by Naomi Stone
Rachel noted the exchange with some amusement. When the name reached Johnson it would be as good as a taunt. Fluke rejoined her.
“My guess is Johnson’s doing his research—finding out everything he can about the local Team, looking for vulnerabilities, for ways to distract or circumvent us.”
“Hmm.” Rachel stood aside while he spoke with the concierge at the highly polished slab of black granite serving as the desktop. He didn’t register as Coward, but gave the man his own name. Her gaze wandered the lavish décor, from glittering crystal chandeliers to marble tiles and scattered seating arrangements on oriental carpets, but she took none of it in. Johnson could be stalking one of her friends—or David—at this very moment. But surely David would be safe. His talent consisted principally of immunity to the special talents of others.
“What can we do if he gets to someone else on the Team? He’ll know all our plans. He can sabotage us from within.”
“Don’t worry.”
She realized her anxiety had spiked again and focused on easing it.
Fluke went on, “David has thought of all this already. We talked while you were with the police artist. He’s got team members paired up to make sure Johnson won’t catch anyone alone—we’re on the buddy system.” He gave her a grin as they made their way to the elevators. “Just so you know, you and I are buddies.”
“Perfect.” Rachel muttered to herself.
Proximity to Fluke presented an increasing challenge to her inner peace. Every small touch, the heat and scent of him beside her, all ignited physical reactions she’d so far only marginally managed to contain. Her nervousness over affecting the people around them made it easier to keep her reactions in check. What would happen when she found herself alone with him? What did she want to happen?
As they ascended, a placard on the wall of the elevator advertised the spa. No way. Not as wired as she felt right now; she’d undo all the relaxing anyone else there had achieved.
“We’ve got the penthouse suite on the top floor of the hotel, and the two floors directly below,” Fluke reminded her.
She relaxed a bit. No one but Fluke would be near enough to feel the full brunt of her emotional overflow.
“There, that’s better isn’t it?” He led her into the living room of the suite, a room large enough to be measured in acreage rather than square feet, with floor to ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the sun setting over the surrounding countryside.
“Much.” She stretched and eased previously unnoticed tension from her neck and shoulders.
“Can I help with that?” Fluke moved in close behind her, bringing strong hands to the taut muscles either side of where neck and shoulders joined. His thumbs pressed down and away while his fingers and sides of his hands pressed expertly upward.
She melted into his touch. “Mmm—that’s good. No matter how well I keep up with my yoga practice I can’t seem to keep the stiffness out of my neck.”
“Everyone needs a little help now and then.” He tugged her toward a low couch that looked about a mile long. “Let’s sit, relax, and order room service…”
“I couldn’t eat.” She sank to the couch. He stayed close beside her, his hands still soothing the tension from her neck. “And I want to get used to the idea that my emotions aren’t on public display.”
“Nobody here but me. Is this really so new for you?”
“We—David and I—have lived in the city since we met Tamara—about seven years now. There have always been neighbors, and her students, and passers-by…”
“And before that?” The heat of his thigh close to hers at once comforted and excited her. He had to feel her excitement too, though somehow that didn’t bother her as it would if there’d been dozens of people around, picking up the same thing.
“We spent about three years in hiding, on the run, evading the freak hunters. We spent time away from population centers. Hiding out in abandoned industrial buildings and barns—when the dogs didn’t chase us out—camping in makeshift shelters in the woods where no one could pick up on my personal broadcasts. But I was usually too hungry, cold, or plain scared to enjoy it. This is better.” She tilted back her head to give him a grateful smile
~ * ~
As she spoke, Fluke caught echoes of her remembered feelings—the chronic worry over being discovered, being chased by vicious guard dogs, or separated from her brother. He’d certainly caught her earlier sense of comfort and excitement. He only wanted to give her more of that after seeing—and feeling—the grateful look she gave him for this small vacation away from constantly guarding her emotions. He wished he’d been there for her much, much earlier, and saved her from all she’d endured.
