The Protected (Fbi Psychics)

by Walker, Shiloh

  “Chocolate.” Alex wedged himself in the door, and for a second, the look on his face was that of just any ordinary kid. “Where is there . . .”

  Then the words trailed off as he saw the plate. “Cookies.” He swallowed and then looked up at Gus. “She made cookies.”

  “She did.” He nodded to Vaughnne. “You should thank her.”

  Vaughnne was already a little tired of this, and if she didn’t already have an inkling about the kind of life these two had been living, she could probably find herself rather pissed off with Gus. But as the kid hurriedly stuck out his hand, she went to shake his, letting some of her puzzled smile show on her face.

  Then she stopped and frowned, swiping her hand down the side of her shorts. “I’ve got cookie crumbs on me,” she mumbled. After she’d dusted them off, she shook the kid’s hand and felt his mental fingers rooting through her mind yet again. He wasn’t as neat that time, and pain ripped through her mind.

  She barely managed to keep a grimace from showing as he broke the connection with absolutely no finesse and no care. The pain increased, and she could feel it rippling through her, growing, and growing . . .

  Dayyum, he was strong.

  Distantly, she made a mental note. This kid needed training and he needed it fast.

  Even though she’d been braced for him to do something, his blunt probe through her mind left her off balance. She felt like he’d jammed his hands inside her skull, scraped them through her gray matter like it was muck, and then just shoved her to the side. Stumbling, she tried to catch her balance on the doorjamb.

  A hand caught her arm.

  Gus—

  Trying to breathe through the pain, trying to keep her own mental shields in place, she sucked in a desperate breath before she swung her head around to look at him.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and tense.

  “Headache,” she said absently, forcing herself to smile. She needed to leave. Get back to the house and sit down. Maybe lie down. Right inside the door would be fine. Shit. The pounding in her head increased, and she thought she just might puke.

  But he was eyeing her oddly, and her instincts were screaming. Cover, she reminded herself. Don’t break your cover. “Probably from all the sugar I’ve been sucking in today.”

  Then, because she figured they both needed to be aware of the kid’s lack of finesse, she reached up and pressed the heel of her hand to her head. It wasn’t like she was acting, either. It felt like a freight train was trying to rip through her skull, and the nausea churned through her harder and harder with every passing second. She was going to hurl cookies in a second if she wasn’t careful. “Damn, it hit me hard, like somebody just punched me.”

  Alex’s hand froze over the plate.

  Any guilt she might have felt died as the pain just continued to grow.

  “Maybe you should sit down,” Gus said quietly. “Are you well enough to go home?”

  “Sure.” She smiled at them both and pushed the cookies into Alex’s hands. The pounding in her head was getting worse, though, and she felt something wet on her face.

  “What . . .” She went to wipe at her nose.

  But before she could, she swayed. The world went dark.

  * * *

  GUS swore as he caught her.

  He’d seen the trickle of blood, but it went from a trickle to a flood in a matter of seconds.

  Under his breath, a litany of curses ripped out of him as he caught her against him.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Alex, his mouth stuffed full of cookie and his gaze big and round. “Don’t eat them, damn it. What if that’s what made her sick?”

  Alex looked miserable.

  But he shook his head and swallowed. As he followed Gus into the house, he clutched the plate against him. “It was me.”

  “What?” Then he shook his head. “No. Not now. Get me a towel.” He laid Vaughnne’s still form on the couch and tried not to think about what a very nice form it was . . . lean muscle, lush curves. He could spend hours learning all the secrets of her body and never get tired, he suspected. But even if he could let himself take that pleasure, now wasn’t the time.

  That smooth brown skin had gone ashen on him, and as he shifted to kneel closer to her head, he saw that the bleeding was getting worse.

  “Alex, hurry up!”

  “Here . . .” The boy’s voice was soft and sad as he pushed a towel into Gus’s hand, but Gus didn’t linger to look at the kid.

  Not then. Anger pulsed inside him and he needed to get a grip on it before he spoke. He’d thought they had this under control. But . . . No. No buts. We just start again. And if it happens again, we start over . . . again. He focused on that as he pressed the towel to Vaughnne’s face, pinching her nose lightly just below where the bony area ended to help stem the bleeding.

  More than two minutes in silence. He’d give it five before he pulled the towel away, but each second was an eternity and she was so still—

  There was no warning.

  One second she was lying there, motionless.

  Then next, he had a fist flying toward him and his arms full of a woman he very much wanted to hold. He took the punch. It was off center and barely clipped his jaw, but if Alex was responsible, he figured she was more than owed that one hit.

  She all but tumbled on top of him, still off balance, and the lush body was a temptation he could barely resist.

  But Alex was only a few feet away.

  And he had no time in his life for luxuries like this.

  “What the hell . . .”

  She blinked down at him and then pushed away, moving all too easily considering she’d been flat on her back just seconds ago. That had him concerned. But even as he started to puzzle through that, she stumbled, swaying above him. Rising to his feet, he caught her arms and stared down at her. The bleeding had stopped. That was good.

  Her eyes were still cloudy.

