“Don’t you care about your brother?”
“Last time I saw my brother he didn’t want anything to do with me, and that was a long, long time ago. For all I knew—or cared—he was dead.” I bit down on my lip as I lied, breaking the skin, filling my mouth with the metallic taste of deceit.
Eric, the only person who’d cared for me in that God-forsaken place, my big brother, my idol. Eric, who’d looked after me in place of the mother I couldn’t even remember. Eric, who hadn’t wanted to come with us when Dad broke in one night to set us free. I had never forgiven him.
Jamie got up and threw some money on the table. “Okay then,” he said, zipping up his motorcycle jacket and heading toward the door. “Come on, I’ll take you to the bus station.”
“As easy as that?” I guess I’d been right. He wasn’t one of the bad guys. Small consolation for my life being upended, but I could start over. I’d done it before.
“As easy as that.” He pulled out a scrap of paper, scrawled something on it, and handed it to me. “My number. In case you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
“Take it anyway. You never know.”
To save money, I thought I’d hitch instead of catching the bus, but after several hours, I gave up. Not my day. Or perhaps not my life. Admitting defeat, I bought a ticket at the Greyhound depot and boarded a southbound bus.
I preferred hitching rides to the bus any day. At least when hitchhiking, you only had to deal with one crazy person at a time. Hunching my way down the aisle, I passed a tiny old lady dressed in black from head to toe, lamenting away to herself in a language I didn’t recognize, a couple of scary-thin guys with meth mouths and bad skin, and the usual gaggle of people like myself who didn’t have a lot of money or choices. At least the seats were usually comfortable enough to nap in.
I sat by a window at the back of the bus, a decision I regretted as soon as the enormously fat guy got on. Of course, he came and sat next to me, and I was trapped between his sweaty bulk and the window. He didn’t smell too fresh, either. At least he didn’t make eye contact, and the bus soon rumbled onto the highway south.
The driver pulled over in some nameless town—I didn’t even know if it was in Oregon or Northern California at this point—for a rest stop at a gas station. I wandered around, ate some fries at the chain restaurant next door, wished I had enough cash for a decent meal, and headed back to my seat.
As I came up the bus steps, the hair stood up on the back of my neck and I turned to look down the aisle. Near the back of the bus stood a tall man with almost white-blond hair and pale blue eyes. He stared straight at me, and he positively reeked of power.
Chapter Three
I had one moment of keeping my cool and then I turned and pushed my way back off the bus.
Trees lined the grass behind the gas station where the bus had parked. My adrenaline kicked in and I ran for the woods. I didn’t turn back to check if the blond was following me, but kept running. By the time I reached the woods, breathing hurt my chest and my heart pounded. I’d gotten mentally flabby doing bar work, gotten lazy about watching my back since I’d decided the Grey Institute wasn’t looking for me. I’d been running less often and less far. Stupid.
A few yards into the pine trees I cut right, not slowing my pace, and continued parallel to the tree line. After a minute, I came to a culvert and dropped down into a storm water pipe with only a trickle of water running through it. The scent of decomposing leaves filled the air. I waited, listening, trying to slow my heartbeat and breathing so I could hear anything over the sounds of my own body.
In the distance, the roar of traffic on the highway covered everything, a layer of white noise. Minutes trickled past. Finally, I let go of my breath. Paranoia crawled along my skin like bugs inside my clothes. I could have sworn I felt a presence nearby, someone waiting for me to step out into the open.
Rationally, I knew I couldn’t wait here forever, but my muscles trembled as I stepped forward and looked up out of the culvert. No one was there. I took a few tentative steps out. Still nothing. I had no idea what to do next.
