by Treva Harte
She'd say control wasn't everything.
"We haven't gotten any sleep to speak of and it's going to be a long trip-Oh, hell." Wynn knew his voice was slurring a little. He could barely get the words out, he was so focused on what he wanted to do next. And it wasn't sleep. "I suppose we could try."
Chapter Eleven
"Well, we've made it into New York City. Satisfied?" Cassie heard Wynn grumbling as she unpacked. She decided to ignore him. He didn't make that easy. "Expensive bloody place—you know I don't have an unlimited amount of money here. In fact if we stay a day or two in this spot we'll be out..."
Wynn might have a thing against New York City but she'd always enjoyed it. And she had a feeling she was really going to enjoy the apartment Wynn had dug up through a bed and breakfast registry service.
"You're so smart, Mr. Harmon. I had no idea you could rent out people's empty apartments. And this one is amazing!" Cassie kept her tone deliberately cheerful but just short of saccharine as she peered down from the window. She knew cheerfulness would drive him crazy at the moment. "We're in the Village. I love the Village."
Wynn grunted.
Cassie knew he was in a bad mood. So, as long as he was going to be that way, Cassie decided she would do what she had wanted since she first walked in.
She walked to a writing desk and opened it.
"Hey!" Wynn said. "What are you doing?"
"I like to find out things about people," Cassie said. "Ever since I started cleaning houses it's become a thing with me. What people have around says so much about them. And—well, I suppose I don't see or talk to enough people. I don't socialize much. This is my way of connecting with others."
"But Cassie! That's—that's snooping!"
"Oh, Mr. Walk on Into Someone's Mind and Stay, you have a lot of room to talk. Now this guy is in politics." Cassie virtuously only looked at the open correspondence. "He sounds pretty important, too. I'll bet you've probably heard of him even if I haven't."
"Cassie, I can't believe you would do something like this. Wait. What?" Wynn's voice changed from one of horror to one of suspicion. "Who is he?"
"Oh, now you want to kn—Oh oh." Cassie's laugh stopped. "Is he someone you think you know? Or Lida knows?"
"Who the hell is he?" He spoke through clenched teeth.
"His name is Jeffries. Samuel Joseph Jeffries..."
"Junior." The two of them said it together.
He'd always thought Jeffries was something of a little prick, but that was just the nature of being a campaign manager. You didn't hire anyone but little pricks for that job. Wynn had always thought Jeffries was loyal, too.
Hell, he'd never bothered to give Jeffries more than a passing thought or two.
But it was too much of a coincidence to have them suddenly using Jeffries' apartment. With a detached astonishment, Wynn realized he'd had no idea he was being used when he picked this place. Bloody hell, but Emmanuel was good.
"Listen, Cassie—" Wynn knew he was running low on cash but it was time to run. They'd work out what they did and how they did it later.
The door clicked open. He had specifically requested an apartment with good security. But the security system didn't mean a thing if someone else had the key and the code to the alarm. Wynn turned quickly, ready to do something, but paused.
Too late. Trouble had arrived.
That Glock looked pretty threatening. And, unfortunately, it also looked as though Emmanuel had finally stopped underestimating Wynn. The same goons he'd last seen trashing his home were in front of him. But this time there weren't just two goons. There were the same two goons and a very experienced thug.
Jock Stuart had done Art's security forever. Wynn had never given him much thought either. He knew Jock knew how to do his job and had let it go at that. But who better to know Art's security than the man in charge? Who better to know how Art's campaign was going to be run and who would be involved in it than his campaign manager?
Wynn looked at the cold eyes of the security chief and knew they were in big trouble.
Damn it. Emmanuel or Lida or both had managed to pretty much get to all the people Art trusted. Wynn wasn't sure why he had been careless enough to trust them as well.
He wasn't going to be careless now. He didn't know about the other two, but Jock was going to notice anything that most people could do to escape him.
*Wynn? How much trouble are we in?*
But he wasn't most people. Neither was Cassie. Somehow they would get out of this.
