“What are you smiling about?” Jacquelyn set down two paper-wrapped sandwiches and two empty paper cups.
“I’m not picking up on anything dark or evil. It’s almost creepy how happy everyone is.”
Jacquelyn pushed a cup across the table to him. “Not everyone,” she muttered and unwrapped her sandwich.
He just couldn’t win with her. Not now, anyway. An unmanned soda machine sat at the other end of the restaurant and he took his cup, leaving her to stew. Micah waited his turn, letting a couple of high school-aged kids in front of him. The bell rang above the door, and the kids finished filling their cups before he pressed his own against the ice machine. A pang of lust raced through his stomach and then lower, stirring his body in way that made him feel both uncomfortable and repulsed. Ice spilled over the edge of his cup onto the floor sliding in every direction possible. He turned around to locate the source of the arousal that nearly knocked the breath right out of him.
A guy. He’d seen him before, though he couldn’t place where, walked toward Jacquelyn. He wore blue duty pants, like a cop, but then he noticed the logo on the man’s sweatshirt, a Maltese cross with bugles jutting out from the center. Fireman, maybe.
“Are you done?” a woman asked as she waited for her turn at the soda fountain.
“Oh. No. Sorry.” Micah turned his back on Jacquelyn in an effort to keep up appearances though what he really wanted to do was run across the restaurant and tackle the bastard walking up to her. God, why did he have to pick the slowest soda in the bunch? It was pouring out like frozen sludge rather than liquid and with each passing second, the feeling of attraction intensified, coupled now with a dangerous anger. Could this be their guy? And he was headed straight for Jacquelyn, the only person in the world Micah gave a shit about protecting. Should he forget the soda? Make a scene? Or play it cool the way he knew she’d want him to? Hurry UP you slow fucking Mountain Dew!
The cup was three-quarters full, the other fourth nothing but fizzy green foam. Good enough. He slapped on a plastic lid and jammed a straw into the opening. He sidestepped the waiting line of soda drinkers, fighting the urge to launch himself across the restaurant. If the guy walking toward Jacquelyn had been harboring Furies, she would want him to be cautious—and pay attention. Her back was turned, did she sense the guy approaching? No time to worry about it, she could take care of herself. She’d proven it to him more than once.
As he walked the impossibly slow path back to their table, Micah concentrated on blocking the emotions of the other patrons. He dismissed their easy-going, warm and fuzzy feelings, and instead centered his focus on the man in the navy blue pullover. Whoever he was, he wanted Jacquelyn. The need, so strong, burned in Micah’s gut, desire spilling across his skin like warm honey. He felt the other man’s jealousy, too, but it paled in comparison to the want. Singular in thought, this man had no other objective than to have her, and Micah felt uncomfortable in his own skin because of it. Perverse. Dirty. And…violent?
Ten more steps to the table, and their mystery man stood just behind her, hovering and almost breathing down her neck. How could she not sense him standing there? Five steps turned to two as Micah lengthened his stride, purposely bumping into the fireman as he placed his hands on the back of Jacquelyn’s chair.
“Oh, hey. Excuse me, man.” Micah practically trembled from the amount of control it took to hold the emotions swirling within him in check. His need to protect overwhelmed him, and he wrapped both hands around his cup, just to keep them from acting on their own. “Jacquelyn, did you want something to drink?” Micah used what he hoped was a possessive tone. “I can get it for you.”
Rounding the table, Micah took his seat, his eyes locked on the man’s face. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze narrow as he looked down at the top of Jacquelyn’s head and then back up at Micah. The fireman’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and the muscle at his jaw clenched and released, clenched and released, before he turned on a heel and stalked toward the door without saying a word.
“What’s going on?” Jacquelyn was too damned calm for Micah’s peace of mind. “I think, maybe, I shouldn’t have had you put such a whammy on me, Micah. I mean, I knew someone was behind me, but I’m so damned numb, I couldn’t even care enough to turn around and see who it was.”
