The Protected tfp-4

by Shiloh Walker

  “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 wouldn’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 . . .

  A year ago, she couldn’t have stood here. Even as nervous as she was, with all these doubts raging inside her, she knew she couldn’t have done this. But losing Daylin had done something to her. Seeing Alex . . . being near him, knowing the kind of fear he lived with.

  Yeah.

  A hand touched her arm.

  She looked up.

  Gus stared at her, his eyes cool, unreadable. “Go into the bathroom. Lock the door. I’ll handle this.”

  She knew what he was doing. Giving her a way out. Shouldering the responsibility.

  Part of her wanted to let him do just that. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs as she shifted her gaze back to the window. She could hear an engine now, faint, off in the distance. It wasn’t coming at them in a roar, so they must be taking their time on that narrow, uneven road.

  If they were smart, they’d just park the car . . .

  Abruptly, the engine went silent and she cursed and slammed up the shields in her mind. Hopefully they’d just come to the logical conclusion but just in case . . . no point in taking chances. She focused on Gus and focused her thoughts down to the narrowest stream possible, speaking only into his mind. She had trained with some of the best, and if they couldn’t pick up on her thoughts when she didn’t want them to, she should be okay. But Gus was a different matter. Don’t think anything about what you’re doing. Act and react, but don’t broadcast your thoughts. They might have a telepath with them.

  She went to break the contact and then paused. Reaching out, she fisted her hand in his shirt, staring up into his eyes. I told you . . . I’m with you, got it? I’m not hiding in the bathroom like a little girl.

  Gus slid a hand up her back, curving it around her neck and tugging her closer. “You keep throwing your chances away. Sooner or later, they will all be gone,” he said softly, leaning in to press his lips to hers.

  She sighed as he pulled away. Just that light touch had heat spreading through her, a hot, delighted shimmer that she wanted to wrap herself in. Wrap herself in, lose herself in. Except now was so not the time, not when the alarm in her head was slowly getting louder and louder.

  He glanced around and then grabbed his bag. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

  “Outside?” She eyed his back as he headed for the little door at the back.

  He didn’t answer and she purposely avoided thinking about anything, staring at nothing more than his back, his hips, the long length of his legs. He moved through the door, and Vaughnne had to admit, leaving the hot, confining air of that closed-up little cabin was almost a relief.

  She felt terribly exposed as she followed him out of there, although it was just her imagination. Nobody was watching them . . . yet. But they were close. So very close. Her heart raced, her breathing sped up, her muscles had that odd tense feel to them. Deliberately, she made herself relax. Rotating her neck, she eased through the tangle of trees and brush, following along behind Gus. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, she decided. And once again, she had to admire how he moved.

  He moved, and he moved well.

  He found an area for her, gestured to it, and she tucked herself behind it, not the least bit surprised that she had a fairly clean field of vision ahead of her, although she was mostly out of sight because of the way he’d positioned her.

  She shot him a look, saw that sleepy smile on his face as he settled in his own position. It wasn’t long, though, before his face went smooth and blank. His eyes were cool, and butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth. He waited behind a tree maybe ten feet away. He eyed the gun in her hand and shook his head as he unzipped his bag.

  She closed her eyes as he took out the Heckler & Koch MP5. He checked it with quick, competent hands and loaded it in the same fashion. As he slipped the strap over one shoulder, she swallowed the knot in her throat and looked back at the house. I’m an FBI agent. Is this what I need to be doing . . .

  The thought was still circling through her brain when she felt something nasty settle in her mind.

  I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t do this—

  Her legs were wooden. Mechanic
ally, she felt herself starting to rise as those thoughts tripped through her mind. I can’t do this. I can’t—

  Something crunched under her foot and the sound of it penetrated her mind. Dazed, she looked around. Something edged against her thoughts. Can’t do this. Can’t . . .

  “Not right,” she mumbled, reaching up to smack her hand against her temple. The butt of her weapon smacked against her head, hard, and the flash of pain cleared the fog from her head. It was enough to snap the alien hold on her mind.

  Fuck—

  Jerking her head up, she saw Gus, realized he was coming toward her.

