by Anna Durand
A hand enveloped hers. A finger massaged her palm, tracing ever-widening circles in her flesh. Warmth infected her skin, and then her muscles. The tingling swelled and expanded through her body. Her mind switched into a new mode, a cross between total relaxation and pure alertness.
Her eyelids flew open. Slumped in the chair, she jerked upright. Her heart pounded. She gaped at the man kneeling before her.
Gabriel Amador caught her gaze with a serene expression. His finger drew circles on her palm, sending out pulses of heat that intensified the tingling in her body and melted her brain. She couldn't hold onto a thought. Couldn't shake the connection unfurling between them, a tether that cinched tighter each second. This was wrong. The tether slithered deeper into her, alien and cold.
The impulse to jerk free of him flared inside her, but her muscles ignored her commands. Her voice came out breathless. "What are you doing to me?"
"Helping you to relax."
Run. This instant. Go, run, get away.
Go where? Her inner voice offered no answer. She was trapped. The realization whipped her out of the fog, into the harshness of her new reality. Trapped.
No, goddammit. She'd escape, if she had to claw her way through the house's foundation to do it — after she mined Amador for what she needed.
Gritting her teeth while feigning nonchalance demanded a serious effort. Either her efforts paid off, or Amador simply didn't care she was deceiving him. "Are you relaxing me by psychic means?"
His lips tightened into a frown. "No, Grace. I am not employing any psychic powers. This is a purely mundane method." He reached for her hand. She clasped it to her belly. Sighing, he said, "No one can breach your psychic barrier. Yes?"
She shrugged. "As far as I know."
Amador's frown morphed into a knowing smile.
The urge to gnaw on her lip itched inside her. She resisted. Although she was far from reassured, letting Amador glimpse her unease struck her as a really dumb idea. Pet the dragon, don't pinch his scales. "You're right. I'm sorry."
He rubbed his palm over the back of her hand.
She bit the inside of her cheek — an action hidden from his view. "I'm ready. For whatever ideas you have about my powers."
"Excellent." He released her hand. "My first suggestion may sound extreme, but please consider it carefully before refusing."
Nothing good ever followed a statement like that. "I will."
"I would like to administer a serum."
Panic surged through her, jolting her pulse into overdrive. Her knuckles ached from gripping the chair's arms.
Amador laid a hand on her arm. "Please, don't be afraid. It's a drug my company has been working on. The serum is designed to foster a sense of calm and relaxation that will, I hope, enhance a person's psychic abilities."
A hard shiver rushed through her. "Is this JT's formula?"
He shook his head. "I wouldn't do that to you. His formula was barbaric and inhumane. My company strives for safe, gentle formulations."
"Your company? I thought you ran a venture capital thing."
"I do. Through a shell company I own other interests, including a pharmaceutical research firm."
He sounded reasonable. Even lunatics could pull that off sometimes.
At least the heat in her body had dissipated. She felt almost normal again.
Frowning, she eyed Amador. "Is this what you meant when you said you could help me with my powers? That you'd give me drugs?"
"No. I thought it couldn't hurt, though."
As much as she loathed admitting it, she needed help. His help. If he could do what he claimed. Her firewall blocked his psychic intrusions, but if he could teach her a few tricks then maybe, just maybe, she'd shed the migraines. For good.
Her feet wiggled, urging her to escape this place.
Rebelling against every fiber of her being, she said, "If you have some other, non-pharmaceutical way to help me use my powers without getting horribly sick from it, then I'm listening."
He opened his mouth to speak.
"No drugs," she said. "That's my rule, and it is nonnegotiable."
"I understand. We'll employ other means. What psychic task may I assist you with first?"
He uttered the phrase in a tone reminiscent of a customer service guy answering a phone call. She brushed aside the mild humor of that and said, "I need to find David. Fast."
Amador nodded. "Let's get started."
He dragged a chair closer to her. She prayed he could help her, because if he couldn't…
David was alive. And she would find him.