“I don’t know him.” Micah searched her face for some kind of reaction. Jacquelyn was right, he’d managed to suck her dry of every base feeling, including caution, fear and simple curiosity. Shit. “He could’ve been our guy. I know I’ve seen him somewhere, but I can’t remember from where. Damn. I shouldn’t have taken so much from you, Jacquelyn. You can’t even feel enough to be cautious and I felt like I was going to choke on the violence and desire coming off that guy.”
Jacquelyn sent out a beacon of apathy that made Micah’s stomach turn with nervous energy. “Look on the bright side. If I’d turned around, it might have shifted his emotional focus. You probably have a clearer sense of his emotions now and if I’d engaged him in conversation, it might have muddled or changed what you felt. At least we know our guy’s a guy, right?”
Micah cocked his head to one side. “Was there ever any doubt?”
“Sure. The host can just as easily be a woman. Actually, women are sometimes easier marks because we allow ourselves to give into our emotions.”
Micah fiddled with his straw, averting his gaze. Some women were ruled by their emotions, but obviously not all of them. Jacquelyn was a walking testament to that.
“What did you feel?” she asked.
A hell of a lot more than you, apparently. He needed to learn how to regulate his abilities, keep from sucking her into complete and total apathy. “Attraction. Like creepy stalker attraction. And a little jealousy. Anger, too.”
“Hmmm.”
Okay, this was too much. “Violence. Jacquelyn, this guy…it’s pretty clear to me that he wanted you.”
“Me?” She gave him a disbelieving look. “What did he look like?”
“Fireman, I think. Blue duty pants, blue sweatshirt with a fire department logo.”
Jacquelyn took a bite of her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully as she stared out the window. Micah wanted to tear the damn sub right out of her hands and chuck it at her. Numb was no improvement over emotional distress. “It’s probably just Wes,” she said. “He’s Finn’s best friend. He was the EMT on duty yesterday, too. He was pretty devastated when he showed up to take Finn to the hospital. Barely held it together, actually. It’s funny, sometimes I think he was more upset over our breakup than we were. We used to all hang out together a lot.”
“Was he broken up enough to ask a pack of Furies for help?” Man, talk about taking friendship to an extreme. If what Jacquelyn said held any water at all, this Wes had more invested in Jacquelyn and Finn’s relationship than the average best buddy would. And wasn’t that just a little creepy.
“Maybe. Maybe not. We should keep an eye on him.”
Uh, ya think? “Do you know where we can find him if we need to?”
Jacquelyn gave him a look like he’d lost his mind. “Yeah. At the fire station.”
“Right.” Duh, Micah. “I’m pretty sure he might be the one. Do you think we should follow him?”
“No. I think for the time being we’re safe. He’s on shift if he’s dressed in his uniform, and he’d have to be alone to be with them.” She took a bite of her sandwich and washed it down with a swig from Micah’s Mountain Dew. “He’s the only non-Sentry member who knows what Finn and I do. I thought it was a mistake to tell him, but Finn and Wes tell each other pretty much everything. He’s constantly bugging me to take him out on a hunt. Honestly, though, Wes has been giving off an unusually intense vibe lately. But I’ve been on edge for so long, I could have been reading him completely wrong. I can’t possibly imagine he’d be the person behind the Furies’ attacks.”
“Maybe not, but we don’t know that for sure. Was he connected to the other victims?”
“Sure. Wi
llie was Finn’s boss. I’m sure Finn bitched to him about Willie all the time. And Wes was a regular at the coffee shop, so he probably saw Bree as much as I did if not more. And Finn—” Jacquelyn stopped abruptly and Micah had the impression she was on the cusp of feeling something, but the sensation faded quickly and she snapped back into zombie mode. “Well, he’s Finn’s best friend. But like I said earlier, everyone pretty much knows everyone around here. It could be anybody.”
“Kind of like finding a needle in a haystack, huh?”
“More like finding a needle in a needlestack.”
Then what the hell were they doing? Chasing their tails, running in circles? He really wanted to strangle something, or someone, right now. “Is this just a wasted effort, then?”
“Of course not. This is just as much training as reconnaissance. You know how you always think Trish is reading your mind?”
“Yes. It’s annoying as hell.”
