Hidden Currents

by Christine Feehan

  Elle sank down onto the blanket, sighing heavily to show him she wasn't as happy as she would have been walking on the beach. "You guessed right."

  Jackson dropped a sweater over her head, his hand gentle as he put her arms through the sleeves. She'd given in too easily. Elle Drake would have withered him on the spot for daring to dictate to her, even for her health, but at least she'd made a protest, token or not. "Libby can come tomorrow, maybe with Sarah or Hannah so you aren't overwhelmed."

  Elle's breath caught in her throat as alarm slammed through her. "No." She shook her head. "Absolutely not. I don't want them to know."

  "Baby," he said softly, picking up her hand, his thumb making lazy circles inside her palm. "They already know."

  She caught his fingers and held tightly. "No, they don't. They know as in, oh, poor Jackson, he was tortured. How terrible. And of course they feel genuinely terrible for you. They have tremendous compassion, but they don't know what it's like to be stripped of all dignity, all humanity, to feel like less than an animal, crawling naked and blind on the ground, a body to be used in any way someone else sees fit. Knowing you can be raped, brutalized, sodomized, beaten, starved, forced to commit any depraved act just for someone else's entertainment. Unless you've been through it, you can't feel it. It isn't stamped into your soul so deep you're branded for life."

  Jackson raked a hand through his hair and shifted, the knots in his gut hardening. He knew what she meant. The knowledge, the bitterness, the rage. He could taste it in his mouth and hear his own screams. Sweat beaded on his skin and he looked away from her.

  "Don't." She hissed the command between clenched teeth. Her hand caught his face and forced him to turn his head back, to look at her. "If you know every single detail of what that man did to me, then don't turn away from me because I know what they did to you. If you can see me and accept my degradation and pain, then don't take it away from me that I share yours."

  He leaned down and brushed his lips across her mouth, jolting her. "Men think we protect women and handle it, that we should handle it." When she continued to stare up at him he sighed and brushed a soft kiss over her mouth again. "All right. I've got it. I do, Elle."

  "Before, when you were captured and we were connected and I asked you to live, I knew what it meant, I knew what I was asking of you and what it meant to me. When you asked me to live, I expected that you knew what it would entail. I knew we'd be sharing the memories in our minds, that you'd know every detail of what happened to me at his hands, and I'd know every detail of what happened to you when you were captured. Does it bother you so much that I know?"

  His gaze flicked over her face. Had there been a note of hurt in her voice? Was there a difference? He knew what Stavros had done to her, using her body, forcing her compliance, and even pleasure, and he knew she felt shame because of that. To him, it was all part of the humiliation and degradation process Stavros had used to beat her down. Of course he needed to know what Stavros had done, what she suffered, so he could help her. He wanted to help her. He had told her he wouldn't leave her alone and he meant it. He'd known, from the moment he'd asked her to live for him, the extent of the commitment he was making--even more than she did. She would go through all the stages of recovery with him--what recovery she would manage--and anger would be a big part of that.

  He was locked in her mind during every waking moment, something that'd be uncomfortable for a loner like him, but for the first time in his life, he hadn't felt starkly alone. He was different. He'd been different from his earliest memory, and now, keeping his mind intertwined with Elle's, something inside him was changing. He found himself growing more empathetic with her. He knew almost before she did what she was feeling. He felt as if his mind wrapped more and more into hers, binding them together in ways he hadn't expected.

  "Jackson?"

  Her soft inquiry brought his gaze jumping to hers. "It's happening to you, too, isn't it? You see inside of me more and more, even into the dark places I try to shield you from."

  Elle nodded and leaned into him. "You don't have to shield me, Jackson. I have a few dark places of my own."

  "Is it the legacy? Is this how it works? Binding us so tight we can't exist one without the other?"

  "I have no idea how it works, only that there is one." Elle sounded bitter. "It didn't save me, and it didn't save you, Jackson. I don't even know who Elle Drake is anymore."

