Over her shoulder, Harry, Al, and Lane exchanged looks. Locked up, maybe. But the truth was, as long as there was another Talent in range, Sam’s dad could leave whenever he wanted to.
#
They got out of Steilacoom surprisingly quickly. Al managed to cap his questions. No one asked for potty breaks or food, and no one complained if Lane drove a fair amount faster than usual.
“I’m going to be so happy when we get back to California,” Harry said, “I mean, Nevada was bad because it was flat. Oregon and Washington just make me car sick.”
“I love it,” Al said, “Mountains.”
“And that’s what made me car sick,” Harry replied.
“I like the trees,” Sam said simply.
“Just wait,” Lane said, “until you see Seattle.”
“Uh oh,” Al said, “You got him started, Sam.”
“Got me started on what? How Washington is vastly superior to all other states?”
“Yeah, that.”
“First of all, they have real trees here, as you’ve already seen.”
“And tons of rain,” Al said.
“And inordinately high business taxes,” Sam chimed in. The guys looked at her and she shrugged, “It’s true. I look these things up.”
“That may be so,” Lane said, “but let me tell you why that doesn’t matter.”
#
It was dark as they drove north, so Samantha didn’t get to see the land of Milk and Honey Lane spoke about.
“Just wait,” Lane said. Right. Waiting was something Samantha had grown accustomed to on this trip. Long periods of boredom punctuated by the odd, incredibly frightening period of intensity followed by more boredom. Still, she couldn’t say she entirely hated road trips. In fact, under different circumstances, she might have enjoyed the passing of the landscape and the strange sense of freedom that car travel afforded.
And the company wasn’t entirely horrible. Harry could be pretty funny when he decided to speak up, and there was usually a lot of heart behind Al’s endless chatter. And then there was Lane, of course. Right now, he was taking a break from driving, scribbling away in that black scientific journal he was so devoted to. When he put it away, she might pretend to drift off so she could lean against his shoulder. After all, they might actually go on a date eventually. Provided she lived through this ordeal.
Thinking about Lane provided a nice distraction from the more repetitive thoughts that had been running through her head since leaving Steilacoom. Overall, she felt relieved: She’d faced down her worst nightmare and lived to tell the tale. Her father’s accusation about her mother hurt her, but it wasn’t the killing strike he’d intended.
Samantha remembered that day so clearly still. She had analyzed it a hundred times in her head. She should have been crushed. Instead, her mother turned the wheel. If Samantha had never existed, if her mother hadn’t loved her enough to try and protect her, her mother may very well be alive today. By that logic, Samantha had killed her mother.
But that logic was flawed. Because Samantha hadn’t caused the brakes to fail, another Talent had, presumably working for the Corp. The intended target didn’t matter. Her mother would have been alive if the Corp hadn’t thought what they wanted was for the best. Sam wasn’t the murderer, they were. She knew that, in her heart of hearts.
And her father?
With some reservation, she discussed him with the guys, candidly. It got exhausting, keeping things to herself all the time. And they’d witnessed his breakdown, they knew just enough to put the pieces together: What use was it continuing to keep things from them, when they might have valuable input?
But a discussion hadn’t gotten them far. The few answered questions led to a hundred others. His power, for one thing. Like Samantha, he could pull energy from the outside environment, from other nearby Talents. Unlike Samantha, he could also use the energy himself, without having to touch anyone even.
It went a long way in explaining why the Corp felt Sam was a threat. The extent of Sam’s power depended on the talents around her. But her father could steal it—and then use it however he saw fit. His unbalanced mental state meant that, more often than not, he would use his abilities violently. And now it made sense, the strange, distanced look that everyone who knew her father gave her. They thought she, too, was a bomb.
But her father had also made it pretty clear he was another cog in the Corp’s machine. So why would the Corp bother with her? Honestly, she wasn’t much of a match, ability-wise.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Sam muttered.
Lane glanced up from his notebook, “What?”