"Close your eyes," Amador said. He clasped her hand in his. As the warmth infiltrated her body, spiraling her into oblivion, he told her, "Free your mind from thoughts. Hear only my voice. Feel my touch. Let it anchor you on your flight into the crossroads. Do not try. Simply be."
Thoughts fled. The weight of her own body, the firmness of the chair beneath her, the scent of leather, the ticking of a clock — everything drifted away from her until she floated in a void, numb and disconnected. Two things penetrated the emptiness.
Amador's skin pressed to hers. And his voice, deep and soft.
"Are you there?" he asked.
"Not yet." Her voice murmured from a distant galaxy.
His skin stroked hers.
She soared, like a cloud in the wind, up through the dark tunnel. No pressure. No struggle. She glided out into the crossroads.
"Yes," Amador said. "You are there, aren't you? Don't think. Don't fight. Let your mind do your will of its own volition."
A vague thought reared its head. His instructions made no sense. Her mind was her will. To effect her will, she must think.
"No. You are trying to implement your desires, aren't you? Stop. Empty your mind. Feel what you wish."
His hand. Warm. Smooth. Real. She relaxed into his touch, letting her mind go vacant. She floated there, among the glittering stars, overcome by a seductive sense of belonging. This place knew her. It hungered for her. And she for it. The energy of the crossroads, of its hidden reaches, tantalized her with the promise of boundless power.
"That's right," Amador said in a throaty whisper. "You understand now."
A star beckoned her. A connection. A human mind.
David.
Grace rocketed toward the light, through it, beyond it. A giddy energy excited her psychic senses. She drank it in, her mind swimming. The thirst for more burned inside her.
The tunnel expelled her into gray fog, whirling her downward.
She smashed headfirst into a granite wall.
Agony stripped her nerves raw. Lightning gored her astral body. Psychic energy spewed out of her, sucked her dry, cast her aside. She smacked into the wall.
And screamed.
Chapter Fourteen
The real world besieged her at once, a landslide of input that overwhelmed her senses and contorted her body. She bellowed, hugged her knees to her chest, and buried her face against her thighs. Wheezing, she rocked in the chair.
How would she track down David without their link?
I lost him.
Not yet she hadn't.
A hand caressed her hair. For a second, she imagined it was David. Then reality collided with her fantasy, shattering the illusion. She shook free of Amador's hand and lifted her head just far enough to peek at him over her knees. Tears blurred her vision, though they no longer streamed down her cheeks. She swiped at her eyes, sniffling.
Amador touched his fingertips to her cheek, then pulled them away. Concern tightened his features, and his lips parted in an unformed question.
"I'm fine," she said, though she felt nothing close to fine. Her eyes burned. White lights danced in her vision. Sharp pains crackled in her head, slowly coalescing into a throb that lurched her stomach. A migraine. Dammi
t. She could not afford this, not with David a hostage somewhere in Montana. If he was in Montana. She had no clue really. Tesler might've transferred him elsewhere. Despite the wild uncertainty about everything else, she could not deny one fact. Tesler would pummel David until he cracked — and exposed both their secrets.
He'll die first. She might've become an outsider in David's life, but she understood one basic truth about him. He was noble.
Amador leaned closer, his face pinched, as if he were in pain too. "What happened? Are you all right? Please tell me what I can do."
Nothing, she almost said. But the truth was, he could do something for her. As much as she despised asking him, she must. Desperation was a snarling bitch. "I need to find David before Tesler kills him." She slid her feet onto the floor and sat up. Muscles in her neck stretched. Hot pain spiked up her neck into the base of her skull. She winced, swallowing a gasp. "The psychic method of tracking him down did not work. I need another way. Do you have any suggestions?"
The tension smoothed out of Amador. He hopped up and gave a quick nod. "I may have a way. If you will be all right by yourself, I'll see what I can do."