I was sure the white-blond guy was the same one I had seen looking out the window of my apartment. Hair that pale was pretty distinctive on an adult. He’d looked directly at me, and then there was his aura to consider. Assuming I was correct, what was my next move? I was in the middle of nowhere, days’ walk from real civilization. The only thing other than woods I’d seen in miles was the rest stop, the only way out of here the bus, or hitching. I could try to wait him out, hope that he and whatever backup he had didn’t search for me in the woods. I could try and hike to the next town but I didn’t know how far away that was. Still, putting some distance between us seemed like a good idea.
I set out in the general direction of the highway, stepping cautiously so as not to make too much noise. Every crack of a twig or splash of my shoe telegraphed my position to anyone trying to follow me. Each time I made a noise I hesitated, waiting, my body cold with sweat.
I finally stopped for a breather, and sat down on a tree stump. My damp clothes had cooled and I shivered. I stank of sweat, mud, and through all of it the bitter scent of my own fear. I had no water or food, and the sky darkened even as I watched.
I sighed and used my hands to push myself up again. As I stood, the sound of a shot cracked through the woods.
Shit.
I launched myself forward, running through the bushes, no longer trying to be quiet, instead trying to be fast. Branches grabbed at my clothes, scratched my face, snagged my hair. I ran and ran until I could run no more. Sobbing for breath, I paused to listen. Nothing. Birds.
The shot hadn’t been that close. Maybe I had outrun the shooter. Maybe it had simply been someone hunting deer. Regardless, I needed to get out of here before the white haired man found me.
The traffic’s roar echoed farther away now. My tired legs took me once again in that direction until I reached the highway shoulder. I traveled parallel to the road for a while, until my feet stumbled one too many times and I stuttered to a halt.
If I hitchhiked I’d be a walking target, but it was that or hike through the woods with no supplies and someone taking potshots at me.
I couldn’t see a way out of here without help. I kicked at the ground, wanting someone to punch. Asking for help had never been my strong point, but my options were limited.
Stepping back into the woods, I pulled out my cell phone, and dug around in my pocket for Jamie’s number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Hello.”
I kept my voice as low as I could. Ridiculous, because if my hunters were close enough to hear me, they would have heard my tired feet crashing through the woods. “This is Cat. I need a ride. Can you help me?”
He scored points in my book for neither laughing at me nor making me feel stupid for asking for help only hours after walking out on him. Instead, he said, “Sure, where are you?”
An hour later—one of the longest hours of my life, hiding in the tree line—I was headed down the road on the back of Jamie’s bike, my arms wrapped around his leather-clad waist once again.
He hadn’t been far away when I called. This freaked me the hell out, but mostly I was glad to be out of there. I pushed down my instincts that said, he was following you—don’t you think that’s a bad thing? The guy with the white hair following me was creepy. Why should Jamie be any different?
Well, for one, he hadn’t broken into my apartment, as best I could determine. Second, he’d been upfront about the fact he was looking for me and why. Third, he’d given me a way out of a bad situation. Fourth, and this I felt a little bad about, he had information that I needed if I was going to get the Greys off my tail. Finally, as I sat nestled up against his dark gray aura, which resembled nothing so much as smoke from a summer campfire, my gut continued to think him trustworthy.
On the positive side of his slate, he’d shown up fast, and hadn’t asked any questions. He rode in like
a knight in shining armor, handed me a helmet, and away we went.
We took the back roads. Jamie had suggested this would make us harder to track, and I agreed. Heading back toward Seattle had also been Jamie’s idea. He said he had a friend who would help us get to Vegas from there, which would be the last thing anyone following us would expect.
At dusk, we pulled into a Bates Motel-type establishment, down to the old house on the hill. I couldn’t help laughing, although even in my own ears it sounded kind of nervous.
Jamie grinned as he pulled off his helmet and wiped the road grime from around his eyes with the back of his forearm. “In a motel of this quality I can probably park the bike in our room to hide it.”
“Our room?” Uh-oh. I hoped calling for help hadn’t given him any ideas. On the other hand, I considered his long, leather-clad body, and a twinge of lust made itself known low in my belly. I’d always had a thing for bad boys.
