by Jaime Rush
Eric aimed the gun, though it looked off by a couple of inches. He took in a deep breath. Released it and turned away. “There’s no way in hell I’m shooting you. But I am going to keep you down here all night. And awake. You can’t leave, you can’t dreamweave, so you can’t hurt that woman.” He spun a chair around and sat down on it. “So…should Lulu Lalane pick Bonehead Mike or Tom the Tool? Petra and I got our money on Tom, since she chose him to wax her pube hairs a couple of episodes back. What do you think?”
Lucas shot to his feet. “Don’t be a freaking coward, Eric. You go off and do stupid things that endanger our lives. You owe all of them this one way to keep them safe.”
Eric tilted his head, a smile on his face. “You’re just trying to rile me up. Ain’t gonna work.”
“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”
Eric pulled the gun away. “No, sirree.”
Lucas sank back to the floor. He was physically no match for Eric, who, as Amy liked to say, was built like a Hummer. “Okay, so you keep me from killing Olivia. Then what? Are you going to watch over me every second?” He pressed his palms against his forehead. “What if I hurt Amy when we’re alone, and there’s no one else to stop me? My coming after her like that would destroy her a lot more than my being dead.”
“Jerryl’s gone now. He was the one who got into your head, only it worked differently with you. Let’s wait and see.”
“If I blank out, like I did with Robbins, you have to promise me—and keep it this time—that you’ll take me out.”
The flash of a woman walloped him so hard, he tilted sideways. The storm of images. He closed his eyes, ready for the onslaught. They ripped through his head like lightning, crackling across the crevices of his brain.
Olivia. A vacant stare on her face. Driving in a trance.
He felt his body fall back to the floor. Before he hit, Eric grabbed him and eased him down.
“What do you see, bro?”
Man’s face. His face. How? How could he kill her with Eric holding him hostage? Unless it was when he was passed out after the storm.
“Me,” he managed. “Taking off her clothes. Folding them.” More lightning flashing through his head. More images. “Raping…oh, jeez. He’s…I’m raping her.”
The image was horrifying, so bizarre and against his nature.
“Keep me lucid.” He tried to mentally sort through the images. Go back to where they’re driving. He felt his brain shutting down as it always did.
No, not yet!
He saw headlights on a street sign. Look. What does it say?
“MacArthur…Street…call Nicholas.”
He slumped, his brain grinding to a halt.
“All right, but I’m sending Amy down here, so don’t try anything.”
His last cognizant thought was, As if I could.
Sayre focused on Olivia, sensing her, feeling her essence, and sinking into her dreams. Hell, she was having some pretty nasty dreams even without his interfering.
He moved closer to her dream self, facing her, looking into her eyes. Let me in, darlin’. Time for me and you to play.
He merged with her, then made her get up and scan the bed to make sure she was alone. She looked down at herself. As much as he was looking forward to seeing her naked, he didn’t want her driving naked in case she was stopped.
She was wearing bloodred silk jammies. She grabbed her keys, went to the door and down the stairs to her car. He hadn’t had the pleasure of driving in some time, and even that small thing was a delight. Nothing compared to what would come, of course.
Just past the estate, there’s a park, kind of a grassy, open area.
He’d searched the area online for the best rendezvous point. Having her park in the street might attract attention, and he certainly did not want that.
Traffic was light, and it didn’t take long.
Kill your lights and sit tight, darlin’.
He pulled out and probed the guard outside his door. Asleep. He wondered what all those men outside hiding in the bushes were doing. Probably some of them were snoozing, too. Whatever Mr. Darkwell was preparing for—and he was sure it wasn’t his escape—hadn’t happened yet.
Now, some people might look at that as a bad thing, having heightened security on the one night he was planning to take a little R&R. Not Sayre. It upped the challenge, the risk. Yeah, the last risk he’d taken had bit him in the ass, but this was a whole different situation.
