The Protected

SIXTEEN

“YOU want me to do what?” Jones said again, his voice patient and level.

“Take the kid.” Vaughnne eyed Alex and hoped that the boy knew what he was doing, because if he didn’t, she just might be dead in a few hours. Gus hadn’t been issuing empty threats. She already knew that. “He needs to be someplace safe, he needs to be trained, and he can’t get any of that if he’s constantly being dragged around the country.”

“You want me to take a boy away from his legal guardian,” Jones said slowly. “That’s kidnapping, Vaughnne. Never mind that it can cost me my job and what it will do to the unit. It can get me arrested. It can land me in jail.”

“He’s not my legal guardian,” Alex said quietly. “I don’t think. I think my guardian would be my father.”

Jones spun away, scrubbing his hands over his face. “And where is your father?”

Vaughnne lifted a hand, silencing Alex. With a sweet smile, she met Jones’s look directly and answered, “His father is a drug dealer in Mexico. A pretty infamous one. The kid is in danger from him. These are extenuating circumstances if ever they existed. Gus kidnapped him to keep him safe, but the kid’s gift is raging out of control and Gus isn’t going to let him get trained . . . what do you want him to do? Hurt somebody by accident before we step in and help?”

Jones turned away and stared out the window. He was so quiet, standing there calm as could be like he was riveted by the scenery. Of course, there wasn’t much to admire. A busy parking lot. Atlanta traffic. Nothing fun. He stood there, hands in his pockets, shoulders straight, gaze locked on something only he could see.

“Alex, you know for certain your father is involved in the drug trade?”

Alex shot her a glance.

With a tired sigh, Vaughnne met his eyes. “Tell him the truth, Alex. We’ve already come this far.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex said, his voice soft but steady.

Jones looked back, eyed Gus’s still form. He hadn’t stirred once in the past thirty minutes. Alex said he hadn’t ever hit anybody as hard as he’d hit his uncle, but he had to go at him hard—he’s harder to read than most.

Some people were just more immune to psychic abilities. Harder to read, harder to touch. Vaughnne had to work harder to whisper into his mind, so it wasn’t a surprise that it took more to affect Gus. It was probably that thick-as-stone skull of his.

Alex shot her a look. “He’s okay,” the boy said, his voice nervous. “I wouldn’t have hurt him. Really.”

“I know.” Vaughnne smiled at him.

Taige had done a mental probe a few minutes ago—the man was out, but fine. Still, Vaughnne didn’t like the pale, grayish look to his skin. This whole thing was messed up.

“Are you going to help or not?” she asked quietly, looking at her boss.

“Help,” Jones muttered, shaking his head. He slid a look her way. “And what are you going to do?”

She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “I’m just going to stay here and try to talk some sense into him, of course.” Make sure he didn’t tear off after his nephew. “Ah . . . although I’m thinking it would be best if you didn’t head straight to D.C.”

Jones snorted. “Yeah, that’s assuming I’m crazy enough to do this.” He paused. “I can’t believe I’m even considering it.”

“You have a better idea on how to keep this kid safe?” She stared at him. “If you do, I’m all ears.”

She heard something crack and looked down, saw that Jones had one hand clenched into a fist—a tight one. His knuckles were bloodless. “You already know I don’t. I’ve got a source who is working on the website. She tells me that she’s working on disabling the link. Once that’s done, he’ll be safer, but it’s going to take her some time, I’m afraid.”

The link—yeah, that little I’ll pay you to kidnap a boy ad. The website. Good. If they got that down, things were already improved. But not enough.

Nothing would be enough, not until Ignacio Reyes was dead. But she couldn’t exactly tell her boss that she was planning on helping an assassin go all assassin on somebody, right?

Shrewd, steel blue eyes narrowed on her face. She kept her expression bland, although she wasn’t expecting that to get her very far. Jones might not have shown any of the traits in the psychic testing he’d developed, but the man could read people the way others read a book. Absently, he ran a hand down his tie and then shook his head. “You’re not telling me everything.”

“I’m telling you what you need to know.” She shrugged. “I’m telling you what’s the most important information . . . for you. And if you’re going to do something to protect the boy, the time to do it is now. You won’t have another chance like this. Gus is down, he’s out, and he’s going to move slower for a little while.”

A heavy, taut silence hung between them, and although she said nothing else, she knew damn well Jones was picking up on all the things she wasn’t saying. Even some of the shit she’d rather him not be aware of.

