The Protected (Fbi Psychics)

by Walker, Shiloh

  “I don’t need to be close, either. Thanks to the demonstration, I can feel what it’s like when you’re . . . amping up.” Taige smiled.

  Tucker’s face was turning red now. But unlike a lot of people, he wasn’t clawing at his throat. Wasn’t struggling to get away from something he couldn’t see. Control. The man’s control was something else, Taylor mused.

  “Now, I’m going to let go and hope you’ll see the sense in all of us playing nice,” Taige said softly. “And please . . . don’t swear around the kid, and keep in mind, he’s been through more hell than most of us can imagine.”

  She released her grip on him, although the only obvious signs were the slow return of normal color to Tucker’s face and his one, single gulp of air. He continued to glare at her, his eyes like black death on her face. “Woman, you’ve got no idea the hells I can imagine,” he said quietly.

  “Point taken,” she said, inclining her head. “But whatever hell you can imagine, whatever you’ve been through, does it justify scaring him? Making it any worse on him than you have to?”

  * * *

  THANKS to Tucker’s little temper tantrum, they ended up leaving the McDonald’s and buying some KFC. It worked out better anyway, Jones figured, even if the food was a heart attack waiting to happen. He’d gotten used to having more junk food in his diet, thanks to Dez, and he managed to eat it without grimacing. Much.

  Alex, though, he seemed to inhale the food in front of him. As long as Tucker wasn’t looking at him.

  Finally, they finished eating and Taylor had the boy gather things up to throw away in one of the nearby trash cans. It was safe enough to let him walk around. Taige would know if it wasn’t.

  As Alex left the table, they all mutually stayed quiet until he was out of hearing range, although he never once left their sight. “Any chance I can talk you into coming back in for a while to help with him?” Taylor asked softly.

  Taige made a face at him. “I’m not the only one who has a handle on the kind of shit he has in his head, you know. You’ve got others. Use them. Sync me up to Joss and have him do it.”

  Taylor shook his head. “Joss is all wrong for the kid right now. He needs . . .”

  Taige grimaced and looked away. “I know what he needs. Let’s get things settled first.” Without saying anything else on the matter, she looked at Tucker. “You’re not taking that kid. I don’t care who you’re working for, who she is, what her claim on him is—”

  “Do you all ever talk to each other?” he asked, cutting her off. “I’m working with Nalini. She asked me to keep an eye on him, but that agreement never involved me letting the FBI get their hands on him. He’s just a kid.”

  “Nalini?”

  Taylor smoothed his tie down. “Another freelancer, Morgan. But she got with Tucker here on her own. I have no idea what her agenda is.”

  She shrugged. “Fine, whatever.” She looked back at Tucker. “Yeah, he’s just a kid. But he’s a kid who has the ability to kill somebody with his mind. He needs to be trained before he does just that.”

  From the corner of his eye, Taylor saw Tucker’s reaction. Or lack of. It was a very careful lack of. “It’s likely if he did do just that, it would be somebody who deserved it,” Tucker finally said after a long, tense silence.

  “Not the way he’s been forced to use his gift,” Taylor said. “He’s got a knack for picking up on danger and his . . . guardian, uncle, whatever . . . knows it. He’s been using the kid as a walking, talking lie detector.”

  Tucker tensed.

  Taylor turned his head and looked at the other man. “One of the people he had the boy read was Vaughnne. Alex told me about it. He wasn’t careful enough and she collapsed.”

  Alex glanced over their way, and Taylor gave him an easy smile, keeping his surface thoughts neutral. The kid gave him a weak smile. “What do we do, Tucker? Let him go around, barely controlling a gift that could kill people?” He rose from the table, still watching Alex. “Some of you learn control easier than others. Out of necessity, maybe, or because it’s in your makeup. He’s not learning it and he’s going to get stronger over the next few years.”

  “So you . . . what? Imprison him?” Tucker’s mouth twisted and the air went hot, tight once more.

  “No.” Taylor tucked his hands into his pockets. “There’s a far cry between imprisoning a person and training him. Once he’s trained, he’ll be a weapon in his own right and he can watch out for himself. But for now, he’s not just a hazard to others around him. He’s a hazard to himself. And you saw that for yourself. Those men who tracked him down were trailing him. You know that.”

  “He’s just a damned kid,” Tucker said, his voice rough.

  “So was I,” Taige said softly. “I was a kid when it came on me. I bet you were, too. My daughter? She’s just a couple years older than Alex is, and she may well be as strong as he is. And I can tell you this . . . she’s better adjusted, better controlled, and far less likely to attract the wrong attention from people, because she has been trained. So . . . what would you do? Let him out loose in the world where he’s hunted . . . again? Or have him trained, and protected while that takes place?”

  “His parents should get to decide that,” Tucker said, and then he swore, turning away. “Shit. He doesn’t have any, I’m betting, does he?”

  “We don’t know. He isn’t telling us and I’m not prying,” Taige said softly. “He’s got the guy we left back in Atlanta, and I think he’s family, but that’s not the same as parents, I know. I know he cares about him, and I know he’s doing his best. But his best isn’t getting that kid trained, and at some point, Alex needs to decide . . . does he want to be a walking, talking lie detector or would he like to learn to use what he has before the gift gets out of hand and he damages somebody? What will that do to him, huh? You got any idea, electro-boy?”

