The Protected

EIGHTEEN

WHEN they split up at the hospital, Tucker had to make a choice. It wasn’t an easy one and it wasn’t a fun one, but it was necessary.

Jones and the kid went one way, with a woman Tucker didn’t know trailing along behind them in a sleek little convertible Jaguar. He wasn’t much for modern cars, but he had to admit, that was one nice-looking car and he had no idea how she afforded it on an FBI agent’s salary. And she had to be with Jones. Even though she had it all wrapped up nice and neat, Tucker felt the power of her mind even from a block away.

While those three headed north, Vaughnne remained at the hospital.

Since he’d promised Nalini he’d watch over the kid, he headed north, too.

And all through the night, he followed them. Bit by bit, in a rhythm so subtle he barely noticed, he realized the “glow” of the boy’s mind was ebbing away.

Not in a dangerous way, exactly. He could still feel the kid, the same way he could sense the pretty psychic in the Jag. But he wasn’t radiating so bright. Some weird shit. Made it harder to track him, really, because that wild power was the one thing guiding him, and eventually, he had to move in closer to keep them all where he could sense them.

When they pulled over for dinner at a fast-food place, he pulled in for gas at the station across the street, filling up and adding a few gallons to the gas cans he kept in the back for emergencies. All the while, he watched the cars across the way, ready to take off, and grateful Lucia had convinced him to keep emergency supplies in his car. Emergency supplies including water . . . and food. The energy bars tasted like shit, but since he couldn’t exactly hop over to McDonald’s—

“Hey!”

He jerked his head up and looked across the street.

Hell.

It was the woman.

She held a bag in one hand, the other was propped on her hip, and she stared at him with a grin.

“WELL, well, well . . .”

Taylor had met more than a few men and women who had made it clear they’d rather die than join his merry little band of misfits. He was looking at another, he suspected.

It was a damn shame, because he’d managed to get a little bit of information out of Joss Crawford about this guy.

Tucker was the only name he’d been given, but he’d unearthed more on his own.

He went by Tucker Collins . . . now.

Up until he’d disappeared at the age of fifteen, he’d been known as James Tucker Friend, son of Meredith Friend, adopted by the late Senator Bartholomew Friend.

Old Bart had been a man that Taylor didn’t think he’d like, judging by some of the information he’d come across. Taylor made his living on information, after all. And he suspected his information was more than . . . accurate. Bart had been found dead the night of his fiftieth birthday and his stepson missing. Foul play was suspected, of course, but everybody believed the stepson was kidnapped. Meredith still routinely made very passionate pleas on the anniversary of her husband’s death, pretty little pleas for information on the whereabouts of her only child.

She had red hair, like Tucker did.

Dark eyes. Cold eyes.

He didn’t have to wonder what she’d do to find her kid. He had heard all about the body trail that had followed Tucker over the years, but that wasn’t a problem for him. Not when he had an idea just what old Bart had been doing only moments before he was found dead in Tucker’s room by a maid. One who was new in the household and had panicked, calling the police instead of running to the missus, who had been outside with her guests.

Police and private investigators had searched far and wide for the boy. None of them had found him. Taylor didn’t have to wonder just how a boy of fifteen had evaded law enforcement officials. The man in front of him looked to be the type who could do almost anything he needed to. Hide, flee, steal, kill.

As Tucker came striding toward him, the air around them went hot and tight, and although there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, it seemed like there was a storm dancing on the horizon.

Alex leaned in closer to him, and absently, Taylor reached up, rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“He thinks you’re taking me away,” Alex said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taylor promised even as he shifted his body to guard the boy a little better.

Taige was just two feet away. If he had to have this confrontation here and now, he figured Taige was a decent person to have with him. She was one of his bloodhounds, but she also had a decent telekinetic gift and one she’d honed into a weapon. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to do anything out in the open, but Tucker Collins was a wild card. Taylor could read people pretty damn well, and he suspected Tucker was willing to do anything and everything to accomplish his goals.

“I’m not going with him,” Alex said softly. “He wants to take me back to Florida . . . or somewhere. There’s a woman. It has something to do with a woman. I don’t know her. She can’t help me.”

Abruptly, Tucker stopped in his tracks, and even though he was ten feet away, Taylor suspected he’d heard the kid. Alex gulped and Taylor squeezed his shoulder. He wanted to tell the kid not to worry, but it was a waste of breath. At this point, he was a little worried. He had some level of control over his agents—usually—but Tucker wasn’t one of his and control was out the window and screaming on its way down to earth.

“Kid . . . stay out of my head,” Tucker said, his voice quiet, despite the fact that it managed to carry over the distance that separated them.