“We’ll get a room with two beds, if that’s what you need to be comfortable, but I want you where I can make sure nobody’s going to kidnap you in the middle of the night.”
For some reason, that didn’t make me laugh at all.
“Seriously though, let me check in, then I’ll see where I can hide the bike.”
We ended up eating bad pizza—yes, there is such a thing, if it’s literally dripping with so much grease the toppings keep sliding off—in the skanky hotel room. I didn’t feel like talking, so I turned the TV on and watched repeats of crime shows while I ate.
“Tell me,” Jamie said, interrupting my careful lack of thoughts. “What made you change your mind and decide to call me?”
“Oh, you know. Desperation.” I kept my gaze on the screen.
“Cat, I don’t believe you. You’ve been running and hiding from those guys for the last ten or more years. Why do you need help now?”
I put down my slice of pizza and turned to look at him, something I’d been studiously avoiding. He watched me as I moved, and I was fairly sure he’d been doing that since we sat down.
He was a big guy. The room didn’t seem big enough for both of us to sleep in, although, as he’d suggested, there were two beds. Knowing he was watching me shrank the room a little more. I was used to being on my own, and not having to explain myself to anyone.
Guess I owed him something for bailing me out at a bad time. I sighed. “Fourteen years. I’m tired of running. I want to do the things normal people do: go to school, get a degree, have a real job, a decent home, maybe a family.”
“You think helping us will get the Institute off your back?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t guarantee that. To be honest with you, it might have the opposite effect.”
“I don’t know. But what I do know—or feel like I’m starting to—is that I can’t run away from them any longer.” This conversation made me twitchy. Just talking about running made my leg muscles tense up.
Jamie reached out and put his hand on my shoulder once again, perhaps to calm me, I didn’t know. The heat from his hand surprised me. He ran a few degrees hotter than I did. “Time to stand and fight, huh?”
I nodded, although my stomach roiled at the thought. Dad had trained me to fight all through my adolescence, but I’d never used any of the training outside of a little push-and-slap in a bar now and then. This fight would hopefully be more figurative than literal.
“All right. Here’s what I think we should do. We don’t know what your brother was doing in Vegas. Let’s go there first and find out exactly what happened. Then we can try to follow his trail.”
“That’s what you’re good at, right?”
“Yep.” He grinned widely, giving my shoulder one last squeeze and then letting go. “Now, tell me—how did you and Eric come to be removed from one another?”
“It sounds like you know part of the story already.” Even to my own ears, I came off sour. I liked my privacy, but this wasn’t the time for it.
He shrugged. “I know he’s from the Institute and you were once there as well. I know he’s in trouble now. I know he’s your brother.”
I sighed. “I left the Grey Institute when I was eleven years old, with my father. Let’s say it was an unofficial exit.” I flashed back briefly to the night Dad had climbed in the window after lights out. Although he’d gotten in quietly, we’d set off all the alarms on our way out and I’d started running, and kept running for years. I missed having Dad for company on the road. It stopped being fun when he died.
“Why didn’t Eric go then too?”
“He didn’t want to go.” I laughed, although I didn’t find it at all funny. Talking about this made me incredibly uncomfortable.
Jamie looked surprised. “What kid would choose to stay at that place? What did they do to him?”
“Eric has always had plenty of Talent. He was a little prince at the Institute. Give up his status and go on the run…why would he? He was thirteen then and completely arrogant already.” I drew a breath and cut off my rant. “Besides, I don’t think his head would have fit through the door.” Thinking about it still made me cranky as hell. I’d consciously closed down the parts of my mind and heart that cared about Eric, and I didn’t like to open them up one bit.
“About his Talent—what could he do? Just the fires?”
“When I left, mostly the fires. Not big ones, things like setting a piece of paper on fire or lighting candles. He could also move objects a little, roll a pen across the table, stuff like that. They thought he’d be able to do a lot more as he got older.”