  Tucker sneered at her. “If he’s damaging somebody that’s trying to damage him, more power to him.”

  “And if he’s damaging somebody who isn’t trying to hurt him?” she demanded. “What then? Can you imagine being a kid and knowing that you hurt somebody who had never once done a damn thing to you?”

  Something flickered across Tucker’s face, darkened his eyes. That dark, dark brown deepened to near black and his expression went tight. Finally, he turned away.

  “What does he want?” Tucker asked softly.

  “Why don’t you try asking him?”

  Tucker glanced at him, and then as one, they all turned to look over at the river where Alex was. Or had been. Taylor kept from jumping, barely, as he realized that Alex had closed the distance between them, in complete silence. With a dark, sad look in his eyes, the kid focused on Tucker. “I’m doing what I want.” Then he looked over at Taylor. “I want to call my uncle. He’s worried.”

  * * *

  HER skin prickled. The buzz was unmistakable, and although she saw nothing when she craned around in the seat, Vaughnne knew they’d picked up a tail.

  Hopefully it was the white Explorer.

  Hopefully.

  She didn’t want to think that they had more than one group following them just then.

  Sighing, she reached down into the floorboard and pulled up Gus’s bag. She looked over just as he glanced at her. “We’ve got company coming,” she said sourly. “I don’t know how far off they are, but I can feel them.”

  A black brow winged up as he shifted his attention back to the road. “How come you can feel it now but not back when we stopped for gas?”

  “Could be a variety of reasons,” she said, shrugging. “There were a bunch of people—that makes it harder for me to single anything out. It could be they are searching for me, so they aren’t shielding as hard. My only real psychic ability is telepathy. It’s . . . well, I guess you can call it my active gift. But a lot of us have some limited passive skills that allow us
to sense this sort of thing. We just feel different. If whoever it is isn’t shielding, or isn’t shielding as much? He’ll stand out more and I’m more likely to pick up on his vibes.”

  “He?”

  She made a face. “Could be a she. Gut says he, but who knows?”

  “Any idea how many?”

  “Nope.” She shrugged and studied the contents of the bag. It was a bad boy’s treasure trove, she decided. Weapons of beauty, for sure. And just about every damn one of them was illegal for civilian use. “I’m going to guess two, because working in teams would appear to be the MO for these goons, but for all I know, it’s four. That’s not likely, though. I doubt they’d want to split the money that many ways.”

  He shrugged. “If the risk goes up, the money goes up. Mercenaries are going to be smart and bring in as many men as they need. It’s already been made clear this isn’t going to be an easy job.”

  “Gee. Thanks for making me feel better.”

  “If you wanted to feel better, you should have left back at the gas station. You should have left with Alex. You should have never gotten involved.” The words were grim. His face, though, was unaffected. He had that sleepy, sexy look in his eyes, and his mouth was relaxed, almost smiling.

  Scary bastard.

  Before she could let herself get unnerved, she looked back down into the bag and studied the weapons. “How do you want to handle this? We already know what they are doing and why. So no reason to talk to them.”

  “Now, Vaughnne, it almost sounds like you’re talking about just outright killing them,” he murmured.

  Her gut clenched. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Not entirely. But if she could get them off their ass without worrying about them coming after her again . . . yeah. She could go for that.

  “Do we have a few minutes before they catch up to us?”

  Vaughnne sighed. “Probably.” Her gut wasn’t exactly screaming at her yet. Once it was screaming at her, they’d most likely be in sight. When they were in sight, then they’d have to make a decision—

  Or not, she realized as Gus shot off the expressway. She hissed out a breath at the sudden movement, the seat belt cutting into her skin. The bruises on her made a rather loud complaint, but she bit back any sound she might have been tempted to make. After all, as Gus had said, if she’d wanted to feel better, she shouldn’t have come.

  “If you can feel them, can they feel you?”

  She looked around at the rather isolated bit of highway he’d decided to follow. The expressway was already fading behind them. Blowing out a breath, she said, “Yeah. They’d do better if I’m not shielding. I guess you want to use me as bait, huh?”

  “I just want them to follow us.” He had an odd note in his voice.

  She made a face. “Sounds like bait to me.” Didn’t matter much, she supposed. She’d done it before. She could do it again. Wasn’t anything she liked, but she could handle it. Letting her shields down wasn’t much different for her than peeling off her clothing. One layer at a time. It left her feeling exposed, just as if she’d decided to strip herself naked in the middle of a public parking lot or something, too.

  And as she let the last layer of shielding drop, she was painfully, almost brutally aware of that other presence, a too-hot buzz along her senses. “Yeah,” she whispered. “They can feel me, all right.”

  Gus didn’t answer.

  She thought about reaching into the bag and pulling out one of the weapons, but in the end, she settled on the Glock that the Bureau had assigned to her. It was hers, and she knew the feel of it, the weight of it, how it settled in her hand. She appreciated that particular weapon rather well. “You want to give me an idea just what the plan is here?” she asked as he took a sharp left off the highway.