  He wrapped his arm around her. "I know who Elle Drake is, and right now, one of us knowing is enough. We'll take this one day at a time."

  "I'm going after him."

  He was silent, working through the protest. He wasn't letting Elle anywhere near Stavros Gratsos, not now, not ever. He had plans to take the man out himself, but he needed distance. Time and distance. Memories were long and a sniper had a certain method recognizable to those around him. Even with Elle's testimony, they had no proof that Stavros was involved with human trafficking. The most they could get him on would be kidnapping and rape charges, and chances were the man had enough money to get off. Everyone had seen the shipping magnate with Sheena MacKenzie. They were thought of as a couple.

  "I am, Jackson. He isn't going to get away with this. I'm going to start training and then I'm going to get him."

  "Let's just take one day at a time, Elle. Living for revenge isn't a very good way to go. I know. I've been there and it eats away at you until your humanity is gone."

  "He already took that from me."

  The dog shifted closer, and laid his head in Elle's lap. She dropped her hand onto his head and stroked the fur. Jackson smiled. "There's no way he could ever take that from you, baby. But we'll train. And we'll get stronger." His arm tightened, drawing her closer beneath his shoulder. "I'm going to ask Libby to come."

  She jerked away, or tried to, but he held her firmly.

  "Just listen to me. I've been thinking a lot about this. If you stay connected with me, between us we should be able to hold a barrier to prevent Libby from feeling the emotional ramifications of what happened to you. She's seen your body, she knows intellectually already, so helping you heal will only make her feel better, not worse. Your sisters love you, Elle, and they have to help you. It's in their natures, just as when Hannah was attacked. All of you needed to help her. If we stay connected and build the shield together, I know we're stronger than anyone else. We just need to try it."

  Elle took a deep breath and looked out over the pounding sea. Always the same. Always different. The waves crashed against the rocks relentlessly, shooting white foam over the boulders, smoothing and polishing them even as the waves wore them down over centuries. She loved the sound of the sea, and the colors, the deep blues and greens depending on the mood. Right now the sun was climbing in the east, and along the horizon orange glowed just below the fog bank. The colors made the horizon appear striped where the sky and the sea met.

  "Here with you I feel safe, Jackson, like I can hide from the world for just a little while. I know its not forever. I know I have to face my family, our friends, even my boss, but right now, sitting with you, I can feel safe. Is that so terrible to ask for just a little time before I have to see pity in their eyes? Knowledge? Before I have to really look at what happened to me, the how and why of it?"

  He brushed the top of her head with a brief kiss. "No, of course not, Elle. I don't mind having you all to myself." But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true.

  He might have wished to have her all to himself before, but now he knew better. Elle Drake was part of something huge. Magical. Something called family--something he'd never had and hadn't thought he wanted.

  Elle looked up at Jackson's face, carved and set, his mouth firm. "You have trust issues." She'd caught glimpses of his childhood, but his history was buried deep and he didn't like looking at it. Unlike her. She loved her memories of her sisters. She rubbed her hand over the German Shepherd's head, and then scratched his ears. "Do you think we can do it? Keep Libby from feeling, from really k
nowing what happened to me?"

  "Yes. I think we're strong enough together, Elle, but she'll recognize whip cuts and she has to check you internally for damage." His hand covered hers, his fingers in the dog's fur alongside hers. "We need to know if you're pregnant."

  Elle stiffened, refusing to look at him, staring out at the colors streaking the horizon over the ocean. The fog bank had darkened and was moving slowly toward them, casting purple stripes through the orange and dulling the colors. Fingers of white mist reached out over the choppy waves, throwing shadows over the beach below them.

  "He might not know who I am, Jackson, but he's real and he's coming after me. I don't want him to find my sisters." She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her mouth from trembling. "I think his brother is even more violent--worse than he is--and Stavros didn't want him alone with me. I think they're both looking for someone psychic. If his brother finds out I'm gone, he could come looking as well. My sisters are all psychic and that would put all of them in danger."

