The Protected

“And if there’s a better option?”

“There isn’t one!” He closed the distance between them and fisted his hand in her shirt, jerking her up onto her toes, hauling her up until they were nose to nose. “Don’t you get it, you stupid little fool? There is no option. He is hunted by men who would kill anything and anybody just to be able to use him.”

She curled a hand over his wrist. “Then you find people who know how to fight back. And you have to do it soon . . . he’s going to get stronger and he needs to learn control before that happens. Before he hurts people who’ve done nothing wrong. You want him to live with that?”

“He . . .” Gus clenched his jaw and looked away. “Why are you so certain he’s going to get stronger?”

“Puberty.” Vaughnne shrugged and gave him a wry smile. “It usually manifests then, but for those who already show a gift? It just amps it up and he’s hitting puberty, hard, I’d say. He’s going to have to start shaving soon, I bet. He’s already got that long, skinny look of a kid who can’t eat enough to keep up with the growth spurts. If he’s not hitting it now, it’s going to be soon.”

He stared at her, his eyes dark, menacing. “You’re certain of this.”

“There’s no guarantee, but roughly ninety-five percent of those who are already showing the ability before puberty? Yeah. It jumps up. And it gets harder to control then, too. The theory is that the hormonal swings and shifts that come with puberty play into it.” She sighed and shook her head. “Trust me, Gus . . . he needs help and he needs it from somebody who has been there. He’s not the only one of his kind. There are others, and they’d be willing to die to protect a child.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You asked why I did the FBI . . . this is why. Because this way, I can help. I know what it’s like to lose somebody. I won’t let them take him away from you.”

“How can I trust you?” he demanded, his voice raspy and raw. Almost broken. “I don’t know you. How can I trust you with that boy? You don’t know what he’s gone through.”

“No. I don’t. But I can tell you what I went through—”

Her skin prickled. Everything inside her went cold, then hot. It wasn’t anything she attributed to her abilities. This was just instinct. Jones liked to say that psychic skill ranged from everything just above a hyperaware set of instincts to those abilities like his agents possessed.

This? Just instinct. And her instincts were screaming.

Something bad . . .

That thought crawled through her brain as she took a step back. “Get him to the car,” she said quietly. “Now.”

And she pulled the weapon from the holster at her back.

“What?”

As he spoke, Alex stumbled over to them. Eyes wide and black. Full of terror. “Tio . . .”

“Shhh, m’hijo,” he said, cupping a hand over the back of the boy’s neck.

“The car, Gus,” Vaughnne said, keeping the gun low, out of view along her thigh unless somebody was looking.

They’d be looking, though—

Absently, she was aware that Gus was hustling the boy to the car. She swore and looked down at the distributor cap she still carried. “Shit,” she muttered. “Gus!”

Turning, she hurled it at him. She didn’t wait to see if he caught it before she went back to looking around.

The black SUV came pulling around the corner a few blocks down. Even with all the other cars on the road, her gaze was drawn to it and she felt like a moth pinned to a board, trapped, helpless, and certain they were staring right at her.

That was the fear inside her talking.

Her brain kicked in as the SUV moved into the center lane. Turning aside, she started to move like she was heading over to one of the cars, keeping the vehicle in her line of sight even as the ice in her gut spread.

The SUV had already passed her by. Yeah, that’s right. Keep driving—

They hadn’t noticed her. As long as she didn’t draw physical attention to herself, she was fine. The main problem was hiding from any of the psychic bloodhounds, and she knew how to hide what she was, unlike the boy.

But Alex . . .

Shit.

Tires squealed on the pavement and she moved to the side. Gus stopped and she went to open the door. It was locked. You son of a bitch, she thought. Don’t even—

A second later, it unlocked and she jerked it open. “Drive,” she said. “Preferably without squealing the tires again or anything else that will call attention to you. Unless they’ve got a damn good bloodhound, they aren’t going to realize right away that he is in this car. They’ll just know he’s close. If we get some distance between us and them before they lock on him, we stand a better chance.”

“Bloodhound,” Gus muttered. “You keep saying that.”

“Somebody who can track. People. Psychics. Anything.” She shot a look back at the kid. “Anybody they get a lock on, that is. If they had somebody go through your house, then they’ve got all sorts of shit they can use to track him with, even if he wasn’t casting out signals like crazy.”

“Would you shut up?” Gus snarled.

She looked back at him, but not before she saw the boy flinch. “What do you want me to do? Pretend he isn’t dangerous, the state he is in?”

“So help me God, you’ll be silent or—”

She ignored him and looked back at Alex. Focusing on the chaos that was his mind, she spoke directly inside his head. You’re sick, you’re scared, and this isn’t a good time to do this . . . but if you want to be safe . . . or safer, you need to let me help you learn how to shield better.

She saw his reaction in the way he flinched, the way his mouth dropped open.

Then, to her utter disgust, he asked, “Shield? What does that mean?”

She dropped her head against the seat.

The boy had absolutely no clue, she realized.

None at all.

* * *

GUS followed the directions Vaughnne gave him for one reason.

He’d just figured out how very little he understood his nephew’s ability.

Bloodhound . . . ?que carajo? What did that even mean?

Vaughnne had explained in short, terse terms, but just how somebody could track . . .

“Shit.”

He glanced over at Vaughnne and then up ahead at the cars slowed down around them.

“Get off the highway,” she said. “Now.”

He shot her a dark look. “Thanks, but I’d already figured that much out.”

Unfortunately, several hundred other cars seemed to have the same idea. Moving to the exit ramp wasn’t the easiest process in the world and he was about ready to bite something by the time he hit the red light a half mile later. “Where now?” he asked, forcing his voice into a flat, level tone.

“Whichever way seems to have cars moving the easiest,” she said. “The biggest thing is to keep moving, and stay moving . . . away from the city.”

That was all she said before she looked back at Alex. “You have to try again.”

Gus shot her a narrow look and then checked the mirror, cutting over into the left lane in front of an eighteen-wheeler the second the light turned green. He maneuvered through the traffic, keeping an eye out for cops and watching Vaughnne.

Something about her changed when she was doing that . . . talk . . . thing.

He’d done some reading up on psychic abilities and he thought it was called telepathy. And when she was doing it, although her features didn’t change, there was just . . . something. A slight shift in her eyes. The way she