Alex flinched.

Taige snorted. “Oh, take a flying leap, pal. He’s not in your head. He’s still trying to learn some control and all those random thoughts are out there like bits and pieces of a song. You don’t want him hearing anything? Then you better just stop thinking until he knows how to close all those doors.”

Tucker cut a glance her way and his eyes narrowed.

She just smiled serenely at him.

As he went to take a step in her direction, she angled her head to the side. “Nah. I think I like you better there, pal.”

Taylor felt that. That odd twist when she was using her abilities. He wasn’t psychic, but as much time as he spent around them, he knew how to recognize when they were using their gifts, and he suspected the reason Tucker had stopped was because he had no choice.

“I don’t like it when people pull shit like that,” Tucker said. His voice was neutral. But that odd, heavy feeling, like a storm surging closer and closer, increased.

“Promise me you’ll be a good boy and I won’t.” Taige shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I heard about what went down in Orlando, you know. Word travels. We heard reports of somebody fitting your description on the scene there and I have an idea of what happened with the slave ring, too. I have my own theories on what you can do, so unless you plan on behaving? You can keep your distance.”

The lights in the parking lot all flashed on, burning hot and bright—so hot, they exploded. People screamed in surprise. Alex flinched. Taylor clenched his jaw as he watched the display play out between Taige and Tucker. Taige just smirked. “You think that is going to freak me out, buddy?”

“Nah. I think you’re too stupid to be freaked out. But you can take it as a warning . . . I don’t need to be close—”

He didn’t get another word out, and Taylor sighed. If anybody else had been standing close, they’d see what he saw. The way Tucker’s throat went in, like an invisible hand was squeezing it. In a way, that’s exactly what it was. Taige’s gift . . . the way she’d honed her telekinesis into an offensive skill. He’d actually been at the receiving end of it a time or two and it wasn’t pleasant.

“I don’t need to be close, either. Thanks to the demonstration, I can feel what it’s like when you’re . . . amping up.” Taige smiled.

Tucker’s face was turning red now. But unlike a lot of people, he wasn’t clawing at his throat. Wasn’t struggling to get away from something he couldn’t see. Control. The man’s control was something else, Taylor mused.

“Now, I’m going to let go and hope you’ll see the sense in all of us playing nice,” Taige said softly. “And please . . . don’t swear around the kid, and keep in mind, he’s been through more hell than most of us can imagine.”

She released her grip on him, although the only obvious signs were the slow return of normal color to Tucker’s face and his one, single gulp of air. He continued to glare at her, his eyes like black death on her face. “Woman, you’ve got no idea the hells I can imagine,” he said quietly.

“Point taken,” she said, inclining her head. “But whatever hell you can imagine, whatever you’ve been through, does it justify scaring him? Making it any worse on him than you have to?”

THANKS to Tucker’s little temper tantrum, they ended up leaving the McDonald’s and buying some KFC. It worked out better anyway, Jones figured, even if the food was a heart attack waiting to happen. He’d gotten used to having more junk food in his diet, thanks to Dez, and he managed to eat it without grimacing. Much.

Alex, though, he seemed to inhale the food in front of him. As long as Tucker wasn’t looking at him.

Finally, they finished eating and Taylor had the boy gather things up to throw away in one of the nearby trash cans. It was safe enough to let him walk around. Taige would know if it wasn’t.

As Alex left the table, they all mutually stayed quiet until he was out of hearing range, although he never once left their sight. “Any chance I can talk you into coming back in for a while to help with him?” Taylor asked softly.

Taige made a face at him. “I’m not the only one who has a handle on the kind of shit he has in his head, you know. You’ve got others. Use them. Sync me up to Joss and have him do it.”

Taylor shook his head. “Joss is all wrong for the kid right now. He needs . . .”

Taige grimaced and looked away. “I know what he needs. Let’s get things settled first.” Without saying anything else on the matter, she looked at Tucker. “You’re not taking that kid. I don’t care who you’re working for, who she is, what her claim on him is—”

“Do you all ever talk to each other?” he asked, cutting her off. “I’m working with Nalini. She asked me to keep an eye on him, but that agreement never involved me letting the FBI get their hands on him. He’s just a kid.”

“Nalini?”

Taylor smoothed his tie down. “Another freelancer, Morgan. But she got with Tucker here on her own. I have no idea what her agenda is.”

She shrugged. “Fine, whatever.” She looked back at Tucker. “Yeah, he’s just a kid. But he’s a kid who has the ability to kill somebody with his mind. He needs to be trained before he does just that.”

