The Protected

Hopefully.

She didn’t want to think that they had more than one group following them just then.

Sighing, she reached down into the floorboard and pulled up Gus’s bag. She looked over just as he glanced at her. “We’ve got company coming,” she said sourly. “I don’t know how far off they are, but I can feel them.”

A black brow winged up as he shifted his attention back to the road. “How come you can feel it now but not back when we stopped for gas?”

“Could be a variety of reasons,” she said, shrugging. “There were a bunch of people—that makes it harder for me to single anything out. It could be they are searching for me, so they aren’t shielding as hard. My only real psychic ability is telepathy. It’s . . . well, I guess you can call it my active gift. But a lot of us have some limited passive skills that allow us to sense this sort of thing. We just feel different. If whoever it is isn’t shielding, or isn’t shielding as much? He’ll stand out more and I’m more likely to pick up on his vibes.”

“He?”

She made a face. “Could be a she. Gut says he, but who knows?”

“Any idea how many?”

“Nope.” She shrugged and studied the contents of the bag. It was a bad boy’s treasure trove, she decided. Weapons of beauty, for sure. And just about every damn one of them was illegal for civilian use. “I’m going to guess two, because working in teams would appear to be the MO for these goons, but for all I know, it’s four. That’s not likely, though. I doubt they’d want to split the money that many ways.”

He shrugged. “If the risk goes up, the money goes up. Mercenaries are going to be smart and bring in as many men as they need. It’s already been made clear this isn’t going to be an easy job.”

“Gee. Thanks for making me feel better.”

“If you wanted to feel better, you should have left back at the gas station. You should have left with Alex. You should have never gotten involved.” The words were grim. His face, though, was unaffected. He had that sleepy, sexy look in his eyes, and his mouth was relaxed, almost smiling.

Scary bastard.

Before she could let herself get unnerved, she looked back down into the bag and studied the weapons. “How do you want to handle this? We already know what they are doing and why. So no reason to talk to them.”

“Now, Vaughnne, it almost sounds like you’re talking about just outright killing them,” he murmured.

Her gut clenched. “That’s not what I’m talking about.” Not entirely. But if she could get them off their ass without worrying about them coming after her again . . . yeah. She could go for that.

“Do we have a few minutes before they catch up to us?”

Vaughnne sighed. “Probably.” Her gut wasn’t exactly screaming at her yet. Once it was screaming at her, they’d most likely be in sight. When they were in sight, then they’d have to make a decision—

Or not, she realized as Gus shot off the expressway. She hissed out a breath at the sudden movement, the seat belt cutting into her skin. The bruises on her made a rather loud complaint, but she bit back any sound she might have been tempted to make. After all, as Gus had said, if she’d wanted to feel better, she shouldn’t have come.

“If you can feel them, can they feel you?”

She looked around at the rather isolated bit of highway he’d decided to follow. The expressway was already fading behind them. Blowing out a breath, she said, “Yeah. They’d do better if I’m not shielding. I guess you want to use me as bait, huh?”

“I just want them to follow us.” He had an odd note in his voice.

She made a face. “Sounds like bait to me.” Didn’t matter much, she supposed. She’d done it before. She could do it again. Wasn’t anything she liked, but she could handle it. Letting her shields down wasn’t much different for her than peeling off her clothing. One layer at a time. It left her feeling exposed, just as if she’d decided to strip herself naked in the middle of a public parking lot or something, too.

And as she let the last layer of shielding drop, she was painfully, almost brutally aware of that other presence, a too-hot buzz along her senses. “Yeah,” she whispered. “They can feel me, all right.”

Gus didn’t answer.

She thought about reaching into the bag and pulling out one of the weapons, but in the end, she settled on the Glock that the Bureau had assigned to her. It was hers, and she knew the feel of it, the weight of it, how it settled in her hand. She appreciated that particular weapon rather well. “You want to give me an idea just what the plan is here?” she asked as he took a sharp left off the highway.

They were barreling down a narrow little country lane now with absolutely no regard for speed limits or anything else.

“The plan? Eliminate the threat.” A ghost of a smile danced around his lips for a second. “That’s the plan.” His eyes seemed to take in everything, although she didn’t know how. They were driving so fast, she could barely take in anything beyond the scenery blurring around them.

“You got any idea where we are?”

“Somewhere in Louisiana, close to the Texas border. I’ve been here.” He was quiet for about five seconds and then said, “Hold on.”

That was about all the warning she had before he slammed on the brakes. It wasn’t enough of a warning and the seat belt cut into her skin once more. “Man, I really want to wallop you, and hard.”

“Wallop?”

She sneered at him as he turned down an even narrower road, winding, all but obscured by the undergrowth. Green surrounded them. “Yeah. Wallop. Hit you across that thick head of yours,” she snapped.

“A day or so ago, you called it beautiful.”

“You are beautiful.” She tugged against her seat belt and shifted around, staring out the window. “You know you’re beautiful and you use it. I think you should have been a damn female.”

He surprised her by laughing. “So I’m . . . what . . . using my masculine wiles too much?”

“You use them like a weapon. And again, you know it.” There wasn’t anybody back there, but unless they knew the road, she doubted they’d take it at the breakneck speed he’d just used. He took another road. “Just where in the hell are you going?”

“Hiding the car. Somebody used to live back here. He’s dead now, but we can use the place for cover.”

She thought about those words, wondered if she should try to get more information about whoever he was talking about. Then ultimately, figured it wasn’t worth it. “Why are we using the place for cover? Why hide the car?”

“Because if we’re going to deal with our tail, it’s better that they aren’t discovered right away,” he said simply. Abruptly, the trees opened up around them.

Vaughnne looked around, eyeing the ramshackle little building in front of her warily. That thing couldn’t even be called a cabin. “What in the hell is that?”

“It’s called a house. People live in them.”

“That’s not a house. It’s not much bigger than a damn closet,” she said, shaking her head.

“Well, he lived in it. He could have bought something much bigger, too, but he liked it here. Was easy for him to hide.” Gus shrugged and pulled the car around behind the house. It was big enough, barely, to conceal the car. But it wouldn’t conceal them unless they stayed inside the damn car or went inside the house. She wasn’t convinced she wanted to do that, though. It was too little. Too confined.

“Come on. We’ll go inside.”

Of course they were. She stared at the ramshackle pile of boards morosely as she jerked open the door and climbed out. The hot, muggy punch of a Louisiana summer smacked her in the face the second she did so. Ignoring it, she shut the door, still gripping her Glock with her free hand. Joining Gus on the step, she waited as he picked the lock. It didn’t take but a few seconds, although it was a pretty complex lock. Hell, the lock looked like it cost more than the damn house.

In under a minute, they were inside and she found herself staring at a place that was actually remarkably . . . charming, considering the outside. Other than a thick layer of dust, it was well kept, a neat little bed up against a wall, a minuscule kitchen, and a bathroom tucked up in the corner. No TV, though. Just the bed, the kitchen, the bathroom. “Wow. He was into luxury, wasn’t he?”

“He wanted to escape from life . . . wanted peace. This was what he considered peace.” Gus