“Why spend all of this money on me? Assassins can’t be cheap. Tracking me can’t be cheap. And why? What will the return be on the investment of killing me? The whole point of investing is to prevent losing money to inflation and hopefully increase your wealth doing it.”
“It’s not always about making money, Sam. Sometimes it’s about preventing losses.”
“They brought me in, they were interviewing me for a job. Wouldn’t hiring me have been a cheaper and simpler way of managing the risk that I presented? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”
Lane slammed his journal shut and sighed, “It’s confusing to me, too, Sam, but all I can say is that evil doesn’t always act with logic.”
“A Corporation isn’t run by one person alone; it’s run by several. You think you can put ten people alone in a room who can successfully manage a growing business and yet act irrationally evil whenever the mood hits them?”
“What other options do we have, Samantha?”
“There are other options. We just aren’t seeing them.”
Chapter 26
“I’ve got news,” Lane announced as he snapped his phone shut. Sam looked at him curiously. Not good news or bad news, just news?
“Tess is driving out to meet us. She wants to meet us at a restaurant in Tukwila.”
“Uh oh,” Harry said, “Is that bad?”
“She says she just wants to be back-up.”
“Implication being that we need back-up,” Sam said, frowning thoughtfully.
Lane shrugged. Personally, he was relieved. Tess was someone he could trust, and he would welcome her help and her unbiased opinion. He glanced over at Samantha. Scratch that—somewhat unbiased opinion. Tess didn’t like competition.
#
They pulled into the gravel parking lot of a restaurant called Straight Shooter’s. Slat-wood exterior, blinking neon sign. Sam wondered what had possessed Tess to choose this place. It was little more than a roadhouse country bar.
No, she re-evaluated her opinion as they went in, a Disney-fied roadhouse bar. Genuine ranchers mingled with cute girls wearing fancy boots and carrying designer handbags. Bull horns, dressed in cowboy hats and bolos, lined the wall. The “bar” was divided into three sections: Tables for those there to eat, a karaoke (a not-quite drunk man was already on stage, struggling through “Margaritaville”), and a dance floor. A mechanical bull even sat in the corner, mercifully unused. The only common thread was the ungodly loud country music (almost drowning out the karaoke) and over-the-top western décor. My god, Samantha thought, looking down, are those peanut shells on the floor?
“This place is great!” Al said.
“My top three favorite things: Kitsch, country, and poseurs,” she replied.
“Oh, you don’t think it’s fun?” A voice responded from over her shoulder. Sam turned around, getting her first chance to size up Lane’s ex-girlfriend.
Or she would have if the woman hadn’t stuck out a hand, twinkled a smile and announced, “I’m Theresa, feel free to call me Tess You must be Samantha I’ve heard all about you I hope you don’t mind if I call you Sam My, what a strong grip you have!” Sam swore the girl/woman spoke without punctuation.
Sam took her hand back. “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”
“About what?” Tess blinked enormous brown cow eyes up at her.
Tess giggled, but her gaze turned assessing before sliding over to where Lane had stepped up behind Sam’s shoulder. Ah yes, Samantha thought, I know that look. Let the games begin.
Tess showed them to the table she had claimed in the corner and grabbed everyone menus.
On the petite side of average, she had a cute button nose, and a wholesome all-American face. It only made sense she would be blonde as well, her straight hair pulled back into a cute ponytail. All in all, with her perfect teeth and light tan (and just how was that achieved in a state where it rained 80% of the year?), Tess was a couple inches shy of being the poster child for Miss Teen USA. Only in her late twenties. At what point, Sam wondered, does pubescence wear off?
Sam tried valiantly to put her instant feeling of dislike aside. This woman was, after all, a friend of Lane’s. Close enough that he’d apparently told Tess all about her (and how much was that?). So be nice, Sam told herself, claws in. Make friends.
The attempt to be charitable ended when Tess successfully slid in front of Samantha to take her place next to Lane in the booth. Leaning against him, she smiled sweetly at Sam, who had to make do with a chair.
“So, honey, tell us all about this little adventure you’re on.”
“You mean my desperate cross-country race to escape being killed?”