  Stop. I’m fine, she told him, shaking her head.

  Like a scummy rope, the unseen psychic had wrapped his gift around her brain and tried to drag her places she didn’t want to go.

  Bastard was a controller.

  A few, a very few, had the ability to coerce others to do things. Nalini Cole was one of them, but she actually had to be touching the person and her skills were . . . odd. This one apparently didn’t have to be touching his target.

  We got problems, she said into Gus’s mind, not bothering to shield her voice. It took everything she had just to fight that pull. Sweat broke out on her skin and she dropped down on the ground, digging her hands into the damp earth, anything to ground herself as she fought that pull on her mind.

  It hurt, and the harder she fought, the more it hurt.

  A hand touched her arm and she looked up, saw that Gus had come to her side.

  “What’s wrong?” Gus murmured, his voice calm, unaffected.

  Somebody there can force people to do shit. Look for him. He’ll be focusing—She wasn’t even able to finish the thought as the strain on her brain increased. Biting down on her lip, she slammed her hands against her skull, but it didn’t even touch on the pain there. Damn it, damn it, damn it—

  She slammed up her shields, the ones she’d lowered when she tried to draw them in, but it was hard, so hard to concentrate, and it felt like she was trapping him inside those shields with her. Him. That nasty, slippery presence. It was like having a giant, mutant slug trapped inside her head, in the innermost part of her.

  But as she formed one set of shields, then another, and another, some of the pressure on her brain eased off. Panting, she slid Gus a look. “They ought to be close now, really close.”

  He lifted a hand to his lips.

  She sucked in a breath, a second one. Okay. Better now. That pressure was still there and the intensity of it increased, but instead of a rope that was trying to drag her away, it was more like a raging thunderstorm. She wasn’t inside a house—she felt like she had an umbrella over her head, though. It was enough to protect her from the impact. It worked.

  She focused on Gus. Do you see them?

  He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

  Watch for a reaction . . . whoever reacts, take him out.

  Maybe she should thank the son of a bitch who’d just tried to mind-rape her. It made this easier. Controllers were dangerous. If they used that ability without any sort of care . . . yeah. He’d made this a lot easier.

  She gathered up her control and narrowed her thoughts down. It was like weapons practice, really. Just a different sort of weapon. She had a line of sight, thanks to what that son of a bitch had tried to pull. With her mind’s eye, she could see that line, that connection that led her to his mind . . . and once she was there, she unloaded.

  A shriek rose up—yeah, she’d been right. They were close.

  An odd little pop echoed through the air.

  Somebody swore.

  She didn’t have time to process that, because a hand appeared in her line of vision. She reached up blindly and found herself on her feet a second later, staring up into Gus’s face. Her head was screaming at her but that pressure on her brain was gone, too. “He’s dead,” she said softly.

  He didn’t respond.

  She didn’t guess there was any point.

  Out behind them, in that little field behind the house, somebody called out, “Y’all can’t avoid all of us, not for forever. Just tell us where to find the kid and this all stops.”

  She snorted. Yeah. Sure it would stop.

  Gus stroked a hand down her arm and then crowded her back against the tree. She didn’t know what he was doing, or why, and just then, she decided she was maybe okay with that. She was out of her element here. She worked on task forces. She’d been shot at before, had been hunted before, and done her share of hunting before, but it had all been within the confines of the law. On her part, at least. There were rules in her world.

  She’d left her world behind and she was still struggling to adjust to that.

  Gus dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “Any idea what he can do?”

  She turned her head and looked at him. Then, silent, she shook her head. Whatever the guy was, he either wasn’t very strong, or he was very, very smart, and very, very good because she couldn’t feel much more than the faintest buzz from him.

  “Y’all really want to come out of there now. Come on now,” the unknown psychic said. “Don’t make me force it.”

  Don’t make me force it. Those words sent a shiver of trepidation down her spine. Force it. Force them? His partner had already tried that, ended up dead for his trouble. Just what was he going to . . .

