The Protected (Fbi Psychics)

by Walker, Shiloh

  “You want me to take a boy away from his legal guardian,” Jones said slowly. “That’s kidnapping, Vaughnne. Never mind that it can cost me my job and what it will do to the unit. It can get me arrested. It can land me in jail.”

  “He’s not my legal guardian,” Alex said quietly. “I don’t think. I think my guardian would be my father.”

  Jones spun away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “And where is your father?”

  Vaughnne lifted a hand, silencing Alex. With a sweet smile, she met Jones’s look directly and answered, “His father is a drug dealer in Mexico. A pretty infamous one. The kid is in danger from him. These are extenuating circumstances if ever they existed. Gus kidnapped him to keep him safe, but the kid’s gift is raging out of control and Gus isn’t going to let him get trained . . . what do you want him to do? Hurt somebody by accident before we step in and help?”

  Jones turned away and stared out the window. He was so quiet, standing there calm as could be like he was riveted by the scenery. Of course, there wasn’t much to admire. A busy parking lot. Atlanta traffic. Nothing fun. He stood there, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight, gaze locked on something only he could see.

  “Alex, you know for certain your father is involved in the drug trade?”

  Alex shot her a glance.

  With a tired sigh, Vaughnne met his eyes. “Tell him the truth, Alex. We’ve already come this far.”

  “Yes, sir,” Alex said, his voice soft but steady.

  Jones looked back, eyed Gus’s still form. He hadn’t stirred once in the past thirty minutes. Alex said he hadn’t ever hit anybody as hard as he’d hit his uncle, but he had to go at him hard—he’s harder to read than most.

  Some people were just more immune to psychic abilities. Harder to read, harder to touch. Vaughnne had to work harder to whisper into his mind, so it wasn’t a surprise that it took more to affect Gus. It was probably that thick-as-stone skull of his.

  Alex shot her a look. “He’s okay,” the boy said, his voice nervous. “I wouldn’t have hurt him. Really.”

  “I know.” Vaughnne smiled at him.

  Taige had done a mental probe a few minutes ago—the man was out, but fine. Still, Vaughnne didn’t like the pale, grayish look to his skin. This whole thing was messed up.

  “Are you going to help or not?” she asked quietly, looking at her boss.

  “Help,” Jones muttered, shaking his head. He slid a look her way. “And what are you going to do?”

  She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I’m just going to stay here and try to talk some sense into him, of course.” Make sure he didn’t tear off after his nephew. “Ah . . . although I’m thinking it would be best if you didn’t head straight to D.C.”

  Jones snorted. “Yeah, that’s assuming I’m crazy enough to do this.” He paused. “I can’t believe I’m even considering it.”

  “You have a better idea on how to keep this kid safe?” She stared at him. “If you do, I’m all ears.”

  She heard something crack and looked down, saw that Jones had one hand clenched into a fist—a tight one. His knuckles were bloodless. “You already know I don’t. I’ve got a source who is working on the website. She tells me that she’s working on disabling the link. Once that’s done, he’ll be safer, but it’s going to take her some time, I’m afraid.”

  The link—yeah, that little I’ll pay you to kidnap a boy ad. The website. Good. If they got that down, things were already improved. But not enough.

  Nothing would be enough, not until Ignacio Reyes was dead. But she couldn’t exactly tell her boss that she was planning on helping an assassin go all assassin on somebody, right?

  Shrewd, steel blue eyes narrowed on her face. She kept her expression bland, although she wasn’t expecting that to get her very far. Jones might not have shown any of the traits in the psychic testing he’d developed, but the man could read people the way others read a book. Absently, he ran a hand down his tie and then shook his head. “You’re not telling me everything.”

  “I’m telling you what you need to know.” She shrugged. “I’m telling you what’s the most important information . . . for you. And if you’re going to do something to protect the boy, the time to do it is now. You won’t have another chance like this. Gus is down, he’s out, and he’s going to move slower for a little while.”

