The Protected (Fbi Psychics) (18 page)

“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.

THIRTEEN

I
T
was an innocuous, dark blue sedan following them.

Gus had noticed it nearly thirty minutes earlier, and in those thirty minutes, it hadn’t once gotten any closer than it was now. Staying about a good fifty feet back, usually more. Sometimes two or three cars would get between them. Sometimes it would veer over into another lane, keeping that easy, casual distance, but there was no mistaking it . . . the car was following them.

And Alex was scared. It didn’t help that his fever had come back, either. Some Tylenol knocked the fever down, but nothing took the fear from his eyes. Sweat that had nothing to do with illness beaded on the boy’s forehead, and he sat there with his hands clenched in his lap, his entire body trembling.

Terrified.

“They found us again,
Tío
,” Alex said softly.

He didn’t respond. Fear spread through him, but giving voice to it wasn’t going to help Alex. It curdled in his belly, a twisted knot, but he accepted that fear, swallowing it down and welcoming it. He’d channel it. Make it his own, and use it.

They’d moved back onto the highway halfway through the afternoon and had made good time, leaving Florida behind nearly thirty minutes ago. But now, driving up I-65, speeding through Georgia, he felt like he was bashing his head against a brick wall.

He didn’t know where to go.

He’d been so sure if they just hit the road and got some distance between them, they’d be okay. Every other time somebody had tracked them down, all it had taken was a few hours and some distance and they’d lost them. Gus knew how to lose people.

You’ve never had to run from people who can track a psychic child, though
, the dark, ugly voice of self-recrimination whispered from deep inside him.

No. He hadn’t had to do that before, had never realized it would be a concern. Even when Vaughnne—

Stop
. Looking back wouldn’t help now. He hadn’t trusted her, and in all honesty, there had been no
reason
to trust her. He didn’t know her, had no reason to trust a total stranger. His experience with Alex over the years had served him well enough.

Things had changed and he’d fucked up.

Now he had to fix it. First, he had to get the hell away from the people trailing them.

He couldn’t take the boy on a high-speed chase. Not in the car he’d stolen.

And he had to ditch the car soon.

There was no way around that.

But if he stopped . . .

“They are going to hit us soon.” Alex’s voice was low, thin.

Gus swore.

Gripping the steering wheel, he looked back in the mirror and then at the cars all around them. “How are you feeling,
m’hijo
? How is your stomach? Your back?”

“I feel better with . . . um . . . that.” He shrugged, a restless jerky motion, and his cheeks were a dull, ruddy red. “I guess the medicine stuff is helping.”

Gus nodded shortly. “Good.”

“My head hurts . . . I’m . . .” Alex swallowed and looked away. “I’m trying to do what Vaughnne was showing me. It’s giving me a headache, but I don’t feel like I did yesterday.”

Vaughnne
—

Mierda
. He’d been trying not to think about her. She’d been right. He’d been wrong. There was no other explanation for how they’d been tracked down.

Psychic bloodhounds.

They’d tracked them down. Somehow. Gus didn’t know if it was because of something they’d
done
or what, but somehow they’d tracked them down. Maybe it was really as simple as she’d said and it was something Alex was unintentionally doing.

And it was something that did him no good to worry about now. They were hours away from where he’d left her and no telling where she was now. He had no way of finding her, which was exactly how he had
thought
he’d wanted it.

For now, he had to figure out the best way to take care of Alex.

Get those men off their tail.

“You think you can get in their heads?” Gus asked slowly, hating that he had to ask, but knowing he didn’t have much choice.

“You mean—”

“You know what I mean, boy,” Gus said quietly, staring straight ahead. “We need to be away from here. We need another car. We need to get you safe. But we have to make sure they can’t follow us, can’t try and take you from me. We need to make you safe.”

Alex swallowed, and the sound was terribly loud in the silence of the car. “If I do it out here, they’ll wreck. People will get hurt.”

Gus nodded. “Then we leave the highway.”

