The Protected

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.

It already has. The boy lost his mother. He has no home. No friends. Let him be angry, he told himself when he finally took time to stop for lunch. It was just fast food. He was so tired of fast food. He missed real meals. A pile of hot tacos, some fresh salsa. A steak and a potato . . . anything but fast food.

As Alex bit listlessly into a chicken nugget, Gus pulled the amber bottle of pills from his pocket and shook one out. “It’s time for the medicine.”

Alex took it without comment and washed it down with his soft drink.

“How are you feeling?”

The only response was a shrug.

“Alex, I already apologized,” he said, sighing. “How much longer are you going to be angry with me?”

Alex turned his head, staring at him with dark, miserable eyes. “I’m not angry. I’m scared.”

Gus felt his heart break. He went to reach out, but Alex shrank away, leaning against the door of the stolen car. Gus had stopped at a busy outlet mall thirty minutes earlier and swapped out the plates. Hopefully, it would buy them more time, but by nightfall, he’d have to steal another car.

Sooner or later . . .

No. We will not be caught, he thought darkly. It wasn’t a thought that he could risk thinking about. He knew how to evade such things and he would. He’d never had to do it with a boy in tow, but Alex was smart and he knew how to listen.

Watching as Alex started to tear his food apart and drop it down without eating it, Gus tried to figure out what to say. In the end, he just went with the same lie he’d been telling himself for years. “You don’t have to be afraid. I can take care of you. I will take care of you. He will never get his hands on you . . . I swear that.”

Of all the things he said, the one promise he could be sure of was the very last. Because he’d do anything and everything to make sure the monster who had fathered Alex would never touch him. No matter what it took, no matter what it cost.

“You won’t be around forever.” Alex stared at him, fear in his eyes. “And I won’t be a kid forever. What happens then? When I’m grown up? Do I live my life running?”

It was a question that haunted Gus. It bothered him that the boy had already started to ask it, though. “Let me worry about that, m’hijo,” he said gruffly, tossing the rest of his uneaten sandwich in the bag and starting the car. “We need to go.”

“What if she was right? What if they can find me just because of what . . . what I am?” Alex asked, his voice shaking and nervous, but there was an underlying thread of steel inside it. “I felt something. When she was in my head . . . and when I hurt her that day, I felt something in her head. Like a wall. It’s different from what is in my head. That’s what she was showing me. If she was right about the wall, about shielding, then maybe she’s right about the rest of it.”

Gus didn’t want to think about that.

Couldn’t.

Because if she was, if she hadn’t lied, and if there were psychic bloodhounds on their tail . . .

Dread twisted his gut and he did the same thing he’d done with his terrors over the years. He shut them down and blocked them out. He’d get Alex and him through this. That was just all there was to it. There was no other option, really.

IT could have been ten seconds since Vaughnne had closed her eyes. It could have been ten minutes. She doubted it was ten hours, because it was still early in the day, judging by the angle of the sun in the sky. What small glimpse she had of it when the door was jerked open out from under her and she was grabbed by a big, smelly-ass man who looked like it had been years since he’d seen the inside of a shower.

It might have even been his stink that woke her up.

Adrenaline cleared the rest of the fog from her brain, but it was another few minutes before she could get the rest of her body working.

By that time, Vaughnne was the unhappy occupant of the big, black SUV she’d glimpsed earlier. With a gun shoved against the underside of her chin. The man leaning in and glaring at her didn’t look happy.

He was about to get even more unhappy, she decided.

Once she knew she could move. And fight.

She’d bloody him.

Then she’d find Gus and bloody him for leaving her drugged and helpless.

“Where’s the boy?” the man asked, his voice low and soft.

Vaughnne arched her brows. “Boy? What boy?”

A second later, that gun that was digging against her chin came flying through the air and she tasted blood. She swallowed it down, along with any sound she might have made, and focused on breathing. Then she tried to wiggle her toes. Ah . . . perfect. They moved. So did her ankles.