Tess laughed and leaned forward, taking Sam’s hand conspiratorially. “Oh, I know, isn’t it fantastically dramatic? I’m so jealous of you. I can’t imagine what fun it must be. I mean, frightening of course—I wouldn’t dream of belittling your situation—but you have Lane to rely on, so of course you were always safe.” Tess turned her big-browns on Lane, “Lane would never let anything bad happen—even to a stranger. And of course he had his good friends to help ease the burden. And I’ve been so thrilled to play my part, helping you guys through my position in headquarters.”
The thing that amazed Sam about Tess was the woman’s ability to pack so much into one brief dialogue. She wondered if Tess had rehearsed it; it was so well played. The implications were clear: You are a stranger, I am not. You are a burden, and Lane relied on me when he needed help. And, of course, it was all subtle enough to go right over the guys’ heads. Perfect.
“You know, Sam,” Tess was still talking, “It wasn’t easy tracking information about you, either. Did you know, guys, that she changed her name?”
This statement, announced so blithely, was intended as a bombshell. Fortunately, rather than the shocked reaction and anger that Tess had hoped for, Lane and the guys dismissed this as old news. Oh yeah, the line had just been drawn.
The waiters here only served drinks. If they wanted something else you had to go to the bar and get it put on the tab. Standing up, Sam took the others’ orders and made her way to the bar.
If I don’t get some processed cheese food soon, Sam thought, I’m going to kill this girl.
#
Lane might not have expected the two girls to become instant bosom-buddies, but he definitely hadn’t expected this much instant antagonism.
And he couldn’t blame Sam for it, either. As much as he had sensed her instant dislike for Tess, he couldn’t help but notice Tess herself had felt the same way. Sam had reacted out of that instinctual understanding most women had about who was, and wasn’t, going to be a friend.
But it was one thing to sense that there were deathly undercurrents swirling under the ice. It was quite another to do anything about it, or even understand the complexities. Even as Sam walked away, Tess turned to Lane: “She’s such a sweetheart.” She said, “And so skinny! She looks like a little pixie. Or a kitten, with those weird, turned-up eyes. Has it been hard on you?”
Lane blinked at the abrupt change of subject and tone, “Excuse me?”
“This trip, has it been hard? A 20 hour drive turned into a five day ordeal. You seem tired.” She blinked up at him sympathetically and Lane found himself wondering how he could ever doubt her good intentions.
“Oh, well, you know. Sleepless nights. Psychotic Talents. Nothing I haven’t dealt with in the past, but nothing I want to handle again in the future.”
Tess nodded knowingly, “I guess it’s been tough, I’m so sorry.” She put her arms around him, giving him a hug. He politely disentangled himself. Tess hugged total strangers by way of greeting, but he didn’t want Sam to get the wrong idea. Being around Tess was comfortable, and it was easy falling back into old habits, but they had broken up before he went off to med school for good reason.
Sam arrived at that moment, holding a plate of nachos and cheese sticks. She sat down, smiling sweetly at Tess as she held out the basket of cheese sticks, “Want one?”
Tess shook her head, “Oh, no thanks hon, you need it more.”
Still smiling, Sam took a big bite and nodded, “I guess you’re right.”
Tess frowned sharply. Lane himself had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Oh, he knew that was mean but he’d be damned if he didn’t think Tess didn’t deserve it a tiny bit. Still, it was probably time for a distraction.
“Tess,” Lane said, “Do you have any news from N.T.U.?”
She shrugged. “Not much. They’re all in a tizzy. The Corp hasn’t been this openly aggressive in a while. No telling what inspired it. But if we can get proof of the alleged attacks, it might give them an excuse to bring some retribution down on the Corp. But it could be tough,” she said with a sigh, “without credible evidence. You know how slippery the Corp can be.”
Sam said nothing. Rather than take the bait and argue with Tess about her credibility—giving Tess the opportunity to shoot her down—she said nothing. Instead, she chewed her food, staring at the other woman flatly until Tess coughed and looked down. Score two for Sam, Lane thought.