But then, slowly, he nodded and looked over at Alex. “Son, you realize what we’re talking about, don’t you? If I do this, I’m taking you away from somebody who may or may not have a legal right to take care of you . . . but I have none.” He slid Vaughnne a dark look. She didn’t read minds, but she didn’t have to read anything to know what that look meant. I’m out of my mind to do this. “Do you believe you’re in that much danger that I should do this?”

Alex stared at his knees, his thin shoulders trembling, shaking. “I don’t sleep, sir. Not much. I’m always afraid they will come. That they’ll someday kill my uncle and there will be nobody to stop them from taking me back.”

“Back to where?” Jones asked.

Alex shot him a look and then he shifted his eyes to Vaughnne. Tell him, she thought, hoping the boy’s gift was as strong as she thought it was. Tell him what you can . . . make him understand.

The boy seemed to wilt. His eyes closed and he dropped his face to his up-drawn knees. “Back to my father,” Alex said. “He’ll make me do it again. Use . . .” He waved a hand in front of his face. “This. He did it before and killed people.”

Now he looked up at Taylor and Vaughnne, and it was hell written in his eyes. “Please. I can’t go back, but if we keep running, they’ll catch us. My uncle is going to die. Others will. If we keep going . . . it just won’t stop. And it’s getting harder for me to keep it in control on my own. All the noises. Everything in my head.” A sigh shuddered out of him and he whispered, “It’s just getting worse and I can’t do this much longer.”

A shiver raced down her spine, but she fought to keep her face blank. Just how much of that was fear, she wondered. How much of it was something more?

My uncle is going to die . . .

“You’re afraid your uncle is going to die?” Jones asked quietly.

“No.” Tears welled in the kid’s eyes, and when they started to roll down his cheeks, it was as though he didn’t even notice. “I feel it . . . see it. Something. It’s in my head. We’re running. They catch us . . . and he’s just gone, and then they have me. I can’t go back there and do what they want me to do. I can’t lose Gus. I—”

“Okay.” Jones lifted a hand and turned away. “I understand, Alex. We’ll get you away. Until Vaughnne can . . . talk sense into your uncle.” The irony in his voice was heavy, and she just stared at him as he watched her for a long moment.

He passed by her as he headed toward the door. “I’m going to get him out of here. Stay with him. I won’t be long.” He went to head off and then stopped, looked back at her. “Watch the lines you cross, Vaughnne. I understand the desire, but I can’t help if you go too far.”

Looking out the window, she said, “Not sure what you’re talking about, boss. I’m just here to help with the kid.”

He wasn’t fooled.

But then again, she’d never expected to fool him for very long.

THE second he opened his eyes, Gus knew there was a problem.

It wasn’t just because Vaughnne was sitting on the bed where Alex should have been, either.

It wasn’t just the look in her eyes, either.

It was the tension in the air.

It was the fact that the door was closed.

And there was also the fact that she had a gun in her lap. He’d been forced to turn over his Sig Sauer when they were checked into the hospital. He could have managed to get it inside, except Vaughnne had been pretty clear that if he didn’t turn over the weapon, she’d make things unpleasant. He could have handled that and might have been willing to deal with it, but his concern for Alex—and maybe a flicker of trust in her—had him giving in.

A trust that was obviously misplaced.

Vaughnne wasn’t going to have those pesky little problems. She could keep her weapons with her, he supposed, thanks to those FBI credentials, the ID hanging around her neck. She had her hand resting on the butt of the Glock, and he knew without a doubt she’d be very comfortable using that weapon. Some people weren’t comfortable with firearms. Others were. She held it like it was an extension of herself.

Her mouth was a firm, flat line, and the warm, smooth brown of her skin looked just a little paler than it should. Her freckles seemed darker in contrast. He wanted to haul her against him, kiss her, strip her naked, and take her. Then he wanted to shake her.

He wasn’t going to have a chance to do either because he suspected he was going to wring her damn neck in a moment.

Slowly, he sat up.

She just continued to watch him.

“Please tell me they took Alex for tests,” he said quietly.

“I could do that.” She shrugged. “I’d be lying.”

The muscles in his body immediately tensed, and he made himself relax. “I told you what I was going to do if you fucked me over.”

“I haven’t,” she replied. “I told you I’d help you take care of him, and that’s exactly what I did. I got him to the safest place I could possibly think of . . . so you can do the one thing that’s going to make sure he stays safe.”

Rising from the bed, he paced over to her.