It would be better that way anyway. If they could find a quiet little road, someplace where they thought they might be safer to make a move, it would be easier for Alex to focus on them. Fewer people around to get hurt. Gus was willing to do whatever it took to protect his nephew, but if possible, he didn’t want to harm a bunch of innocent people.

He was already too close to becoming the monster he was trying to protect Alex from as it was.

They had to get off the highway, and fast. He checked the upcoming exit, mentally mapping things out. He’d spent long, long nights going over his exit strategies for the time when he and the boy had to leave. He wasn’t as familiar with this area as he’d like to be, but he knew the major interstates and the highways as well as he could hope to.

If he took the upcoming exit and headed east for a while, they’d get away from the traffic. There was a smaller county road that went north. There . . . they’d try to make it there.

“Okay, Alex,” he said, leaving the fast lane and watching as the car back there casually did the same thing. “This is what we’re going to do.”

* * *

VAUGHNNE
woke up in more pain than anybody should have to feel without pharmaceutical intervention.

And when she opened her eyes a slit, she could see the highway speeding by.
Not
the bright lights of an ER, either. That was what she’d rather see. An emergency room. With a nice doctor . . . preferably a sexy one so she could have something to focus on while she waited for pain medicine, because
damn
, she hurt.

That wasn’t happening, though, she didn’t think.

She continued to sit there, breathing shallowly while she did a mental check. She had all of her body parts, and even though she
hurt
, she didn’t think she was in bad shape, considering she was pretty certain she’d been in an accident. Might have something to do with the fact that, even as scared as she’d been, she’d still been pretty limp and lax from whatever Gus had pumped into her system—

Gus . . . shit
. Alex.

Fear flooded her, crowding up the back of her throat in a metallic, nasty rush, and she had to battle it back. Okay. Time to figure out what was going on—

“Calm down, Vaughnne,” a tired,
familiar
voice said. “It’s just me.”

She went to turn her head, and pain streaked through her, just from that. She winced, barely managing to keep the cry behind her teeth as she found herself staring at Tucker’s profile. “You.” Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath. “You heard me.”

“Yeah. Kind of hard not to. You wail like a banshee.”

She might have flipped him off if she could have moved without it hurting. Instead, she just sat there, letting her body adjust to being awake. Her body didn’t like it. Not at all.

“What happened?”

“I . . .” He paused and tapped a gloved fist against the steering wheel. “I might have forced the car you were in to wreck. Overloaded the system with a discharge.”

“A discharge?” She stared at him, trying to figure out what he was saying. The words
sounded
like English, but they weren’t, because he just wasn’t making sense. Or maybe it was the pain in her head.

“Yeah. It’s . . .” He blew out a breath. “I manipulate electricity, basically, and I store it inside me. Science says it isn’t possible, but then again, look at what most scientists would say about people like you.” He shot her a glance and shrugged.

“You . . . you store electricity.” Yep. It was official. He wasn’t speaking English. Okay. Whatever. “What are you talking about, discharging the car?”

“Think of a lightning strike. I took what I had in me, sent some of it into the car.”

“Then why weren’t we electrocuted?” Her brain was too muddled for this.

“The car.” He shrugged again. “I wanted to stop the car, and I did, but the car’s metal exterior protected the people inside . . . well, except for the guy driving. And the other guy. He got burned. Had his gun. He was touching metal.”

She narrowed her eyes down to slits, glaring at him. “
I
had a weapon on me, you ass. I dropped it like five seconds before you did . . . whatever . . .”

He grimaced. “Sorry. I was reacting on instinct, going with the best plan that seemed viable at the time. I knew you were there. And I . . . hell. Every one of us feels different, but those who don’t have a problem killing anything or anybody just have a different sort of vibe to their minds. I can’t read them—that’s not my thing—but you were in the car with a couple of people who would just as soon kill you as look at you. I didn’t figure you’d want to be dead so I took the chance.”

She closed her eyes. No. Dead wasn’t what she wanted. “They had information about the boy. Were tracking him. I needed to know who else was doing it—it would have been good to talk with them and figure out what in the hell was going on.”

