The Protected tfp-4 Read online

  He hadn’t been amused.

  She’d almost think he didn’t have a sense of humor. Except she’d gotten that glimpse into him. He had humor. He had heat. He even had a heart, surprisingly enough. He also had a wife, a fact that Nalini had found a damn shame, right up until she’d laid eyes on one Tucker Collins.

  There weren’t too many men she’d be willing to drop her guard around. Jones had been one, but he’d never noticed her interest.

  Collins, though . . . he was aware of her interest.

  And he was interested in return.

  She realized they had a complication or two, but that was nothing she couldn’t work with. She’d dealt with volatile types before. She was almost certain she could handle him.

  Except instead of walking up to the hotel where she knew he’d rented a room, after more than twenty minutes, Nalini was still standing outside, leaning against her car and staring up at the dark night sky.

  A slice of light came spilling out of one of the rooms, and she turned her head. He was too far away and it was too dark out for her to see his face as clearly as she’d like.

  But she didn’t need to see him. Tucker’s face was all but imprinted on her memory.

  As beautiful as he could possibly be, with those high, arched cheekbones, a jawline that looked like he could take a punch or ten . . . and had, a mouth that would have made her sigh with want if she was disposed to such things. As it was, she just thought about sighing over that mouth. Most people would look at him and think that his hair was the most memorable feature. Deep, dark red . . . completely beautiful. It wasn’t the hair, though. Nor was it the tattoos that crept up over his arms, winding around them and disappearing under the sleeves of his T-shirt. Dressed, she thought, shoving off the car. Even this late at night. Or early in the morning.

  What a pity.

  No, it wasn’t the hair. Wasn’t the tattoos. Wasn’t even his size and Tucker Collins was a big guy. She’d never been much into that until she’d laid eyes on him.

  The thing that made Tucker stand out were the eyes.

  A person looked into those eyes and realized very clearly that this was a man who’d clawed his way through life and was going to keep on doing it. He’d killed. She knew it just by looking at him. Death stained the soul and she knew the soul. He’d killed and he didn’t regret it. Nalini was fine with that. She’d killed a few times herself, and she didn’t regret those deaths, either.

  His eyes told a story. One of a man who’d caused, and solved, a helluva a lot of trouble.

  If Nalini was smart, she’d steer very, very clear of him.

  With a slow, lazy smile that felt entirely fake, she shoved off the car and headed toward the open door. The wedge of light framed Tucker too damn well. She stopped just a few feet away, close enough that she could feel the soft buzz that was another psychic’s energy against her skin. Far enough away that she didn’t have to tip her head back to see his face.

  She really did like his face.

  If it wasn’t for a boy who was in trouble. If it wasn’t for everything that was so damned complicated . . .

  If it wasn’t for the screams that echoed in her mind every time she let her thoughts drift for even a minute . . .

  “How did you find me?” Tucker bit off even as she let another if it wasn’t . . . dance through her mind.

  Smiling a little, she reached out, thinking only that she was curious to see how he’d feel under her hand. That was all she wanted.

  A gloved hand caught her right wrist.

  The black leather covered his hands from the wrists down, and being the deviant that she was, she had an image of those leather-covered hands covering her. Gliding over her skin, while she straddled him.

  “What’s with the leather?” she asked, not bothering to disguise the soft rasp in her voice. “You planning on playing cat burglar or something?”

  “Bad things happen when I touch people without them,” he said. He squeezed her wrist once in warning and then let go. “Bad things can happen when people touch me. Just something to keep in mind.”

  “Just how bad?” She stared into his eyes. “’Cuz I think it might be worth it.”

  * * *

  THE woman was a menace.

  He’d been in the shower when he felt somebody approach and he’d lowered his shields just enough to figure out who it was. Everybody had a different feel, and nobody felt like her.

  He’d spent the last few minutes in the shower with a raging hard-on and it had yet to subside.

  He had more wild energy sparking inside him than he normally had to deal with and there she was taunting him. She had a smirk on her beautiful face and the mole by the corner of her mouth was just driving him nuts.

  He was tempted. He thought he could touch her without hurting her. He doubted he’d ever be able to sleep with her. He’d lose control and that was one thing he couldn’t do during sex.

  But he could touch her . . . just to see what happened.

  Except if he touched her, even once, he suspected he’d need more. And more. And more—which couldn’t happen.

  Still, she needed to get an idea of what she was doing. It wasn’t even fire she was playing with. It was lightning and that was way worse. Holding her gaze, he reached up and tugged off one of his gloves. “Worth it, huh?” Still staring into her eyes, he reached out and caught one of her narrow dreads. Fire licked inside his veins, jolted out of his skin, and he smiled a little as she swayed closer. He flooded the air with electricity. The lights flared. In the room behind him, out in the parking lot. Lights halfway down the strip of rooms went out, and he shoved out as much of the power as he could without it going into her.

  Behind him, the light bulbs exploded as he shoved more voltage in them than they could handle. Took a lot to do that, but Tucker manipulated energy as easy as he breathed.

  As the room was blanketed in darkness, he cut off the current.

