Taige didn’t answer, and after a few minutes of silence passed, Vaughnne figured they were done. For now. Focusing on the boy, she studied the slow, steady rise of his chest and realized he’d already gone to sleep. She looked over at Gus and then nodded to the other bed. “You should sleep,” she said quietly. “You’re both safe here.”
His eyes glittered at her in the darkness, and although he had no ability at all, she felt like he could see clear down to her soul, see every last secret. “What were you talking about?”
She stared at him.
Tense, heavy silence stretched out between them, an icy shroud. Finally, she lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”
“With her. You were both talking, I know it.”
“Oh? And since when were you any sort of psychic?” she asked lazily, leaning one shoulder against the door.
His eyes narrowed on her face.
Vaughnne sighed. “Don’t worry about it, Gus. She’s been going over shielding with Alex—was explaining what she worked with him on, how to help him more if I have to.” She lied through her teeth and did without blinking.
Gus continued to stare at her, the disbelief on his face clear. “Remember what I told you, Vaughnne.”
Next to her, Jones tensed.
She shot him a look and shook her head. “It’s okay, Jones. He’s just . . . jumpy.”
She moved to the hard-ass chair just inside the door and settled down. Every muscle in her body screamed at her as she did it; maybe she should take one of the pain pills the doctors gave her. Once Taige got back. Or half a pill. She thought she could still stay awake on half a pain pill.
“I had them keep the room across the hall open for you,” Jones said, dipping down to murmur in her ear. “Go lie down for an hour.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not. Consider it an order, Agent.”
She turned her head and glared at him. “I said I’m fine.”
He slid out of his jacket, revealing the side holster and the weapon he hadn’t bothered to remove earlier. As he hung the jacket on the back of the door, he glanced over at her. “If you’re so fine, then you can do it just to humor me.”
* * *
GUS hated hospitals.
He’d avoided them as much as he could, for as long as he could. Even now, as he stood there in the dark, watching as Alex slept, he was plotting out the escape routes. Just in case.
He’d told Vaughnne he’d trust her, and he was trying to do just that.
But there were too many unknowns here. Far too many.
He hurt.
He had bruised ribs, lacerations on his face and hands; the worst one had fifteen stitches, but that wasn’t even the big concern. His left knee was jammed and that was a problem. He needed rest almost more than he needed to breathe, but he couldn’t afford to take it. He was going to make do with the anti-inflammatories and ice for his knee. He’d dealt with worse—far worse.
“If you fall down, you’re not going to do him any good.”
Flicking a look at the blond man by the door, Gus went back to ignoring him. While he hadn’t made Vaughnne for a cop, he’d made this one the minute he’d seen him. Well, not a cop. FBI. Federal agent . . . much worse than a cop. A federal agent who had an interest in psychics. That made him a threat in Gus’s mind, and he couldn’t relax around a threat.
“Do you trust Vaughnne?”
Gus closed his eyes. “I trust nobody.”
A soft sigh drifted through the room. “It won’t be long before you have to trust somebody, son. Whether it’s me or Vaughnne, you need to pick your poison. The boy is in more trouble than you can possibly understand.”
A harsh laugh burst from him before he could stop it, echoing through the room. “Oh, I know the danger, son,” he bit off, shoving up from the chair. “It is this danger that has us running all these years. I know the danger.”
“Do you?”
Turning his back, he stared out the window. The parking lot was quiet, thank God, and he could see the highway—easy access if they had to steal a car. The first thing he’d made note of.
A bright glow lit the room and he turned back around.
The agent, Jones—Vaughnne had called him Jones—sat in his chair, holding out an iPad. “Vaughnne brought this to my attention earlier. I realize you are running from somebody, Gus . . . I hope you don’t mind me calling you Gus. You haven’t given any other name.” Jones paused.
Gus just stared at him for a long moment before looking down at the iPad’s screen.
Jones shrugged and held the tablet out. “One of my freelancers apparently shared this information with . . . an acquaintance. The information was then given to Vaughnne, who shared it with me. You should read it.”
Gus closed the distance and took the tablet, even as a weight settled heavy and cold in his gut. His heart jumped into a fast, hard gallop, and his throat went tight. His palms felt damp as he started to read. Automatically, his brain broke down the code in the heading.
The Psychic Portal—
He set his jaw and fought the urge to hurl the iPad across the room.
“The website’s banner is encoded. I’m having somebody on my team break it down—”
Cutting Jones off, Gus shook his head. “It reads The Psychic Portal,” he said gruffly, glancing up at him.
Jones’s brows arched over his eyes. “You can tell that with a glance.”
Gus shrugged and continued to read. It was the modern version of Abandon all hope, ye who enter here . . . with a quick welcome to those who might actually fit in.
“This website . . . it’s for . . .”
“Psychics,” Jones said, inclining his head. “Assuming it’s legit. As I was saying, my team is looking into it. But there’s enough—well, troublesome material there to make me think it is legit.”
Gus continued to skim through it. It wasn’t until he reached the bottom of the page that anything really jumped out at him.
