It couldn’t. Not when it was a matter of protecting his family from the darker elements of the world.
A perimeter alarm went off in the barracks. The junior officer looked up at the flashing warning light and reluctantly tossed down his hand of cards. His playing companions didn’t look alarmed. The mountain was quiet, too quiet for what they had signed up for as Rangers.
But there were still procedures to follow. Captain Hilliard sat and scanned the video footage being fed in from roadside cameras. He pressed a small intercom button to alert his commanding officer. The black car showed up clearly as it made its way up the mountainside.
“What have you got?” Jason Jacobs asked before he was even through the door.
“Civilian car. Doesn’t look like a problem.”
Jacobs leaned over to peer at the screens. He didn’t dismiss the car quickly but watched its progress from several different camera views. The perimeter alarm still buzzed but he didn’t give it any attention.
“Get Conrad and Smyth out in civilian clothing to intercept. They’ve passed the no-trespassing sign now. I’ll alert Brice, he can make a traffic stop.”
“Yes, sir.”
Captain Hilliard dispatched his men while Jacobs pulled a cell phone from his pocket and made a call to Brice. A few moments later, Captain Hilliard reached over to silence the perimeter alarm. The moment he did, a second alarm made itself heard.
“Shit,” he cussed as he realized he’d turned his back on the tracking unit’s base controller. It sat on the table, half-covered in playing cards. The red light on it was blinking, confirming that their Operative was outside the hundred-yard range.
Action was instant. Every man in the building got to their feet in a whiplash of motion. They grabbed their high-powered rifles and charged into the night as Jacobs called out orders to the men out on patrol.
Their Operative was heading down the mountain to an oncoming intruder.
The shit just hit the fan.
“That sign said private road.”
Devon remained silent, the speed of the car staying steady.
“It also said trespassers will be shot.” Kalin wiggled in her seat, her palms feeling sweaty. There was nothing but forest land for as far as she could see. The stars were bright because there wasn’t any artificial light to compete with them.
“Devon…this isn’t a great idea.”
He was staring at the road, his jaw clenched.
“Devon?”
She raised her voice, but he was focused on something so intently, he never even blinked. The car engine was roaring away as he took the turns too fast.
“Slow down.”
Dread was knotting in her belly as he continued to look forward. He was leaning closer to the windshield, like he was being pulled toward whatever his mind was linked with.
He had no idea she was even in the car.
“Devon Ross, you are going to get us killed!”
And she wasn’t going to sit by while he did it. She reached for the keys but he smacked her hand away. She fell back to her side of the car, but he never looked her way. Panic was trying to choke her, but she swallowed it and grasped the gear shift. She got her hands wrapped around it and pushed the car out of drive. The engine made a high-pitched whining sound as the car lost speed rapidly. The steep incline of the road helped slow the vehicle, but Devon growled and shook his head as though he was trying to clear it.
“You’re done driving, Devon,” she shouted. “Do you hear me? You’re going to kill us!”
It looked like he was fighting against something. For a moment, he began to turn his head toward her, but he never looked at her. His neck muscles were corded as he strained against something and then snapped his attention back toward the road. He grasped the gear shift and shoved it into drive.
“Stop the car, Devon. You’re focused on something other than driving.”
Sweat was trickling down her back. Her heart was racing, but he blinked the moment their eyes met and her head was filled with the image of a woman. It was so intense Kalin flattened her hands on either side of her head. It was overwhelming with its clarity. She gasped, feeling like she’d forgotten to breathe. The woman burst inside her mind like a living force. Kalin could feel her, feel her coming toward them. It felt like she could even feel the beating of the other woman’s heart.
“Oh crap!”
At the last minute, Kalin reached for the steering wheel, realizing that what she was feeling was in fact happening. She jerked it toward her as the woman came into view on the road in front of them. The car was still moving too fast and the woman was running toward them, her mind linked with Devon’s. The car veered to the right, crashing with a brutal sound into a tree. Wood splintered and the windshield rained down on them in a shower of safety glass pebbles. The seatbelt caught her as she slid forward, yanking her back before she collided with the dash board.
It hurt like hell, but she was still focused on the woman.
Grace.
