The Protected

glimpse of the look in his eyes. “So why are you looking for him?”

“I had a . . . request,” he said, turning into the alley just behind her street. She wasn’t surprised when he pulled into the narrow little space behind her house. “So did I pass the test?”

She just grunted as she climbed out. “Come on. Let’s get inside.” She used the cover of the car to hide it as she tucked her gun back out of sight and started toward the house.

He waited until the door was shut before he came for her.

She barely managed to duck out of the way, and the only reason she managed it at all was a weird tension in the air. It was like the air went all tight and crazy right before a bad thunderstorm. He was fast. He was quiet. And she thanked God and Taylor Jones for all that brutal, awful training he’d thrown her way before he’d agreed to let her in the unit.

It was the only damn thing that kept her out of Tucker’s reach as she spun and drew her weapon—why in the hell had she put it up, anyway? “Do we really have to do this?”

“Put that down before I decide to get pissed off,” he suggested.

“And what are you going to do if you get pissed off?” She curled her lip at him. “Call down the lightning on me or something?”

Something flashed through his eyes. “You think it’s a joke.”

“No. I got a good idea of what you can do and it’s pretty damned amazing. I’m impressed. But I’m not looking at a killer. You’re not going to hurt me, so shove the empty threats up your very nice ass, Tucker.”

Lights flickered. “I don’t have to kill you to get you the hell out of my way. Give me my phone. Get out of my way and let me do my job. Do that and we can call a truce before anything gets out of hand.” A strange smile curved his face and damned if it was a little bit unsettling. “Before you get hurt.”

“You can have your phone . . . after we talk and I’m certain you’re not a threat to the kid I’m supposed to be protecting.” Jerking her head to the table, she said, “Why don’t we sit? Talk . . . and you can have your phone back. Heaven forbid you miss an important call or something.”

The lights flickered . . . and went off.

She clenched her jaw and braced herself for an attack.

But it didn’t come from him directly.

Darkness swarmed in on her mind. And she knew her mind well enough to know one thing . . . it wasn’t natural. It was like something was pressing in, pressing down—

She sucked in a breath and felt her muscles weaken, felt her weapon hand lower.

Instinctively, she sensed him moving and she threw herself backward.

Knowing she only had a few seconds, she did the one thing she knew would work.

She screamed. But she didn’t scream with her mouth.

She screamed right inside his head, with all the force of her ability.

* * *

IT was a vicious, brutal shock to his system—it was like somebody had taken the power of a sonic boom and combined it with the loudest wail of a siren, and found a way to make the noise loud enough to cause physical harm. Except it wasn’t happening audibly. It was all inside his skull and he couldn’t block it out.

Shuddering under the shock of it, Tucker sucked in a breath as his control faltered. He had to either break his connection or risk hurting her. It was a hard-ass thing, interfering with all those little electrical connections that happened inside the human brain. Too much and he’d kill her. Too little, and it wouldn’t be enough.

As the screaming in his brain continued, he groaned and hit the heel of his hand against his temple, spinning away as he severed the link.

And still the screaming continued.

“Enough,” he snarled.

Seconds ticked by before it slowly faded away.

Silence, sweet, sweet silence fell between them and he shuddered as the raw power inside leaped and burned, clawing to get out.

Anger triggered it all, and having a gun leveled at him, having anybody threaten him . . . well. It pissed him off. He’d had it happen too many times, and most of the time, it had been because certain people from his past had been trying to drag him back to places he’d never go.

“You might be able to shut my brain down, but if you do, I’ll damn well make sure you suffer every second,” Vaughnne said from behind him, her voice harsh. “Are you and I going to sit and talk, or do we try to kill each other?”

“If I’d wanted to shut your brain down, I could have done that on the street,” he snapped. Without looking at her, he stormed over to the small dining room table and flung himself into one of the chairs. “But I’m not here to chat and I’m not here to make friends with the FBI. I’m here because I’ve got a job to do and that kid across the street is a hazard.”

Vaughnne kept her distance from him. It had just occurred to her that her table was one of those vintage sorts of dinette sets . . . shiny top, chrome plating. It looked like something you’d find in a fifties diner. Too much metal, especially considering she didn’t know just what this guy could do with electricity. Electricity and metal were a bad mix.

Instead of sitting down, she tucked her gun back into place and adjusted the holster. The damn thing was rubbing her skin raw, but there were only so many places she could carry a weapon when she was out jogging unless she wanted somebody to know she was armed.

She studied him through her lashes. “You think I don’t see how much of a hazard that kid is?”

“Then why aren’t you doing something?”

“I am.” She angled her chin up. “I’m babysitting. That’s my job for now. That’s all.”

“That’s not—”

The shrill ring of her phone cut him off and she grabbed it, swearing. That ring tone would go off for only one reason. She took off running down the hall even as she checked the display.

Somebody had activated the motion sensor she’d set up in Gus . . . stop. You’re here for the kid. Think about the kid.

“Time’s up,” she said quietly as she moved to crouch in front of her laptop, staring at the monitors.

“You bugged his house?”

She shot Tucker a dark look. “Unless I’m expected to never sleep? Yeah. I bugged his house.”

They watched for a moment as two men prowled through the back, lingering the longest outside the window to Gus’s bedroom.

“They’re looking for the kid.” Something sick spread through her.

“That’s why I’m here,” Tucker snapped.

“You knew they were coming?” She continued to watch them, eyeing the time. Keeping an eye on the monitor, she checked the location of the GPS tracker she’d planted on Gus’s truck. Crap. Leaving the store. A few minutes away at best.

“Yes.”

Tucker’s low, intense voice shattered her concentration and she glanced up at him, puzzled for a split second before she remembered. “You knew somebody would be here today.”

“Not today.” He shrugged and moved to the window, staring across the street. “One of them is psychic. I feel it. Not strong. But it’s enough. Used it to locate the kid.”

“They didn’t locate the kid. They located his house.”

Tucker shot her a dark look. “Same thing. They pull back, they wait until the kid shows up, and then they move in. That boy has no clue how to protect himself, does he?”

She rubbed her temple, thinking of how her head had felt, like somebody had reached inside and just helped themselves to her brain matter and sanity. “He might have a better handle on it than we think, but it would be purely instinctive.”

“If you’re supposed to be babysitting, why are you here?” he asked. “Isn’t part of bodyguard detail just that . . . guarding the body?”