  They were barreling down a narrow little country lane now with absolutely no regard for speed limits or anything else.

  “The plan? Eliminate the threat.” A ghost of a smile danced around his lips for a second. “That’s the plan.” His eyes seemed to take in everything, although she didn’t know how. They were driving so fast, she could barely take in anything beyond the scenery blurring around them.

  “You got any idea where we are?”

  “Somewhere in Louisiana, close to the Texas border. I’ve been here.” He was quiet for about five seconds and then said, “Hold on.”

  That was about all the warning she had before he slammed on the brakes. It wasn’t enough of a warning and the seat belt cut into her skin once more. “Man, I really want to wallop you, and hard.”

  “Wallop?”

  She sneered at him as he turned down an even narrower road, winding, all but obscured by the undergrowth. Green surrounded them. “Yeah. Wallop. Hit you across that thick head of yours,” she snapped.

  “A day or so ago, you called it beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful.” She tugged against her seat belt and shifted around, staring out the window. “You know you’re beautiful and you use it. I think you should have been a damn female.”

  He surprised her by laughing. “So I’m . . . what . . . using my masculine wiles too much?”

  “You use them like a weapon. And again, you know it.” There wasn’t anybody back there, but unless they knew the road, she doubted they’d take it at the breakneck speed he’d just used. He took another road. “Just where in the hell are you going?”

  “Hiding the car. Somebody used to live back here. He’s dead now, but we can use the place for cover.”

  She thought about those words, wondered if she should try to get more information about whoever he was talking about. Then ultimately, figured it wasn’t worth it. “Why are we using the place for cover? Why hide the car?”

  “Because if we’re going to deal with our tail, it’s better that they aren’t discovered right away,” he said simply. Abruptly, the trees opened up around them.

  Vaughnne looked around, eyeing the ramshackle little building in front of her warily. That thing couldn’t even be called a cabin. “What in the hell is that?”

  “It’s called a house. People live in them.”

  “That’s not a house. It’s not much bigger than a damn closet,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Well, he lived in it. He could have bought something much bigger, too, but he liked it here. Was easy for him to hide.” Gus shrugged and pulled the car around behind the house. It was big enough, barely, to conceal the car. But it wouldn’t conceal them unless they stayed inside the damn car or went inside the house. She wasn’t convinced she wanted to do that, though. It was too little. Too confined.

  “Come on. We’ll go inside.”

  Of course they were. She stared at the ramshackle pile of boards morosely as she jerked open the door and climbed out. The hot, muggy punch of a Louisiana summer smacked her in the face the second she did so. Ignoring it, she shut the door, still gripping her Glock with her free hand. Joining Gus on the step, she waited as he picked the lock. It didn’t take but a few seconds, although it was a pretty complex lock. Hell, the lock looked like it cost more than the damn house.

  In under a minute, they were inside and she found herself staring at a place that was actually remarkably . . . charming, considering the outside. Other than a thick layer of dust, it was well kept, a neat little bed up against a wall, a minuscule kitchen, and a bathroom tucked up in the corner. No TV, though. Just the bed, the kitchen, the bathroom. “Wow. He was into luxury, wasn’t he?”

  “He wanted to escape from life . . . wanted peace. This was what he considered peace.” Gus shrugged.

  Vaughnne took another, longer look around, her gaze lingering on the bookshelves. Empty now, but they looked like they were handmade, built into every empty space available, including the areas over the door, along the windows, above the bed. A little place, easy to clean, secluded. Just her and a few books . . . well, she wo
uldn’t want to live like that for always, but it might not be a bad vacation, she supposed.

  “Did you know him from . . .” She trailed off, uncertain how to finish that sentence.

  With an odd little smile on his face, Gus glanced at her. “He was a contact. We knew each other. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we weren’t enemies.” He shrugged as he moved over to the window, situated so he could see outside without fully exposing himself to whoever might come driving up. “I respected him, I can say that much.”

  “I take it you don’t say that often.”

  Silence stretched out for a long moment and then he said, “No. I don’t often say that.”

  She didn’t say anything else as she crossed the narrow floor space. The skin along the back of her neck was crawling and blood roared in her ears, getting louder, louder. “They are getting closer.” She moved to stand beside him, gripping the butt of her Glock while a voice in the back of her mind started to ramble on in a panic.

  What are you doing?

  You can’t be doing this.

  You shouldn’t be doing this.

  What are you doing?

  Her mouth felt dry.

  It had been one thing to take action in the hospital, although she realized Gus had done most of that. There had been an active threat.

  It was another thing to stand here in the shadows of what looked to be an abandoned little shack while they waited for a couple of people to drive up so Gus could . . . could what?

  Her mind filled in that blank happily.

  It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

  And yet these fish were vicious and predatory, ready to kill to get what they wanted.

  Information on Alex.

  She knew what they were going to do if they didn’t get what they wanted. Or rather, what they’d try to do. But still, it was a cold, heavy weight in her gut, the knowledge that she was getting ready to cross that line.

  Watch the lines you cross, Vaughnne. I understand the desire, but I can’t help if you go too far . . .