She remained where she was, although her hand curved around the weapon’s grip. Her pulse slammed away in her throat, and her eyes watched him with a world of caution. “I keep him safe,” he said softly. “Call your boss and bring him back.”

“No.”

Shooting out his hands, he grabbed her arms and jerked her upright. Nose to nose, he leaned in, staring into her eyes. The scent of her went straight to his head, straight to his dick. Why had she done this? The last thing he could do now . . . actually, the last thing he should have done ever was trust her, want her . . . and yet that was what he wanted to do. But she’d let them take Alex.

“Call him,” he said again. “Or you’re not going to like what I do when you refuse this time.”

She reached up and laid a hand on his throat. “Well, here’s the problem. If you hurt me, I can tell you this, right now, Jones is never going to turn that kid back over to you. It’s just not going to happen.” Her thumb stroked over his skin and that light touch seemed to echo through every damn inch of him. “Of course, I realize that isn’t necessarily going to stop you. I remember what you said you’d do and I’m prepared—”

“Prepared.” He cut her off. Fury and lust tangled inside him and he lowered her back to the floor. Eyeing the door, he crossed over to it and grabbed the chair, wedging it under the handle to keep it shut. It wouldn’t last for long, but he wouldn’t need long to make his point, he figured. Turning back around, he stared at Vaughnne. “You have about thirty seconds to use that gun or you’ll regret it.”

A slim black brow arched.

Then, she laid the gun on the table by the bed. “I’m not using it on you. I’m not calling Jones. You do what you think you have to, Gus, but I did what I had to. You want Alex safe. You make him safe. Eliminate the threat.” Her eyes narrowed and she added softly, “FYI . . . I am not the threat, but if you’re too stupid—”

The rest of the words were caught against his mouth.

SHIT.

Vaughnne should have taken those thirty seconds to breathe, she decided, because now it was too late.

His mouth, brutal and hungry, crushed down on hers. She went to shove him away, but he caught her hands and, in a blink, had them pinned at her back. His tongue probed at her lips and the need to open for him almost sent her to her knees. Well, it might have, except his body was pressed to hers. Long, lean, and powerful, and so amazing.

Against her belly, her chest, she felt the hard wall of his chest, the muscled plane of his belly . . . and, oh, hell.

The ridge of his cock pressed against her and any thought of self-preservation went out the window. She opened for him, and as his tongue swept into her mouth, she welcomed it with a greedy moan.

He stilled, for just a second, and then lifted his head, staring at her through slitted eyes. She licked her lips and watched him, breathing raggedly. “If that’s supposed to make me run for cover, sugar, they taught you some crazy shit down there in Mexico,” she said.

The room spun around them and she sucked in a breath right before he slammed her against the cool, hard wood of the bathroom door. The bruises on her body screamed out at her. The need inside her body screamed louder, and she reached up, curled her hands into his shirt. “That’s not doing it, either, Gus.”

He closed one hand around her throat, pressing his thumb lightly.

It didn’t hurt.

But the threat was obvious.

Something dark, dangerous glinted in his eyes. “If I told you that I’ve killed some of your fellow agents, would you still be laughing at me, Vaughnne? Still be taunting me?”

Some of the heat inside her eased back, but she didn’t look away. “I’m pretty sure I’m familiar with what an assassin is. You’ve killed. So have I. I’m still not running.”

“And if I tell you that I’ve fucked a woman and then killed her the next morning . . . what then?” He dipped his head and nuzzled her neck. “I could break you, Vaughnne. So easily. You’re strong, and you’re fast. But you haven’t had to do the things to survive that I have. I could take you now, and then if I don’t get what I want out of you, I could break your neck and walk away.”

THE fear he needed to see in her eyes just wasn’t there.

Instead, as he issued a threat he really doubted he could follow through on, all Vaughnne did was angle that arrogant chin of hers up. Challenge glinted in her eyes as she smirked up at him. “Yeah? Then do it.”

He could kill her. At least a few minutes ago he could have. But then she’d put that damned weapon down.

I did what I had to. You want Alex safe. You make him safe. Eliminate the threat. FYI . . . I am not the threat . . .

Eliminate the threat.

He could have killed her, right up until she said that. It wasn’t because she’d pointed out that she wasn’t the threat to Alex. He knew that. She was a roadblock, though, and he could dispose of a roadblock. With most of them, he could do it without any guilt, although if he had to hurt her, it would haunt him. But he could have done it.

