The Protected

held herself. He couldn’t quite describe it, and if he hadn’t spent many, many years doing nothing but studying people . . . studying women, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

But then again, with Vaughnne, maybe he would have.

She couldn’t seem to breathe without him noticing.

Right now, she was using that ability to talk to Alex.

And he didn’t like it.

As they came to another stoplight, he made a decision. Pulling into the parking lot of a crowded McDonald’s, he nosed the car into a parking spot. He hadn’t even gotten the car into park before she was glaring at him. “We need to keep moving,” she said.

“Leave him alone.”

“Do you want those people finding him?”

“We’re thirty miles from where we were,” he pointed out. They couldn’t track somebody from that far. It wasn’t like they were sharks in the water. These were just people. The SUV hadn’t shown up once, and if they were being followed, he would know. That much, at least, he would know.

“It doesn’t matter. We could be on the other side of the globe, and if he can’t shut it down, I know people who could track him. He needs to shut it down . . . now.” She turned her head away from him and focused on Alex, the boy huddling in the backseat. “Again, Alex.”

Alex groaned and Gus shifted his attention to the rearview mirror, watching as the boy closed his eyes. “It’s hard, Vaughnne.” Little lines of pain bracketed out from his eyes, and as Gus stared at him, he clamped his mouth so tightly shut, his lips went bloodless.

“Enough, Vaughnne,” Gus said quietly.

She ignored him.

This . . .

He blew out a careful, controlled breath. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but apparently, they didn’t have much choice.

* * *

SHE caught the danger just a second too late.

Just a fraction of a heartbeat sooner and she would have been able to move. But she’d been concentrating on Alex, trying to guide him through the shielding process without being able to see inside his head—she was so woefully inadequate for this—

By the time she saw Gus moving, he had her pinned against the door. And she couldn’t even strike out— fast, she thought. He was too fast. Her head was spinning with how fast he moved and she jerked up a leg to get between them. And that was another mistake. She felt the sharp sting penetrate her leg, and then the burn as he injected her with something.

“Damn it—”

That was what she tried to say.

Her tongue was too thick.

Help—

Help. She needed help. A face formed in her mind. Tucker—

Even as she screamed for him, she was distantly aware of Gus easing her around in the seat. “I’ll leave the windows down,” he said, leaning in to murmur against her ear. “You’ll sleep for thirty minutes, no more. The keys are in your pocket.”

The words barely made sense. The darkness came on harder, faster.

“You . . .” She licked her lips. That sense of dread kicked up and ran down her spine. Adrenaline chased back the fog a little. “They’ll find the boy,” she whispered. “You stupid jackass. You . . . just fucked yourself . . .”

“No. I’ll keep him safe. It’s my job.”

TWELVE

TUCKER damn near fell to his knees out in the parking lot.

The shriek threatened to turn his brain into mush.

High and desperate, lasting forever.

And then . . . just like that . . . it was gone.

A hand gripped his forearm, but he was so shaken, it didn’t dawn on him until nearly thirty seconds later that Nalini was touching his bare skin.

He was hopped up high on fear, and energy crawled through him, but she was touching him—

Dazed, he stared at her hand, her skin pale against the tattoos that twined around his arms. Blood roared in his ears and his heart pulsed and throbbed in his throat. For a minute, he couldn’t see anything but her hand on him. And then, reality shifted, twisted. And settled.

“Vaughnne,” he whispered.

Nalini’s hand tightened. “What?”

Carefully, afraid something sparking inside him would leap out and scorch her, he tugged his arm away and focused on the broken, busted pavement of the parking lot in front of the seedy motel. They’d spent most of the night going over all the information they had, and Tucker had gotten on the phone with Lucia, giving her an abbreviated version, despite Nalini’s furious arguments.

Nobody could dig up information the way Lucia could and he needed more info on the website. The website . . . an underground craigslist for psychics.

Now this.

He closed his eyes and thought of that desperate scream. “It was Vaughnne,” he said, worry riding him hard. “She just screamed in my head. I think something bad happened.”

Nalini went pale. Her skin was smooth and delicate as ivory anyway. Now, it was like she was just a shade away from snow.

She drilled a hand against her temple and swore, spinning away so fast, her dreads whirled up around her. “Shit.”

“Yeah. We can cuss about it on the road. We need to go find her.”

Nalini just stared off toward the office, her shoulders stiff, her spine a long, rigid line. Long seconds passed before she slowly turned around. “I can’t,” she said, her voice low. “I have something else I’m caught up in and I can’t abandon it for this.”

Tucker hadn’t heard that right. He knew he hadn’t. Closing his eyes, he counted to ten and then looked back at her. Calmly, he said, “I don’t think I understood that.”

“Yes,” she said gently. “You did.” She reached into the little purse she’d slung over her shoulder, the strap lying between two small, firm breasts. She tugged out a card and a pen, scribbling something down furiously. “Call this number once you’re on the road. It’s the SAC for the unit. Jones. You may or may not have met him, but tell him your connection, Tucker. You can trust him. Vaughnne does. I do. He’ll get help—”

He stared at the card and then turned away. “I hope to hell that’s not a friend of yours I just heard screaming in my head, Cole.”

Part of him just wanted to leave. He could. Technically. Nothing bound him to this. He said he’d watch out for the kid but nothing required him to do it. He wasn’t getting paid and he didn’t have a stake in this.

But he liked Vaughnne.

She had balls.

And . . .

Shit.

She’d reached out and asked . . . no . . . begged him for help.

He hadn’t had too many people do that.

“Damn it, Tucker!”