The Innocent: FBI Psychics, Book 2

by Shiloh Walker

  They’d made her take her gloves off. No reason to, other than to be assholes, but they’d made her remove her gloves and that skin-to-skin contact…

  Slowly, she reached out, touched her fingers lightly to his. She could do light contact for short periods of time as long as her shields were up. There would be a press against her shields, though. But it shouldn’t be too taxing. She’d learned to handle light touches a long time ago and she could handle this, surely.

  Bracing herself, she tucked her hand inside his—

  And felt nothing.

  A slight shock hit her.

  Nothing.

  Well. Not nothing. His touch sent an electric shock zinging through her and her nipples went tight, pressing against the material of her bra. Her blood, hot and molten, pulsed through her veins and she wanted to feel his hand stroking over her, something much more than just an innocent touch. Sucking in a slow, careful breath, she lifted her eyes and met his.

  He stared at her, his gaze hooded. He had no idea how much this shattered her. Being able to enjoy such an innocent touch. Being desperate for so much more.

  Some people were psychic nulls—they weren’t easily read by psychics and they gave off little or no psychic vibes. And somehow, she’d managed to find one. Not just find one, but fall for one.

  Except he had up and dumped her, for no reason.

  My ass, she thought.

  If he was going to walk before they’d really had a chance to even start, she’d damn well know why.

  Licking her lips, she twined her fingers with his, taking a moment to just enjoy that simple pleasure. His palm, work-roughened and warm, almost hot, against hers. She could actually enjoy this touch. She’d never been able to do that before. Hesitant, she lowered the first layer of shields and was amazed that she could do that and still pick up nothing from him.

  There was the background noise she’d expect from the others, but that was nothing. She dealt with that all the time and would take it happily if it meant she could touch somebody.

  Touch Linc—

  Not now, Jay. Shaking herself mentally, she snapped herself back to attention.

  She had more to do than just enjoy the fact that she could hold a man’s hand for the first time in her entire life. Still, she gave herself another few seconds to enjoy before she focused her eyes on his.

  He was watching her from under his lashes and although he had a mask of boredom set firmly in place, she made a living off reading people. Not just their emotions, but body language, nuances, little shifts most people didn’t even realize they made. He was better than most—probably ninety-seven percent of the people she’d come across.

  But she could still pick up on enough.

  He was…worried. Had been even more worried, maybe even terrified, back at the gas station.

  She wanted to know why.

  “Just what is going on here, Linc?” she asked, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand. “And I’m not just talking about that idiot boy in the gas station or the rednecks, or even the cop. There’s something really messed up going on here.”

  To his credit, he didn’t pretend not to understand what she was talking about. He looked past her, staring at the bars as though that alone would summon somebody to open the doors.

  “It’s nothing you can help with, Jay. Did you really call your lawyer?”

  She studied his eyes. They were almost too beautiful for him, she decided. A beautiful, rich shade of blue, so blue they almost appeared violet. Against the dark, swarthy tan of his skin, they were just that much more breathtaking, framed by thick, heavy lashes. His face was all angles and harsh lines and if it wasn’t for those extraordinary eyes, he might be just too much. The eyes softened him, just a little.

  Now, though, his eyes were cold, like an icy pond, freezing over under a twilight sky.

  She smiled at him, flashing the dimple that she’d been told could sucker almost anybody in. It didn’t seem to sway him, but Linc didn’t come across as an easily swayed man. “You told me if I knew anybody important,” she said, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “I got word to the most important person I possibly could. I’ll have somebody here soon. Now…I want answers.”

  She held her breath, waiting.

  Linc studied her face, framed by hair that should have looked silly. All he wanted to do was strip her naked. He wanted to see that pink- and blue-striped hair on his pillow, watch those pretty green eyes get foggy as he kissed his way across that peaches and cream skin, press his mouth to her core and listen as he made her come.

  One night in heaven, he thought, before he lost himself in his personal hell.

  She wanted answers, though, and he had none to offer her.

  If he told her what was going on, she’d want to stay.

  Stay…that was the absolute last thing she could do. He had to get her out of here.

  She’d want to help him get through this, and there was no way to get him through this.

  There was no getting through this.

  There was no easy answer, no solution. No end in sight. And he wasn’t going to drag her down with him.

  He thought of night after sleepless night, day after endless day of searching for answers.

  Thought of the empty bedroom.

  Thought of the accusing eyes of his daughter, the only person who’d loved him unconditionally, counted on him, needed him. The way she’d stared at him that night. Why can’t you just let me grow up, Dad?

  Now, she’d never have the chance.

  Unconsciously, he tightened his hand, all but crushing Jay’s softer, smaller one in his grasp. He jerked away and swore, looking down in horror as her hand went red. She never made a sound, just continued to stare at him, waiting.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice ragged.

  “Are you going to tell me?” she asked.

  There’s nothing to say. He opened his mouth to give her that empty lie.

  Before he had a chance, the door opened.

  Chapter Three

  Biff Stahley came in, his eyes drawn low over his brows, his mouth an unsmiling line.

