Uncontrollable (Beyond Human)

by Nina Croft

  Now, she wanted answers more than ever.

  They were circling what Quinn assured her was the landing field. It didn’t look like a landing field; it looked like an area of scrubby brush. Daylight was fading, the sky shading to orange. She wanted to be on the ground so badly, it hurt.

  But at least they hadn’t been shot down.

  It was strange—she’d traveled in ships across the vastness of space and she’d catapulted across time, but never had she felt so vulnerable as she did in the primitive metal box only a few thousand feet above the Earth.

  “Okay, we’re going in,” Quinn said. “It’s clear.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  He cast her an amused glance, and she knew she sounded tetchy. But she wasn’t used to feeling like this. Fear was not something she experienced often, and she wasn’t responding well to it.

  And I want to be on the ground.

  “Because I asked them,” he said.

  She searched the area and saw them finally. A group of people standing so still, they merged into the scrubby landscape. The plane was still too high up to see clearly, but she presumed this must be the tribe, and that Quinn had communicated with them telepathically.

  He circled once more—why?—and then lined the plane up with the makeshift runway, and they were going in. She wanted to close her eyes. She didn’t like this. But she forced herself to keep them open, all the way down. The plane met the ground smoothly, and all the tension seeped from her. She hated flying.

  Quinn turned to her and grinned. “Anyone would think you didn’t trust me,” he said.

  She scowled, but didn’t answer, and he chuckled. Ha, yes, she was so funny. But honestly, this whole fear thing was doing her head in. Her father’s people didn’t feel fear, and she thought she’d got her own under total control. She’d been wrong. The plane slowed and finally stopped. Maybe she just didn’t want to die.

  “Can we get out now?” she asked in what she hoped was a reasonable tone.

  She was off balance, that was all. Last night had been so beautiful, it was beyond imagining. She’d never believed anything could feel so good. Then today had been a horrible mixture of fear and waiting. She needed to find out what was happening. She needed to find a way through this. Except, deep down, she knew there was no way. Whatever the outcome, she was going to lose.

  “We can. Just don’t do anything fast. They can’t read you and they’re not happy about that.”

  She saw them, then, coming out from the cover of the stunted trees. A group of five. A woman stood at their head. She looked superficially like Quinn. Tall, slender, her midnight-black hair cut off blunt above her shoulders. She wore jeans and a leather jacket, battered and worn, and some sort of automatic weapon rested in her arms. The other four fanned out behind her.

  “That’s Janelle,” Martin said. There was something in his voice she couldn’t quite recognize, and she twisted in her seat, so she could look at him. His gaze was fixed on the woman, a look of…longing? in his eyes.

  “We’ve already introduced ourselves,” Quinn replied. “She’s powerful. Probably as strong as Jake and Kaitlin.”

  “They all are,” Martin replied. “The telepathy was never an issue. They were just too passive for what the colonel wanted. Though maybe passive isn’t exactly the right word. Intransigent maybe. They wouldn’t be moved or coerced into anything they believed to be wrong. And they are, on the whole, totally against violence.”

  “Definitely no good to the colonel then,” Quinn said.

  “No. He understood that.”

  “Janelle doesn’t seem to have a problem with violence,” Mel said. The woman was holding the gun like she knew how to use it, and her stance, legs wide apart, head back, looked ready for action.

  “Janelle is an exception. We hid her from the colonel. No way was he getting his hands on her.”

  “You know her well?” Quinn asked. He didn’t sound happy. He was probably pissed off that Martin had obviously let the colonel get his hands on him and his sister, though, and his sister had died for that. She sensed a duality in Quinn’s feelings for Martin. He was obviously fond of the man—looked up to him even—but there was also a background hint of bitterness and betrayal. Hardly surprising, considering the past.

  “We grew up together,” Martin said.

  Which made her somewhere in her fifties. She actually looked much younger than Martin, probably around thirty. Her face was smooth and unlined. What would the ones found in 1878 look like? They would be at least a hundred and fifty years old. Who were they? Where had they come from? And what secret were they guarding in the Mountains of the Moon. Hopefully she would find out here.

  Quinn switched off the engine and unfastened his harness and she did the same. He jumped out, came around and helped her down, not that she needed help, but it was nice for the excuse to touch. Martin emerged from the back.

  She looked around. The makeshift runway had been cleared in an area of scrubby bushland in a wide flat valley with mountains on either side. The land appeared dry, the sky above them blue. She could see no sign of habitation, but when she looked hard, she spotted two vehicles, the same sandy color as the landscape, parked off to the side.

  Janelle strode toward them. As she got closer, she slung the rifle over her shoulder. She came to a halt in front of Martin. For a few seconds she studied him, her eyes narrowed. “You look a mess,” she said.

  “I look my age,” he replied.

  “And more.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then she moved in closer and kissed him. He stood there for a few seconds not moving, his arms hanging by his side. Then a tension ran through him, and he moved, his hands coming up to grip her shoulders, and he kissed her back. Mel glanced across at Quinn and raised an eyebrow. He just shrugged in reply.