#
The table fell quiet, until Al, who couldn’t stand awkward moments, broke the tension by making a comment about the song playing. Tess used this to segue into a discussion of some TV show that they had all watched in college. That somehow evolved into a summary of all the wonderful times they’d had together—both alone and with Al and Harry in a monologue Sam felt should have been titled: “College and High School: My life will never be that totally amazing again.”
“But then we graduated and the good times ended,” Tess concluded with a sigh, confirming Sam’s earlier thoughts, “We parted ways. I had to go get a job—yuck—and Lane went on to medical school. But he’s done, now.” Tess blinked, “And applying for residencies. He’s applying at Seattle Children’s, aren’t you Lane?”
Looking a little lost in all of the flow of conversation, Lane nodded, and then shook his head, “I don’t know. Probably. Maybe.” He looked at Sam to see how she’d react to this, but she didn’t seem to be paying attention, staring at the bar.
Tess shook her head, “That’s not what you said the last time you came to visit.”
“Life changes, Tess,” Lane said. Sam turned back to the table in time to smile at Tess again. She had been paying attention, after all.
Tess shrugged, sighed, “Oh well. Hey, does anyone know what happened to the waiter? I’m still waiting for my coke.”
Lane slid out of the booth, “I’ll go check.”
“Wait up, man,” Al said, glad for an excuse to escape the awkwardness. “I want more nachos.”
Harry looked from Tess, to Sam, and back, and hastily followed suit without a single word. The two women were left alone. Oh great, Sam thought, here it comes.
“Isn’t Lane a sweetheart? I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“Lane’s been wonderful,” Sam said, willing to play along, “So supportive.”
“I don’t doubt it. He always was a sucker for a damsel in distress,” Tess giggled, “But I guess you figured that out.”
Sam stiffened, “I wouldn’t know.”
Tess made a small noise, like a mew, “Hunh.”
Sam wanted, badly, to say something back. She kept her mouth shut.
�
��That’s not what Lane said. He said he’s bailed you out, oh, hmm...” Tess did a quick tally on her fingers, “Four or five times?”
Sam wanted to refute, to deny, but, looking back, she realized that Tess was right—arguably. “I’ve bailed him out a time or two myself, you know.”
“Oh, he didn’t mention that, typical male,” Tess said, “But I’m sure you have, sweetie. Girl power and all that, right?”
Sam felt a flood of heat overcome her, rising up from her feet to the top of her head. Realizing she was subconsciously drawing energy from the environment, Sam forced herself to stop, pushing the anger away at the same time. Sam knew girls like Tess. She’d spent most her life in the public school system, after all. Creating drama would be playing into Tess’ hands.
But oh, oh how that girl pissed her off. Fifteen minutes, and she’d already zeroed in on Sam’s biggest button and gleefully pushed it like a kid in an arcade.
Before Sam could formulate a suitable put-down, the guys were back with food and drinks again. Tess ooohed and ahhed, thanking them.
“Lane’s so caring. He’s going to make the best doctor ever. I just know it.” Tess put her arms around Lane’s neck, giving him a peck on the cheek.
Oh barf, Sam thought. The song on the jukebox was “Jolene” and Tess was smiling brightly and caressing Lane’s hand and Samantha couldn’t take anymore. She needed a breather. Excusing herself, she went up to the bar.
Standing there, she tried to take a moment to breathe, to pretend she was somewhere else, doing something else. She ordered a chocolate shake and slid on to a stool. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the bar and looked down sharply, avoiding her reflection. This was not her style. She had fought some of the scariest Talents this nation had to offer and walked away with only a few minor injuries that really weren’t that bad. OK, so her arm still stung now and then, but she could have had a lot worse. Why was this spoiled princess annoying her so much? Could it be jealousy?
No, the voice of honesty answered, it’s because Tess was right. Sam might have participated in a bail-out or two, but from the outset it had been Lane who’d saved her the most. Her one bid for independence had been spectacularly foiled by that damn chameleon guy—and she probably couldn’t have escaped from that without Lane’s help, either.
Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) Page 22