“The boy,” he said again. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she said.

He went to hit her again and she pretended to flinch, using her hands to protect her face; she could move. Thank God. She could move almost close to normal. Eyeing the man in the driver’s seat, she used her arms to protect her head and give her cover as she looked around. They were on the highway. Driving. Driving fast.

“Listen, you stupid bitch. I saw you earlier and I know what you are. Don’t lie to me because it don’t work,” he said, grinning at her and revealing a pair of teeth that badly needed brushing. He leaned in close and she decided he could also use some mouthwash. “So don’t lie to me again. Where is the kid?”

“Look, I don’t know which kid . . . I was hired to grab a couple of them for my boss, okay? He likes them young.” She swallowed and darted him another look, wondering if he was buying this. He wasn’t all that strong, she suspected. Something about him just felt . . . off. Chaotic, like he was struggling to use his gift even at the level he was using it. So he was probably self-taught and not all that well. Good. That was good. Taking a deep breath, she said, “You have to help me a little. Which kid? I grabbed a bunch of them.”

Silence stretched out.

“Your boss. What are you talking about, bitch?”

She licked the blood from her lip and then darted a look up, pretended to be nervous. “Ah . . . yeah. Um. Well, he . . . you know. He doesn’t dig girls. He likes boys. Young ones. So I was—”

A hand gripped her throat. “The one from this morning. I saw you in the parking lot. You would have had a boy with you. I know it.”

Did she go with mock innocence here?

If she decided to let loose with the screams considering how fast they were driving, then they were going to be hurt. Maybe she could get them to stop the car . . .

“Listen to me, bitch.” He squeezed harder. “If one of the others get to him first, I’m going to rip your throat out and fuck your dead corpse. You hear me?”

Vaughnne lifted her lashes and stared at him. Others . . . Letting a tremor of fear enter her voice, she whispered, “I can’t tell you. But . . .” Shit. If this didn’t work, they were so screwed.

The gun, a big-ass Desert Eagle 357, returned to press into her neck. If he pulled that trigger, it wouldn’t matter if they were driving or not. She was dead. But on the flipside, if he pulled that trigger, he wasn’t going to get whatever information he wanted, and he had to know that. He didn’t care if he killed her, but he wanted that money so he’d wait to kill until he had the information he needed.

She hated dealing with unknowns like this.

“But what, sweetheart?” he asked, cupping her face with his free hand. “Come on. Just tell me where to find the kid and you walk away from this. It’s not your mess.”

Walk away. Like hell. She gathered up her strength, because regardless, Jones had to get his ass down here and she only had this one shot. She started to jabber out, randomly, anything and everything but the truth—that was the key when stringing somebody along. Keep it as close to believable as possible, but don’t throw the truth in there. If he started to hurt her and the truth slipped out at some point, he’d have a hard-ass time telling truth from fiction by the time she was done, especially considering his damned faulty control.

She gathered up her strength, started to focus her mind. When she had to put out a call over a long distance, it wasn’t like making a damn phone call. Took a bit more juice and this was going to take everything she had.

But as she started to reach out and touch someone, she felt the air go tight and heavy, wrapping around her. At the same time, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

She recognized that feeling. And just in time, too. She let loose with the scream building inside her—the call she’d intended to send out to Jones—she split her focus, a mindless shriek at the foul-breathed thug even as she called for Jones.

Distantly, she was aware that the thug in front of her had flinched away, swearing as he clapped his ears. He was pale, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Desperately, she fumbled with the Glock at her back. She’d like to use it and put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes, but those instincts of hers were screaming—

Hurry, hurry, hurry—

She dropped the weapon on the floor and it hadn’t been out of her hand for more than a second before all that crackling energy in the air seemed to . . . contract. All around her. Her ears popped, something cracked, and the stink of scorched air flooded her nose, even as she realized something was burning.