  A heavy, taut silence hung between them, and although she said nothing else, she knew damn well Jones was picking up on all the things she wasn’t saying. Even some of the shit she’d rather him not be aware of.

  But then, slowly, he nodded and looked over at Alex. “Son, you realize what we’re talking about, don’t you? If I do this, I’m taking you away from somebody who may or may not have a legal right to take care of you . . . but I have none.” He slid Vaughnne a dark look. She didn’t read minds, but she didn’t have to read anything to know what that look meant. I’m out of my mind to do this. “Do you believe you’re in that much danger that I should do this?”

  Alex stared at his knees, his thin shoulders trembling, shaking. “I don’t sleep, sir. Not much. I’m always afraid they will come. That they’ll someday kill my uncle and there will be nobody to stop them from taking me back.”

  “Back to where?” Jones asked.

  Alex shot him a look and then he shifted his eyes to Vaughnne. Tell him, she thought, hoping the boy’s gift was as strong as she thought it was. Tell him what you can . . . make him understand.

  The boy seemed to wilt. His eyes closed and he dropped his face to his up-drawn knees. “Back to my father,” Alex said. “He’ll make me do it again. Use . . .” He waved a hand in front of his face. “This. He did it before and killed people.”

  Now he looked up at Taylor and Vaughnne, and it was hell written in his eyes. “Please. I can’t go back, but if we keep running, they’ll catch us. My uncle is going to die. Others will. If we keep going . . . it just won’t stop. And it’s getting harder for me to keep it in control on my own. All the noises. Everything in my head.” A sigh shuddered out of him and he whispered, “It’s just getting worse and I can’t do this much longer.”

  A shiver raced down her spine, but she fought to keep her face blank. Just how much of that was fear, she wondered. How much of it was something more?

  My uncle is going to die . . .

  “You’re afraid your uncle is going to die?” Jones asked quietly.

  “No.” Tears welled in the kid’s eyes, and when they started to roll down his cheeks, it was as though he didn’t even notice. “I feel it . . . see it. Something. It’s in my head. We’re running. They catch us . . . and he’s just gone, and then they have me. I can’t go back there and do what they want me to do. I can’t lose Gus. I—”

  “Okay.” Jones lifted a hand and turned away. “I understand, Alex. We’ll get you away. Until Vaughnne can . . . talk sense into your uncle.” The irony in his voice was heavy, and she just stared at him as he watched her for a long moment.

  He passed by her as he headed toward the door. “I’m going to get him out of here. Stay with him. I won’t be long.” He went to head off and then stopped, looked back at her. “Watch the lines you cross, Vaughnne. I understand the desire, but I can’t help if you go too far.”

  Looking out the window, she said, “Not sure what you’re talking about, boss. I’m just here to help with the kid.”

  He wasn’t fooled.

  But then again, she’d never expected to fool him for very long.

  * * *

  THE second he opened his eyes, Gus knew there was a problem.

  It wasn’t just because Vaughnne was sitting on the bed where Alex should have been, either.

  It wasn’t just the look in her eyes, either.

  It was the tension in the air.

  It was the fact that the door was closed.

  And there was also
the fact that she had a gun in her lap. He’d been forced to turn over his Sig Sauer when they were checked into the hospital. He could have managed to get it inside, except Vaughnne had been pretty clear that if he didn’t turn over the weapon, she’d make things unpleasant. He could have handled that and might have been willing to deal with it, but his concern for Alex—and maybe a flicker of trust in her—had him giving in.

  A trust that was obviously misplaced.

  Vaughnne wasn’t going to have those pesky little problems. She could keep her weapons with her, he supposed, thanks to those FBI credentials, the ID hanging around her neck. She had her hand resting on the butt of the Glock, and he knew without a doubt she’d be very comfortable using that weapon. Some people weren’t comfortable with firearms. Others were. She held it like it was an extension of herself.