  “You got yourself a visitor.”

  Linc opened his mouth and Biff shot him a glare. “Not you, you fuck.” He jerked his chin toward Jay. “Her.”

  Jay rose, a weird little smile on her face. She smoothed her hands down the sides of her tattered, tight jeans, jeans that cupped her round ass like a lover. Linc had a hard time tearing his eyes away from that excellent ass, but he managed, because the tension pounding in the air was a palpable thing.

  She moved almost lazily toward the cell door and Linc came to his feet, eyeing Biff narrowly, curious.

  “You going to let him have his phone call?” she asked, glancing back in Linc’s direction.

  Don’t worry about me, sugar. He should have taken a few minutes to tell her that, but he had been too busy brooding. Too busy trying to figure a way out of this for her. Looked like she might already have a way out. Why the hell hadn’t he pulled his head out of his ass already?

  Biff smacked his keys against the bars. “You ain’t needin’ to worry about him.”

  “Yeah? Well, it might interest my…visitor,” she said, laughter underlying her voice. “Seeing as how neither of us got a fucking phone call.”

  Biff leaned in, jamming his face close to the bars. “You watch your mouth.”

  “I think I like my mouth as it is, Officer Stahley.” She rocked back on her heels. “Now, do I get to see my visitor or not?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her.

  Then, with his next words, he just about ripped the floor out from under Lincoln Dawson’s feet.

  “Just how the fuck do you know an FBI agent?”

  The town was called Hell. That alone would have warned her and she didn’t need to be psychic to figure it out.

  But Taige Morgan was psychic and the longer they were inside the town’s miniscule limits, the more her skin crawled. She�
��d slammed up her shields nearly thirty minutes ago because something had just felt wrong. Her normal shields weren’t cutting it and now she felt like she’d wrapped herself in bubble wrap thanks to the extra shields she’d layered around her mind.

  It still wasn’t enough.

  Her skin crawled like she’d been thrown down into a nest of fire ants, and she didn’t really care for the sensation.

  “I’m not going to like this job,” she said flatly, slipping her husband a sidelong look as they cooled their heels in the tiny little lobby of the police department of Hell. Around her neck, she wore her FBI ID. Part of her wished she hadn’t answered that call from the Oswald Group. But she knew Elise Oswald. Elise was an iron bitch, but she knew her shit and if she said there were problems, that only meant one thing.

  Problems.

  Cullen slid her a look and said, “You could have just not answered the phone.”

  It hadn’t really been much of an option, though. Her gut had told her that.

  They’d been driving back from a weekend away in Memphis when she’d received the call and just seeing Elise Oswald’s name on the caller ID had filled her with dread. On the way in, she’d used the time to research the little town of Hell, Georgia. Aptly named. Missing or dead kids, what she suspected were cover-ups for sexual assaults, several suicides, a missing hunter. Fun stuff.

  Some bad shit going on.

  The former sheriff, now vilified by the town. There were claims that he’d used his family name, his family’s money, to throw his weight around. She’d come across that type growing up and she knew it wasn’t unheard of. Rich white boys, used to having everything they wanted. But then she’d met and married her own rich white boy. Evil didn’t lie in the money or the skin.

  It lay in the heart.

  Her skin didn’t crawl when she looked at the images of the man who was searching for his missing daughter. She saw a man grieving.

  She also saw all sorts of darkness hovering around him.

  She had work ahead of her. The tug was strong here. The nebulous force that always led her to the cases she worked, either on her own or for the Bureau. She called it the gray, and it hovered at the edges of her subconscious despite the layers of shielding she’d slammed up.

  When she went under for this, she’d come up broken and bloody. Bad shit had happened here.

  She was in the thick of it now too.

  With a morose sigh, she dropped down onto a hard-ass chair and stared at the deputy sitting behind his desk. Like a lot of small towns, the sheriff’s department and the police station utilized the same space. She’d bet they had maybe two or three full-time cops, and maybe one or two part-time officers. The sheriff’s department would run a little bit larger since this was the county seat and they covered a bigger area, the whole fucking armpit that made it Aldritch County. And it was an armpit. Or maybe a cesspool.

  This town in particular seemed to be stuck in the fifties, or worse. It was entirely possible they were still a century behind the times. She’d been given the side eye the entire time she was in there. Taige was used to that. A biracial woman living in the South didn’t always get a fair shake.

  But she sure as hell wasn’t in the mood for it now, and as the deputy shot her another dark look, she stretched out her legs. She wore a pair of sandals that Cullen had insisted on buying for her—they’d cost more than a county boy would make in two months and she made sure to display them at maximum advantage as she adjusted the ID around her neck.

  Instead of being at home, kissing her daughter goodnight, she was in this forsaken hole in the ground, dealing with a racist bastard who kept thinking about how many men she’d fucked to land a job with the Feds—the deputy had a mind wide-open like a book.

  Because she couldn’t keep listening to him without her temper ratcheting up, she shut him out and looked over at her husband. “Your dad knows we’re going to be delayed, right?” she asked, pitching her voice low.