"I'll survive." She'd lived alone for so long, even after David barged back into her life. What was a few more minutes? Beside, she needed a break. His voice stabbed into her brain, each word a red-hot, acid-tipped needle. The sound of her own breathing hurt her ears.
Amador asked, "Can you provide any clues as to David's whereabouts?"
"Montana. That's it, I'm sorry."
"It will be enough." He marched to the door, then hesitated on the threshold. "You may not believe this, but I wish no harm to David. And I will do everything in my power to locate him."
She didn't know whether to believe him or not, but she said, "I appreciate that."
He studied her over his shoulder, lips scrunched in concentration. "If your goal is to eliminate your migraines, then you must uncover the reason for them. I suspect you are hindering your powers, unconsciously, for some reason. Root out the reason, and you will free yourself — and your mind."
"You may be right."
"Try to rest. And I will search for David."
She forced her lips to form a weak smile. "Thank you, Biel."
He flashed her a quick, tight smile. And then he left.
The door clicked shut.
Free her powers. Free herself. Sounded great, but how the hell was she supposed to do it?
Root out the reason. Amador had a point. Although he knew nothing of her motivations, he sensed she throttled back her abilities. Until he spoke the words, she'd pretended not to realize the truth. She must acknowledge her fears, and sort them out.
To save David. To save herself.
At full power, with no migraines to saddle her, she might just save the whole damn world.
She buried her face in her hands. Pangs ricocheted in her head, as her gut roiled with nausea. Too weak to stand, she curled up in the chair, rested her head on her knees, and shut her eyes.
Some savior she was.
David squinted to see through a blood-tinged haze. His head lolled to the side, too heavy to hold up any longer. Everything throbbed or burned, from his scalp down to his toes. Tesler stood before him, legs spread in a confident stance, tapping the baseball bat on his palm.
"Shall we go again?" Tesler asked. "Or is one of you ready to talk?"
Spitting out blood, David hoisted his head upright. Pain lanced up his neck straight into his skull. He gritted his teeth. "Nobody wants to talk to you, Tesler. Your conversation skills leave something to be desired."
The scientist harrumphed. "We'll see how you feel when I start in on Sean."
David wanted to look at Sean, to assure himself mostly, but feared his beaten and bloodied appearance would terrify the boy more than Tesler had already. Sean was okay. In the past six months, he toughened up more than any boy his age should have to, but everyone had their limits.
At least no physical harm had come to Sean — yet. David served himself up as Tesler's punching bag. Or batting practice. The bastard packed a mean swing.
Unease trickled into him, the sensation strange and… external. He focused on the discomfort, struggling to name it. To trace its source. The unease burgeoned inside him, like a leaky balloon filled with ice-cold water, slowly disgorging its contents into him. The chill sharpened and mushroomed out. Fear knifed into his heart.
Grace.
The sensation crumbled away as quickly as it had bloomed. His connection to Grace dwindled back to a whisper, one he could discern only if he concentrated all his psychic energy on the task. Had she broken through the EM screen for a second? No, Grace, don't. Could she even hear him? Or feel him? Conflicting desires warred within him. The need to sense her, to feel her, to know she was all right. And the lightning-bright fear that she would reach out to him. Connect with him. Share his experience.
Suffer his torture.
Tesler pointed the bat toward Nkosi. "Perhaps you care more for your new friend." He strode one step closer to Nkosi. Raised the bat. Sneered. "Well, David? Shall we try this one on for size?"
David's nails rasped on the metal as he gripped the arms of his chair. A lacework of pain burst out from his knuckles to spread into his wrists. He choked down a gasp, denying the agony its outlet. Tesler would never see him grimace or hear him cry out. Never.
"No?" The scientist ambled past David, to Sean. He spun on his heels, facing the boy. Sean muffled a whimper. Tesler waggled the bat in the boy's face. "Will you tell me now, son?" He glanced at David, then back to Sean. "Or must I beat you to hurt your savior?"
