The Protected

talk to the men who’d shown up on the base.

Within a few months, he’d known it was probably a bad choice, but there was no turning back then. Not if he wanted to protect his family.

He’d sent back money, had thought it would be enough to take care of them. To make sure his mother and Consuelo were cared for.

This life, it was like he’d been made for it.

Quick to learn, fast on his feet, good with his fists, good at . . . other things.

He’d settled into that life, but it was a dangerous one, and the only way to protect his family was to make like he had none.

Then he’d gotten that simple call.

I need you . . .

Consuelo’s voice, a voice he hadn’t heard in years. He hadn’t even recognized her at first. He hadn’t gone home, not when their mother had died, although he would have, if possible. For that, he would have returned home. But he’d been busy recovering from an altercation that had damn near killed him. By the time he’d emerged from surgery, their mother had already been dead, and by the time they had told him about her passing, she had already been buried.

He’d almost walked away from the life then. Almost.

But he’d been told, more than once, It will follow you. It will take everything and everyone you love. Why risk them?

Them? There is no them . . . there is just my sister.

Except his sister had been pregnant.

A new life, a new innocent he had to worry about protecting. That had been more than a decade ago. So he’d stayed away . . . again.

But then she’d called him.

How could he stay away when his baby sister had called him? Had needed him?

Please come home, Gustavo. . . I need you. Please. There . . . I can’t tell anybody else. Nobody else will protect him.

That was all she had said.

Then she’d hung up and she wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t answer his e-mails.

Her husband, a bastard if ever there was one, was a man that Gus should have killed the second he had figured out just who his sister had married. He was a drug dealer, but there were worse crimes in Gus’s mind. Still were. But Gus hadn’t thought the bastard was going to go that low.

He had been wrong.

And now, every day, he had to live with that knowledge. Every day, he had to live with what his hesitation had cost him. He hadn’t wanted his sister to look at him, or think of him, and wonder.

Now she wouldn’t because she was gone.

And her evil, twisted husband lived.

While Gus and Alex fled for their lives.

If it had just been Gus involved, he would have gone for the bastard and not blinked twice. It would have been a risk, and the risk was one he would have taken happily. All men died, after all. He doubted he’d live a long life. But it wasn’t a risk he’d take without knowing Alex would be safe.

Alone . . .

Hell, yes. He was alone.

Glaring down at Vaughnne, he opened his mouth to tell her . . . something. Anything. He needed her out of his way. Preferably someplace far away from him, because if she was far away from him, then he wouldn’t be tempted to do just what she seemed to think he should do. Trust her.

She reached up and closed her hand around his wrist. “If you don’t stop running now . . . you never will,” she said quietly. “Surely, somewhere in that beautiful, thick-as-stone head of yours, you have to realize that, right? Either you take a stand or spend the rest of your life running. The rest of his life running. And it’s likely to be a short one, because those people will not quit hunting you. And we can’t keep chasing after you to protect that kid when you make it clear you don’t want our help.”

“Why?”

She blinked, her lashes sweeping down to hide her dark eyes. The scattering of freckles across her cheeks caught his gaze, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand, cupped her chin. Stroking one thumb across the silk of her skin, he waited.

“Why what?” she asked, tugging away and backing out of his reach.

“Why do you want to help at all?” He shook his head and gestured to Alex. “You don’t know us. We’re not even here legally.”

She smirked and rolled her eyes. Then she turned her back and crossed over to the chair opposite the bed. “I’m so shocked by that, I think I just might faint, Gus. I really might.” She dropped down in the chair, wincing a little as she stretched out. “I mean, never mind the fact that you’ve pulled a gun—probably an illegal one—on me more than once. Never mind that you’ve drugged me. Threatened me. But you’re here illegally. That’s just over the line there.”

He glared at her and tried to ignore the nasty crawl of shame rising up the back of his throat. How many times had he threatened her? More than once. More than a half dozen, easily. And yet she sat there, watching him with a level, steady gaze, and no anger in her lovely, dark eyes.

“You want to know why?” she asked softly.

“If I didn’t, I would not have asked,” he pointed out.

“Okay.” She nodded slowly and then shifted around and reached into her pocket. He watched, more than a little curious, as she opened what looked like a wallet. No purse for Vaughnne, it seemed. She tugged something out, and although he couldn’t see it well, it looked to be a picture.

* * *

“WHEN I was fifteen, my father threw me out on the streets and my mom just stood by and watched,” Vaughnne said softly, stroking a finger down the ragged edge of the picture. It was one Jones had managed to get for her. She had a bunch of them, thanks to her boss, but this was her favorite. She needed to make some copies of it, but she just hadn’t gotten around to it. The picture had been taken at Christmas, right before all the . . . voices . . . had started. It was her with Daylin. Her little sister. The girl she’d tried so hard to save months ago. And when she couldn’t save her, she’d settled for avenging her.

Feeling the weight of Gus’s gaze, she looked up. “My dad didn’t believe in psychic ability, you know.” She shrugged and said, “Kind of crazy, because I got it from him. I always felt that . . . buzz around him. Nobody else in the house. And I’d talk to him more. Bad call there, because it made him think he was going crazy. Once he figured out it was me, he threw me out. I never saw him again, never saw my mom . . . or my little sister.”

She looked back down at Daylin’s picture. “I used to check up on my sister, though. She joined Facebook, and although I didn’t friend her or anything, I’d . . . well. Watch her. Peek in on my dad’s profile even, because he’d post things about her grades and some pictures and stuff. I could see her face every now and then, and it was better than nothing. She didn’t lock her profile, either. I hated that, because that’s so stupid, so unsafe, but at the same time . . .?” She sighed. “It was the one connection I had with her. I could see what was going on in her life. I used to think about how I’d wait until she was eighteen then I wouldn’t have to worry about my dad. I could look her up and see if she wanted to have anything to do with me.”

The grief rose up, threatened to slam her to the floor, but she fought it back. Now was so not the time. Sucking in a breath, she waited until the pain ebbed before she went on. “Then, last year . . . she disappeared. My father tells the cops she was kidnapped, but I think she was out flirting with the wrong guy, maybe went to meet him—it fits with some of the stuff I saw on her page when I was digging around. She’d been talking about this one guy. Had plans to meet somebody she’d met on-line . . . so, so stupid. I think she met him and he grabbed her. It wasn’t reported for a few days . . .” She rubbed a finger down the edge of the picture again, barely even aware she was doing it. “I didn’t know anything about it—was on a case—and then I got home and see he’d logged into her Facebook and put up an alert. That’s how I find out my baby sister is missing. An alert on Facebook. He