From the corner of his eye, Taylor saw Tucker’s reaction. Or lack of. It was a very careful lack of. “It’s likely if he did do just that, it would be somebody who deserved it,” Tucker finally said after a long, tense silence.

“Not the way he’s been forced to use his gift,” Taylor said. “He’s got a knack for picking up on danger and his . . . guardian, uncle, whatever . . . knows it. He’s been using the kid as a walking, talking lie detector.”

Tucker tensed.

Taylor turned his head and looked at the other man. “One of the people he had the boy read was Vaughnne. Alex told me about it. He wasn’t careful enough and she collapsed.”

Alex glanced over their way, and Taylor gave him an easy smile, keeping his surface thoughts neutral. The kid gave him a weak smile. “What do we do, Tucker? Let him go around, barely controlling a gift that could kill people?” He rose from the table, still watching Alex. “Some of you learn control easier than others. Out of necessity, maybe, or because it’s in your makeup. He’s not learning it and he’s going to get stronger over the next few years.”

“So you . . . what? Imprison him?” Tucker’s mouth twisted and the air went hot, tight once more.

“No.” Taylor tucked his hands into his pockets. “There’s a far cry between imprisoning a person and training him. Once he’s trained, he’ll be a weapon in his own right and he can watch out for himself. But for now, he’s not just a hazard to others around him. He’s a hazard to himself. And you saw that for yourself. Those men who tracked him down were trailing him. You know that.”

“He’s just a damned kid,” Tucker said, his voice rough.

“So was I,” Taige said softly. “I was a kid when it came on me. I bet you were, too. My daughter? She’s just a couple years older than Alex is, and she may well be as strong as he is. And I can tell you this . . . she’s better adjusted, better controlled, and far less likely to attract the wrong attention from people, because she has been trained. So . . . what would you do? Let him out loose in the world where he’s hunted . . . again? Or have him trained, and protected while that takes place?”

“His parents should get to decide that,” Tucker said, and then he swore, turning away. “Shit. He doesn’t have any, I’m betting, does he?”

“We don’t know. He isn’t telling us and I’m not prying,” Taige said softly. “He’s got the guy we left back in Atlanta, and I think he’s family, but that’s not the same as parents, I know. I know he cares about him, and I know he’s doing his best. But his best isn’t getting that kid trained, and at some point, Alex needs to decide . . . does he want to be a walking, talking lie detector or would he like to learn to use what he has before the gift gets out of hand and he damages somebody? What will that do to him, huh? You got any idea, electro-boy?”

Tucker sneered at her. “If he’s damaging somebody that’s trying to damage him, more power to him.”

“And if he’s damaging somebody who isn’t trying to hurt him?” she demanded. “What then? Can you imagine being a kid and knowing that you hurt somebody who had never once done a damn thing to you?”

Something flickered across Tucker’s face, darkened his eyes. That dark, dark brown deepened to near black and his expression went tight. Finally, he turned away.

“What does he want?” Tucker asked softly.

“Why don’t you try asking him?”

Tucker glanced at him, and then as one, they all turned to look over at the river where Alex was. Or had been. Taylor kept from jumping, barely, as he realized that Alex had closed the distance between them, in complete silence. With a dark, sad look in his eyes, the kid focused on Tucker. “I’m doing what I want.” Then he looked over at Taylor. “I want to call my uncle. He’s worried.”

HER skin prickled. The buzz was unmistakable, and although she saw nothing when she craned around in the seat, Vaughnne knew they’d picked up a tail.

Hopefully it was the white Explorer.

Hopefully.

She didn’t want to think that they had more than one group following them just then.

Sighing, she reached down into the floorboard and pulled up Gus’s bag. She looked over just as he glanced at her. “We’ve got company coming,” she said sourly. “I don’t know how far off they are, but I can feel them.”

A black brow winged up as he shifted his attention back to the road. “How come you can feel it now but not back when we stopped for gas?”

“Could be a variety of reasons,” she said, shrugging. “There were a bunch of people—that makes it harder for me to single anything out. It could be they are searching for me, so they aren’t shielding as hard. My only real psychic ability is telepathy. It’s . . . well, I guess you can call it my active gift. But a lot of us have some limited passive skills that allow us to sense this sort of thing. We just feel different. If whoever it is isn’t shielding, or isn’t shielding as much? He’ll stand out more and I’m more likely to pick up on his vibes.”

“He?”

She made a face. “Could be a she. Gut says he, but who knows?”

“Any idea how many?”