  The only sound Nalini made was a harsh intake of breath.

  And then he felt her hand on his chest.

  “Wow. That’s quite a demonstration . . . got any other parlor tricks you can show me?”

  He backed away, glaring at her as his eyes adjusted to the absence of light.

  She was still smiling, although he thought maybe it was a little more strained this time around. “Parlor tricks?”

  “Hmmm. I’d love to see them . . . just not tonight. I need to know where the boy is. He’s in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

  He snorted. “You bet your ass he is. He’s got an FBI agent with him. If I was the kid’s guardian, I’d get my ass as far away from her as I could.”

  Nalini tensed. “FBI agent?”

  “Yeah.” He shoved a hand through his hair and stared at her. “You work with them. Don’t you all ever talk?”

  ELEVEN

  MORNING brought better news.

  Marginally.

  Alex’s fever was down.

  And when Vaughnne came out of the bathroom, the small hotel room was empty.

  That was the marginal part of the better news.

  Sighing, she gathered up her stuff. Fortunately, she’d been smart enough to pack everything before she disappeared into the bathroom. She was going to have to learn how to go without little things like toilet breaks if he tried this again.

  On her way out of the hotel, she paused in the little alcove where the vending machines waited.

  Reaching up on top of the ice maker, she pulled off the distributor cap.

  She’d asked the doctor to hide it the night before. Good thing she was prepared.

  She came out into the parking lot just in time to see Gus slip behind the wheel of a small, pale gold sedan that had seen better days. It wasn’t theirs. He caught sight of her and slammed his head back against the seat. She pointed a finger at the tires, gunman style, and cocked her thumb.

  He got the point without her saying a word.

  He climbed back out, and a second later, a tired, wan-looking A
lex did the same. As she crossed the distance between them, she asked, “Did you even bother to take the medicine Dr. Grady left for him?”

  “Yes.” He inclined his head. “I can make him take a pill as easily as you could. Easier, as he is my child.”

  “Your nephew, you mean?” She displayed the distributor cap in her palm. “You’ll get farther with this.”

  He went to grab it.

  She jerked it out of his reach. “You can have it when I’m behind the steering wheel, and the kid is in the backseat.”

  “He’s my responsibility,” Gus said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

  “I get that. And I’m trying to help you.” Shaking her head, she gestured around her and then looked at the boy. “You’ve got a kid there that’s going to just get more out of control. He’s going to hurt himself, or somebody—”

  “He’s not a danger!”

  Vaughnne arched her brows. “Tell that to the migraine he sucker-punched me with. Or the nosebleed he walloped me with. And he wasn’t even trying to hurt me. What happens when he gets frustrated with some kid who picks on him and he really hurts him?”

  “He wouldn’t,” Gus said.

  “You don’t know that. Not for sure.” She saw the doubt in his eyes, hated herself for playing on it. But he had to realize the danger he was messing with. “Or what about when he gets mad at you and just loses control? He’s a kid, Gus, and you don’t know how to train a psychically gifted child. How are you going to keep everybody safe from him if he is getting stronger? Keep him away from anybody and everybody for the rest of his life?”

  “If that is how to keep him safe, then yes.”

  “And if there’s a better option?”

  “There isn’t one!” He closed the distance between them and fisted his hand in her shirt, jerking her up onto her toes, hauling her up until they were nose to nose. “Don’t you get it, you stupid little fool? There is no option. He is hunted by men who would kill anything and anybody just to be able to use him.”

  She curled a hand over his wrist. “Then you find people who know how to fight back. And you have to do it soon . . . he’s going to get stronger and he needs to learn control before that happens. Before he hurts people who’ve done nothing wrong. You want him to live with that?”

  “He . . .” Gus clenched his jaw and looked away. “Why are you so certain he’s going to get stronger?”

  “Puberty.” Vaughnne shrugged and gave him a wry smile. “It usually manifests then, but for those who already show a gift? It just amps it up and he’s hitting puberty, hard, I’d say. He’s going to have to start shaving soon, I bet. He’s already got that long, skinny look of a kid who can’t eat enough to keep up with the growth spurts. If he’s not hitting it now, it’s going to be soon.”

  He stared at her, his eyes dark, menacing. “You’re certain of this.”

  “There’s no guarantee, but roughly ninety-five percent of those who are already showing the ability before puberty? Yeah. It jumps up. And it gets harder to control then, too. The theory is that the hormonal swings and shifts that come with puberty play into it.” She sighed and shook her head. “Trust me, Gus . . . he needs help and he needs it from somebody who has been there. He’s not the only one of his kind. There are others, and they’d be willing to die to protect a child.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You asked why I did the FBI . . . this is why. Because this way, I can help. I know what it’s like to lose somebody. I won’t let them take him away from you.”

  “How can I trust you?” he demanded, his voice raspy and raw. Almost broken. “I don’t know you. How can I trust you with that boy? You don’t know what he’s gone through.”

  “No. I don’t. But I can tell you what I went through—”

  Her skin prickled. Everything inside her went cold, then hot. It wasn’t anything she attributed to her abilities. This was just instinct. Jones liked to say that psychic skill ranged from everything just above a hyperaware set of instincts to those abilities like his agents possessed.

