The Protected

“What if she was right? What if they can find me just because of what . . . what I am?” Alex asked, his voice shaking and nervous, but there was an underlying thread of steel inside it. “I felt something. When she was in my head . . . and when I hurt her that day, I felt something in her head. Like a wall. It’s different from what is in my head. That’s what she was showing me. If she was right about the wall, about shielding, then maybe she’s right about the rest of it.”

Gus didn’t want to think about that.

Couldn’t.

Because if she was, if she hadn’t lied, and if there were psychic bloodhounds on their tail . . .

Dread twisted his gut and he did the same thing he’d done with his terrors over the years. He shut them down and blocked them out. He’d get Alex and him through this. That was just all there was to it. There was no other option, really.

* * *

IT could have been ten seconds since Vaughnne had closed her eyes. It could have been ten minutes. She doubted it was ten hours, because it was still early in the day, judging by the angle of the sun in the sky. What small glimpse she had of it when the door was jerked open out from under her and she was grabbed by a big, smelly-ass man who looked like it had been years since he’d seen the inside of a shower.

It might have even been his stink that woke her up.

Adrenaline cleared the rest of the fog from her brain, but it was another few minutes before she could get the rest of her body working.

By that time, Vaughnne was the unhappy occupant of the big, black SUV she’d glimpsed earlier. With a gun shoved against the underside of her chin. The man leaning in and glaring at her didn’t look happy.

He was about to get even more unhappy, she decided.

Once she knew she could move. And fight.

She’d bloody him.

Then she’d find Gus and bloody him for leaving her drugged and helpless.

“Where’s the boy?” the man asked, his voice low and soft.

Vaughnne arched her brows. “Boy? What boy?”

A second later, that gun that was digging against her chin came flying through the air and she tasted blood. She swallowed it down, along with any sound she might have made, and focused on breathing. Then she tried to wiggle her toes. Ah . . . perfect. They moved. So did her ankles.

“The boy,” he said again. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she said.

He went to hit her again and she pretended to flinch, using her hands to protect her face; she could move. Thank God. She could move almost close to normal. Eyeing the man in the driver’s seat, she used her arms to protect her head and give her cover as she looked around. They were on the highway. Driving. Driving fast.

“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.