“Even being hungry and alone in the woods was better than what happened when we tried to fit in around other people,” she continued as his fingers found and eased each little knot along the upper reaches of her spine. “We tried staying at a few homeless shelters. I was always on edge, always afraid of being noticed—”
“Afraid there’d be some kind of witch hunt by peasants armed with pitchforks and torches?” He teased.
She laughed. “Not exactly, but we heard those stories about experiments the government did on Freaks and they scared me. And so everyone around me felt afraid. Fear tends to bring out the worst in people.”
“Don’t I know it.” He’d met more than a few who treated him like a threat when they learned he was talented.
“People never realized what I was, but nobody liked to be around me. We couldn’t fit in anywhere. We ended up shunned anywhere we tried to stay—until we met Tamara. She faced the fear and transformed it, and showed me how to do the same.”
“Must’ve been your lucky day, finding her.”
“It was. I don’t know what I’d be now without her. She taught me to meditate, to take charge of my feelings, to have compassion for myself—I owe her everything.” She straightened on the couch, moving away from his hands. “In fact, I feel guilty leaving her with no one to do meals and keep the house—”
“Relax.” Fluke tugged her back against the cushions. “I spoke to her while you packed your bag upstairs. She said you’ve run the household for a good five years now with hardly a day off. She said to tell you to relax and enjoy yourself, she can handle things while you’re gone.”
Rachel sighed. “I know it. I really do. She did it all before I took some of it off her hands.”
“So you know she can do it now. She wants you to have this time for yourself. Why don’t you take it?”
She gave a rueful laugh. “Seems like I’ve forgotten how—how to let go—and I’m afraid I’d be taking advantage of you if I did.”
His laugh carried an edge of incredulity. “Here I was thinking you’d be worried about the opposite.”
“I was—at first—but I’m lost if I can’t be honest with myself about my feelings. And if I feel attracted to you, it’s not your fault if you feel the attraction too.”
“You’re a beautiful woman—I’d be attracted to you regardless of your talent. You might take advantage of the situation—in fact, I encourage you to do so—but you won’t be taking advantage of me.”
She lifted a hand to rest on his where he still soothed her neck. “I know you can’t help but be concerned about my feelings, but I don’t have the same… impetus to be concerned about yours—I hardly know you.”
“Let me worry about me.”
Her serenity now seemed like a sand castle in the tide, insubstantial walls giving way before a deeper, more powerful force. Behind those walls he caught hints of fragility, doubt, childlike curiosity, a growing hunger. But no relentless tide broke down her walls; somehow she lowered them deliberately. She wanted to let him in, despite herself, despite the doubts.
“You’re an attractive man—a very attractive man—I’ll bet you have no trouble finding plenty of willing partners without taking on… complications. It’s not fair to involve you with someone as emotionally needy as I am, when you have no cho
ice but to feel those needs.” Her manner grew hesitant. “I’ve never…”
“Never?” Unexpected in this day and age. All the more reason to stay tuned to her needs.
“No. The couple times I got close turned into disasters—”
That explained a lot. Before she could relive those disasters in memory, stirring up more doubts and fears, he scooped her into his arms and otherwise occupied her mouth. Feeling her reactions as powerfully as his own amazed him. As before, the kiss redoubled in pleasure as she reacted, galvanized, suddenly afire with sensation and the longing for more.
The moments seemed to stretch beyond time as he explored the nuances of her lips, danced with her clever tongue, possessed the primal cavern created by their joined mouths. He excited her, delighted her, urged on her desire to reach for him, to reach for all she wanted. Her hands roved his shoulders, his arms, embraced him as if she’d never let go. He felt that determination re-echoed in himself.
He moved from her mouth to drag his teeth along her throat. Yes. No need to wonder what pleased her. This, and this, more here, moving to take the lobe of her ear between his teeth. Her pleasure shot through him as he cupped her breasts, pressing them together, finding her nipples through the layers of her top and bra, rubbing lightly until they hardened into fierce knots beneath his thumbs.