  That wasn’t good.

  “What the hell . . .” she muttered again, shaking her head like she was trying to clear it. She pressed the heel of her hand against her temple like that might help lessen the pain he knew she was feeling—and he knew she was hurting. Knew it from experience.

  Nothing would help except time. He’d thought they had this under control.

  He couldn’t think about that, though. He’d think about it later. Once he had her out of here and away from Alex.

  Focusing on her face, he said quietly, “You passed out.” That is all. Nothing else to it.

  She’d believe it. They all did.

  Her gaze rested on his face for a second, and then she looked down, studying the towel in his hand.

  He just barely managed to resist clenching his hand in a fist. “Your nose started to bleed,” he said, lifting it up. “There’s a bathroom down the hall if you’d like to wash up.”

  She lifted a hand and touched her nose, grimacing a little before looking back at him. With a sigh, she nodded, and as he turned around, he glanced at Alex.

  The boy was staring at his shoes.

  Wonderful. Like that didn’t look guilty as hell.

  FOUR

  SOMETHING told her this wasn’t his first time at this particular rodeo.

  As he managed to wedge them both into the tiny bathroom, she kept her face blank and tried to act a little dismayed. It wasn’t hard. She was panicked, trying not to panic more. As they’d come down the hall, she’d pressed a hand to her chest, felt the slight bump of the micro cameras she’d decided to tuck inside her bra instead of her pocket. Thank God.

  Thank God he hadn’t found those. If he had . . .

  Yeah. It wasn’t hard to fake dismay, wasn’t hard to act a little off balance. She was dismayed. She was off balance.

  Just not for the reasons he thought, and she had to to
tally downplay that.

  The boy had literally knocked her off her feet.

  She’d been helpless at the hands of a man who was capable of God only knew what.

  And damn it, her nose was still trickling blood. All from Alex’s careless assault on her mind.

  Did she know anybody with that kind of raw power?

  Vaughnne honestly didn’t know. She knew plenty of powerful psychics, yeah. But they were all older than Alex, all of them trained. And none of them were going to accidentally knock somebody out like that.

  The kid was dangerous. And he was running around without any kind of real supervision, nobody to make sure he was learning how to control it and nobody capable of reeling him in if he did lose it.

  Talk about an absolute mess.

  She had been bad enough with her banshee-like voice when she lost it back before she had gotten herself under control, but she’d never had the ability to cause physical harm. Mental harm, yeah. She’d done her share of that. But this boy had caused physical damage. And he was all of what . . . thirteen?

  “Here we go,” Gus said, turning away from the minuscule closet and facing her.

  The bathroom wasn’t much bigger than a postage stamp, it seemed. There was room for the toilet, the sink, and the tub. That was about it. With the two of them in there, it was something of a tight fit.

  “Ah . . .” She glanced at the rag and then eased closer, but that had her brushing up against him. She held out her hand, but he acted like he didn’t notice. She didn’t see how that was possible as he turned on the water, reaching past her to do so. It brought him even closer, and she could feel the wicked heat of his body and she just wanted to lean against him, wrap her body around his, and rub herself all over him.

  The image was almost enough to make her whimper with want.

  “How is the headache now?” he asked.

  That voice of his—black velvet in the dead of night. Seductive and sinful. Something else that could make her whimper with want. She could just get lost in it.

  Instead, she gave him a wry grimace and turned away from him to study her rather macabre reflection. He’d managed to get most of the blood off her face, but it was drying on her neck and her shirt was trashed. “The headache is getting better, but I look like a vampire’s chew toy,” she said sourly. She held her hand out over her shoulder. “Can I have the rag?”

  He pushed it into her hand, but instead of moving out of the way, he lingered there as she leaned in and started to wash the blood away. She had to rinse the rag out twice to get her neck clean. She went over her face again. Finally, though, she’d cleared it all away, and before she turned to face him, she rinsed it out one more time. “I can take it home and wash it if you want.”

  “No. Not a problem.”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move and she tensed.

  Slowly, she lifted her head, watching as he stroked a finger across her temple. “How do you feel now?”

  The ache still lingered. The dizziness was gone, but she had a feeling she’d be dealing with the aftereffects of this for a while. “Like somebody kicked me in the head,” she said bluntly. “I might want to ease up on the sugar intake if that’s what caused it. I know teenage boys have a different metabolism, but maybe I should dump the cookies instead of letting Alex have them.”

  “No. You’re probably right . . . just the sugar. Maybe the heat, if you’re not used to it.” He feathered his thumb over her brow. “If you take a nap, rest for a little while, you’ll probably feel better in a couple of hours.”

  He sounded rather certain, she thought. Shaking her head, she casually eased away. His touch had hot little sparks jumping inside her. Not good. “I dunno, Gus.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” He seemed undeterred by the way she’d casually shifted her body, his fingers trailing down her cheek to cup her chin, angling her head back until he could peer into her eyes.