But she’d cleared the biggest roadblock of all. He wanted two things—to protect his nephew. And kill the boy’s father. But his nephew was the one reason he couldn’t go after the father.

Problem solved.

Tightening his hand, he lied . . . again. “You think I won’t do it. You think I haven’t?”

He’d done a lot of things in his life. Killed. Lied. Stolen. Fucked his way to whatever information he had to get out of women and then he’d walked away. But he’d never slept with a woman and killed her in the morning. Never. There was no way he could start with this woman. And now he couldn’t kill her, either—

Didn’t even know if he could force himself to hurt her. Walking away was becoming something too difficult to fathom.

Her gaze held his and she leaned against the door, unperturbed by the pressure of his hand against her throat. Her fingers were tangled in the wrinkled, worn fabric of his shirt, and he wanted to see her peeling that fabric away. Wanted to peel her clothes away and learn every blessed inch of her.

“I think you can do just about anything you set your mind to,” Vaughnne said, her voice husky. “I’m hoping you’ll decide that the best option here is to go after the real threat. But you do what you have to.”

Then she smiled at him and pulled her hands away from his shirt, lifted them up, and placed them by her head.

The look on her face was like a punch to his gut.

Challenging. Hungry. Insolent. And . . . waiting.

Waiting.

Like she knew exactly what he was going to do. Snarling, he shifted his hand on her neck, hooked it around, and hauled her against him. “You should have used that gun,” he muttered against her lips. Desire, so blistering hot, tore through him and he shoved her shirt up until it caught under her arms. He leaned back to stare at her, breathing like he’d just run ten miles.

Simple black cotton cupped her breasts, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. He’d made love to women who wore silk and satin and diamonds to bed. And the most amazing sight was Vaughnne, still wearing all her clothes, and still wearing that challenging smile on her face. He reached up and trailed his fingers along the edge of the bra, down to the front clasp. With a quick flick, it opened and he pushed first one cup aside, then the other. Her nipples were deep, deep brown, swollen, and already tight.

Bending his head, he caught one in his mouth and listened as a soft gasp shuddered out of her. She reached up to cup his head in her hands and he stopped her, catching her wrists and trapping them together in his hand.

That boiling hunger rose inside him as she tugged against his hold and he lifted his head, glaring at her. “You said I should do what I have to,” he rasped, leaning in to sink his teeth into her lower lip. “That’s exactly what I’m doing. And it’s my way, Vaughnne. All my way.”

Her breathing hitched in her throat, her lashes sweeping down over her eyes. “And I’m what you should do? Seriously?”

“In this moment? Yes.” Because he couldn’t think, not until he’d done this. Skimming his hand down her torso, he freed the button of her jeans.

“Well, if you’re that damned determined, you should check my back pocket.” Vaughnne’s lashes lifted, and once more, that glint was in her eyes. I dare you . . . she seemed to say.

Gus had never been able to say no to a challenge. And he was having a very hard time now. Slipping his hand around, he checked her pocket, and when he tugged out a small foil packet, he lifted a brow. “You must have been really certain you could talk me into not hurting you.” He dragged the edge of the condom packet across the exposed skin of her belly.

“Nah. Just really, really hopeful that you’d see reason. You seem like a reasonable guy, after all.”

“Reasonable.” Yes, because all reasonable men fucked women in a hospital room when they ought to either be out eliminating monstrous men or chasing down their nephews. Both.

But for the first time in years, he realized that he could breathe. His gut told him that Alex was safe. No, he didn’t know the man Alex was with, but he did know Vaughnne. He did trust her. And she wouldn’t take the boy’s safety lightly. He could breathe . . . he could think about the next step. After this.

After this, he’d think. And he’d prepare. Get ready. That would take days, perhaps longer. Nothing he could do from here. In this very moment, the only thing that mattered was her. This moment.

Holding Vaughnne’s eyes with his, he let go of her hands and turned her around. “You better have more than one. We’ll need them later.”

“Later . . . who said I’m going with you?”

He shoved her jeans halfway down her thighs and smoothed a hand over her rump. “You’re going. Whether you choose to, or I take you, you’re going. Because if I don’t succeed, you’re going to let your . . . boss know that he will have a ghost haunting him.”

He touched her between her thighs and nearly went to his knees when he felt how wet she was. How hot. Scalding him. “If you make a sound, everybody outside this room will know what I’m doing to you,” he said softly as he tore his jeans open. “And just so you know, I don’t really care. You don’t want anybody to know, you better be quiet.”

