The Protected

there are no requirements for moral fiber to get in there.”

Her lids drooped as fear closed an icy, cold fist around her throat. Scrolling through the page, she started to dig deeper and then her heart jumped up and slammed against her ribs, hard. “This . . . this says they’ve got almost ten thousand members.”

“Yeah.” Tucker’s mouth was a tight, narrow line. “I bet a bunch of them are fakes and wannabes. And a lot of them aren’t going to be interested in going after a kid. But think this through to completion . . . you know there are plenty of scum out there who’d kill their own mother for a few hundred dollars. Grabbing some kid they don’t know?”

“Shhhhittttt . . .” she whispered, breathing the word out as her mind started to process that. “Tucker, we have to find them. Whether Gus likes it or not, we have to find that boy and get him in. It’s his only chance.”

Tucker’s lashes swept down over his eyes, and she recalled just how loudly he made known his dislike of the FBI. Damn it, if he started fighting with her over this—

He flicked her a look and gave a short, single nod. “I don’t know if turning him over to the FBI is the best idea, but he needs to be protected. We can agree on that much.”

“Good. That’s good. Thank God.” She shifted on the seat and groaned as her abused body screamed out at her. “I feel like I was run over by a truck.”

“You’re not far off.” He sighed and lifted one hand to his mouth.

She watched, wary as he used his teeth to strip off one of his gloves.

“Let me see your neck,” he said.

She just stared at him.

He blew out a breath. “Come on, Vaughnne. This will help.”

“Aren’t you the one who was telling me all the crazy shit about how you carry electricity inside you? And you want me to let you touch my neck?” He was out of his mind.

“Haven’t you ever heard of electrical stimulation therapy?” he asked, giving her what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. It failed. By a long shot.

Tucker looked too devilish to ever pass for charming.

Narrowing her eyes, she tucked herself more firmly against the seat.

“Come on.” He smiled again. “Chiropractors use it all the time.”

“I heard about this one chiro who was doing an adjustment on a woman—he severed her carotid artery. She ended up in the ICU, all because of his adjustments,” Vaughnne said, smiling at him.

“Well, I’m not going to give you an adjustment. I just want to help with your neck, seeing as how I helped put it in the shape it’s in.” He sighed and shrugged. “But if you want to sit there and suffer . . .”

He went to pull his hand back.

“You think you can really help?”

“Well. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t offer,” he said.

She muttered under her breath and then eased forward. As his hand came close, she squeezed her eyes closed and prayed. The first brush of his fingers wasn’t anything. Then, as she went to glance over at him, she felt something buzz against her skin. Hissing out a breath, her eyes widened.

But before she could say anything, it hit her again, and again.

He pressed against her neck, and the heat of his palm, combined with whatever the hell he was doing, managed to ease that horrid pain. “Oh . . . hell,” she mumbled, sagging in relief.

She needed to start to think. And she would soon. Really soon. Once they had an idea where they were going.

It was almost too soon when Tucker pulled his hand away. “I can’t do much more,” he said softly. “I have to limit how much I touch others, but that should help.”

Eyes closed, she sighed in bliss. “That was enough. I almost don’t hate you now.”

He laughed a little. “Gee, thanks.” A few seconds passed, and then he asked, “Why don’t you give me an idea just what we need to do here, Miz FBI? You got a plan?”

“Gimme a minute,” she groused. “This has been one lousy day for me, okay? Car wreck. Kidnapped. Oh, and hey, I was drugged this morning, too. Not to mention losing the kid I was supposed to be protecting.”

“Drugged?”

There was an odd, heavy note of tension in Tucker’s voice.

She cracked one eye open to peer over at him. “Yeah. Gus, his . . . ah, the kid’s guardian, he drugged me. Gave me some sort of short-acting sedative, if I had to take a guess. Caught me off guard. I woke up when they were shoving me in the car and I probably hit my head or something, because I went out again for a few minutes. I don’t know where Gus and the kid disappeared to.”

“I can help there.” Tucker stared ahead, his face grim. “I’m tracking the kid’s . . . brain waves, basically. He’s got an electrical signature that’s pretty unique. If nothing else, it will make it easy for me to find him. I’m keyed into the electrical shit.”

“I can’t imagine that. Really.” She made herself move her head, checking it one way, then other. Oh, bliss. She could move her head without major pain. The rest of her body was still in major protest, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be any problems. Wrenched a few things, probably. No major damage, she didn’t think. “How far?”

“It’s faint. We’re closing in on them, but if I had to guess, I’d say twenty miles or so.” His dark brown eyes were flat. “The kid isn’t the only one out there, though. I don’t think he’s been grabbed. I think he’s being followed or something, but there is at least one or two others close by. Probably looking to grab the kid.”

“So we just get there before that happens.”

Tucker muttered under his breath, “Yeah. That’s all we gotta do. Easy, right?”

* * *

NALINI came upon the accident scene only moments before the cops did. She sighed and climbed out, although it was just going to slow her down.

She had to get out there, because she needed to get her hands on . . . something. Her psychometry wasn’t going to kick into place unless she touched something, and she had to know what was going on so she could figure out where to go from here.

Mexico.

That was where she needed to go.

Except she was needed here, too. And she couldn’t be in two places at once.

Forcing herself to focus, she made her way over to the truck and studied the dead bodies there. The sirens wailed, closer now, and she knew she was missing out on her chance to grab anything from the scene.

Bracing herself, she made her way over to the body and touched the man who lay on the ground.

Images slammed into her.

Tucker.

Vaughnne.

Memories piling into her head, too hard and fast, fractured and burning hot in her brain. That was normal. She shoved them to the back of her mind, where she could pick through them when she had time to breathe . . . and time to not worry about local law enforcement.

What she needed was buried deeper and it was fading. The human body wasn’t exactly like an inanimate object. Inanimate objects held imprints longer. Human bodies were like the sand on the beach. One good, hard wave was all it took to wipe the slate clean and death was one hell of a wave. But it was there . . . just . . . there—

She grabbed it, took it.

Memories of the promise of money. The boy. It all circled back to the boy. She should have headed straight back to Mexico, she realized. None of this would stop until that damn listing went off-line. She severed the connection and sucked in a gasp of blood-drenched air. The night was thick with death and she closed her eyes, tried to process everything she’d just taken in.

It was too much.

This wasn’t her strongest ability, and she’d never perfected it as much as she should have. But a few things