“Nope.” She shrugged and studied the contents of the bag. It was a bad boy’s treasure trove, she decided. Weapons of beauty, for sure. And just about every damn one of them was illegal for civilian use. “I’m going to guess two, because working in teams would appear to be the MO for these goons, but for all I know, it’s four. That’s not likely, though. I doubt they’d want to split the money that many ways.”

He shrugged. “If the risk goes up, the money goes up. Mercenaries are going to be smart and bring in as many men as they need. It’s already been made clear this isn’t going to be an easy job.”

“Gee. Thanks for making me feel better.”

“If you wanted to feel better, you should have left back at the gas station. You should have left with Alex. You should have never gotten involved.” The words were grim. His face, though, was unaffected. He had that sleepy, sexy look in his eyes, and his mouth was relaxed, almost smiling.

Scary bastard.

Before she could let herself get unnerved, she looked back down into the bag and studied the weapons. “How do you want to handle this? We already know what they are doing and why. So no reason to talk to them.”

“Now, Vaughnne, it almost sounds like you’re talking about just outright killing them,” he murmured.

Her gut clenched. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Not entirely. But if she could get them off their ass without worrying about them coming after her again . . . yeah. She could go for that.

“Do we have a few minutes before they catch up to us?”

Vaughnne sighed. “Probably.” Her gut wasn’t exactly screaming at her yet. Once it was screaming at her, they’d most likely be in sight. When they were in sight, then they’d have to make a decision—

Or not, she realized as Gus shot off the expressway. She hissed out a breath at the sudden movement, the seat belt cutting into her skin. The bruises on her made a rather loud complaint, but she bit back any sound she might have been tempted to make. After all, as Gus had said, if she’d wanted to feel better, she shouldn’t have come.

“If you can feel them, can they feel you?”

She looked around at the rather isolated bit of highway he’d decided to follow. The expressway was already fading behind them. Blowing out a breath, she said, “Yeah. They’d do better if I’m not shielding. I guess you want to use me as bait, huh?”

“I just want them to follow us.” He had an odd note in his voice.

She made a face. “Sounds like bait to me.” Didn’t matter much, she supposed. She’d done it before. She could do it again. Wasn’t anything she liked, but she could handle it. Letting her shields down wasn’t much different for her than peeling off her clothing. One layer at a time. It left her feeling exposed, just as if she’d decided to strip herself naked in the middle of a public parking lot or something, too.

And as she let the last layer of shielding drop, she was painfully, almost brutally aware of that other presence, a too-hot buzz along her senses. “Yeah,” she whispered. “They can feel me, all right.”

Gus didn’t answer.

She thought about reaching into the bag and pulling out one of the weapons, but in the end, she settled on the Glock that the Bureau had assigned to her. It was hers, and she knew the feel of it, the weight of it, how it settled in her hand. She appreciated that particular weapon rather well. “You want to give me an idea just what the plan is here?” she asked as he took a sharp left off the highway.

They were barreling down a narrow little country lane now with absolutely no regard for speed limits or anything else.

“The plan? Eliminate the threat.” A ghost of a smile danced around his lips for a second. “That’s the plan.” His eyes seemed to take in everything, although she didn’t know how. They were driving so fast, she could barely take in anything beyond the scenery blurring around them.

“You got any idea where we are?”

“Somewhere in Louisiana, close to the Texas border. I’ve been here.” He was quiet for about five seconds and then said, “Hold on.”

That was about all the warning she had before he slammed on the brakes. It wasn’t enough of a warning and the seat belt cut into her skin once more. “Man, I really want to wallop you, and hard.”

“Wallop?”

She sneered at him as he turned down an even narrower road, winding, all but obscured by the undergrowth. Green surrounded them. “Yeah. Wallop. Hit you across that thick head of yours,” she snapped.

“A day or so ago, you called it beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” She tugged against her seat belt and shifted around, staring out the window. “You know you’re beautiful and you use it. I think you should have been a damn female.”

He surprised her by laughing. “So I’m . . . what . . . using my masculine wiles too much?”

“You use them like a weapon. And again, you know it.” There wasn’t anybody back there, but unless they knew the road, she doubted they’d take it at the breakneck speed he’d just used. He took another road. “Just where in the hell are you going?”

“Hiding the car. Somebody used to live back here. He’s dead now, but we can use the place for cover.”

She thought about those words, wondered if she should try to get more information about whoever he was talking about. Then ultimately, figured it wasn’t worth it. “Why are we using the place for cover? Why hide the car?”

“Because if we’re going to deal with our tail, it’s better that they aren’t discovered right away,” he said simply. Abruptly, the trees opened up around them.