He sank into the guard’s dreams and opened his eyes to the dimly lit hallway. The guy turned and unlocked the door.
You’re going to walk me downstairs to the kitchen entrance. If anyone stops us, you’ll say I’m sick, and you’re taking me to get help.
Then you’re going to come back up and take your position. You’re going to stay in this deep state of sleep until I come a’ calling again. And tomorrow, you’re going to tell Mr. Darkwell I knocked on the door at about four in the morning and asked for an antacid. You said you couldn’t leave your post to get me one, so I was out of luck.
He waited for the door to unlock. The man had a blank look on his face, and, interestingly, Sayre could see himself in a green sweatshirt with a hood through the guard’s eyes. The man turned like a robot and walked him downstairs. Sayre took note of the mansion. He kept his orientation, just as he had when they’d brought him in. Too bad he couldn’t zip down the banister again. He needed to stay low-key this time. The kitchen was enormous, bigger than his quarters. It was dimly lit by two small lights.
Go back to your post, keep that badass in his prison.
If, somehow, Sayre was discovered missing, it would be evident when he returned. They wouldn’t expect him to come back, so the whole place would be lit like a circus. He’d be a fugitive much earlier than he’d anticipated, and without the funds he needed, but he was flexible. Free was free, after all. Otherwise, he’d use this as a test run.
He pulled an impressive knife from the butcher block. Never know when you might need some additional persuasion. He doused the lights and opened the door just enough to slip through. That was the good thing about being wiry. According to his mother, he’d been sick a lot as a child, and that had set his growth behind. He’d put up with a lot of teasing over the years. Prison food hadn’t exactly beefed him up, though he did work out. Not to bulk up but to stay fast on his feet.
He closed the door without making more than a soft click and kept close to the house. Bushes and ornamental hedges were planted in beds around the outside edge. Hyperaware of any movement out in the yard, he slowly dropped to the ground. Inch by inch, he slithered across the grass next to the base of the hedges. The guards could have night binoculars. The key would be not to arouse their interest in the first place.
It took a painstakingly long time, but caution was worth it. He got to the place beneath his windows and aimed for the bush he knew was shaped like a bear. He curled around the bear’s feet and took stock of his surroundings. A twig creaked in the distance. One of the men had shifted positions. By now, though, they would be sagging with boredom. He probed in the nearby area. Someone was drifting in and out of sleep, waking with a start, only to drift off again. Through the man’s eyes, he could barely see himself in the shift in the shadows.
He continued, finally reaching the edge of the wall. He rose in imperceptible degrees. He’d been practicing in his room since he’d arrived. He could have waited for his time with Olivia when he broke out for good, but who knew what her circumstances would be that night? He would have to scram immediately, so he might lose his chance.
He couldn’t risk that. Why was he so compelled to take her? She hadn’t pissed him off, after all. No, she intrigued him. She had haunted his dreams as much as he was haunting hers.
He finally reached his full height and moved his shoulder into the tight space between bars. He exhaled deeply, turned to the side, and pushed his way through. His movements didn’t quicken once he was outside. He followed in the shadows along the wall
.
Once he reached the sidewalk at the far corner of the estate, he took off toward the road. It wasn’t very far to the park, and his hours on the treadmill had upped his stamina. He saw a car waiting. His chest nearly burst, from both pleasure and exertion, at the sight of her in the front seat, her head slumped.
Come on back. I need you to do the driving.
If she was spotted, a witness would see her driving alone. Who knew what kind of trouble she was up to?
From his place low in the front seat, he instructed her toward the park he’d seen. Though it was closed, it was a simple matter of moving two cones to drive through.
He helped her out of the car. “Time for our date, sweetheart.”
CHAPTER 25
Nicholas had been driving around Woodbridge all day, back and forth between the two lakes he’d found on the satellite map, feeling helplessness and frustration building to an explosion point. He had as much of a chance of finding her in the right place at the right time as hitting the lottery.