Devon was climbing out of the wrecked car, his
attention on Grace. She’d stopped a few feet from them, a street lamp illuminating her. Devon moved toward her, still focused completely on her.
“Devon?” Grace asked.
Kalin joined him, looking between them as they stared at one another. Grace’s belly was swollen with pregnancy, terrifying Kalin with just how big a mistake she might have made by letting Devon into her bed.
“He doesn’t know who he is.”
Grace turned her head and locked stares with her. Kalin felt the other woman inside her thoughts, just not as intensely as she did with Devon.
“He’s been determined to make it up here—”
“Get your hands up!”
Her heart had just slowed down but it was sent racing again as the night was flooded with light. Kalin lifted her arm to shield her eyes but she was dragged backward before she realized anyone was close to her. They rolled her over and shoved her facedown onto the road.
“It’s Devon Ross.” Grace raised her voice over the sound of Devon scuffling with someone.
“I don’t care who you think it is, Grace,” a military-fatigues-clad man informed her.
“He’s suffered a memory loss,” Kalin tried to explain.
The man turned his head toward her. There wasn’t a shred of kindness in his expression. He stepped in front of Grace. There were a few muffled sounds before a bag was pulled over Kalin’s head. She tried to shake it off but someone pulled a drawstring to tighten it around her throat.
“Stop!” Burgos yelled at his driver.
The command came too late. They’d already rounded the bend in the road and were sighted. They were outnumbered, but Burgos kicked his door open and fired on his way out of the Hummer. Flashes of light lit up the night, and when they died down, only the Rangers were left standing. Burgos lay on the road, the sticky slide of blood telling him he was dying.
He snickered, laughing at fate. She was such a bitch.
Chapter Four
“I thought the general sent you on leave.”
Garrick Gennaro offered Major Lorance a salute before lifting his pistol and aiming down the firing range again. “Might as well be on leave. I haven’t done a productive thing in a week.” He squeezed the trigger, sending the bullet toward the paper target.
“Keeping your skills sharp is considered productive,” Lorance commented.
Garrick lowered his side arm. “Not for me it isn’t. You and I are different.” Lorance nodded. “That’s one of the reasons I came to see you. Our common assignment is the other.”
Garrick holstered his side arm. “Let’s take a walk, sir.” The firing range was noisy, but it wasn’t private enough for the classified nature of their units. Major Lorance was his senior by a good ten years, but that was only a guess because neither of them talked about their lives. It was the nature of their assignments.
Major Lorance waited until they were far enough away from anyone else before stopping and eyeing Garrick with a hard look. “Are you finished?”
Garrick felt heat build on the back of his neck. Lorance was asking him something he’d been debating all week.
“I think it would be a shame. You’re one hell of a psychic-Operative team leader. Which is a very unique skillset, I think as rare as those we safeguard.”
“Forgive me for arguing with you. But we’ve only worked together a few times, sir. You can’t judge my skills.”
Lorance crossed his arms over his chest. “They were enough for me to get a feel for how you run a psychic unit. It’s a unique mindset, A man either has it or he doesn’t. With a lot of postings, the drive to perform well can cover a lack of passion, but not when it comes to a psychic Operative. They tend to know when their C.O. thinks they’re bullshit. And you’re avoiding my question.”
Garrick had begun to grin, but his lips settled back into a hard line when Lorance finished. “I haven’t decided, sir.”
A long moment stretched out between them. Lorance pulled a plain business card from his breast pocket. There was only a phone number printed on it. He offered it to Garrick.
“I need a new knee.” His tone was edged with frustration. “So my Operative is about to be reassigned. Sonya has been in my care for over ten years and I will not see her end up like the two Operatives we lost to suicide. Since I’m getting a vote on who my replacement is, I plan to make sure I find a man who can back her up the way she needs, not the way some manual says it should be done.”
“My Operative ended up dead.”
“The fact that you’re fighting a demon over that is why I’m talking to you, son.” Lorance shook the card and Garrick took it at last. “I can’t go into details but I’ve walked that path you’re on. No one can tell you what direction to take, but if you take the one that leads back to continuing your work with special assignments, give me a call.”