Vaughnne looked around, eyeing the ramshackle little building in front of her warily. That thing couldn’t even be called a cabin. “What in the hell is that?”

“It’s called a house. People live in them.”

“That’s not a house. It’s not much bigger than a damn closet,” she said, shaking her head.

“Well, he lived in it. He could have bought something much bigger, too, but he liked it here. Was easy for him to hide.” Gus shrugged and pulled the car around behind the house. It was big enough, barely, to conceal the car. But it wouldn’t conceal them unless they stayed inside the damn car or went inside the house. She wasn’t convinced she wanted to do that, though. It was too little. Too confined.

“Come on. We’ll go inside.”

Of course they were. She stared at the ramshackle pile of boards morosely as she jerked open the door and climbed out. The hot, muggy punch of a Louisiana summer smacked her in the face the second she did so. Ignoring it, she shut the door, still gripping her Glock with her free hand. Joining Gus on the step, she waited as he picked the lock. It didn’t take but a few seconds, although it was a pretty complex lock. Hell, the lock looked like it cost more than the damn house.

In under a minute, they were inside and she found herself staring at a place that was actually remarkably . . . charming, considering the outside. Other than a thick layer of dust, it was well kept, a neat little bed up against a wall, a minuscule kitchen, and a bathroom tucked up in the corner. No TV, though. Just the bed, the kitchen, the bathroom. “Wow. He was into luxury, wasn’t he?”

“He wanted to escape from life . . . wanted peace. This was what he considered peace.” Gus shrugged.

Vaughnne took another, longer look around, her gaze lingering on the bookshelves. Empty now, but they looked like they were handmade, built into every empty space available, including the areas over the door, along the windows, above the bed. A little place, easy to clean, secluded. Just her and a few books . . . well, she wouldn’t want to live like that for always, but it might not be a bad vacation, she supposed.

“Did you know him from . . .” She trailed off, uncertain how to finish that sentence.

With an odd little smile on his face, Gus glanced at her. “He was a contact. We knew each other. I wouldn’t say we were friends, but we weren’t enemies.” He shrugged as he moved over to the window, situated so he could see outside without fully exposing himself to whoever might come driving up. “I respected him, I can say that much.”

“I take it you don’t say that often.”

Silence stretched out for a long moment and then he said, “No. I don’t often say that.”

She didn’t say anything else as she crossed the narrow floor space. The skin along the back of her neck was crawling and blood roared in her ears, getting louder, louder. “They are getting closer.” She moved to stand beside him, gripping the butt of her Glock while a voice in the back of her mind started to ramble on in a panic.

What are you doing?

You can’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

What are you doing?

Her mouth felt dry.

It had been one thing to take action in the hospital, although she realized Gus had done most of that. There had been an active threat.

It was another thing to stand here in the shadows of what looked to be an abandoned little shack while they waited for a couple of people to drive up so Gus could . . . could what?

Her mind filled in that blank happily.

It was like shooting fish in a barrel.

And yet these fish were vicious and predatory, ready to kill to get what they wanted.

Information on Alex.

She knew what they were going to do if they didn’t get what they wanted. Or rather, what they’d try to do. But still, it was a cold, heavy weight in her gut, the knowledge that she was getting ready to cross that line.

Watch the lines you cross, Vaughnne. I understand the desire, but I can’t help if you go too far . . .

A year ago, she couldn’t have stood here. Even as nervous as she was, with all these doubts raging inside her, she knew she couldn’t have done this. But losing Daylin had done something to her. Seeing Alex . . . being near him, knowing the kind of fear he lived with.

Yeah.

A hand touched her arm.

She looked up.

Gus stared at her, his eyes cool, unreadable. “Go into the bathroom. Lock the door. I’ll handle this.”

She knew what he was doing. Giving her a way out. Shouldering the responsibility.

Part of her wanted to let him do just that. Her heart slammed hard against her ribs as she shifted her gaze back to the window. She could hear an engine now, faint, off in the distance. It wasn’t coming at them in a roar, so they must be taking their time on that narrow, uneven road.

If they were smart, they’d just park the car . . .

Abruptly, the engine went silent and she cursed and slammed up the shields in her mind. Hopefully they’d just come to the logical conclusion but just in case . . . no point in taking chances. She focused on Gus and focused her thoughts down to the narrowest stream possible, speaking only into his mind. She had trained with some of the best, and if they couldn’t pick up on her thoughts when she didn’t want them to, she should be okay. But Gus was a different matter. Don’t think anything about what you’re doing. Act and react, but don’t broadcast your thoughts. They might have a telepath with them.