He kept trying to remote-view her but ran up against the same block. Why couldn’t he see her now?
“Dammit!” He pounded the steering wheel. What good was having psychic abilities when he couldn’t use them to help someone he cared about?
His phone rang. “Yeah?”
“It’s Eric. Lucas got a storm. He saw a sign: MacArthur Street.”
“Did he see anything else?”
“It’s not good. He saw her getting raped. He’s passed out now. He usually comes around in about fifteen minutes, and I can ask him for more, but that’s what we’ve got now.”
Nicholas focused only on the street, not Olivia. Thank God, something to go on. Except…there was no MacArthur anything in Woodbridge. He expanded his search and found it in Potomac. “MacArthur Boulevard runs along the Potomac River for miles, terminating down near Washington.” The north end was up near the estate.
“Yeah, but remember, Lucas said it was a lake.”
“I know, but I didn’t see any lakes in that area. I’m going with the river. It’s all I’ve got. Thanks, man.” He was especially grateful since Eric made it clear he saw Olivia as the enemy.
He threw the car into gear and tore out onto the road.
Olivia was in the middle of a nightmare. She recognized this. The man had his arm clamped around hers as he led her over a bridge that crossed a canal and down a wide path washed white in the moonlight.
Wake up.
“No, stay in the dream, Olivia.”
The voice lured her back to the depths of the dream. Just a dream. But something was very, very wrong. Why couldn’t she wake up?
They walked for a couple of minutes, then he led her down a narrow path into the woods. She stumbled, but he never loosened his grip. He pulled her to a small clearing next to what looked like a lake, its surface glittering in the moonlight. She felt the cool air against her cheeks and the cracked ground beneath her bare feet. This felt so real. Real and…not. Just a dream.
He set down a duffel bag and pulled out several strips of material from his pocket.
“We’re going to play a game called tie-up-and-tickle.”
He took her wrists and bound them together. She pulled away, or thought she had. Her body wasn’t moving to her will, only to his.
“Good girl,” he said, as she held out her wrists.
The seductive way the accent wrapped around his words, the way it compelled her to obey, wound a tendril of panic through her.
He guided her to the ground and knelt over her, pinning her down. His hand cupped her breasts, and he let out a ragged sigh. Somewhere deep inside, repulsion rippled through her.
“We’re going to make love, darlin’, and you’re going to touch me and suck me and let me do whatever I want with that beautiful body of yours. And then when we can’t take anymore, we’re going to go for a little swim.” His hand crept across her stomach. “You can swim, can’t you?” He chuckled.
This isn’t right. I need to wake up.
His mouth came down on hers, and his tongue probed inside. “Kiss me back.”
Her mouth moved robotically, even as something inside her shriveled in disgust. He stopped, and she saw his face hovering over her, his eyes narrowed. “Olivia, sink down into the dream. Sink deeper, deeper…”
She held on to a thread of resistance.
He pulled more material out of his pocket and stuffed it into her mouth. Then he wrapped a long piece around her head and tied it tight.
“On the just in case. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah.” He ran his hand along her inner thigh, moving closer to…
Wake…up…now!
She’d been unable to come out of the nightmare before, but she was stronger now. She fought her way out, clawing to consciousness. Her eyes blinked open. No bedroom! She was still in the nightmare, but awake. Not a dream. Sayre! He was on top of her, and beyond him was a canopy of leaves. Trees. The smell of earth and pines. The moon, barely visible. How had he gotten her to the woods? Oh, God, he was out. She gasped.
“Aw, man, now you’ve gone and spoiled it.”
She started fighting, wriggling, trying to push and finding her hands tied together. Her scream came out muffled.
He shook his head. “And we were about to have us some fun in a cooperative kind of way. Tsk, tsk.” He reached behind her and started tugging down her pajama bottoms. She kicked, but he patiently kept working on them. “Now it’s gonna have to be wham-bam, kill you, ma’am.” He shook his head in disappointment. “And I was really looking forward to spending some quality time with you.”