  He slid her a look from under his lashes and then went back to idly studying the deputy. Like he wanted to rearrange the deputy’s face. She should have known Cullen would pick up on the guy glaring at her. “Yeah, I texted him when we stopped for gas.”

  Cullen had no psychic ability—he was practically a psychic null, something she completely adored. But he read people pretty well. He didn’t like what he was reading on that deputy’s face.

  She reached over and laid a hand on his arm. The tension inside him was sky-high.

  He looked over at her. She smiled, hoping to distract him.

  It didn’t work.

  “Any chance you’ll go join him and Jilly?”

  “Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” He looked around the little station and grimaced. “That’s not much of a chance at all, sweetheart.”

  “I figured.” Leaning back in her seat, she pulled out her phone and checked email. There was a short one from Jones. She’d tagged him as soon as the call came in from Oz. He didn’t have a lot of information on this place, other than what she’d already put together in her short search. But he did say that the minute he mentioned the place, one of his precogs had told him bad vibes.

  That already told her more than enough.

  Driving through the town had cemented that feeling.

  She shot Jones a quick message.

  I think one of Oz’s people is in trouble here. I’m not sure what I’m picking up on but there’s trouble. Be advised.

  He sent her back another message.

  I’m already digging. Let me know when you need me.

  Not if. When.

  A few seconds later, another message popped up. Stay in touch. If I don’t hear from you every day, I’m sending people down.

  Then she stood and strode over to the counter. She was just about fed up with waiting in Hell.

  Chapter Four

  “Well?”

  Biff jutted his chin up in the air and continued to glare at Jay.

  Although he really hated the idea of Biff getting anything he wanted, Linc kind of wanted her to answer that question. Just how did she know any federal agents? She did online security consults. Maybe she’d met somebody through work?

  A sly smile curved her lips as she rested her elbows against the bars, eyeing Biff. Her gaze was one of acute dislike, and disdain all but dripped from her words as she said, “You know, I don’t think I really have to answer that.”

  Out in the main part of the station, voices rose.

  Jay turned her head and that smile on her face turned into an outright grin.

  Linc caught the tail end of the conversation.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you back there, Agent—”

  Those words, clear as a bell, came from the front and Biff went quiet as a woman’s voice cut in.

  “Yes, you can. And you will.”

  Linc shot a look at Jay.

  She had a lazy smile on her face and a glint in her eyes.

  What. The. Hell.

  Jay hated when she had to let another in her mind.

  But she understood necessity.

  When she felt the soft brush against her thoughts, she allowed it. “If there’s anything you can do to make this easier, do it. Right now, I don’t have a legal reason so help me out.”

  The woman’s mental “voice” was smooth, controlled and unfamiliar, sliding through Jay’s mind, barely creating a ripple. The control relaxed her a little. Working with an unfamiliar psychic could be hell, but this woman had control and that made it easier.

  Her ability to project was shit, but it wouldn’t matter. This woman would pick up, she could already tell. She just let herself think in actual words, the way she would if she were going to speak. The woman’s abilities would do the rest.

  “I acted in self-defense—there couldn’t be a more clear-cut case, but they still brought me here. They never read me my rights. They gave me no legit reasons for keeping me here. I wasn’t given a phone call.

  “They never gave me a c
hance to call my lawyer, although they were given the impression that I’d already called so they may dance around that.

  “I don’t know if they plan on keeping me overnight or not, but I haven’t been offered so much as a glass of water and the sink in my cell is broken. I’ve been offered no meal.

  “The guy I was brought in with? They never read him his rights. He wasn’t given a phone call.”

  A few seconds of silence passed and then the woman spoke again. Her voice was tinged with heat as she replied, “Oh, I think I can work with that.”

  “Was the prisoner given a chance to speak with her lawyer?” the woman demanded, her voice carrying down the hall. “Be very careful how you answer that question because I can and will find out that answer and heads will roll if you bullshit me.”

  “Uh…”

  “That’s not an answer. Was she read her rights? What reason did you give for detaining her overnight?”

  Jay smiled.

  Oz, I dunno who you sent but I like her already.

  Two minutes later, the woman came striding down the hall.

  Jay had the shock of her life.

  She knew the woman, all right.

  Almost every psychic even remotely affiliated with law enforcement knew this woman. Hell, plenty of people not affiliated with the Bureau or even law enforcement knew her name.

  Taige Branch—no, it was Taige Morgan now. She was married. She had only been a teenager when her status as a legend was firmly cemented in this part of the country.

  Unlike most of the psychics affiliated with the Bureau, it was no secret what Taige could do. There had been newspaper articles, even a TV show or two done on her. Not that she’d ever agreed to any of it. But she didn’t have to agree for people to talk about all the shit she’d done, the lives she’d saved.

  Her abilities had emerged when she was very young, and she’d saved the lives of countless children.

  Now she was here in Hell…with Jay.

  Curling a hand around one of the bars, she eyed Taige narrowly. “Wow. I didn’t realize I was going to have a superstar ride to my rescue.”