  A light, easy touch—just the press of his fingers under her chin. Barely any contact at all, and yet she felt it ricocheting through her. Her heart slammed hard against her chest, and if it wasn’t for years and years of practice in controlling everything from her physical responses to her emotions, Vaughnne knew she would have been breathing harder just from that light touch as well. She could feel the physical responses that weren’t quite as obvious. Her nipples tightened and ached—thank the maker of lined bras. It was the only thing keeping him from seeing that reaction, and she suspected he would have noticed.

  All because he stroked his thumb across her brow, touched her chin.

  All because he’d looked at her . . .

  What in the hell would she do if he kissed her?

  Better off not to know, she warned herself.

  Better off.

  “Are you still dizzy?”

  Dizzy . . . She hadn’t mentioned that. She knew she hadn’t. Giving him a wide-eyed look, she asked, “Was I dizzy?” Then she laughed a little. “I guess I was, seeing as how I did a face plant, huh? Nah. I feel okay, other than my head.”

  Wiggling out from between him and the sink, she made for the hallway. So much for trying to figure out a way to plant one of the units in the house.

  It was a damn good thing he hadn’t decided to search her while she was out. She was going to have to think about alternative methods, maybe, of keeping a close set of eyes on them.

  But thinking would have to come at a time when it wasn’t sheer torture just to move. She hadn’t been honest. She was still dizzy and her head was killing her. Alex’s mental probe had come smack up against her shields, and although she didn’t think he’d realized what he’d hit, just that impact had been enough to send her reeling.

  Rest. Reevaluate. But get the hell out of there first.

  The room spun around on her, and despite her determination, a groan managed to slip out of her. Slamming a hand against the wall, she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath.

  The kid . . . what the hell . . .

  She blew out all the air in her lungs and then took another breath, slower. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, she looked up and saw Alex standing at the end of the hall, a nervous, anxious look on his face.

  And he still held that stupid plate of cookies, too.

  He looked half-sick with guilt, and the cookie he’d been eating was clutched in one fist, but judging by the look on his face, he’d forgotten about it. Sighing, she closed her eyes and took another breath as he started to say something.

  She even saw the words forming in his eyes.

  But before he could say it, Gus cut him off. “Alex, why don’t you grab her a Coke from the fridge? Maybe it would help if she had a drink.”

  Sorry. The kid wanted to say he was sorry, but Gus wouldn’t let him. She realized the problem there . . . Gus couldn’t let him, because neither of them realized she knew what had happened.

  What an utter mess.

  Babysitting.

  My ass.

  She managed not to snarl as Gus closed his hand around her arm once more, but it was a close thing.

  And once she got out of there, she was going to have a word with Mr. Taylor Jones. A very painful word.

  * * *

  “YOU have to be more careful,” Gus said once Vaughnne was tucked safely back inside her house.

  “I’m sorry.” Alex stood there, his head hanging so low, his chin touching his chest. “I just . . .” He sniffled and then looked up, a defiant look in his eyes. “I just wanted a cookie. Why did I have to do that just to get a damned cookie?”

  “Watch your mouth, Alex,” Gus warned. “And you know why. So because you’re angry about the situation, you took it out on her. Was that fair? Was that kind? You saw what happened, didn’t you?”

  “Her head felt funny!” Alex snapped. He turned away and jammed his hands into his pockets. “It’s no
t as easy to get inside her head. It’s almost like looking in yours and I had to push harder.”

  Staring at the boy’s slumped shoulders, Gus rubbed his neck and tried to figure out what to say, what to do.

  He understood, basically, what Alex was saying. Some minds were just more open, easier to read. The more closed the mind, the harder it was for Alex to look inside, but if he really wanted in, Alex would get in. So far, it didn’t seem like anybody had been able to keep the boy out. But Alex usually didn’t cause pain when he looked, and over the past two years or so, his control had gotten better. For the most part, nobody seemed to even notice anything was going on. Before they’d started working on it, Alex had pushed too hard and people had . . . sensed something. Or just sensed that something wasn’t quite right, Gus supposed. He didn’t know how to describe it because he was always aware of it when Alex was probing his mind and he knew the look the boy had on his face when he was looking into somebody else’s.

  But as the boy’s control had improved, Gus had stopped seeing those signs of strain, those signs of pain. It happened less and less often, and for more than a year, those occurrences were the anomaly, not the norm.

  Until today.

  Not only had he caused Vaughnne pain, but he’d sent that woman crashing to the floor. All because she’d brought them a plate of cookies.

  Leaning against the wall near the door, Gus stared outside, watching her house, still painfully aware of how she’d felt when he’d picked her up. Solid. Warm. And real. It was a miserable thing, he mused. She’d been unconscious, dealing with a nosebleed, and instead of being wracked with guilt over that, he was too busy remembering how good she’d felt in his arms.

  So focused on that, he hadn’t taken the chance he probably should have taken. He could have searched her, looked for an ID, some sign of who she was. Although he’d already run a background check on her, using the piss-poor excuse of a laptop he had. According to the information he’d gathered, she was who she said she was . . . had lived in Atlanta, moved after she’d lost the lease on her house. Did data entry for a living and the company she worked for had been around for a long, long time.