*Trouble enough. We'll be all right, though.*
"I won't get problems from you, Wynn, will I?" Jock asked. "Because that would be useless, you know."
"No problems, Jock."
"Then don't talk. Just follow me."
Wynn kept his thoughts calm while he and Cassie were hastily moved down the stairs and into the underground parking garage. This was supposed to be a safe, guarded building but no one stopped them. No one was around to stop them. Where was the security in this bloody so-called safe building?
The one goon kept the gun on Cassie, the gun concealed under a carelessly rolled up sweatshirt. Otherwise Wynn might have tried—oh hell, he wasn't sure if he would have tried anything on his own. But they knew he wasn't going to get Cassie hurt.
He was pretty sure they didn't once point that gun at him, but they didn't need to. All they needed was to threaten Cassie. How the hell did they know that would be all it ever took to get him to obey when he had pretty much just figured that out himself?
Whatever happened, this time he wasn't going to run. Or at least not without her.
When they reached a large, non-descript car, one of them opened the trunk and looked at Wynn. Wynn climbed into the trunk. Seemed like some outsider ought to see that. Wynn wondered, even if someone did, if that someone would bother to report the occurrence. Bloody blasé New Yorkers.
"You. Get in here." One of them gestured to Cassie as he opened the back door.
The trunk slammed shut. Wynn squinted. It wasn't as dark as you might expect. Once his eyes adjusted, he could see the signal lights in the car.
Things could be worse. His head knew that. His body was the one that didn't understand.
*Wynn!*
*I'm here, sweetheart. You all right?*
*Yes, except that I'm scared spitless.*
*I never did much to show you how to use those mind-reading abilities, like how to block out other people. Strikes me that this would be the perfect time to give you a few pointers. Just remember that Emmanuel may have slightly different skills or strengths than me, so watch out.*
*We're going to meet him?*
*I'm sure of it. Now listen to me.*
A few instructions in a dark, locked trunk weren't much help, but that was all he could manage. He hoped that she would pay attention and not panic. He hoped he could tell her everything she needed to know.
Damn him for not taking more time to help her defend herself before this. What had been wrong with him? Sloppy idiot. Bloody fool. He'd spent more time thinking about her butt and how she'd be in bed than what might happen to her if he was unable to stand between her and Emmanuel.
*Wynn?*
*Yes?*
*Stop beating yourself up. We'll manage. We will.*
*Of course, Cassie. *
* * * * *
The car reversed quickly and Wynn banged his head against the side of the trunk. He pushed himself away. He needed to be more careful.
If he was careful, he could handle this.
Wynn was glad Cassie couldn't see as well as hear him. He could feel the sweat starting to pour down his face. He hoped his hands weren't shaking. This was a little too much like one of the experiments they'd tried at the Institute.
No. No, he was going to handle this.
But knowing he wasn't going to run wasn't the same as not wanting to.
* * * * *
Cassie wondered how Wynn was. They'd left the guarded gate without anyone questioni
ng them. Why not? People left garages all the time. Cassie wasn't about to say anything to anyone with a cold, metallic gun pressed against her side.
Trunks were dark. Was there air in there? Was he all right?
*I am in control. I am in control*.
The anxiety behind the monotoned repetition of his words answered her question.
The car hit a huge pothole and Cassie winced for Wynn.
She heard some words in Welsh. It was probably just as well she didn't know what they meant.
*Wynn? It's me.*
For a moment she could hear nothing.
That was a very long, very bad moment.
*I forgot. Sorry. Forgot you were even there for a minute.*
Cassie could feel how Wynn hated the closed, trapped feeling of the trunk. She could feel the waves of fear being firmly beaten back, only to creep in again.
Wonderful. He was only reinforcing her own fear.
*Wynn, I've been trying, but I can't figure out where we are.*
*And you think I can figure it out?*
Cassie bit her lip at the faint annoyance in the thought. That was good. Wynn was thinking about something else besides his confinement.
*Hey, I'm the ally, not the enemy, Harmon. Remember?*
*Right. Listen, Cassie. I suspect we don't have much time. Let me explain about blocking. I have to teach you fast*.