  Her mouth was a firm, flat line, and the warm, smooth brown of her skin looked just a little paler than it should. Her freckles seemed darker in contrast. He wanted to haul her against him, kiss her, strip her naked, and take her. Then he wanted to shake her.

  He wasn’t going to have a chance to do either because he suspected he was going to wring her damn neck in a moment.

  Slowly, he sat up.

  She just continued to watch him.

  “Please tell me they took Alex for tests,” he said quietly.

  “I could do that.” She shrugged. “I’d be lying.”

  The muscles in his body immediately tensed, and he made himself relax. “I told you what I was going to do if you fucked me over.”

  “I haven’t,” she replied. “I told you I’d help you take care of him, and that’s exactly what I did. I got him to the safest place I could possibly think of . . . so you can do the one thing that’s going to make sure he stays safe.”

  Rising from the bed, he paced over to her.

  She remained where she was, although her hand curved around the weapon’s grip. Her pulse slammed away in her throat, and her eyes watched him with a world of caution. “I keep him safe,” he said softly. “Call your boss and bring him back.”

  “No.”

  Shooting out his hands, he grabbed her arms and jerked her upright. Nose to nose, he leaned in, staring into her eyes. The scent of her went straight to his head, straight to his dick. Why had she done this? The last thing he could do now . . . actually, the last thing he should have done ever was trust her, want her . . . and yet that was what he wanted to do. But she’d let them take Alex.

  “Call him,” he said again. “Or you’re not going to like what I do when you refuse this time.”

  She reached up and laid a hand on his throat. “Well, here’s the problem. If you hurt me, I can tell you this, right now, Jones is never going to turn that kid back over to you. It’s just not going to happen.” Her thumb stroked over his skin and that light touch seemed to echo through every damn inch of him. “Of course, I realize that isn’t necessarily going to stop you. I remember what you said you’d do and I’m prepared—”

  “Prepared.” He cut her off. Fury and lust tangled inside him and he lowered her back to the floor. Eyeing the door, he crossed over to it and grabbed the chair, wedging it under the handle to keep it shut. It wouldn’t last for long, but he wouldn’t need long to make his point, he figured. Turning back around, he stared at Vaughnne. “You have about thirty seconds to use that gun or you’ll regret it.”

  A slim black brow arched.

  Then, she laid the gun on the table by the bed. “I’m not using it on you. I’m not calling Jones. You do what you think you have to, Gus, but I did what I had to. You want Alex safe. You make him safe. Eliminate the threat.” Her eyes narrowed and she added softly, “FYI . . . I am not the threat, but if you’re too stupid—”

  The rest of the words were caught against his mouth.

  * * *

  SHIT.

  Vaughnne should have taken those thirty seconds to breathe, she decided, because now it was too late.

  His mouth, brutal and hungry, crushed down on hers. She went to shove him away, but he caught her hands and, in a blink, had them pinned at her back. His tongue probed at her lips and the need to open for him almost sent her to her knees. Well, it might have, except his body was pressed to hers. Long, lean, and powerful, and so amazing.

  Against her belly, her chest, she felt the hard wall of his chest, the muscled plane of his belly . . . and, oh, hell.

  The ridge of his cock pressed against her and any thought of self-preservation went out the window. She opened for him, and as his tongue swept into her mouth, she welcomed it with a greedy moan.

  He stilled, for just a second, and then lifted his head, staring at her through slitted eyes. She licked her lips and watched him, breathing raggedly. “If that’s supposed to make me run for cover, sugar, they taught you some crazy shit down there in Mexico,” she said.

  The room spun around them and she sucked in a breath right before he slammed her against the cool, hard wood of the bathroom door. The bruises on her body screamed out at her. The need inside her body screamed louder, and she reached up, curled her hands into his shirt. “That’s not doing it, either, Gus.”

  He closed one hand around her throat, pressing his thumb lightly.

  It didn’t hurt.

  But the threat was obvious.