“Well,” Jacquelyn took another sip from his Mountain Dew, “even though she swears she can’t read minds, she can to an extent, at least. Finn told me about it once. He said that if the person’s mind is open, like if they were deep in thought, he could get flashes of what they’re thinking. You can do that too, Micah.”
“You think?”
“I know. What I don’t know is how to make it happen. But I think if you concentrate, watch for people who seem to be off in la-la land, you could do it. That’s how we’re going to find this bastard.”
“And you don’t think this Wes could be that bastard?”
Jacquelyn shrugged. “Could be. But he and Finn were like brothers. I just can’t believe that he’d…” She paused and looked away. “We’ll just have to wait and see.” Jacquelyn stared out the window, lost in her own musings. Micah tried to focus, to worm his way into her thoughts the way Trish had done to him.
“I said you should try it on them.” Jacquelyn jutted her chin toward the crowds of lunch-goers. “Not on me. Eat your sandwich. We need to get out of here.”
Jacquelyn walked out of Sinkers with some guy trailing behind her like a dog on a leash. Was that Micah? The one Finn had talked about? Well, that son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t be talking to anyone ever again, would he?
She hadn’t noticed him at Sinkers. Why? He’d been getting looks from people all day. Hard not to stare at this point. He looked great. Strong, handsome, sure of himself. He demanded respect and attention. And she’d just walked right by like he wasn’t even there. Rage surged within him and he smashed his fist into a nearby streetlight, bending the metal with an imprint of his knuckles. Finn hadn’t stood a chance when he tore into him. Why would she waste her time with these losers when she could have a real man? Someone who’d protect her, love her, lock her away and keep her safe.
So close. He was so close to realizing his dream. There was only one thing left to do. He couldn’t bring her to her new home in its current state. It needed to be scrubbed clean, decorated and made beautiful, with food in the freezer and wood for the stove. Once her home was ready, she’d never have to leave. Everything she could possibly want, he’d make sure she had. He’d keep her there. Forever.
“No killing,” he whispered to his invisible companions as he pulled his truck out onto the road. “Not this time. We need help if we’re going to make our house good enough for her.”
“But after?” their sweet voices pleaded. “After we can kill—you’ll give us what we need after we give you what you want?”
“Of course,” he said. “But after.”
“After,” they agreed in unison.
Chapter 28
“TRISH!” MICAH CALLED as he walked in the front door. Couldn’t read minds…ha! He’d show her who couldn’t read minds. “Hey Trish! You’re never gonna believe what I did today. I actually think I might be getting the hang of this empathy thing. Trish?” He stepped into the living room, the hairs standing on the back of his neck. Trish’s house, usually alive with energy, was now silent and consumed with an eerie stillness.
Jacquelyn came in behind him, her Glock drawn and ready. She too must have felt the oddness, the thing Micah just couldn’t put his finger on. Something wasn’t right. She put her finger to her lips, stepping in front of him. He hated that she always took the lead, walking head-on into danger. But she was the Waerd, he was her backup. And he had to get used to her charging ahead.
She whipped around the corner, reminding Micah of one of a hundred cop shows, her arms slightly bent, hands wrapped around the grip of the gun, holding it steady at shoulder level. “Clear,” she called. “But it’s not good.”
Micah walked into the kitchen and froze. Yep, just like a cop show. Only this was worse. This was reality. His heart sank to his gut as an intense feeling of dread gripped his heart, turning the blood to ice in his veins. Chairs overturned, broken glass, and a pot left boiling on the stove smoldered down to charring bits of unrecognizable food. Signs of a struggle. “Is she—?”
“No. Not as far as I can tell.” Jacquelyn turned off the stove and put the pot in the sink. “There’s no body, anyway.”
No body. What did that mean, no body? Had Jacquelyn implied there was nothing left but bits and pieces? Or worse? God, what could be worse? “How bad is it?”
“Micah,” Jacquelyn said with an icy air of calm. “There’s no body. She’s not here.”
“Where the hell is she?”