  An odd crackle reached her ears. Familiar, that sound. She hissed out a breath and jerked her head around to stare at the orange glow. It shimmered off in the brush about a dozen yards away. “There’s the first one,” he called. “Do I have to—”

  The words ended in a scream and Gus was already striding out of the trees, his Sig Sauer in his hand, the Heckler & Koch hanging from his shoulder. “Bring my bag,” he said over his shoulder.

  Vaughnne stared at the flickering orange flames for a minute longer, watching as they raged higher. “Don’t kill him yet, Gus. We need him.”

  * * *

  DON’T kill him yet, she says.

  Gus crouched down by the man and shot out a hand, fisting it in the bastard’s hair. “You want to try and burn me out of there, hmm?”

  The man clutched at the bleeding hole in his belly. “Fuck you,” he rasped.

  Gus took his weapon and pressed the muzzle to the sensitive underside of the man’s chin. “That hole in your gut isn’t going to kill you,” he said softly. “Not for a long, long while. So I have time to make you suffer.”

  “Gus.”

  He looked up as Vaughnne came closer. “Wait for me by the car,” he said shortly. She was already upset by this. He’d known it would happen, that she would see the monster inside him. He could handle that. But he’d rather her not see it.

  “Stop,” she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging until he eased up.

  “Stop?” He stared at her. The cabrón had been ready to burn her and she wanted him to stop?

  “If you don’t stop, that fire can burn out of control. You want that?”

  He wanted to say he didn’t care, but realized he couldn’t entirely say that, not without lying. Perhaps he wasn’t as far gone as he’d always thought. He didn’t want to think of this quiet little place gone, lost to a fire.

  Sighing, he looked back at the bastard on the ground and instead of pressing the muzzle to the man’s chin, he dragged the tip of it down his torso, along his hip, and then jammed it hard against his scrotum. “Here is the deal, cabrón. You’re going to put that fire out now. If you don’t, I’m going to kill you, ojete, in the slowest, most painful way you can possibly imagine. And if you can’t imagine a slow and painful way, let me know. I’ll give you some ideas.”

  The man sneered at him.

  Gus shifted the Sig Sauer to his other hand and reached down, grabbed the man’s penis and twisted. Once the man’s shrieking had faded away into whimpers, Gus started to speak. “The first thing I’ll do? I’m gonna pull your balls out through your nose. If that doesn’t get your attention, I’m gonna slice your dick off. In pieces.”
r />   He let go and smiled down at the man. “Have I made the matter clear now?”

  The man sucked in a breath and nodded.

  “You’ll put out the fire?”

  “Are you going to kill me when I do?”

  Gus smiled. “No.”

  And he wasn’t lying. He had questions. After he was done with those questions, though . . .

  Vaughnne stood just to the side. From the corner of his eye, he could see her face, grim and unsmiling. Some of her tension eased and she blew out a sigh. “The fire is dying. I’m going to go check, make sure it’s out. Don’t kill him before I get back here, Gus,” she warned.

  He didn’t answer.

  Once she was gone, he pressed the muzzle of his weapon against the man’s groin. “Here is where we can start to play, ojete. I can put a hole in you. Right here. Or you can answer my questions. You ready to play?”

  The man wheezed out a breath in response.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  * * *

  VAUGHNNE made it back to the area as quick as she could and the warning was still a scream in her head. The fire was out. Awesome. Gus was still crouched over the pyrokinetic. Not awesome.

  He had his gun pressed against the man’s groin and Vaughnne grimaced a little. The man looked ghost-white and he was babbling out answers so fast, she could barely process them.

  Gus didn’t look to have that problem. The man finally stumbled to a stop and Gus twisted the weapon against his scrotum. “You’re sure that’s all you know, cabrón? There’s nothing else?”

  “No. Nothing.” His eyes were wide, locked on Gus’s face like he’d never seen anything so terrifying in his life.

  It was a scary thing to look at a man and know he could, and would, kill you without any remorse, without blinking an eye.

  “And what was the latest update on the website?”

  “Not much.” The pyro licked his lips and wheeled his head around to look at Vaughnne. “Word is out about her.” Something that might have been hope bled into his eyes. “Hey, I hear tell you’re a cop . . . you . . . you can’t let him kill me.”

  She lifted a brow. “Word is out about me?”