A shudder wracked her body and the sight of it made him smile. He dealt with the rubber, slipping the wrapper into his pocket before rolling the thin latex shield down over his length. Tucking the head of his cock against her entrance, he gripped her hips.

Glancing up, he watched as she braced her hands against the wall.

Then, with excruciating slowness, he pushed inside her. She groaned, straining against the confining material of the jeans still tangled around her legs. “Be still,” he muttered.

She sucked in a breath and pushed back against him instead.

Swearing under his breath, he gripped her tighter and fought the need to slam into her. So tight. She wrapped around him so tight, so hot. Like a dream. Sweet, tight, hot . . . strong. She moved back against him even as he pulled back and then surged forward, working another inch inside her. A soft, ragged whimper escaped her, her hands fisted against the wall, her spine undulating as she rocked backward.

He smoothed a hand up her back, shoving her shirt higher, wishing he had the time, wishing it was the right place to strip her down to her skin so he could see that strong, lovely body of hers naked. Instead, he surged deeper, deeper inside, swallowing back the groan that rose in his throat as the muscles of her pussy clutched at him, tighter, tighter . . . so slick and sweet.

“Carojo. Be still, corazón,” he muttered as she arched back, vising down around him like a fist. “Damn it, be still.”

“Hell, no.” She braced her hands against the wall and shoved back against him as he tried to catch his breath, tried to steady himself.

A minute. He needed a minute—

Vaughnne moved a second time, a third time, riding him like she didn’t give a damn that he was a moment away from shattering. Like it didn’t matter that he wanted nothing more than to drive himself so deep inside her and lose himself. Swearing, he tangled his hand in her hair and crowded her closer to the wall. “My way,” he rasped against her neck, sinking his teeth into her skin. She shuddered against him, and once more, those sweet, hot little muscles in her pussy milked him, gripped him, squeezing him, driving him to the very brink.

“Then you better do something,” she said on a ragged gasp. “I’m dying . . .”

HIS hands, his body, everything about him seemed to surround and dominate and control her. His way? She might have laughed if she’d had the breath. If she had her way, she would have torn away from him, tumbled him to his back, and ridden him until neither one of them could see straight.

Instead, she was trapped between him and the wall . . . her heart slamming so hard against her ribs, and her legs barely able to hold her up. His fingers dug into her hips, and she sucked in a ragged breath, only to have him drive it out of her as he drove inside her again, this time all the way in, so hard and so deep. He held there, for just one second, linked to her—she whimpered and pushed back against him. Just like that . . . just like—

Then he pulled back out and she wanted to cry, she felt so empty.

Using his hand on her hair, he tugged her head around her and she groaned as his mouth caught hers, a deep, drugging kiss. His tongue traced the line of her lips, so gentle in contrast to his demand on her body. It was painfully erotic, painfully intimate, and then it was done and she hissed out a breath as he tugged her from the wall and they pivoted, all without breaking the connection.

“Bend over, Vaughnne,” he ordered.

Her head spun as she saw the seat of the wooden chair in front of her. The one he’d wedged in front of the door. Her entire body went hot as she swayed forward and gripped it to steady herself.

Catching her breath, she braced her body.

But all he did was trail his fingers along her spine. Up to her neck, then down. “The next time I take you, I’m going to strip you naked.” He bent down low, pressing his lips to the sensitive, exposed skin of her back. “I’m going to learn your every secret, learn what makes you gasp, what makes you whimper, what makes you moan.”

That would be you . . .

If she’d had the breath, she might have said it out loud.

If she’d had the control, she would have whispered it into his mind.

As it was, she could only let it echo through her own mind as he gripped her hips.

He pulled out, slow . . . pushed back in that same fashion. Slow. But there was nothing gentle, nothing seductive or careful about it. It was thorough. A taking. A marking. A claiming.

Deep inside her, she felt him swell, felt the head of his cock stroking her. She angled her hips and twisted—there, she thought helplessly. Right there—

And although she hadn’t said anything, he knew. Gus shifted, changed the angle of her hips, and slammed into her. “Like that?” he rasped, his voice just barely above a whisper.

If she could have answered, she would have.

But then he did it again. A third time. A fourth.

And by the fifth, she was already coming and it was sheer self-preservation that had her swallowing the broken, desperate cry.

