“How can I trust you?” he demanded, his voice raspy and raw. Almost broken. “I don’t know you. How can I trust you with that boy? You don’t know what he’s gone through.”
“No. I don’t. But I can tell you what I went through—”
Her skin prickled. Everything inside her went cold, then hot. It wasn’t anything she attributed to her abilities. This was just instinct. Jones liked to say that psychic skill ranged from everything just above a hyperaware set of instincts to those abilities like his agents possessed.
This? Just instinct. And her instincts were screaming.
Something bad . . .
That thought crawled through her brain as she took a step back. “Get him to the car,” she said quietly. “Now.”
And she pulled the weapon from the holster at her back.
“What?”
As he spoke, Alex stumbled over to them. Eyes wide and black. Full of terror. “Tío . . .”
“Shhh, m’hijo,” he said, cupping a hand over the back of the boy’s neck.
“The car, Gus,” Vaughnne said, keeping the gun low, out of view along her thigh unless somebody was looking.
They’d be looking, though—
Absently, she was aware that Gus was hustling the boy to the car. She swore and looked down at the distributor cap she still carried. “Shit,” she muttered. “Gus!”
Turning, she hurled it at him. She didn’t wait to see if he caught it before she went back to looking around.
The black SUV came pulling around the corner a few blocks down. Even with all the other cars on the road, her gaze was drawn to it and she felt like a moth pinned to a board, trapped, helpless, and certain they were staring right at her.
That was the fear inside her talking.
Her brain kicked in as the SUV moved into the center lane. Turning aside, she started to move like she was heading over to one of the cars, keeping the vehicle in her line of sight even as the ice in her gut spread.
The SUV had already passed her by. Yeah, that’s right. Keep driving—
They hadn’t noticed her. As long as she didn’t draw physical attention to herself, she was fine. The main problem was hiding from any of the psychic bloodhounds, and she knew how to hide what she was, unlike the boy.
But Alex . . .
Shit.
Tires squealed on the pavement and she moved to the side. Gus stopped and she went to open the door. It was locked. You son of a bitch, she thought. Don’t even—
A second later, it unlocked and she jerked it open. “Drive,” she said. “Preferably without squealing the tires again or anything else that will call attention to you. Unless they’ve got a damn good bloodhound, they aren’t going to realize right away that he is in this car. They’ll just know he’s close. If we get some distance between us and them before they lock on him, we stand a better chance.”
“Bloodhound,” Gus muttered. “You keep saying that.”
“Somebody who can track. People. Psychics. Anything.” She shot a look back at the kid. “Anybody they get a lock on, that is. If they had somebody go through your house, then they’ve got all sorts of shit they can use to track him with, even if he wasn’t casting out signals like crazy.”
“Would you shut up?” Gus snarled.
She looked back at him, but not before she saw the boy flinch. “What do you want me to do? Pretend he isn’t dangerous, the state he is in?”
“So help me God, you’ll be silent or—”
She ignored him and looked back at Alex. Focusing on the chaos that was his mind, she spoke directly inside his head. You’re sick, you’re scared, and this isn’t a good time to do this . . . but if you want to be safe . . . or safer, you need to let me help you learn how to shield better.
She saw his reaction in the way he flinched, the way his mouth dropped open.
Then, to her utter disgust, he asked, “Shield? What does that mean?”
She dropped her head against the seat.
The boy had absolutely no clue, she realized.
None at all.
* * *
GUS followed the directions Vaughnne gave him for one reason.
He’d just figured out how very little he understood his nephew’s ability.
Bloodhound . . . ¿qué carajo? What did that even mean?
Vaughnne had explained in short, terse terms, but just how somebody could track . . .
“Shit.”
He glanced over at Vaughnne and then up ahead at the cars slowed down around them.
“Get off the highway,” she said. “Now.”
He shot her a dark look. “Thanks, but I’d already figured that much out.”
Unfortunately, several hundred other cars seemed to have the same idea. Moving to the exit ramp wasn’t the easiest process in the world and he was about ready to bite something by the time he hit the red light a half mile later. “Where now?” he asked, forcing his voice into a flat, level tone.
“Whichever way seems to have cars moving the easiest,” she said. “The biggest thing is to keep moving, and stay moving . . . away from the city.”
That was all she said before she looked back at Alex. “You have to try again.”
Gus shot her a narrow look and then checked the mirror, cutting over into the left lane in front of an eighteen-wheeler the second the light turned green. He maneuvered through the traffic, keeping an eye out for cops and watching Vaughnne.
Something about her changed when she was doing that . . . talk . . . thing.
He’d done some reading up on psychic abilities and he thought it was called telepathy. And when she was doing it, although her features didn’t change, there was just . . . something. A slight shift in her eyes. The way she held herself. He couldn’t quite describe it, and if he hadn’t spent many, many years doing nothing but studying people . . . studying women, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it.
But then again, with Vaughnne, maybe he would have.
She couldn’t seem to breathe without him noticing.
Right now, she was using that ability to talk to Alex.
And he didn’t like it.