She went to break the contact and then paused. Reaching out, she fisted her hand in his shirt, staring up into his eyes. I told you . . . I’m with you, got it? I’m not hiding in the bathroom like a little girl.

Gus slid a hand up her back, curving it around her neck and tugging her closer. “You keep throwing your chances away. Sooner or later, they will all be gone,” he said softly, leaning in to press his lips to hers.

She sighed as he pulled away. Just that light touch had heat spreading through her, a hot, delighted shimmer that she wanted to wrap herself in. Wrap herself in, lose herself in. Except now was so not the time, not when the alarm in her head was slowly getting louder and louder.

He glanced around and then grabbed his bag. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

“Outside?” She eyed his back as he headed for the little door at the back.

He didn’t answer and she purposely avoided thinking about anything, staring at nothing more than his back, his hips, the long length of his legs. He moved through the door, and Vaughnne had to admit, leaving the hot, confining air of that closed-up little cabin was almost a relief.

She felt terribly exposed as she followed him out of there, although it was just her imagination. Nobody was watching them . . . yet. But they were close. So very close. Her heart raced, her breathing sped up, her muscles had that odd tense feel to them. Deliberately, she made herself relax. Rotating her neck, she eased through the tangle of trees and brush, following along behind Gus. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, she decided. And once again, she had to admire how he moved.

He moved, and he moved well.

He found an area for her, gestured to it, and she tucked herself behind it, not the least bit surprised that she had a fairly clean field of vision ahead of her, although she was mostly out of sight because of the way he’d positioned her.

She shot him a look, saw that sleepy smile on his face as he settled in his own position. It wasn’t long, though, before his face went smooth and blank. His eyes were cool, and butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth. He waited behind a tree maybe ten feet away. He eyed the gun in her hand and shook his head as he unzipped his bag.

She closed her eyes as he took out the Heckler & Koch MP5. He checked it with quick, competent hands and loaded it in the same fashion. As he slipped the strap over one shoulder, she swallowed the knot in her throat and looked back at the house. I’m an FBI agent. Is this what I need to be doing . . .

The thought was still circling through her brain when she felt something nasty settle in her mind.

I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t do this—

Her legs were wooden. Mechanically, she felt herself starting to rise as those thoughts tripped through her mind. I can’t do this. I can’t—

Something crunched under her foot and the sound of it penetrated her mind. Dazed, she looked around. Something edged against her thoughts. Can’t do this. Can’t . . .

“Not right,” she mumbled, reaching up to smack her hand against her temple. The butt of her weapon smacked against her head, hard, and the flash of pain cleared the fog from her head. It was enough to snap the alien hold on her mind.

Fuck—

Jerking her head up, she saw Gus, realized he was coming toward her.

Stop. I’m fine, she told him, shaking her head.

Like a scummy rope, the unseen psychic had wrapped his gift around her brain and tried to drag her places she didn’t want to go.

Bastard was a controller.

A few, a very few, had the ability to coerce others to do things. Nalini Cole was one of them, but she actually had to be touching the person and her skills were . . . odd. This one apparently didn’t have to be touching his target.

We got problems, she said into Gus’s mind, not bothering to shield her voice. It took everything she had just to fight that pull. Sweat broke out on her skin and she dropped down on the ground, digging her hands into the damp earth, anything to ground herself as she fought that pull on her mind.

It hurt, and the harder she fought, the more it hurt.

A hand touched her arm and she looked up, saw that Gus had come to her side.

“What’s wrong?” Gus murmured, his voice calm, unaffected.

Somebody there can force people to do shit. Look for him. He’ll be focusing—She wasn’t even able to finish the thought as the strain on her brain increased. Biting down on her lip, she slammed her hands against her skull, but it didn’t even touch on the pain there. Damn it, damn it, damn it—

She slammed up her shields, the ones she’d lowered when she tried to draw them in, but it was hard, so hard to concentrate, and it felt like she was trapping him inside those shields with her. Him. That nasty, slippery presence. It was like having a giant, mutant slug trapped inside her head, in the innermost part of her.

But as she formed one set of shields, then another, and another, some of the pressure on her brain eased off. Panting, she slid Gus a look. “They ought to be close now, really close.”

He lifted a hand to his lips.

She sucked in a breath, a second one. Okay. Better now. That pressure was still there and the intensity of it increased, but instead of a rope that was trying to drag her away, it was more like a raging thunderstorm. She wasn’t inside a house—she felt like she had an umbrella over her head, though. It was enough to protect her from the impact. It worked.

She focused on Gus. Do you see them?