And then somebody screamed.

That was the last thing she knew before the SUV jolted, then swerved off the road. She smashed into the door and everthing went dark.

TUCKER jerked open the door and stared inside.

Vaughnne’s limp body all but fell into his arms and he swore. Even as he caught her, though, she moaned a little. “Thank God.” Okay. Okay. This was good.

She was alive.

He’d hoped for that much, at least. Spying a familiar-looking weapon on the floor, he grabbed it and jammed it in the back of his jeans before he slid his arms under her.

But before he could pick her up, the man across from him spoke.

“Don’t . . . she’s mine.”

Considering the man could barely move, Tucker wasn’t overly concerned at the moment. First, get Vaughnne out of there.

Then, he’d deal with this. He carried her a few feet away from the car, painfully aware of the few cars driving by, slowing down. One of them almost looked like she was going to stop. But then, at the last second, she sped on by. Good thinking, lady. As he reached the car, he saw that the occupant in the backseat had managed to get himself moving, more or less.

The guy in the front was dead.

Cardiac arrest, probably. Happened sometimes when a serious amount of voltage was directed into the body. Tucker didn’t entirely blame himself for the guy’s death. After all, nobody had made him kidnap Vaughnne. Tucker was just the tool used to help alleviate that situation; that was his story.

The other guy, well, whether he lived or died, it was his own choice.

And his odds lowered as he lifted his gun. Tucker really hated it when people pointed guns at him. The bastard held it at his side, partially blocking it with his body so those on the highway wouldn’t see. Tucker saw it, though, and that was the big problem.

“You should put that down before you get hurt,” he said, smiling a little.

“Are you here for the boy, too?” the man asked, his eyes bleary, but focusing more and more with every second.

Alarm flickered in the back of Tucker’s head. “No. I’m just here for her,” he replied easily. “I got her. I’m good.”

“Can’t have her. She’s our ticket to the kid . . . put her back in the car, shithead. Then walk away.”

“Can’t do that.” He eyed the man as he stepped out of the SUV, swaying a little. Blood spilled down his face from a cut on his forehead, and he slammed a hand against the vehicle to brace himself.

“You will do that,” the man said. His face folded in what Tucker assumed was supposed to be a menacing snarl, but as he continued to sway there, so close to that big pile of metal . . .

“You know, you’ve got about five seconds to decide if you want to live or die,” Tucker said. “If you want to live, get back in the truck. Otherwise . . .”

He let his words die off.

The guy laughed. “Dumb-ass. I am the one with the gun.”

“Yeah. But that gun can’t do this . . .” He emptied himself of the remnant energy boiling inside him. First on the man, forcing his way into the man’s mind and shutting down the electrical impulses, holding that until he saw the man stagger. The arm holding the gun lowered as the strain on his brain weakened him. Once the gun was no longer pointing at Tucker, he said one more time, “Last chance. If you want to live, you’re better off in the SUV.”

“Stu . . . stupid fuck.”

Tucker gave up holding himself in check.

It was almost like an orgasm, just letting go like that.

It would have been a beautiful thing, except he was painfully aware of the stink of burned flesh, painfully aware of the foul miasma as the man’s bowels and bladder released as he died, painfully aware of the gun as it hit the ground. Most modern weapons were equipped with safety features to keep them from accidental discharge, but still, Tucker wasn’t relying on that as he jerked to the side. Just in case. He didn’t trust safety features. He didn’t trust jack shit. Not even himself, most of the time.

With two dead bodies and no visible sign of what had killed them, he headed back to get Vaughnne. The entire exchange had happened in under two minutes. He knew this area. It would only take county cops five minutes, maximum, to get here. He had to move.

He was taking a chance moving her without knowing if she’d been injured, but he had to do it. They had to get to that kid.

That jackass back there, he hadn’t been at all surprised that somebody else might be looking for the kid. Which meant . . . what? He’d been expecting it?

Not good.