As they came to another stoplight, he made a decision. Pulling into the parking lot of a crowded McDonald’s, he nosed the car into a parking spot. He hadn’t even gotten the car into park before she was glaring at him. “We need to keep moving,” she said.
“Leave him alone.”
“Do you want those people finding him?”
“We’re thirty miles from where we were,” he pointed out. They couldn’t track somebody from that far. It wasn’t like they were sharks in the water. These were just people. The SUV hadn’t shown up once, and if they were being followed, he would know. That much, at least, he would know.
“It doesn’t matter. We could be on the other side of the globe, and if he can’t shut it down, I know people who could track him. He needs to shut it down . . . now.” She turned her head away from him and focused on Alex, the boy huddling in the backseat. “Again, Alex.”
Alex groaned and Gus shifted his attention to the rearview mirror, watching as the boy closed his eyes. “It’s hard, Vaughnne.” Little lines of pain bracketed out from his eyes, and as Gus stared at him, he clamped his mouth so tightly shut, his lips went bloodless.
“Enough, Vaughnne,” Gus said quietly.
She ignored him.
This . . .
He blew out a careful, controlled breath. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but apparently, they didn’t have much choice.
* * *
SHE caught the danger just a second too late.
Just a fraction of a heartbeat sooner and she would have been able to move. But she’d been concentrating on Alex, trying to guide him through the shielding process without being able to see inside his head—she was so woefully inadequate for this—
By the time she saw Gus moving, he had her pinned against the door. And she couldn’t even strike out—fast, she thought. He was too fast. Her head was spinn
ing with how fast he moved and she jerked up a leg to get between them. And that was another mistake. She felt the sharp sting penetrate her leg, and then the burn as he injected her with something.
“Damn it—”
That was what she tried to say.
Her tongue was too thick.
Help—
Help. She needed help. A face formed in her mind. Tucker—
Even as she screamed for him, she was distantly aware of Gus easing her around in the seat. “I’ll leave the windows down,” he said, leaning in to murmur against her ear. “You’ll sleep for thirty minutes, no more. The keys are in your pocket.”
The words barely made sense. The darkness came on harder, faster.
“You . . .” She licked her lips. That sense of dread kicked up and ran down her spine. Adrenaline chased back the fog a little. “They’ll find the boy,” she whispered. “You stupid jackass. You . . . just fucked yourself . . .”
“No. I’ll keep him safe. It’s my job.”
TWELVE
TUCKER damn near fell to his knees out in the parking lot.
The shriek threatened to turn his brain into mush.
High and desperate, lasting forever.
And then . . . just like that . . . it was gone.
A hand gripped his forearm, but he was so shaken, it didn’t dawn on him until nearly thirty seconds later that Nalini was touching his bare skin.
He was hopped up high on fear, and energy crawled through him, but she was touching him—
Dazed, he stared at her hand, her skin pale against the tattoos that twined around his arms. Blood roared in his ears and his heart pulsed and throbbed in his throat. For a minute, he couldn’t see anything but her hand on him. And then, reality shifted, twisted. And settled.
“Vaughnne,” he whispered.
Nalini’s hand tightened. “What?”
Carefully, afraid something sparking inside him would leap out and scorch her, he tugged his arm away and focused on the broken, busted pavement of the parking lot in front of the seedy motel. They’d spent most of the night going over all the information they had, and Tucker had gotten on the phone with Lucia, giving her an abbreviated version, despite Nalini’s furious arguments.
Nobody could dig up information the way Lucia could and he needed more info on the website. The website . . . an underground craigslist for psychics.
Now this.
He closed his eyes and thought of that desperate scream. “It was Vaughnne,” he said, worry riding him hard. “She just screamed in my head. I think something bad happened.”
Nalini went pale. Her skin was smooth and delicate as ivory anyway. Now, it was like she was just a shade away from snow.
She drilled a hand against her temple and swore, spinning away so fast, her dreads whirled up around her. “Shit.”
“Yeah. We can cuss about it on the road. We need to go find her.”
Nalini just stared off toward the office, her shoulders stiff, her spine a long, rigid line. Long seconds passed before she slowly turned around. “I can’t,” she said, her voice low. “I have something else I’m caught up in and I can’t abandon it for this.”
Tucker hadn’t heard that right. He knew he hadn’t. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten and then looked back at her. Calmly, he said, “I don’t think I understood that.”
“Yes,” she said gently. “You did.” She reached into the little purse she’d slung over her shoulder, the strap lying between two small, firm breasts. She tugged out a card and a pen, scribbling something down furiously. “Call this number once you’re on the road. It’s the SAC for the unit. Jones. You may or may not have met him, but tell him your connection, Tucker. You can trust him. Vaughnne does. I do. He’ll get help—”
He stared at the card and then turned away. “I hope to hell that’s not a friend of yours I just heard screaming in my head, Cole.”
Part of him just wanted to leave. He could. Technically. Nothing bound him to this. He said he’d watch out for the kid but nothing required him to do it. He wasn’t getting paid and he didn’t have a stake in this.