  "Staying away from them isn't going to save them, you know that. Everyone in the village knows there are seven of you. Anyone coming into town and asking questions is going to hear about your family. Joley is a superstar. Hannah was a supermodel. Just because she quit modeling doesn't mean there aren't a thousand articles about her. And Kate is a bestselling author. Your family is in the public eye."

  "But no one knows about our psychic abilities."

  "There has been more than one article written about Libby healing people. She was in the tabloids right along with Joley. If they come, Elle, they'll find your sisters and I think we need to be prepared for that."

  "No one can prepare for him."

  "I disagree. It's going to take him a while to find your identity, but he will. He'll track down Sheena MacKenzie and hopefully buy your cover story all the way, that in the end, Interpol suspects you of being a very high-class thief. He'll move on that and eventually figure out Sheena MacKenzie doesn't really exist. He has enough money to buy off several people who might know your real identity."

  "Only Dane knows. I was on loan and he was the only person who knew me. There are no paper trails and no electronic ones. I never went to his office. No other agent saw me. That was the deal. Dane was the liaison between me and everyone else. We knew if Stavros was involved he had to have the local police and customs officials paid off. Dane worried he would have people in every branch of law enforcement and frankly, I believe he's right. We were careful. All Sheena's clothes, everything she owned was brand-new so nothing could be traced back to me."

  "He'll find Dane. We need to warn him."

  "As soon as Dane knows I'm alive he'll come here. Nothing will stop him."

  Jackson felt his gut tighten. He turned his head slowly, locking his gaze with hers. "He's in love with you. Damn it, Elle."

  "He only thinks he is, it's not the same thing."

  "You were taken. You've always been taken."

  "You never made a move, Jackson." She jerked her hand away from him and stood, wincing as the wounds pulled and stretched with her action. "I went out with him a couple of times and then told him it wasn't going to work."

  "That there was someone else," he prompted.

  "There wasn't anyone else," she denied. "You didn't want me."

  "I've always wanted you. I moved to Sea Haven for you. Don't give me a load of crap, Elle." He stood up, too, stepping close, crowding her. "You wanted me on your terms."

  "You should have wanted me on any terms," she snapped. "If I mattered, then the circumstances shouldn't have."

  "What the hell am I to you, Elle? A legacy. Someone your damned house chose for you. You wanted a yes man to go with your little fantasy about seven children and--"

  "How would you know what I wanted?" she interrupted. "You never took the time to find out. You found out about my family and you just stepped aside. You didn't want me but you didn't want anyone else to have me."

  "So you go off and put your life in danger? What the hell kind of crap is that? You're so fucking stubborn, Elle. You get your mind set on something and you don't want to change it for anyone--especially me."

  "You wanted to take over my life."

  "No, you thought I wanted to take over your life. I wanted you to see what you were getting into, not what your legacy dictated. I'm not the nice guy your daddy picked out for you. I'm not going to say yes when I don't think it's right for us--or for you. You didn't want that. It's not politically correct in this day and age with strong women, is it? I'm a throwback to the cave days and you wanted me to change for you."

  "I just wanted you to want me. The real Elle Drake, with her crazy family and her seven children and the house from hell. I wanted you to love that Elle Drake. Was that really wrong for me to want you to want me as I am?"

  "I do love Elle Drake, her family and her seven children and even the house from hell. But I'm going to be me, Elle, and you're going to have to accept who I am and the baggage that comes with me."

  She threw her hands up into the air. "You think I don't know you? I know exactly how you think. You're so damned bossy and you think you know what's right for me."

  "For us." His eyes glittered down at her as he corrected her. "I want you to argue with me, Elle. I don't mind heated discussions, but I'll be damned if you walk out on me every time you're pissed."

  She gasped. "I didn't do that."

  "The hell you didn't. I've had a lifetime of that and I won't take it from you. You stand and fight with me, baby. All or nothing. Do you understand me? You're not going to have one foot out the door because you don't like me telling you what to do. You'd better make up your mind that I'm your man and then you stick."