He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Watch for a reaction . . . whoever reacts, take him out.

Maybe she should thank the son of a bitch who’d just tried to mind-rape her. It made this easier. Controllers were dangerous. If they used that ability without any sort of care . . . yeah. He’d made this a lot easier.

She gathered up her control and narrowed her thoughts down. It was like weapons practice, really. Just a different sort of weapon. She had a line of sight, thanks to what that son of a bitch had tried to pull. With her mind’s eye, she could see that line, that connection that led her to his mind . . . and once she was there, she unloaded.

A shriek rose up—yeah, she’d been right. They were close.

An odd little pop echoed through the air.

Somebody swore.

She didn’t have time to process that, because a hand appeared in her line of vision. She reached up blindly and found herself on her feet a second later, staring up into Gus’s face. Her head was screaming at her but that pressure on her brain was gone, too. “He’s dead,” she said softly.

He didn’t respond.

She didn’t guess there was any point.

Out behind them, in that little field behind the house, somebody called out, “Y’all can’t avoid all of us, not for forever. Just tell us where to find the kid and this all stops.”

She snorted. Yeah. Sure it would stop.

Gus stroked a hand down her arm and then crowded her back against the tree. She didn’t know what he was doing, or why, and just then, she decided she was maybe okay with that. She was out of her element here. She worked on task forces. She’d been shot at before, had been hunted before, and done her share of hunting before, but it had all been within the confines of the law. On her part, at least. There were rules in her world.

She’d left her world behind and she was still struggling to adjust to that.

Gus dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “Any idea what he can do?”

She turned her head and looked at him. Then, silent, she shook her head. Whatever the guy was, he either wasn’t very strong, or he was very, very smart, and very, very good because she couldn’t feel much more than the faintest buzz from him.

“Y’all really want to come out of there now. Come on now,” the unknown psychic said. “Don’t make me force it.”

Don’t make me force it. Those words sent a shiver of trepidation down her spine. Force it. Force them? His partner had already tried that, ended up dead for his trouble. Just what was he going to . . .

An odd crackle reached her ears. Familiar, that sound. She hissed out a breath and jerked her head around to stare at the orange glow. It shimmered off in the brush about a dozen yards away. “There’s the first one,” he called. “Do I have to—”

The words ended in a scream and Gus was already striding out of the trees, his Sig Sauer in his hand, the Heckler & Koch hanging from his shoulder. “Bring my bag,” he said over his shoulder.

Vaughnne stared at the flickering orange flames for a minute longer, watching as they raged higher. “Don’t kill him yet, Gus. We need him.”

DON’T kill him yet, she says.

Gus crouched down by the man and shot out a hand, fisting it in the bastard’s hair. “You want to try and burn me out of there, hmm?”

The man clutched at the bleeding hole in his belly. “Fuck you,” he rasped.

Gus took his weapon and pressed the muzzle to the sensitive underside of the man’s chin. “That hole in your gut isn’t going to kill you,” he said softly. “Not for a long, long while. So I have time to make you suffer.”

“Gus.”

He looked up as Vaughnne came closer. “Wait for me by the car,” he said shortly. She was already upset by this. He’d known it would happen, that she would see the monster inside him. He could handle that. But he’d rather her not see it.

“Stop,” she said, grabbing his wrist and tugging until he eased up.

“Stop?” He stared at her. The cabrón had been ready to burn her and she wanted him to stop?

“If you don’t stop, that fire can burn out of control. You want that?”

He wanted to say he didn’t care, but realized he couldn’t entirely say that, not without lying. Perhaps he wasn’t as far gone as he’d always thought. He didn’t want to think of this quiet little place gone, lost to a fire.

Sighing, he looked back at the bastard on the ground and instead of pressing the muzzle to the man’s chin, he dragged the tip of it down his torso, along his hip, and then jammed it hard against his scrotum. “Here is the deal, cabrón. You’re going to put that fire out now. If you don’t, I’m going to kill you, ojete, in the slowest, most painful way you can possibly imagine. And if you can’t imagine a slow and painful way, let me know. I’ll give you some ideas.”

The man sneered at him.

Gus shifted the Sig Sauer to his other hand and reached down, grabbed the man’s penis and twisted. Once the man’s shrieking had faded away into whimpers, Gus started to speak. “The first thing I’ll do? I’m gonna pull your balls out through your nose. If that doesn’t get your attention, I’m gonna slice your dick off. In pieces.”

He let go and smiled down at the man. “Have I made the matter clear now?”

The man sucked in a breath and nodded.

“You’ll put out the fire?”

“Are you going to kill me when I do?”