If only he’d discovered her years ago. No fumbling, no doubt of what she felt. She squirmed, bringing them into closer contact, until she lay half under him, the heat of her thighs and belly apparent through clothing he knew frustrated her as much as it did him.
Her hands explored beneath his shirt. She felt daring to be so bold with him, pleased with herself.
“Go ahead.,” He gasped out the words. “Have your way with me.”
“I hardly know where to start.” She breathed into his ear and he bucked, stirred by the light touch of her lips. He felt her pleasure at knowing she could move him so easily. “Do you like that?” she asked. “This?” Her hands fumbled at his belt and she ran her fingers beneath it.
Her surprise and trepidation on encountering the solid length of his
erection amused him, especially as he caught the deep longing swiftly supplanting it.
“Yes, and yes,” he told her.
“I want you.” She used her teeth on his neck, as he’d done with her. “Inside me. All the way.”
Enough rational thought remained to raise questions. Was this right? Too fast? Too soon? But her need re-echoed in him. Her longing and his combined to sweep rational thought aside. Somehow they dragged off clothing, dragged on a condom. Flesh to flesh, they filled their hands and hearts with one another. She wanted him wanting her. Her pleasure was his, pleasing her. He’d nearly lost the capacity to distinguish where one left off and the other began.
Her hands helped him find his way to her core, pulled him all the closer, and urged him on and in. He responded to her urgency no differently than to his own, driving on into her embrace, into wild passion claiming him as he claimed her as his own, her own, into a light where all was one.
Four
Rachel woke alone between the sheets in a strange bed of enormous proportions. Did they make beds bigger than king size? What was this? Imperial sized? Where did one shop for imperial sized sheets? She sprawled out, stretching, taking in the sheer luxury. If not for an unaccustomed tenderness in generally ignored parts she might think she’d dreamed her whole encounter with Fluke… Fluke. Where had he gone?
She sat up, surveyed the room surrounding the bed. She couldn’t remember having made it as far as the bedroom. Had he carried her in here?
She threw aside the sheets and scooted to the edge of the bed, swinging her legs over. Wow. She felt loose. This sex stuff was better than a yoga workout. And she couldn’t believe she’d just fallen asleep in Fluke’s arms like that. She never let her guard down so far with anyone but family, like David or Tamara.
Rachel’s stomach let out a muted roar. She was starving. How long had she been asleep? The window showed only night sky spangled with the lights of the complex. If Fluke had gone to get food she’d have to marry him.
As she rose, intending to start a serious search for him—and her clothes—she heard the strains of ‘Spirit in the Sky’ issuing faintly from a bureau beside the bed. Tamara’s ring tone.
She found her phone in the top drawer, along with her handbag and the clothes Fluke had virtually torn from her while she’d been finding her way through his. The memory brought back a thrill of lust, but she ignored it to grab up the phone. Tamara’s ID flashed onscreen.
“Tamara. Hi.”
“Hi. Is this an okay time to call? Can you talk?”
“Of course. Why not?”
“You said you had to lie low—something to do with Guardian business.”
“We’re not hiding from you.”
“Well I have an enormous favor to ask—and I know it’s kind of an awkward time…”
Rachel moved the phone from ear to ear as she worked her way back into her clothes. “Ask away,”
“I don’t want to impose, but I’m really worried about my mother in Ames. She was supposed to call me tonight and she still hasn’t. I tried her earlier, and I’ve been trying every hour since. It’s past one a.m.!”
“Oh, Tamara. Did you call 911 for Ames? Have them check on her?”
“I thought of that, but if she just turned off her phone and forgot about it, she’d kill me for getting the police involved…”
“How can I help?”
“You know a teleporter, right? Well enough to ask a favor? I’d certainly pay him something for his time and trouble if he’d just take me to Ames long enough to pop in and check on my mom.”