The bag covering her head was turning into a sauna. But at least it let some light in. Otherwise, it would have been really simple to let panic have complete control of her.
Kalin drew in deep breaths, finally finding a use for all the suggestions the psychologist had given her after the shooting at the hospital.
Her heart kept trying to accelerate and she kept trying to slow it down. Someone had stuck earphones over her ears to block out the conversation surrounding her.
It left her breathing in the moist air and catching only hints of light.
It sucked.
It was also terrifying.
Hell, no.
She wasn’t going to admit anything like that. Because if she did, she was going to have a panic attack.
Devon was gone.
The knowledge was cold and bitter. She discovered herself stretching her inner senses out, seeking some trace of the man who had been her most intimate companion for the last few days. It seemed impossible for him to have vanished so completely. But what bothered her the most was just how vulnerable she felt without his presence.
Someone grabbed her biceps and tugged her forward. She stumbled, her feet awkward without her sight to aid her.
“Take this damned bag off my head!”
If anyone replied, the headset prevented her from hearing it. Whoever had her arm continued to tug her along until she bumped into the side of a vehicle. With her hands bound behind her, she fell against it while the man holding her tried to lift her up. She smacked her shin, sending pain up her leg.
“This would be a lot simpler if I could see…or hear.”
She lifted her foot but had no idea if there was a step. The man holding her biceps pulled her up and grabbed the waistband of her jeans to lift her off the ground. The fabric bound against her tender parts, earning a snarl from her, but she managed to crawl into a seat and escape her guard. He slammed the door shut and the vehicle took off. She dug her feet in to steady herself and took a few deep breaths to fend off nausea.
Her cuffed hands were smashed behind her. A strange odor clung to the inside of the vehicle and she discovered it distracting her. It was familiar in a way. Something she just couldn’t put her finger on but she had smelled it before.
Gun oil and black powder.
It was faint but she recalled it clearly from the shooting at the hospital. She choked, the overly processed dinner she’d consumed making ready to come back up.
Someone shouted next to her and the driver slammed on the brakes. The vehicle jerked to a halt and someone opened the door. The bag was yanked off her head a second before she started vomiting.
“The major told me to leave the bag on her.”
Kalin straightened up and found two fatigues-clad men watching her. One cradled a high-powered rifle across his chest, his finger resting on the trigger guard.
A shiver raced down her spine.
“The major doesn’t have to clean out the Hummer when she pukes.” He jerked his head back toward the inside of the
military vehicle. “She’s already seen too much.”
Kalin managed to get back in the vehicle without smacking her shin.
The medical facility was state of the art. The glass walls were soundproofed as well as bullet resistant and built to withstand bomb blasts. Garrick Gennaro stared at the man he wanted to call Devon Ross but logic told him he had to have proof first. Devon was sitting in a cubicle, two Rangers posted at the door. The windows were one way, allowing Garrick to see Devon, but slate gray on the other side.
There was a sharp rap on the door to the conference room where Garrick waited and three doctors entered.
Garrick Gennaro heard the doctors file into the room. But his attention was on the man sitting inside the holding cell in the medical facility. It was like he recognized him on a cellular level, but the mental anguish that had kept him company for the last few days demanded proof.
“It that my Operative?”
Garrick turned to look at the doctors. They were staring at their tablets, reading the results of the tests they’d had run on their subject.
He couldn’t call him Devon, not yet.
“DNA will take a few days. But fingerprints, heat-scan signature and all other tests are positive,” one of the doctors answered. “He’s Devon Ross, right down to the eighteen scars we have documented on him and dental records.”
“Psychological evaluation?” Garrick continued.
Two of the doctors looked toward the man standing on the end of the line. He leveled a hard look at Garrick. “This man is suffering a memory loss. There are signs of head trauma that are confirmed by the nurse that found him.”
“I don’t care what she said. It’s irrelevant.”
The doctor shook his head. “It’s critical. Most memory loss that doesn’t return within seventy two hours has a high probability of not returning at all. And she is a top-notch RN, I checked her out. He was lucky she found him or he may have died from shock and hypothermia.”
“Are you telling me he may never regain his abilities?” Garrick demanded.