And then, it was like the very earth had crumpled under his feet.
Orlando.
The iPad hit the ground with a clatter and blood started to roar in his ears. Run. They had to run—
His brain zeroed down to that goal, and for a few seconds, nothing else existed. Nothing but the plan. Nothing but the goal. Nothing but Alex and making him safe.
Get Alex up.
Get Alex out of here.
Get Alex away.
A voice, annoying like a gnat buzzing in his ear, caught his attention after a few seconds, but he brushed it aside as he grabbed his bag and started for the bed. A car. Plenty of them in the parking lot. Run. Hurry, hurry, hurry—
“Gus?”
“Ah, Jones, I wouldn’t get too close if I were you . . .”
The voices were a rush in his head and the only thing he could think was . . . run. They had to run.
Somebody moved in—he saw the man from the corner of his eye.
He swung out. The man was fast, very fast, and evaded. He didn’t manage to evade the second move, though, and as Jones crumpled over, gasping for air, Gus brought up his fist, ready to slam it down on the back of the man’s vulnerable head.
Before he could, something grabbed his throat. “Come on,” a soft voice said. “Don’t make me get rough.”
He clawed at his neck, but there was nothing there. Just his own skin. Except something was holding him—tighter and tighter, too. Eyes wide, he looked around, but Gus didn’t . . . there. It was her. Taige.
Gray eyes stared into his, and she had a look on her face that was . . . almost sad. “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “We can help with him, but you have to stop panicking every time somebody tries to help.”
He tried to suck in a breath, tried. Failed. Darkness edged in around him and he swung out again, his aim so far off, he didn’t
even come within a foot of her. The darkness crept in closer . . . closer . . .
And in the back of his mind, a voice murmured . . . You must promise me . . .
Just before he slipped under, he heard Vaughnne’s voice, Don’t you think it’s about time you start trusting me?
FIFTEEN
“DID you have to choke him?”
Over the bed, Vaughnne glared at Taige.
Taige shrugged easily. “Hey, I was just trying to avoid (a) getting hit, and (b) having him take that kid out of here. You and I both know that’s not going to end well if he does that. Besides . . . it got him to rest, right?”
Dropping down on the chair, Vaughnne stared at Gus’s battered face. Now he had a ring of bruises around his neck. Lovely. “Yeah, you got him to rest, all right. But how long has he been out?”
“Happened right after you went down.” Taige shrugged. “It’s been about two hours. And it’s not because of what I did. His body needs rest and once he went down? Mother Nature took over and forced him to take what he needs. Relax . . . he’s fine. I hear his thoughts if I try and they are just . . . well, not fine, but I didn’t do him any damage. The guy is almost as scared as the kid is, but he’s fine. He’s determined. He’s a wily bastard, that one. But he’s exhausted.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “So am I.”
Vaughnne curled her lip. “Yeah, that trip up from Gulf Shores was just exhausting, wasn’t it?”
“Actually, it was the sex last night, but hey.” Taige just shrugged and smiled.
Vaughnne cringed. “There’s a kid sleeping behind you. Is that necessary?”
With a grin, Taige retreated to her chair just outside the door. “I’m going to crash for a few, since you’re up and moving. Don’t know how long Jones plans on needing me, but I need a few minutes’ downtime.”
Sighing, Vaughnne stretched out her legs and focused on the two males in the room. Both of them slept, but neither did so easily. Alex’s rest was fitful and he tossed and turned, occasionally muttering in his sleep or crying out. Although Gus was still and silent, even in sleep, he looked ready to battle. His hands were clenched, the muscles in his arms bunched, like he was ready to lunge into action at any moment. Ready to fight. Ready to protect.
Without thinking, she reached up and stroked a hand down his arm, thinking only to soothe him.
And what a mistake that was—
A split second later, her wrist was trapped and she had to bite back a gasp as he twisted it and jerked her forward. Caught off guard again, she landed against his chest and glared down at him.
His eyes were foggy but clearing every second as he glared up at her.
Taut silence hung between them.
She licked her lips.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and a hunger like nothing she’d ever felt exploded through her. If it hadn’t been for the boy in the bed just a few feet away, Vaughnne suspected she would have stripped off every damn piece of clothing she wore and rubbed herself against him like a cat. She might have begged him, might have pleaded . . . just one night. That was all she wanted.
Well, no. She wanted everything, but one night would suffice.
She sucked in a breath, and just like that, the moment shattered.
He let go and she shoved away from him, pushing her hair back from her face and clambering out of the chair as he sat up, looking around. His gaze lit on the boy in the bed, and she said softly, “He’s fine. He’s sleeping.”
“We need to go.” The underlying urgency in his voice cut into her heart and she reached out, despite how stupid that had been a minute ago.
But this time, as her hand caught his arm, all he did was freeze.
“Go where?” she asked quietly. “You know what’s after him now, right? I know Jones showed you.”
“That’s why we have to go.”
“And how are you going to hide him from all that can come from that? Can you protect him from an army?”