“I can help you there.” He grabbed something from the backseat and dumped it in her lap. It was an iPad.

She turned it on and stared. “Now what?”

“Go to Safari. It’s the only page open. You’ll see.”

She blew out a breath and opened the browser, trying to think past the pain pounding in her head. Five seconds later, the pain was forgotten as a rush of adrenaline slammed into her.

Item
.

Swallowing, she licked her lips.

“Please tell me this item isn’t what I’m thinking it is.”

“I’d be lying.”

She shot him a look, and this time, the jolt of pain that went screaming up her neck barely even slowed her. Absently, she reached up and rubbed her neck, although it didn’t do a damn thing to help the stiffness there. “It’s damn vague. It could be anything.”

“Scroll up to the top . . . read what the site is about. Who it’s for,” he said quietly. “Then decide if you think it’s nothing.”

She flicked her finger across the screen and found herself staring at the header. It was just an eye. The words were a jumbled mess. Shaking her head, she said, “I’m not getting it.”

“It’s a code.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “It’s called
The Psychic Portal.
An underground site for psychics . . . people like us. And they put up a want ad for the kid, Vaughnne. Anybody with the ability to pick up anything is going to know that isn’t an
item
being talked about. And there are no requirements for moral fiber to get in there.”

Her lids drooped as fear closed an icy, cold fist around her throat. Scrolling through the page, she started to dig deeper and then her heart jumped up and slammed against her ribs, hard. “This . . . this says they’ve got almost ten
thousand
members.”

“Yeah.” Tucker’s mouth was a tight, narrow line. “I bet a bunch of them are fakes and wannabes. And a lot of them aren’t going to be interested in going after a kid. But think this through to completion . . . you know there are plenty of scum out there who’d kill their own mother for a few hundred dollars. Grabbing some kid they don’t know?”

“Shhhhittttt . . .”
she whispered, breathing the word out as her mind started to process that. “Tucker, we have to find them. Whether Gus likes it or not, we have to find that boy and get him in. It’s his only chance.”

Tucker’s lashes swept down over his eyes, and she recalled just how loudly he made known his dislike of the FBI. Damn it, if he started fighting with her over this—

He flicked her a look and gave a short, single nod. “I don’t know if turning him over to the FBI is the best idea, but he needs to be protected. We can agree on that much.”

“Good. That’s good. Thank God.” She shifted on the seat and groaned as her abused body screamed out at her. “I feel like I was run over by a truck.”

“You’re not far off.” He sighed and lifted one hand to his mouth.

She watched, wary as he used his teeth to strip off one of his gloves.

“Let me see your neck,” he said.

She just stared at him.

He blew out a breath. “Come on, Vaughnne. This will help.”

“Aren’t you the one who was telling me all the crazy shit about how you carry electricity inside you? And you want me to let you touch my neck?” He was out of his
mind
.

“Haven’t you ever heard of electrical stimulation therapy?” he asked, giving her what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. It failed. By a long shot.

Tucker looked too devilish to ever pass for charming.

Narrowing her eyes, she tucked herself more firmly against the seat.

“Come on.” He smiled again. “Chiropractors use it all the time.”

“I heard about this one chiro who was doing an adjustment on a woman—he severed her carotid artery. She ended up in the ICU, all because of his
adjustments
,” Vaughnne said, smiling at him.

“Well, I’m not going to give you an adjustment. I just want to help with your neck, seeing as how I helped put it in the shape it’s in.” He sighed and shrugged. “But if you want to sit there and suffer . . .”

He went to pull his hand back.

“You think you can really help?”

“Well. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t offer,” he said.

She muttered under her breath and then eased forward. As his hand came close, she squeezed her eyes closed and prayed. The first brush of his fingers wasn’t anything. Then, as she went to glance over at him, she felt something buzz against her skin. Hissing out a breath, her eyes widened.

But before she could say anything, it hit her again, and again.

He pressed against her neck, and the heat of his palm, combined with whatever the hell he was doing, managed to ease that horrid pain. “Oh . . . hell,” she mumbled, sagging in relief.