  Finally, the kiss ended. “I missed you,” Janelle said.

  “I missed you.”

  “Ha, you’d already dumped me.”

  “You know why.”

  “Yes, and I still don’t agree.” She stared at him, hard. Was she reading his mind? How did he feel about that, when he couldn’t read hers in return? She would know his every thought, and he would only know what she chose to tell him. “You should have come with us.” She sounded fierce. “I told you to come with us. That you couldn’t trust them.”

  “In retrospect,” Martin said with a small smile, “I wish I’d listened.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve been in prison all this time. The things they did to you! I’ll kill the bastards.”

  “We need to find them first. And then you can kill them with my blessing.”

  “Good.” She finally turned her attention to her and Quinn. She gave Quinn a curt nod and then focused on Mel. “Who’s the woman and why can’t I get into her head?”

  “The is Special Agent Melody Lyons, with the FBI,” Martin said. “And she doesn’t know why.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “Not one hundred percent,” Martin replied. Well, she’d known they didn’t trust her entirely. “But right now, we’re giving her the benefit of the doubt. She’s after the same things we are.”

  Janelle gave her a long cool look. “She’s told you she’s after the same things. That doesn’t mean she is.” She turned to one of the other women behind her. “Search her.”

  Mel considered protesting but decided it would be best to cooperate with them. She was outnumbered, and while she knew Quinn liked her, she didn’t think he would side with her in this. She held her arms up as the woman patted her down. The woman found the pistol in her jacket pocket and handed it to Janelle, who slipped it into her own pocket.

  “Is that necessary?” Quinn said.

  “I don’t know. But I prefer not to take the risk. I’m in charge here, not you. Don’t forget that.” Quinn’s lips twitched, and Janelle scowled. “Something funny?”

  “You remind me of someone, that’s all.” He turned to Mel. “I thought s
he’d be like Jake and maybe Kane, but she reminds me more of Kaitlin.”

  The woman finished the search. She gave Mel’s watch a cursory glance, but luckily saw nothing of any significance there. Mel released her breath. She hadn’t even realized she was holding it. But if she was parted from that, she’d be in big trouble. So far, she hadn’t picked up any anomalies. She had the distinct idea that what she was looking for wasn’t here to be found.

  “Let’s go,” Janelle said and led the way toward the two vehicles. The four others peeled off and went to the second vehicle. They followed Janelle to the one in front. She climbed into the driver’s seat and Martin got in beside her. She and Quinn climbed into the back.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice, though she knew the two in front had picked up the question and were listening.

  “I’m fine.”

  Janelle turned on the engine and reversed the vehicle about ten feet onto a dirt track. Then they were driving forward fast, the road bumpy so the vehicle jolted and pushed her against Quinn. She stayed there. It felt right.

  “How about you?” she asked. He was going to meet the woman who was his genetic mother. That must be a huge thing.

  “I’m good. You know, when we broke away from the government we had one aim—to find out where we come from. We wanted some way to protect ourselves. These people are part of that answer. But only a part. The more we learn, the less we seem to know. And I suspect that’s not going to change anytime soon.”

  “I think you suspect right,” Janelle said from the front seat. “My people know little more than you do right now.”

  Of course, she would know everything Quinn knew—she’d been in his head. As he’d no doubt been in hers. Part of her wished she could share in that. Be beyond lies.

  …

  They’d only driven ten minutes before a group of buildings came into sight. It looked more like a village than a single home. As they got closer, Quinn could make out the huge sprawling ranch house at the center, then a whole lot of other buildings, barns, smaller houses, around it. In a paddock to one side, a small herd of horses dozed.

  He could certainly see how they had stayed out of sight here. The place was as remote as it was possible to get in this country.

  “We’ve kept off the grid,” Janelle told him as she pulled up in front of the main house. “No water mains or electricity. No internet. Someone goes into town once a week—it’s a hundred-mile round trip—and checks in case Martin is trying to get in touch with us. We’d almost given up hope. But it’s not a bad life here.”

  She turned off the engine and jumped down. Quinn followed, Mel close beside him. She’d been quiet on the journey. Though she’d accepted the search and the loss of her weapon, he got the idea she had something big on her mind. She caught him watching her and gave a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know that she was struggling with some dilemma. He suspected that it had a lot to do with last night. Making love had changed the dynamics of their relationship. He’d always suspected she had another agenda, though he believed it wasn’t at total odds with his own. Now he hoped he wasn’t thinking with his dick instead of his head, that it wasn’t just that he wanted her to be good. Genuine. On his side. He wanted to make love to her again.

  Janelle tossed him an amused look. She was in his head, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  “Get used to it,” she murmured.

  Their group had always shared, but not all the time, and it was a conscious decision by mutual consent. He suspected that it was different here.

  “Too right. You have no secrets from us.” She led the way up the wide wooden steps, through a netted veranda door, and to the front door. “I’ll show you to a room. You have ten minutes, and then there’s a meeting.”

  They followed her up a curving staircase. At the top, a corridor led away, and Janelle paused in front of the first door. She pushed it open and gestured for them to enter. “Here you are. This is for you two.” She turned to Mel. “I presume you want to share.” She grinned. “Quinn here definitely wants to share.”