He was all right, then. He sounded coherent. He did sound in control.
Cassie knew neither of them were at their best as Wynn instructed her while he rolled and bumped with each turn and pothole. But she tried to learn.
Wynn had been right, though. There wasn't much time. The car braked soon afterwards.
They'd arrived.
* * * * *
Cassie kept watching Wynn when he was roughly pulled out of the trunk. She was pretty sure he wasn't watching her. Wynn stared straight ahead as if she wasn't even there. Or maybe as if he wasn't.
This wasn't the guy she had come to know. This was the original Wynn—the remote, detached one. The one you couldn't read.
Wynn knew he was with the enemy. Well, becoming an ice man might be Wynn's way of dealing with danger. Cassie knew she dealt with it differently. She got mad. She hated being pushed around. Always had. It might not be smart, but she could feel the anger snapping at her.
"Be gentle with her." Wynn's voice was as remote as his expression, but Cassie realized he had been watching while they tugged her by the arm to get her out.
"Worry about yourself, Harmon."
*That is—was—Art's Security Chief.*
*Damn! How many of Art's employees are really working for the other side?*
*I wish I knew for sure.*
"Why don't you worry about your next job, Stuart?" Wynn's voice was almost pleasant. "I figure Art won't be giving you much of a reference. Why'd you sell him out?"
"Hornsby wasn't going to do anything more for me. He's already let those damn Secret Service agents take over everything. I'm going to have more power and more money if I go against him than if I stay for him. To hell with him. To hell with you, too."
Cassie wasn't crazy about the conversation, but as the man spoke, his crushing grip on her arm eased. She had to figure that was what Wynn had had in mind when he bothered to talk to the scum in the first place.
Or was Wynn using some kind of mind command on the person who held her? She couldn't tell.
She looked around. They were in a warehouse. Not much was there that Cassie could tell. Nothing to identify the place at all. She almost wanted to giggle. This was just like the movies—a huge, half-lit, scary warehouse.
But the other people didn't seem to appreciate the cliché. She and Wynn were marched briskly along until they reached a more brightly illuminated area. A man sat on a packing box there.
The two goons shoved them forward. Cassie caught her balance before she sprawled in front of the seated man. The anger got just a little hotter inside. Then she looked up.
"We got them, sir." One of the men finally spoke.
Cassie heard the respect in the goon's tone and knew who they had to be looking at.
Cassie hadn't expected Emmanuel to look the way he did. He looked his name. Wynn might look tall and dark and spooky. This man didn't. Emmanuel was almost Wynn's height but he was golden. He was blonde and golden tan and smiling. He had a beautiful smile. She'd never seen eyes that blue.
She'd never seen eyes that cold.
"Wow. We finally get to meet. I've heard so much about you, Godfrey." Cassie's voice was mild.
"Emmanuel."
"Godfrey—Emmanuel. Oh yeah. One of those Savior-sounding names. I got confused."
For just a moment Wynn felt a huge desire to laugh. Damn that Cassie. She knew how to make something funny and have it sting at the same time. But Emmanuel didn't like either at his expense. The laugh inside Wynn died.
*Bastard. Thought that would hurt his ego.*
*No, Cassie. Block your thoughts.*
Like a light snuffed out, the thought was gone.
He couldn't read her mind any more. He knew she couldn't read his. He'd retreated far into his brain. Nothing could reach there. He hoped. But he missed hearing Cassie's voice.
He hadn't realized how used he had gotten to having it pop in his mind at unexpected times. Her voice had almost become as familiar to him as his own thoughts. Bloody hell. He stopped thinking about that.
He tried to shut off thinking at all. That was safest for now.
Emmanuel had learned the same tricks he had at the Institute. He must have.
For a moment Wynn thought he felt a faint tug, almost a burrowing at his thoughts. That was probably going to be his only warning. Wynn retreated further.
"What have you been telling Art then, my man?" Wynn wasn't sure if Emmanuel said the words aloud or in his thoughts.
