The Protected

this wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. Not that they were likely to have that anytime soon. “Besides, how likely am I to get away if I tried?”

Lashes swept low. “If you ran now, I might let you go. You never should have gotten caught up in this. I’ve got enough blood on my hands. I . . .”

His voice trailed off and then he shook his head. “Come on. We’re wasting time.”

“Yeah, and there’s none of that,” she said, sighing. Edging around him, trying to ignore the ache spreading through her, she started to the store. “I’ll call Jones once we’re done with the pit stop and grabbing up some food for the road. I’ve got cash if you don’t.”

There was no answer. She couldn’t hear him behind her as she headed into the store.

But he was following her. She was excruciatingly aware of that fact.

* * *

THEY bought some throwaway cell phones.

Gus had several of them stashed in his bag, but he didn’t want to use them until he had to, so before they left, he peeled off a few twenties and bought two more, added a few cards to their purchases so they would have airtime. Vaughnne stood next to him, her right hand hanging loose, her left thumb hitched in her pocket as she stood there, a bored expression on her face.

She might look bored to anybody else, but he recognized that look.

She was watching. Noticing everything.

The door opened and a gust of hot air blew in, and even though her expression never changed, he imagined she could tell him everything about the person who’d just walked in.

Of course, he’d also noticed.

A trucker. Big guy, nearly six foot five, black, his beard going gray and his head smooth and bald, shiny in the bright light. He wore a faded T-shirt with Mr. T on it, and although it hung loosely on him, it couldn’t disguise the muscular build. Automatically, Gus cataloged how the man moved, decided the guy knew how to move and probably knew how to fight, as well.

But he was older and he looked tired, like he’d spent the entire day on the road.

He also had a direct look about him, and if Gus had to kill him, he’d do it quick and easy.

It was normal, for him, to note everything about everybody and decide how he’d kill somebody. Some people would die slow, because if he made it slow, he could get information out of them. Others, he’d kill fast because they’d never talk, or if they did talk, it would take too much time, and time was one thing Gus never wasted.

The man looked like one who knew how to take pain.

Stop it, a soft voice murmured into his mind. Shifting his eyes to the side, he eyed Vaughnne narrowly.

She lifted a brow at him, and once more, her voice rolled through him. Stop. He’s just a trucker. If he was more, I’d know. He’s not.

He wondered how she was so certain, when she had been the one to point out to him that there were psychics who could hide themselves very, very well—she hadn’t sensed the two earlier. And Alex hadn’t ever sensed a thing from her.

But then again, Vaughnne and Alex were two very different creatures. Even he could see that.

Alex might be a wildfire, deadly and strong, but Vaughnne was forged steel. Equally deadly, equally strong. And she had control.

Control . . . questions, demands, burned inside him, and abruptly, he was tired of not having those answers. Especially when there was somebody who could answer them.

As they paid for their purchases, he decided, then and there, he’d get the questions.

“You want us to get these activated for you?” the kid behind the counter asked.

“No.” Gus looked away before the kid could offer anything else, and in another few minutes, they were out of the store. He took a slow look around the parking lot even as they headed for the car, his mind already focused on those questions.

“How am I calling Jones?” Vaughnne asked softly.

He pulled his phone from his back pocket and pushed it into her hand. “We’ll toss it once the call is done. I assume you know the number.”

“You assume correctly.”

As she went to open the driver’s door, he stopped her, gesturing to the other side of the car. As Vaughnne went to climb into the car, she paused, her body tensing. The expression on her face had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

“I don’t think I’m making that call yet,” she said softly, tension threaded through her voice.

He just nodded as they slid into the car. Those answers he wanted would have to wait. From the corner of his eye, he could see her muscles tighten, then relax, like she was readying herself.

“A couple of people,” she murmured. “I feel something.”

“A white Explorer just pulled into the far side of the parking lot. Do I stay here or pull out?” he asked, jamming the key into the ignition. Asking for advice on which move to make felt foreign, but this was her territory. He should have listened to her before this. It was high time he did so.

Vaughnne looked around and then gestured as a large group of people came pouring out of the travel plaza, heading for a couple of cars parking a few spaces down. “Pull out when they do. Enough commotion will distract them for a minute.”

“Once we’re on the road, we have to move,” he said grimly. He kept his gaze on the white SUV, watched as it disappeared out of his line of sight.

She gave him a lazy smile. “Yeah. That would be wise.” That lazy smile remained firmly in place even as he placed his bag in her lap and it didn’t even wobble as she lifted a brow and unzipped it. “Damn, Gus. You believe in coming prepared, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond as he backed the car up, moving with the others she’d pointed out.

She slid him a look. “Do us both a favor and keep pace with them for a few minutes. Trust me, even if they notice us, they aren’t going to want the attention of the cops, so they are not going to be speeding or any crazy shit.”

He didn’t give a damn if the cops noticed him or not, but even as he went to tell her that, she cut him off. “If we end up in a high-speed chase heading through southern Mississippi, it’s not going to help either of us. And while I can probably help with things as long as you don’t piss off the locals, if they see these?” She gestured to the bag in her lap and shook her head. “All bets are off. I may be FBI, but I still have to follow the law. And none of these look terribly legal to me.”

He shot a look in the rearview mirror while the skin on the back of his neck continued to crawl. “I’m not worried about the legalities, Vaughnne.” The white Explorer wasn’t behind them. Yet.

“I get that. I suspect you think you’ve crossed the point of no return, and I understand. But don’t you think it would serve your purpose to at least get to him before we both go down in fiery crash?”

He curled his lip. “None of the cops around here would be able to stop me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Your arrogance is so appealing, really. But how about this . . . none of the cops around here have done a damn thing to you, and if this ends up in a high-speed chase because you won’t pull over for them, people will get hurt. Think about that . . . for five seconds. I’m probably throwing my career away as it is, but I’d rather not let anybody innocent get hurt while I’m at it.”

He clenched his jaw as he stared out the window, too aware of the long, mostly empty expanse of highway wrapping around them. The cars they’d followed out of the travel plaza had just headed east.

But so far, the white Explorer was still back at the plaza. “I’ll try to behave,” he said.

Try.

“Why aren’t they following us?”

“They might not have known we were there.” She shrugged and glanced back at the plaza as the road curved around. A few seconds later, it was gone from their sight. “Sometimes a psychic just gets a blip, a flash of some place or thing. It could have been that. They could have somebody who gets visions and they were looking for us because of that. Who knows? It doesn’t matter as long as we avoid them.”