  He stepped inside followed by Mel. Martin hung back.

  “This is good,” Mel said.

  The room was nice, dominated by a big double bed with a quilted cover. An open door across the bedroom showed a big claw-footed tub.

  Janelle turned to go but paused at the door and spoke to Mel. “I’ll warn you—we communicate almost entirely by telepathy. You might feel a little left out. I’m the chatty one. That was because I grew up with a best friend who was deaf.” Then she was gone.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Mel. “I mean with the two of us sharing? I don’t want you to think I’m presuming anything based on last night.”

  “I hope you are.” She smiled. “I sort of am.”

  He studied her, head cocked on one side. “I think you’re…troubled by something. And I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind.”

  She looked away and shrugged. “I’m just tired. So much has happened, yet I’m still no closer to finding out what’s going on at the Bureau. And I have this weird feeling I can’t shake, that time is running out.”

  It echoed his earlier thoughts. “Me, too.” He’d been resisting the urge all day, but now he leaned down, cupped her cheek with his palm and kissed her. For a second, she went still, as though she hadn’t expected the move, then she pressed herself closer and her lips parted beneath his. He pushed inside, tasting her, his other arm wrapping around her, and pulled her closer, as though he could somehow get inside her. In seconds, he was hot and hard. He wanted nothing more than to strip off his clothes, crawl under that quilt with Mel, and not come out for a long, long time.

  Finally, they ran out of oxygen and he raised his head. “I’m glad I found you.”

  Something flickered in her eyes, an uncertainty. “Me, too. Now give me five minutes in that bathroom, then we’ll go meet your mother.”

  Christ, for a moment, he’d forgotten. Well, that dealt with the problem of hot and hard.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I’m scared,” Quinn said as they made their way down the staircase. A lump had settled in his stomach.

  “Of meeting your mother?”

  “That she’ll see inside me and find there’s something…not right.”

  She rested her hand on his arm and halted his forward movement. “You’re a good man.”

  He exhaled. For the first time he wished, not that he could get inside her head, but that she could get inside his. He wanted her to know him. To see the things he’d done. But also, the things he wanted to do. The man he wanted to be. “I’ve done some bad stuff in my life.”

  “You’ve done what you had to. What you believed was right.”

  “Maybe. Perhaps I wasn’t so much bad as stupid. I believed the lies we were told. That I was working for the good guys and the ends justified the means.”

  “You trusted the wrong people. But they were people you’d known your whole life. Trusted your whole life.”

  “Yeah, stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid, and you’re not bad. You’re trying to do the best you can and that’s all any of us can do. We all have to make tough decisions sometimes.”

  What tough decisions was she making right now?

  “You’re late.” He heard Janelle in his head. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”

  He grinned. He liked her. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He slipped his hand into Mel’s and squeezed.

  He made his way instinctively to the meeting room. He could hear them all like a buzz in his head. The room was at the back of the house, with big double doors that were wide open. He paused at the entrance. Chairs had been set up in a circle in the center of the room. All were filled except two. He did a quick count—twenty-six people. All of them, with the exception of Martin, had the look of the Tribe about them. And they all looked to be around the same age—about thirty, though he knew
some had to be over two hundred years old, maybe much older. The original tribe had been found in 1878 and most of the people in this room had been adults back then.

  His gaze settled on a woman directly opposite him. Her name was Freya. She had high cheekbones and a wide mouth. He could feel her probing at his mind and put up instant barriers. Her eyes widened as though she wasn’t expecting that. But he wasn’t ready. He just had to give himself another moment.

  He still had hold of Mel’s hand, and he tugged her into the room and sat down in one of the empty chairs, only letting go of her when she sat down as well. He hadn’t felt this nervous when they’d been roaring toward the ground in an out of control plane the other day. Hell, he’d never been this nervous.

  He blew out his breath and opened his mind.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The voice sounded in his head and his gaze flashed to the woman across from him—his mother? She gave a small nod and he shook his head. So much to take in. “What for?”

  “We sold you and your friends in exchange for peace. We didn’t want to be involved. Martin told us that you would have good lives, that you would help the world be a better place.”

  Well, they’d failed with that. The world was still the same old crappy place.

  “So much anger and hurt. Your sister…”

  “Your daughter,” he reminded her, and pain flashed across her face.

  “We have so few children, and yet, we gave away the ones we had.”

  “We were never really yours.”

  “Maybe not. But I wish you had been. You’re a good man. A strong man. You’ll make the right decisions.” Her gaze shifted to Mel at his side. “You care for her.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he gave a small nod anyway.

  “Be careful. She is not all she seems.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  She smiled. “It will work out.”

  He shifted his attention to the others, and they introduced themselves, including Kane’s mother and father, who were also Jake’s parents.

  Janelle rose to her feet. “Okay, let’s get this moving. We’re talking because we have two who can’t hear. You all know Martin. And this is Special Agent Melody Lyons of the FBI. She not only can’t hear us, but we can’t hear her.”