She pushed, kneed him in the groin. He rolled away, spitting out expletives. She jumped to her feet, fighting to gain her balance with her hands tied. He came up behind her, his hands around her throat and threw her to the ground. He leaned close, his breath warm against her cheek. His fingers tightened against her throat. Like the nightmare. “Once you lose consciousness the first time, I bet you’ll cooperate.”
And he pressed.
The only person you can trust is yourself. Nicholas pulled off the road and looked at the map again. What did his instincts say?
Look.
Well, that’s what he was doing.
He could keep driving MacArthur Boulevard and look for…what? He didn’t even know what the psychopath who had her drove. From what he could see of the map, the entire road was bordered by woods and then the river.
No, look.
Remote-view. But he’d tried that. He shoved the map onto the seat. Stay calm. Getting upset only hampers your skills. He felt anything but calm. His chest hurt, every muscle was rock hard, and his hands were clenched into fists.
He took a deep breath and tried to zero in on her. He hit the block again. As he rocked his head back and forth in frustration, a thought shook loose: remote-view the area, not her.
He had done that for Darkwell, learned how to remote-view from above, where the Rogues weren’t able to sense him. Even in the dark, he could see details.
He yanked the map in front of him and stared at the path the road traveled. The map shook in his hands. He took several calming breaths, aware of every second ticking away. Aware of those sketches in the backseat, of what might be happening to Olivia right now.
Focus.
He closed his eyes and imagined the road as his target. In a few moments he hovered above it. As though he were flying, he started moving north from where he was, looking down. The trees, though, hid anyone who might be in the woods.
Find a car, then, parked in some odd place, maybe tucked in to the woods off the side of the road.
Traffic was light. Was she in any of those cars? He kept searching for anything out of the ordinary.
What he found was a lake.
Not exactly a lake. A small creek spun off from the main river and spilled into what looked like a lake. It then became small again as it remerged with the river.
It looked like a lake. That was what mattered. He pulled back onto the
road, punched the gas pedal, and raced to the end.
He found a park entrance. The cones blocking traffic were thrown to the side. He tore into the parking area, empty except for a blue BMW parked next to the closed concession stand. He threw his car into park, jumped out, and as he was about to close the door, saw the knife.
Anger and fear raged inside him. He closed the door and followed the path, listening for any sound that didn’t belong there. Soon he came to a bridge that crossed a narrow canal. His heart picked up its pace even more, and he turned to the right. Please don’t let me be too late.
He ran to a platform that looked out over a larger body of dark water—the lake. He searched it and the perimeter for movement. Was she already at the bottom? No, don’t even think it.
He wanted to shout her name but couldn’t give himself away. The element of surprise would be crucial.
He spun around at a sound to his right, senses alert. Quiet now. He stared into the variable shadows of the woods. The sound came again, like an animal digging in the dirt. A grunt.
He gripped the knife in his hand and raced toward it. A path led into the woods. Next to the water’s edge, in a small opening, he saw two people on the ground. He might scare the hell out of two lovers. Small price to pay.
The woman made a sound again as he approached. A sound of terror. Desperation. The man was straddling her, pinning her to the ground. Nicholas raised the knife. He couldn’t tell if it was Olivia, but his heart boomed in his ears and felt like it would explode.
A twig broke beneath his shoe. The man’s head snapped up. The woman tried to scream, but her voice was muffled. In the shafts of moonlight, Nicholas saw something tied over her mouth.
The man sprang to his feet, and in that second Nicholas saw his face. Lucas. “You’re gonna regret being a hero.” Lucas’s face. Not his voice.
In that second of hesitation, the man rushed him. He saw the flash of a knife. He pushed the man away and felt the knife slice his arm.
Get to Olivia, make sure she’s all right.