"If you need to feel like a man," David hissed, "then make your statement on me. I'm the one you despise. I'm the one who ruined the plans you and JT cooked up together."
Tesler chuckled, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. "It was your darling girl who laid waste to those plans, not you." He stepped in front of David, straddling the chair, and leaned forward to grind David's left wrist beneath his hand. Agony ripped through his hand and arm, but he quashed it with gritted teeth. Tesler smirked. "You are a worthless specimen undeserving of being called a man. Your lover had to rescue you how many times? Perhaps she only stays with you out of pity."
The truth in his words stung like a smack to the face. David fought not to wince. Grace had saved him. Repeatedly. He wasn't much of a man. He couldn't argue with Tesler on that point.
Did Grace pity him?
If course not. She loved him. Her passion and affection nourished him during his worst moments. And yet, a sliver of doubt lodged itself in his psyche. Tesler had jammed the sliver in there. He knew this. But he could not silence the voice whispering into his brain.
How could she love you when you can't even protect her?
If he couldn't shield her from Tesler, then what good was he? Escape no longer seemed like a viable option. As long as he lived, he posed a threat to Grace. Tesler had been right about that too. He was leverage.
Protecting Grace meant saving her from her misplaced, pigheaded loyalty to him. He had one choice left. If he died, she wouldn't need to search for him.
At last, he had a plan. Stop Tesler. Save Sean and Nkosi.
Sacrifice himself for Grace.
Tesler poised the bat for a swing, zeroing in on Sean.
He froze. His brow furrowed, and his mouth warped into an expression of… anguish?
Stunned, David could only stare.
Tesler let out a frustrated growl. He tossed the bat aside. It clattered on the concrete, spun across the room, and bumped into the wall.
This mad man did not hold back from torture. And yet, he just did.
With a flick of his wrist, Tesler summoned a guard to his side. He snatched the semiautomatic handgun from the holster on the guard's hip. A snarled command sent the guard scuttling back to the doorway.
&
nbsp; Tesler leveled the gun at David. "Last chance. Where is Grace Powell?"
David raised his chin. "Go to hell."
"No," Tesler said, his expression turning to mock gravity. "I won't be the one to make that journey tonight."
A gunshot cracked through the room.
Chapter Fifteen
Grace twisted the knob, surprised when it rotated in her hand. Amador left the door unlocked this time. Hmm. Forgetfulness, or purpose?
She eased the door open a couple inches, peering into the empty hallway. Somewhere in another room, a grandfather clock chimed. A cool draft filtered through the opening, tickling her bare arms. She must go out there. Sitting in the dining room, alone, with the door shut was triggering her latent claustrophobia. A squirmy itch in her brain compelled her to action.
Maybe the closed door had nothing to with it. She might feel trapped because, well, she was. Tesler's men cornered her. She escaped only because she wielded her powers, and because Amador rode to her rescue.
He was no knight.
Now David she could envision galloping up on a white horse, armor glistening in the sun, those blue eyes gleaming with the fire of purpose. Even in a T-shirt and jeans, he was sexy as hell. Dressed up like a knight, he'd sweep her off her feet — literally — and carry her away on his steed.
Oh brother. She ought to be formulating a plan to save David, not fantasizing about playing dress-up with him.
Pulling the door wide, she tromped out into the hallway. Her head swung left and right as she debated the choices. Pick one, for crying out loud.
She swerved right, heading deeper into the house, away from the front door. The hallway housed six doors, three on each side, spaced at staggered intervals. Straight ahead, the corridor dead-ended at a blank wall. She veered toward the first door on the left, tried the knob, and found it locked. Back and forth she moved, testing each door. Left. Right. Left. A bizarre urge to goose-step cropped up in her brain, but she shook it off. All the doors were locked, except the one leading into Amador's office. She'd already seen that room, though. Since his computer no longer sat on the desktop, the office held nothing else of interest to her. She ducked inside just long enough to try the file cabinet drawers.