"I haven't been around to tell him much." Wynn spoke out loud, very evenly, all emotion out of his voice.
Emmanuel beamed at him. He looked like a saint out of heaven when he gave that smile. Wynn forced himself not to clench his hands or his teeth. No sign of emotion was better.
But he acknowledged that Emmanuel was soon going to be able to scare the hell out of him. Maybe he was already.
"You and I don't need to be around, as you say, to tell people whatever we choose."
Wynn suddenly realized something and hastily forced it out of his mind. Emmanuel didn't know about what Cassie could do. He wondered if Cassie had realized that, too.
"Handcuff him, Ullmann. We can't be too careful. Especially after your carelessness with him previously." Emmanuel's tone was cheerful, with just a slight sting to it in the last sentence.
Ullmann cuffed Wynn. Wynn still seemed impassive, but Cassie knew she couldn't help showing a little of the anger and fear she had.
She tried to smooth her face out. She couldn't afford to have anyone see else her react. They didn't care about her right now. That was good. That could give her an advantage.
Cassie knew she couldn't do anything stupid, anything impulsive. That might hurt Wynn. She wondered if she was really catching all of Rauss' thoughts or just imagining she heard him.
Suddenly she realized something. Rauss didn't know about her. How could he?
*Don't think it.*
The voice flashed in and out again. Wynn was looking at Emmanuel, not her. But she thought the voice was from Wynn.
Unless it was Emmanuel at his slyest.
At any rate, she carefully blocked out her thoughts again. To do so was a struggle, sort of like when she first learned to ride a bicycle. With practice she thought she could do her blocking as easily as she now could pedal a bike, but she hadn't had time to practice. Damn, she wasn't prepared enough for any of this!
She saw Wynn give a half-gasp, then his lips set firmly. He looked almost in pain. Lord, maybe even practice didn't help right now.
*No. No, no, no.*
Cassie heard the voice's protest. This time she
was sure it was Wynn.
*They always made you tell at the Institute, didn't they? No matter how much you wanted them to go away. I know. I know everything they did to make you tell, too. I made it easy. I always told them. Even when it wasn't true, I told them whatever it was they wanted to know. I heard you fought sometimes. I'll bet that hurt. And I know they always won.*
That was Rauss.
Cassie knew she couldn't say anything, do anything. She wasn't supposed to know. Emmanuel didn't know what she could do. Wynn didn't want her to be found out. But she hadn't counted on having to hear this and pretend nothing was going on. She looked at the other men around the warehouse. They didn't react. They didn't know. She tried to act the way they were.
"I could find out what you know and what you told Art by several methods. I'll take the quickest way," Emmanuel said aloud.
He gestured and one of the men took out a small black bag. Emmanuel smiled, winningly, once again.
"I'm sure with your powers you can tell what's inside."
*They tried this on you, didn't they? They would've done it to me but I was warned and got out in time. I bet it isn't much fun. You must have cried with joy when the Institute ran out of funding. Using drugs could destroy your abilities, don't you think? Or did it? You don't seem to be able to do much.*
Cassie wasn't sure but she thought Wynn didn't respond. She didn't hear anything.
*Maybe they were wrong about you at the Institute. After all, what are you anyhow? I own these people around me. I'm going to rule more when my plans are completed. What have you done with your life in comparison? I suppose you're proud that you're Art Hornsby's little pet. That's probably the highest achievement you could imagine.*
What could she do for Wynn? She had to do something. For a moment Wynn looked at her then looked away. She couldn't see any expression in his eyes.
*But then you were nothing before the Institute, too. *
Suddenly, just faintly, so faintly she wasn't sure she heard it at all, she caught two words. Her breath caught. Even if she was wrong, she wanted to believe she had heard them.
*Love you.*
She didn't want to ponder why she wanted to hear those words. She wasn't sure whether or not Wynn heard Emmanuel's thoughts, but she knew Emmanuel was doing something—something terrible to Wynn. Wynn must find it difficult to respond only with silence.