But he liked Vaughnne.
She had balls.
And . . .
Shit.
She’d reached out and asked . . . no . . . begged him for help.
He hadn’t had too many people do that.
“Damn it, Tucker!”
He flipped her off without looking over his shoulder. If he looked at her again, something inside him was going to turn to ashes. He’d thought . . . hell. Never mind.
He was behind the wheel of his car before she caught up with him. The look in her eyes might have meant something if he hadn’t picked up on the fear he’d heard in Vaughnne’s voice. He hadn’t realized it would happen like that, that a telepath could put that much emotion in her voice. It had been like she’d been right there in the room, screaming, and he’d felt every bit of the terror she’d felt.
His skin heated and he had to shove the rage down inside. He’d let it out once it was safe to do so, but now wasn’t the time. Now wasn’t at all the time. As he jammed the key in the ignition, Nalini slammed her hands against the window. “Roll it down, you moron,” she snarled.
He ignored her and shoved the car into drive.
“Listen, you dickhead. I’m already working a dangerous case. I can’t just drop everything for this. You don’t even know if she’s in danger.”
“Yeah, I do. I don’t think she screamed for help because she wanted to ask me about the weather. If somebody doesn’t go after her, she might die. The kid you wanted me to watch? She’s watching after him. So he could be in danger, too. But hey, that’s fine.” Tucker shrugged. “I know the FBI has its own sense of priorities.”
“I’m not FBI. I’m freelance.” She glared at him through the window.
Freelance. He ran his tongue over his teeth and shook his head. “That didn’t help the situation any, sweetheart. You don’t have a boss jerking your chain back to work? And you’ll still walk away?”
Her pulse raced in her neck, and for one brief second, he wished he would have kissed her. Just once. Just so he knew what she tasted like. Shaking his head, he looked away. “Stay away from me from here on out, Cole. You want to play the hero, but when it comes time to getting dirty, you pull back.”
He pressed down on the gas, and as the tires squealed, she just stood there.
* * *
THE car Gus had decided to take was one he’d seen an employee climb out of just moments earlier. Hopefully the kid wouldn’t come out for a smoke break or anything anytime soon.
Even as he urged Alex into the seat, he found himself looking back at Vaughnne’s car, though. Her head slumped against the door, the long tangle of her hair blowing in the breeze.
He’d stolen the fast-acting sedatives some time ago. He hoped they still had the kick in them that he needed. They’d expired six months earlier, but it was all he had and breaking into a medical facility wasn’t as easy as one might think. Or maybe it was every bit as hard as one might think, depending on the person.
He needed to replenish his supplies, but that was a problem for another day.
“Why did you do that, Tí . . . ah . . . why did you do that?” Alex asked, correcting himself as Gus slid behind the wheel.
“She was hurting you.”
“No. It . . .” Alex closed his eyes and curled up in the seat, looking so lost, so young and scared. “It was just hard. It’s a weight in my brain. And if I have to do it . . .”
“You don’t.” Gus set his jaw and focused on hot-wiring the car. That needed to be the focus because they needed to get out of there. Get on the road. Head west, he figured. Northwest, he was thinking. Oregon, if they could make it. Hell, if they could, he’d like to get out of the country. Maybe he could get in touch with one of his old contacts. Someone who could help them leave the States. It might take exchanging a favor or two, but if it would get them out of the country and farther away . . .
“What if she’s right?”
Gus put the car in reverse and wished the boy would just be silent. Twenty minutes of peace, so he could think. So he could plan. They had next to nothing. His bag of weapons and the stash of cash he’d always kept. It wouldn’t last them forever. He had several caches of money and weapons scattered across the country—the nearest was in Macon, Georgia. That was the destination for now, he guessed.
But he needed to think.
To plan.
And he couldn’t because every time Alex mentioned Vaughnne, he was hit with guilt for what he’d done. But she’d been pushing the boy, hurting him—
“Tío, what if—”
“It’s not Tío. You have to remember, I’m not your uncle, I’m your father, as far as anybody is concerned,” he snapped, glaring at his nephew.
Alex immediately dropped his gaze, staring down at his lap.
Gus spied a local highway sign and turned, heading north. They hadn’t been away from the interstate long enough for the traffic to have cleared and he’d rather not sit around in traffic anyway. Silence wrapped around him . . . the silence he’d been wishing for just moments earlier. But this tense, heavy silence was choking him.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” Guilt settled inside him, with sharp, jagged hooks. “But you keep messing up, Alex. You can’t do that.”
Alex nodded slowly and turned his head, staring out the window.
A few more moments ticked by, but the tension didn’t let up. Alex had never been the sort to stay angry with him. They’d spent too many years with just each other, and Gus knew, as unhealthy as it was for the boy, he was all Alex had. It wasn’t anybody’s sort of ideal, but Alex rarely reacted like a boy his age should. He didn’t get angry over silly things; he rarely got angry at all. But as the minutes bled away into almost an hour and Alex still hadn’t spoken, Gus wondered just how much longer he could force the boy into this hellish life without it taking a toll.
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