The Protected

“You had to blow your cover.”

“Afraid so.” She flicked a look at Gus, brutally aware of the fact that he was watching, and listening. Her skin prickled from the intensity of that look, and she prepared herself for whatever may be coming. “Listen, the kid is sick. I get the feeling we shouldn’t take him to the doctor . . .”

“No,” Gus barked out.

At the same time, Jones said, “I don’t know if that’s advisable.”

Rolling her eyes, she said, “Well, that’s sort of what I was just saying.” She raised her voice and shot a dark look at Gus before focusing her attention back on the road. It was a tricky situation driving, as it was, watching her tail, talking to her boss, dealing with the hotness that was Gus, even if he was glaring at her. Oh, and not wrecking.

“Look, the kid is sick. He just puked in the car and his . . . guardian would appear to be worried, although I don’t think he’d worry over a cold. He looks like he’s running a fever, although I can’t check while I’m driving.” She cut into the right lane and turned off International. This road wasn’t going to be much better but at least it wasn’t one of the busiest in town. Taking five minutes to breathe and get her bearings wouldn’t hurt, either. Pulling into the parking lot of a gas station, she put the car into park and swiveled around, eyeballing the kid. “He’s also half out of it, if I’m not mistaken. What does it matter if I’m keeping them safe if he ends up dog-sick with pneumonia or something?”

“We’re not taking him to the hospital,” Gus growled.

She ignored him. The hospital wasn’t her destination. Jones would have an alternative, she knew it.

“Jones?”

Five more seconds passed and then he asked, “Where do you plan on going?”

“I plan on getting the hell out of Orlando for starters, and then I need to get somebody to look at the boy. Preferably soon.” In the backseat, Alex groaned, a pitiful little sound that twisted her heart. “No. Not preferably soon. It has to be soon.”

“Just drive. When you get an idea where you’re heading, let me know. I’ll get a doctor to you.”

She hung up and tossed the phone down.

She hadn’t even managed to put the car into drive before she saw the gun leveled at her, digging into her rib cage, out of sight of anybody who might just happen by the car, unless they were outright looking. Please . . . don’t let anybody look, she thought tiredly. That was the last thing she needed.

Turning her head, she met Gus’s eyes.

“If you try to take us to the hospital, you’ll be needing one yourself,” he warned. “Although they won’t be able to fix the damage I’ll do to you. You’ll just end up in the morgue anyway.”

“I’m not taking him to a hospital,” she said. “My boss will get a doctor to us.”

A nerve pulsed and ticked in Gus’s cheek. She had the insane urge to reach up and stroke, try to soothe away the tension, the fear she knew was raging inside him. Tell me why you’re so afraid for him, she thought. I can help, I swear . . .

But she knew he wouldn’t believe her. She’d just have to show him.

“That doesn’t sound like standard FBI procedure.”

Lifting a brow at him, she said, “You know a lot about standard FBI procedure? What, you watch a lot of TV or something?” Then she took a chance and looked away from him, putting the car into drive. “It’s not standard FBI procedure, but I don’t work with a standard unit.”

As she pulled out into the flow of traffic, she felt the impact of his stare.

“What in the hell does that mean?”

Sighing, she shot him a look and then focused on the road. What in the hell did she tell him, she wondered. She needed him to trust her. She needed to know what in the hell he was running from and what—or who—he was protecting that boy from. But she couldn’t get his trust without giving a little first.

“I do work for the FBI,” she said slowly. “But it’s a special task force, and if anybody knew I was telling you this, I could lose my job. I’m telling you because I need you to trust me, at least a little.”

She flicked him another look as she wove in and out of traffic, taking the most direct route out of town. Get out, get away, move fast . . . it was a scream inside her brain, an instinct to get a hell of a lot of distance between her and that quiet little street where Alex and Gus had managed to live undisturbed for some time.

“I don’t trust anybody,” Gus whispered.

“You’re going to have to learn.” She wished she could make him understand just how vulnerable that kid was. How exposed. “You’re doing your best to take care of him, Gus, I get that. But that boy is like an exposed nerve bed. He’s got no training and too much raw power. Anybody who knows how to look for psychic skill would be able to find him in a heartbeat.”

Tense silence stretched out, before a low curse shattered it.

“Mierda,” Gus snarled, his voice furious and hot.

Vaughnne’s grasp of Spanish was pretty limited, but she understood that one. Lifting a brow, she said, “Shit doesn’t even cover it.”

“How did you know?”

“I just told you. He’s exposed. He has no idea how to hide himself. Hell, he’s like a neon sign in the dark. Anybody who knew how to look could find him,” she said. “And if the wrong people come looking? He’s got problems. Today, the wrong people came looking.”

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. “The boy reads people. He can see danger. He’d know—”

“He never saw me.”

Silence, once more, fell between them and she had to fight not to cringe under the weight of that deadly stare. Her instincts were screaming again. Danger, danger, danger, a terrible litany that had her wanting to run, and hide. Far and fast. Hide from Gus.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice almost terribly gentle as he asked, “What does that mean?”

“He never saw me. I’m not a threat to you, but he had no idea that I’m psychic, that I was there to watch him. He has no idea that people out there, like us, can sense him. He doesn’t know how to hide what he is. He may be a force to be reckoned with, but he didn’t realize there was another psychic right in front of him. And Gus? I’m not all that. If I can hide what I am, there are plenty of others who can do the same. Others who can hide what they are, what they think. He’s powerful, but he’s just a kid . . . a scared, untrained one.”

“And how do I know you do not lie to me?” he demanded, his voice edgy and harsh. The gun was jamming into her ribs now, hard enough that it was going to leave a bruise. “You could be lying now. You say you’re—”

The first time I saw you walking up my sidewalk, I thought to myself . . . the view was fine, Vaughnne whispered into his mind. Her gift was telepathy and it worked best in words, but if she had to, she could project images. It took more thought, and it worked best if the emotion was strong.

Fortunately, she had plenty of strong emotion when it came to Gus. Lust definitely counted, right?

She projected the image of how it felt, that first look, the sight of him, how it had sent heat and appreciation flooding through her.

Then as she heard his harsh intake of breath, she shifted the focus of her thought. Then I looked at the boy and I was caught between nerves and pain. He’s too young for the burden he’s bearing, Gus . . . and you know it. I don’t even understand what his burden is, and I know it. I can see it on him.

She pushed the image that she carried of Alex into Gus’s mind. That first image, Alex, all long, skinny limbs and big, scared eyes, and a fear he tried so hard to hide.

“Enough,” Gus said, his voice flat. “Enough.”

She cut off the flow of her thoughts and focused on the area around them, checking the rearview mirror, the cars. Nobody was following them, but she still had that burning, pressing urge to get the hell away from there. Now.