“How should I know?” The emotional Numbz-it he’d given her must’ve begun to wear off. Jacquelyn’s tone escalated from dead calm to mounting panic. Anxiety trickled like cold water from the top of Micah’s head right down to the soles of his shoes, and he knew the emotion wasn’t his. “Someone fucking took her. And I have no idea why.”
“Our Furies wrangler, maybe?”
“It’s the best guess. But what would he want with Trish?”
“Could be a trap.” The situation became more surreal with each step he took deeper into Trish’s wrecked kitchen. Micah expected to start reciting “Dragnet” clichés at any moment. Just the facts, ma’am. “What if our guy is that guy, Jacquelyn? Wes. Maybe he took her as bait.”
“Bait for what?” She gave him a wary look. Wary was good. Better than apathetic.
“For you!” Micah exclaimed. It was his turn to get worked up. “Jesus, weren’t you listening to me in that sub shop? That guy wanted you. Bad. Like I’ve-got-to-have-her-now-tied-up-in-my-basement, wanted you.”
“Me.” The word hung in the air like a balloon.
“You. I think it’s all been about you.”
“No.” Jacquelyn shook her head. “No. I didn’t have anything to do with Willie. Aside from town gossip, I didn’t even know him. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?” This was no time for her to play dense. If Micah could see the dots connecting, surely so could Jacquelyn. “Willie might’ve been a warm-up. A test. A random victim to see if he could actually go through with it. But Bree…” He held up one finger. “Finn.” He put up another. “You had close ties to both of them.”
“No.”
“Jacquelyn.” He grabbed her by the shoulders, giving her a good shake. “Snap out of it. This is about you. You, okay? Just get over it. Trish is gone and if you were in your right mind right now you’d already be in your car, going after the fucker that took her. We have a lead, this Wes. He’s got to be our guy. Let’s go.”
“But—”
“No buts. Let’s go.”
Jacquelyn stared at him for a moment, her eyes wide and disbelieving. That same glazed-over look stole every ounce of emotion from her face, making her a shell of her former self. Micah couldn’t do this alone. He wouldn’t. He needed her.
Without Trish to offer guidance, he had to guess. But if he could suck up her emotions like a sponge, it served to assume that he could wring them out as well. “Sorry, Jacquelyn, but you kicked my ass the other night when all I wanted was to be numb and forget. You said you needed me one-hundred percent. And I need you now. Five by five, no
less. Hate me if you want, but this vapid bullshit is over.”
Just as he had when he’d stolen her pain, he pressed his lips gently to her forehead. Micah closed his eyes and focused on what he’d felt when he’d taken her anguish and sorrow, sending it outward and back to her. Her knees buckled, and he caught her before they gave out completely. He waited for the sound of her tears, for the wracking sobs that would inevitably echo in her chest. But none came. She bowed her head, the harsh sound of her heavy breath filling his ears. A whimper escaped her lips, a less intense reaction than he expected, but she swallowed it down, clearing her throat to cover it up. Micah perceived the barest increase of her pulse where her heart rested against his chest, like she’d been thrown into gear after idling for too long. Her spine straightened and she pulled away.
“I don’t hate you,” she said.
His anxiety was quickly replaced by relief. Of course, she hurt. But at least her head would be clear and her heart in the right place. He wanted her fired up and mad as hell. A hunter ready to fight. It was the only way if they had any hope of getting Trish back.
“Jacquelyn, we need to find Trish. If Wes took her, who knows how long we have? We can’t let him have her.”
She steadied herself and pulled away, brushing his arms from her shoulders. Holstering the Glock, she took a last apprising glance around the kitchen. “Everyone else was attacked on the spot. Willie’s wife said he’d been out on a bender, so whoever killed him probably followed him out into the woods. Bree was waiting for Finn to come for dinner, and Finn had gone home after…” Her voice trailed off and she took a steadying breath. “They were all ambushed and killed where he found them. But not Trish. If he wanted her dead, the Furies would have killed her right here in her own kitchen. They’re not real big on patience. She’s alive. He could be using her for bait, or Trish might be giving those bitches a run for their money. Either way, we’re going to get to her before they have a chance to lay a finger on her.”
Vengeance Borne Page 26