“And you believe they didn’t come after you before now because you didn’t have Talent?”
Had to be some silver lining, right? The old resentment flared, deep down. “I used to think I was good at hiding. After Dad died, I came to realize they weren’t chasing me because I was useless to them. I stopped being so careful. And now I’m paying for it.” Time to change the subject. I didn’t need to explore my insecurities with a stranger, no matter how charming. “Tell me, what do you know about that blond guy who’s following me?”
“Ryder.” A frown settled on Jamie’s face, and he leaned back, folding his arms. Now, that got me curious. I’d found something he didn’t want to talk about.
“If that’s his name.”
“That’s him. He’s a tracker, works for the Institute. Part of the reason for going back to Seattle is to throw them off the trail. He follows a scent, rather than finding someone like I do.”
I almost gagged, tasting the residual burn of pizza sauce in my throat. “He can smell me?” And I thought he was creepy before I knew that.
“Psychically, but yes. It’s no reflection on your personal hygiene.” No longer serious, Jamie laughed at me.
I didn’t appreciate the show of levity. The smell thing made all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. “There’s still something disturbing about that.”
“There’s something disturbing about Ryder. He always manages to turn up when you least expect him. He’s also…cold.” The laughter had disappeared from his voice.
“Have you been through this before?”
“Seems like Ryder and I always want the same thing.”
There was a story here somewhere, and to me it had the scent of a woman. “Who usually wins?”
Jamie smiled slowly, and ran one long fingered hand through his dark hair. “Depends who you ask. But nobody’s keeping score.”
I was pretty darn sure that was a big fat lie, but who was I to call him on it? I’d been a little careful with the truth myself.
Shortly after that, I took a shower and headed for my bed, slightly less saggy than the one I’d slept in the night before, and free, thanks to Jamie’s credit card. I noted the card had a name on it that had nothing to do with either Jamie or the Order. Letting them pay suited me, and let me save my meager funds for another day. If they had untraceable funds, even better.
Once in bed, I fell asleep quickly but peace eluded me. What felt like moments later, I slammed awake, sh
rieking and tangled in the sweaty sheets. Someone held me down. I screamed and fought to get free, half-awake.
Chapter Four
At first, I didn’t know where I was, but then I registered hands on my shoulders, then strong warm arms around me, holding me, stroking my back, comforting my nightmares away. I rested my head on Jamie’s shoulder and sighed, and was then suddenly aware of bare skin against my face. His scent filled my nose, warm and headily masculine. I pushed myself back from him.
“Dreams again?” He reached up and stroked the damp hair out of my eyes. He sat on the edge of my bed in his boxer shorts, his body long and curved with muscle, not much spare flesh on him. It looked like the kind of muscle you got from doing actual physical work as opposed to pointless workouts at the gym, and the whole package covered in smooth, lightly tanned skin.
My previous guess that he probably had a couple of Celtic knot tattoos was incorrect. He did have tattoos, but they were more unusual. Not wanting to stare, I didn’t get a solid look, only the impression of writing across his chest.
It did me no good. He caught me sneaking a glance and my face flushed with heat. I knew from experience that flush was deep, deep red on my pale complexion. As if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough already.
“Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest.
He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you wouldn’t have such odd dreams if you didn’t insist on sleeping in jeans and a sweatshirt.”
“I blame the pizza.” The lie sounded pathetic even to me. I didn’t want to undress in front of him, and if we had to run in the middle of the night, I didn’t want to be running in my underwear.
“Seriously though, did your dreams tell you anything?”
I bit back a sigh. Another one. He didn’t know how much of a sore point this was for me. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you—my dreams don’t tell me anything. Yes, I dreamed about Eric, yes, I dreamed about a fire. No, there weren’t any details that are predictive of anything or would be useful to anyone.”
Talent to Burn (Hidden Talent #1) Page 2