  Something dark, dangerous glinted in his eyes. “If I told you that I’ve killed some of your fellow agents, would you still be laughing at me, Vaughnne? Still be taunting me?”

  Some of the heat inside her eased back, but she didn’t look away. “I’m pretty sure I’m familiar with what an assassin is. You’ve killed. So have I. I’m still not running.”

  “And if I tell you that I’ve fucked a woman and then killed her the next morning . . . what then?” He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. “I could break you, Vaughnne. So easily. You’re strong, and you’re fast. But you haven’t had to do the things to survive that I have. I could take you now, and then if I don’t get what I want out of you, I could break your neck and walk away.”

  * * *

  THE fear he needed to see in her eyes just wasn’t there.

  Instead, as he issued a threat he really doubted he could follow through on, all Vaughnne did was angle that arrogant chin of hers up. Challenge glinted in her eyes as she smirked up at him. “Yeah? Then do it.”

  He could kill her. At least a few minutes ago he could have. But then she’d put that damned weapon down.

  I did what I had to. You want Alex safe. You make him safe. Eliminate the threat. FYI . . . I am not the threat . . .

  Eliminate the threat.

  He could have killed her, right up until she said that. It wasn’t because she’d pointed out that she wasn’t the threat to Alex. He knew that. She was a roadblock, though, and he could dispose of a roadblock. With most of them, he could do it without any guilt, although if he had to hurt her, it would haunt him. But he could have done it.

  But she’d cleared the biggest roadblock of all. He wanted two things—to protect his nephew. And kill the boy’s father. But his nephew was the one reason he couldn’t go after the father.

  Problem solved.

  Tightening his hand, he lied . . . again. “You think I won’t do it. You think I haven’t?”

  He’d done a lot of things in his life. Killed. Lied. Stolen. Fucked his way to whatever information he had to get out of women and then he’d walked away. But he’d never slept with a woman and killed her in the morning. Never. There was no way he could start with this woman. And now he couldn’t kill her, either—

  Didn’t even know if he could force himself to hurt her. Walking away was becoming something too difficult to fathom.

  Her gaze held his and she leaned against the door, unperturbed by the pressure of his hand against her throat. Her fingers were tangled in the wrinkled, worn fabric of his shirt, and he wanted to see
her peeling that fabric away. Wanted to peel her clothes away and learn every blessed inch of her.

  “I think you can do just about anything you set your mind to,” Vaughnne said, her voice husky. “I’m hoping you’ll decide that the best option here is to go after the real threat. But you do what you have to.”

  Then she smiled at him and pulled her hands away from his shirt, lifted them up, and placed them by her head.

  The look on her face was like a punch to his gut.

  Challenging. Hungry. Insolent. And . . . waiting.

  Waiting.

  Like she knew exactly what he was going to do. Snarling, he shifted his hand on her neck, hooked it around, and hauled her against him. “You should have used that gun,” he muttered against her lips. Desire, so blistering hot, tore through him and he shoved her shirt up until it caught under her arms. He leaned back to stare at her, breathing like he’d just run ten miles.

  Simple black cotton cupped her breasts, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He’d made love to women who wore silk and satin and diamonds to bed. And the most amazing sight was Vaughnne, still wearing all her clothes, and still wearing that challenging smile on her face. He reached up and trailed his fingers along the edge of the bra, down to the front clasp. With a quick flick, it opened and he pushed first one cup aside, then the other. Her nipples were deep, deep brown, swollen, and already tight.

  Bending his head, he caught one in his mouth and listened as a soft gasp shuddered out of her. She reached up to cup his head in her hands and he stopped her, catching her wrists and trapping them together in his hand.

  That boiling hunger rose inside him as she tugged against his hold and he lifted his head, glaring at her. “You said I should do what I have to,” he rasped, leaning in to sink his teeth into her lower lip. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. And it’s my way, Vaughnne. All my way.”

  Her breathing hitched in her throat, her lashes sweeping down over her eyes. “And I’m what you should do? Seriously?”