VAUGHNNE had a lot of practice in knowing when she was the object of scrutiny. A lot. She’d been the freak back home, and word had started getting out about her a month or so before her dad had thrown her out on the streets. Nothing like having the kids at school, church, and even your own cousins staring at you during Sunday get-togethers and whispering about what a weirdo you were to give you that little insight into people.

Yeah, she knew when she was being stared at behind her back.

And she knew when she just thought she was.

This was totally the latter, and she knew it. Nobody was looking at her as they strode down the corridor.

Now Gus? He was being stared at and not just by the nurse who was scrambling to notify the doctor on call that he was leaving against medical advice. The nurse had tried to enlist Vaughnne to help her out, but Gus didn’t need to be here. The nurse was just doing her job; Vaughnne got that and she understood it, but Gus wasn’t going to hang around to make anybody’s life easier.

The security guards were the big problem, and she just hoped Gus would keep his cool until they got off hospital property. Especially since she’d had Jones go to the trouble of collecting Gus’s weapons and bringing them to the room before he’d vacated the premises.

If they caught too much attention, it was just going to attract trouble they didn’t want or need.

Of course, if they had the trouble on their tail . . .

An idea settled in the back of her head, but it was one that she’d have to think through before she did anything. She needed to know where they were going first, needed to check in with Taylor and make sure Alex was safe, needed to know if Gus was going to be stupid—

Casually, he reached over and stroked a hand up her back, rested it on her opposite shoulder as they came to the elevator. When she would have slowed, he kept walking.

“We’ve got two people trailing us,” he said quietly as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Are they yours?”

Vaughnne blinked.

That . . . no.

That didn’t seem possible. She’d know.

She’d feel it.

Then she remembered just what they were dealing with. Reevaluating, she shook her head. Focusing her thoughts down into a narrow stream, she whispered them into his mind, No. I would have been told. And don’t say anything else. Avoid thinking about them if you can. Avoid any direct thoughts, period.

She didn’t know if he’d follow what she was saying or not. Hard to explain psychic shielding to a nonpsychic, although it was entirely possible. Taylor used it all the time. All it took to have a closed mind was to project that mental door. Strong telepaths could and did get around it, but it took more focus, and the typical homegrown psychic wasn’t trained well enough to do it and still trail them. It took more advanced training, and in Vaughnne’s experience, training just wasn’t all that easy to come by outside of units like Jones ran.

Of course, he didn’t have the monopoly on trained psychics, but she doubted that was what they were dealing with.

Even if they rattled one of them, that would be good.

She didn’t like the fact that she hadn’t picked up on their presence. She was good at that. It was why she was here—

“They are in uniform. A man and a woman,” Gus murmured as they continued to walk. “One is dressed like a doctor. The woman looks to be a nurse.”

As they rounded the corner at the end of the hall, she fought the urge to look back. Casting Gus a quick look, she lifted a brow.

He mouthed. Run.

They ran.

Bypassing the stairs, dodging through the ebb and flow of people, they left the medical-surgical floor where Alex and Gus had been kept for the past few hours. As they rounded another bend in the hall, Vaughnne felt an odd prickle and she hissed. Instinct had her slamming a hand against a wall just before a shove would have sent her to her knees.

Now that she felt.

And when she looked behind her this time, she saw them.

The fake doctor was the one who’d shoved her. She figured that out from the odd glint in his eyes just before she felt another shove. The woman next to him looked cool, composed. And she watched Vaughnne with absolutely no expression.

It was when she reached out and touched the doctor that Vaughnne figured out what the bitch was.

And just why she hadn’t picked up on anything.

The bitch was one of the subclasses. Jones had spent the past few years working on categorizing and understanding the psychic abilities, and he had taken it to an art. Vaughnne was one of the ones he’d spent a lot of time pairing with others, just to see what would happen when the psychics worked together or tried to merge their abilities.

There was really only one ability that worked well with Vaughnne’s and it was one of the subability classes. One of the filtering gifts, like this woman had. It was the only reason Vaughnne recognized it, too. Even from this distance, she recognized that odd, muffling sensation of the woman’s mind.

She’d block shit. She could either silence the gift in Vaughnne’s mind, or she could amp it up.

The bad thing about the subclasses, while they weren’t necessarily all that much of a danger in the psychic arena on their own, if you paired them with the right partner, they got dangerous.

Quick.

And this guy was a telekinetic.

Paired with that bitch, he might be able to level the whole damned hospital.

We need to get out of here, she told Gus, shoving off the wall.