Gus smiled. “No.”

And he wasn’t lying. He had questions. After he was done with those questions, though . . .

Vaughnne stood just to the side. From the corner of his eye, he could see her face, grim and unsmiling. Some of her tension eased and she blew out a sigh. “The fire is dying. I’m going to go check, make sure it’s out. Don’t kill him before I get back here, Gus,” she warned.

He didn’t answer.

Once she was gone, he pressed the muzzle of his weapon against the man’s groin. “Here is where we can start to play, ojete. I can put a hole in you. Right here. Or you can answer my questions. You ready to play?”

The man wheezed out a breath in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

VAUGHNNE made it back to the area as quick as she could and the warning was still a scream in her head. The fire was out. Awesome. Gus was still crouched over the pyrokinetic. Not awesome.

He had his gun pressed against the man’s groin and Vaughnne grimaced a little. The man looked ghost-white and he was babbling out answers so fast, she could barely process them.

Gus didn’t look to have that problem. The man finally stumbled to a stop and Gus twisted the weapon against his scrotum. “You’re sure that’s all you know, cabrón? There’s nothing else?”

“No. Nothing.” His eyes were wide, locked on Gus’s face like he’d never seen anything so terrifying in his life.

It was a scary thing to look at a man and know he could, and would, kill you without any remorse, without blinking an eye.

“And what was the latest update on the website?”

“Not much.” The pyro licked his lips and wheeled his head around to look at Vaughnne. “Word is out about her.” Something that might have been hope bled into his eyes. “Hey, I hear tell you’re a cop . . . you . . . you can’t let him kill me.”

She lifted a brow. “Word is out about me?”

He nodded, a quick, awkward bob of his head. “One of the mods can see things. She gets all technical with it, calls it remote viewing and shit, but she knew there was law enforcement working this—described you, this place . . .” His words ended in a whine as Gus reached up and laid a hand on his throat, squeezing lightly.

“You need to be useful,” Gus warned. “Or you die. Tell me something I can use. Don’t look at her and expect her to help you.”

Vaughnne took a few steps closer and knelt down by the man, careful to stay out of reach. “I want to know more about the others. How many are still chasing after the boy, do you know?”

“No.” He whined and clutched at his bleeding gut. “We don’t work like that. But—” He broke off.

“But what?”

He hunched in on himself, refusing to speak.

Gus sighed. “This man, he likes having me hurt him, I think.” He let go of the bastard’s throat, but before he could do anything else, the man’s breath gusted out of him.

And he started to talk once more. “It’s Gemma. One of the mods on the board. The one who saw this place, who knew about you. She’s telling people they need to pull off the job ’cuz it’s death all over. People listen to her. The smart ones, at least. I wasn’t going to take the job. But it’s so much money . . .”

Taut, heavy moments of silence stretched out, and when Gus abruptly stood, Vaughnne almost came out of her skin. And when he lifted the gun, leveled it at the man on the ground, she had hers in her hand. It was pointed at Gus’s head. “Don’t,” she said softly.

He didn’t even look at her.

“Gus, if you shoot him, I’m shooting you. He’s bleeding out, you’ve now scared him shitless, and he’s getting too weak to do anything,” she said. The man was pale, and getting paler by the second. He’d die if he didn’t get medical help. And she wasn’t ready to cross that line. She didn’t want to cross that line.

Gus’s finger tensed. She could see it. “Gus, please. Don’t do this.”

The man sobbed.

“He was ready to kill you,” Gus said gently. “He can, even now. With that ability to use fire? And you would try to save him?”

“It’s not about saving him. He hunts kids. He’s scum, and I know that. This is about saving me . . . and you.”

He looked at her now, and in the depths of those beautiful eyes, she saw a flicker of something. Surprise, maybe.

“Saving me.” He shifted the gun away from the man, but she didn’t think for a minute that this was done. “Saving me, how?”

“He’s not strong enough now to go throwing fire around. Pyros have to work harder, and if he’s weak, he can’t handle it. He’s not the threat he was a few minutes ago. He’s wounded, and he’s unarmed. If we go around killing the helpless, we become just like the monsters.”

Thick black lashes fell down, shielding Gus’s eyes. “Vaughnne, I already am just like the monsters. It’s one of the reasons I was able to keep the boy alive.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Another long, tense silence and then finally he knelt back down. She held her breath as he changed his hold on the weapon and swung out, using it to club the man across the head. Her breath gusted out of her and she almost went to the ground in shock. “You cannot save me, Vaughnne,” he said softly. “I’m already lost. But you can pretend to save yourself . . . for a little while longer.”