“Well…” Rachel hesitated. She couldn’t speak for Tom, but checking on a person in potential trouble did fall within the mission values of the Team.
“I’m asking too much. I’m imposing.” Tamara sounded distraught. “I’m sorry… I’ll go ahead and call 911.”
“No. No, no, Tamara. It’s totally okay to ask.” Rachel sat again, pulling on her sandals, which she’d found set neatly beside the bed. “I just have to check with Tom, the teleporter and see if he’s free. This is what we do. We help people.”
She could hear the relief in Tamara’s voice now. “Okay. I’ll just stay on the line then while you check with this guy.”
“Yeah. Hold on.” She’d found her specs with her other things and donned them, used the Team channels to contact Tom. In a matter of minutes she’d arranged to meet him on the roof of the hotel. His ‘buddy,’ Beth Talbot was catching a nap and he didn’t want to disturb her for this quick unofficial trip.
Fortunately, occupancy of the penthouse suite came with rooftop access—for those dignitaries who preferred to travel by helicopter. She found Tom waiting for her by the time she exited the fire door near the helipad.
“Hey,” he greeted her.
“Hey. Thanks for coming on such short notice—I know you’ve got a life outside the team.”
“Not as much of one since Jessie broke things off.” He sighed. “But, mission of mercy, right?”
“Right. You know my friend, Tamara? It should only take a few minutes to set her mind at ease about her mother, and I can keep an eye on things at the ashram while you’re gone.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in hiding?”
“That’s already a bust. The perp put a tail on us instead of coming himself, so he knows we’re at the casino. He won’t expect to find me at home—and I won’t be there long.”
“You got it. So let’s do this.” He scooped her into a hug, lifting her off her feet, only to set her down again immediately among the pots of
hibiscus and geraniums—on the front porch of the ashram.
“C’mon in.” Rachel quickly unlocked the door and ushered him in. Johnson wouldn’t expect her here, but why tempt fate by staying out in the open any longer than necessary? She called out, “Tamara, we’re here! You ready?” She approach
ed the stairway leading up to the bedrooms, listening for a response.
“She’s in the office.” The strange voice behind her startled Rachel into whirling around to find Johnson standing there, one hand on Tom’s bare neck. Tom stood transfixed, staring blankly ahead. Tamara emerged from the office, carrying a coil of clothesline.
“Oh, hi! There you are.” Tamara greeted her as if everything were perfectly normal, coming around Johnson and Tom to approach Rachel. “I need to keep an eye on you now.”
“Tamara? What’s going on?” Rachel backed closer to the stairs.
“She’s got her instructions,” Johnson said, “and makes a very good puppet too. She’s so capable, and so strong. She really believed her mother might be in trouble—until I reprogrammed her to be your guard.”
Rachel whirled to run past the stairs and out through the kitchen entry—but she’d waited too long to realize her danger and make her move. Tamara caught her before she’d reached the kitchen door and the yoga instructor quickly overpowered her. Using a move she might have learned from watching TV crime shows, she threw Rachel flat on her stomach, sending her specs flying across the room, and then, with a knee on her back, trussed Rachel’s wrists behind her.
Johnson continued speaking. “Thanks for bringing me such an efficient means of transportation. We’re going to take you away and our friend Tamara is going to baby-sit you while our teleporter helps me take care of some very important business. And you’re going to cooperate in this because Tamara’s mind will freeze up like an overloaded computer if you do anything to keep her from fulfilling the instructions I’ve given her.”
Rachel struggled to turn her head toward Johnson—hard to do with her cheek pressed to the floor.
“You’re insane,” she told him. “Seriously. You think any of this will make your life the tiniest bit better or happier?”
The man’s bland façade cracked as he scowled furiously at her. “Hurt her,” he told Tamara, who immediately jerked back on Rachel’s bound arms. She gritted her teeth against the wrenching pain.
“This isn’t about happiness,” Johnson went on. “It’s about payback.”