Gus’s hand shot out, fisting in the front of her shirt. He tugged her closer and lowered his head, pressing his brow to hers. Hell warred in his eyes as he stared at her. “Can you?”
“By myself?” She laid a hand on his cheek. “Hell, no. But I’m not alone. You are.”
* * *
ALONE . . .
Yes.
That was something that Gus was painfully aware of.
He’d spent so many months alone. So many years.
Most of his life, really. Ever since he’d left the family, staying far away from them once he’d somehow landed in a life that he’d never planned. Never wanted for himself, but it had found him anyway. He’d joined the military—there had been no choice. He was on a road to trouble, going nowhere fast, and it was either join the armed forces or find his ass in jail. He’d chosen the military. It might have been better if he’d gone the other way, though, because somehow, he caught the eyes of the man who’d put him on this road.
Almost from the beginning, they’d been watching him and the persona he’d worn—the playboy, the brawler, the man who’d played at modeling, fucking, and fighting. It had been planned almost from the time he’d agreed to talk to the men who’d shown up on the base.
Within a few months, he’d known it was probably a bad choice, but there was no turning back then. Not if he wanted to protect his family.
He’d sent back money, had thought it would be enough to take care of them. To make sure his mother and Consuelo were cared for.
This life, it was like he’d been made for it.
Quick to learn, fast on his feet, good with his fists, good at . . . other things.
He’d settled into that life, but it was a dangerous one, and the only way to protect his family was to make like he had none.
Then he’d gotten that simple call.
I need you . . .
Consuelo’s voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in years. He hadn’t even recognized her at first. He hadn’t gone home, not when their mother had died, although he would have, if possible. For that, he would have returned home. But he’d been busy recovering from an altercation that had damn near killed him. By the time he’d emerged from surgery, their mother had already been dead, and by the time they had told him about her passing, she had already been buried.
He’d almost walked away from the life then. Almost.
But he’d been told, more than once, It will follow you. It will take everything and everyone you love. Why risk them?
Them? There is no them . . . there is just my sister.
Except his sister had been pregnant.
A new life, a new innocent he had to worry about protecting. That had been more than a decade ago. So he’d stayed away . . . again.
But then she’d called him.
How could he stay away when his baby sister had called him? Had needed him?
Please come home, Gustavo. . . I need you. Please. There . . . I can’t tell anybody else. Nobody else will protect him.
That was all she had said.
Then she’d hung up and she wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t answer his e-mails.
Her husband, a bastard if ever there was one, was a man that Gus should have killed the second he had figured out just who his sister had married. He was a drug dealer, but there were worse crimes in Gus’s mind. Still were. But Gus hadn’t thought the bastard was going to go that low.
He had been wrong.
And now, every day, he had to live with that knowledge. Every day, he had to live with what his hesitation had cost him. He hadn’t wanted his sister to look at him, or think of him, and wonder.
Now she wouldn’t because she was gone.
And her evil, twisted husband lived.
While Gus and Alex fled for their lives.
If it had just been Gus involved, he would have gone for the bastard and not
blinked twice. It would have been a risk, and the risk was one he would have taken happily. All men died, after all. He doubted he’d live a long life. But it wasn’t a risk he’d take without knowing Alex would be safe.
Alone . . .
Hell, yes. He was alone.
Glaring down at Vaughnne, he opened his mouth to tell her . . . something. Anything. He needed her out of his way. Preferably someplace far away from him, because if she was far away from him, then he wouldn’t be tempted to do just what she seemed to think he should do. Trust her.
She reached up and closed her hand around his wrist. “If you don’t stop running now . . . you never will,” she said quietly. “Surely, somewhere in that beautiful, thick-as-stone head of yours, you have to realize that, right? Either you take a stand or spend the rest of your life running. The rest of his life running. And it’s likely to be a short one, because those people will not quit hunting you. And we can’t keep chasing after you to protect that kid when you make it clear you don’t want our help.”
“Why?”
She blinked, her lashes sweeping down to hide her dark eyes. The scattering of freckles across her cheeks caught his gaze, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand, cupped her chin. Stroking one thumb across the silk of her skin, he waited.
“Why what?” she asked, tugging away and backing out of his reach.
“Why do you want to help at all?” He shook his head and gestured to Alex. “You don’t know us. We’re not even here legally.”
She smirked and rolled her eyes. Then she turned her back and crossed over to the chair opposite the bed. “I’m so shocked by that, I think I just might faint, Gus. I really might.” She dropped down in the chair, wincing a little as she stretched out. “I mean, never mind the fact that you’ve pulled a gun—probably an illegal one—on me more than once. Never mind that you’ve drugged me. Threatened me. But you’re here illegally. That’s just over the line there.”
He glared at her and tried to ignore the nasty crawl of shame rising up the back of his throat. How many times had he threatened her? More than once. More than a half dozen, easily. And yet she sat there, watching him with a level, steady gaze, and no anger in her lovely, dark eyes.
The Protected (Fbi Psychics) Page 21