  "I'm not the one with commitment issues," she snapped. "That would be you."

  His eyebrow shot up. "Really? Because I believe every time I came near you, you ran like a rabbit."

  "Maybe I needed you to help me face what I'm supposed to do, Jackson. Did you ever once think I might need you? You think you have a difficult time thinking about becoming part of my family and having seven daughters, but has it once, just once, occurred to you it might be difficult for me? I heard your voice and I knew your mind. I've walked there, wrapped myself in you and you still were far from me. You didn't want me there, inside of you."

  "Damn it, Elle." He shoved his fingers through his thick, wavy hair. "You saw what they did to me. And there's my childhood, so different from yours. The torture." His hand crept to his face, traced a path down his chest as if feeling the trail of blood. "Did you think I wanted that for you? I was protecting you."

  "I don't want your protection any more than you want mine. I need to be your partner, Jackson. I need to be able to see inside you the way you see me."

  "I can't be anything but what I am, Elle. If you want a man who is going to treat you like a broken doll, you sure as hell came to the wrong place. And if you expect me to step aside and let you make decisions that are ultimately going to harm you, then, baby, you definitely have the wrong man because I protect my woman. Right or wrong, politically correct or not, I stand in front of her when there's need. You got that?"

  Elle studied the lines in his face, the dark shadows moving in his eyes. A frisson of excitement went down her spine, and in the pit of her stomach, birds took flight. He might be a throwback to the old cave days, but he was a man who would stand strong when there was trouble--any kind of trouble. Whether it was fighting an enemy or parenting teenagers or trying to provide a living for a large family. Why had she seen his strength as a weakness? She had to be equally as strong, standing with him, up to him, carving out a place by his side, not leading the way.

  "Elle? Fucking answer me."

  "I got it. And watch your language, Jackson. You can clean it up if we're going to be having seven daughters. Can you imagine me having to explain to the school why they all talk that way?"

  He shrugged. "Some of us weren't raised so gen teelly."

  "Well some of us can
just learn and grow along the way. That's an excuse." There was a bite in her voice, but in her mind, a faint hint of laughter.

  He opened his mouth and then closed it again with a small sigh. Retrieving the blanket, he sent the dog forward with a small hand gesture. "You're always going to have the last word, aren't you?"

  She waited for him, moving beneath his shoulder, matching her shorter strides to his longer ones until he laughed and slowed down for her. "Yes, because you have a foul mouth and you're always going to leave yourself wide open when we argue."

  "You could try not arguing with me, Elle."

  She shot him a look from under long lashes. "Yeah. That's going to happen. Just like you learning to clean up your language."

  "It's just a fucking word, Elle. What the hell difference does it make?"

  "See? You can't help yourself," she said smugly. "I'm always going to win."

  He sighed heavily. "I'll learn. Especially after our daughters are born."

  "You'll learn before."

  A seagull screamed overhead just as Bomber stepped across and in front of Elle. Uttering a sharp, short bark, head pointed toward the front of the house, ears up as he alerted Jackson to an intruder.

  Jackson's gun slid smoothly into his hand and he pushed Elle behind him.

  "I want a gun," she hissed.

  "You might shoot me if I say 'fuck,' and I'm bound to slip up. You've got a nasty little temper there, baby," he pointed out as he signaled her to slip into the shadows.

  Feeling a little defenseless without a weapon and with her body in such a fragile condition, Elle went without protesting, although she took a firmer grip on him with her mind. She watched the dog as it bared its teeth and went into attack mode at Jackson's softly spoken command. Jackson gripped the collar and held him, but Bomber looked terrifying, all teeth and intent, barking, snarling, lunging at the end of his collar in a charge.

  8

  I N EZ Nelson rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt, holding a box of groceries in her arms. She went pale and stayed still, waiting for Jackson to give the release command. When Bomber settled she took a deep breath, only then seeing the gun Jackson returned to his shoulder holster.