  This? Just instinct. And her instincts were screaming.

  Something bad . . .

  That thought crawled through her brain as she took a step back. “Get him to the car,” she said quietly. “Now.”

  And she pulled the weapon from the holster at her back.

  “What?”

  As he spoke, Alex stumbled over to them. Eyes wide and black. Full of terror. “Tío . . .”

  “Shhh, m’hijo,” he said, cupping a hand over the back of the boy’s neck.

  “The car, Gus,” Vaughnne said, keeping the gun low, out of view along her thigh unless somebody was looking.

  They’d be looking, though—

  Absently, she was aware that Gus was hustling the boy to the car. She swore and looked down at the distributor cap she still carried. “Shit,” she muttered. “Gus!”

  Turning, she hurled it at him. She didn’t wait to see if he caught it before she went back to looking around.

  The black SUV came pulling around the corner a few blocks down. Even with all the other cars on the road, her gaze was drawn to it and she felt like a moth pinned to a board, trapped, helpless, and certain they were staring right at her.

  That was the fear inside her talking.

  Her brain kicked in as the SUV moved into the center lane. Turning aside, she started to move like she was heading over to one of the cars, keeping the vehicle in her line of sight even as the ice in her gut spread.

  The SUV had already passed her by. Yeah, that’s right. Keep driving—

  They hadn’t noticed her. As long as she didn’t draw physical attention to herself, she was fine. The main problem was hiding from any of the psychic bloodhounds, and she knew how to hide what she was, unlike the boy.

  But Alex . . .

  Shit.

  Tires squealed on the pavement and she moved to the side. Gus stopped and she went to open the door. It was locked. You son of a bitch, she thought. Don’t even—

  A second later, it unlocked and she jerked it open. “Drive,” she said. “Preferably without squealing the tires again or anything else that will call attention to you. Unless they’ve got a damn good bloodhound, they aren’t going to realize right away that he is in this car. They’ll just know he’s close. If we get some distance between us and them before they lock on him, we stand a better chance.”

  “Bloodhound,” Gus muttered. “You keep saying that.”

  “Somebody who can track. People. Psychics. Anything.” She shot a look back at the kid. “Anybody they get a lock on, that is. If they had somebody go through your house, then they’ve got all sorts of shit they can use to track him with, even if he wasn’t casting out signals like crazy.”

  “Would you shut up?” Gus snarled.

  She looked back at him, but not before she saw the boy flinch. “What do you want me to do? Pretend he isn’t dangerous, the state he is in?”

  “So help me God, you’ll be silent or—”

  She ignored him and looked back at Alex. Focusing on the chaos that was his mind, she spoke directly inside his head. You’re sick, you’re scared, and this isn’t a good time to do this . . . but if you want to be safe . . . or safer, you need to let me help you learn how to shield better.

  She saw his reaction in the way he flinched, the way his mouth dropped open.

  Then, to her utter disgust, he asked, “Shield? What does that mean?”

  She dropped her head against the seat.

  The boy had absolutely no clue, she realized.

  None at all.

  * * *

  GUS followed the directions Vaughnne gave him for one reason.

  He’d just figured out how very little he understood his nephew’s ability.

  Bloodhound . . . ¿qué carajo? What did that even mean?

  Vaughnne had explained in short, terse terms, but just how somebody could track . . .

  “Shit.”

  He glanced over at Vaughnne and then up ah
ead at the cars slowed down around them.

  “Get off the highway,” she said. “Now.”

  He shot her a dark look. “Thanks, but I’d already figured that much out.”

  Unfortunately, several hundred other cars seemed to have the same idea. Moving to the exit ramp wasn’t the easiest process in the world and he was about ready to bite something by the time he hit the red light a half mile later. “Where now?” he asked, forcing his voice into a flat, level tone.

  “Whichever way seems to have cars moving the easiest,” she said. “The biggest thing is to keep moving, and stay moving . . . away from the city.”

  That was all she said before she looked back at Alex. “You have to try again.”

  Gus shot her a narrow look and then checked the mirror, cutting over into the left lane in front of an eighteen-wheeler the second the light turned green. He maneuvered through the traffic, keeping an eye out for cops and watching Vaughnne.

  Something about her changed when she was doing that . . . talk . . . thing.

  He’d done some reading up on psychic abilities and he thought it was called telepathy. And when she was doing it, although her features didn’t change, there was just . . . something. A slight shift in her eyes. The way she held herself. He couldn’t quite describe it, and if he hadn’t spent many, many years doing nothing but studying people . . . studying women, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

  But then again, with Vaughnne, maybe he would have.

  She couldn’t seem to breathe without him noticing.

  Right now, she was using that ability to talk to Alex.

  And he didn’t like it.

  As they came to another stoplight, he made a decision. Pulling into the parking lot of a crowded McDonald’s, he nosed the car into a parking spot. He hadn’t even gotten the car into park before she was glaring at him. “We need to keep moving,” she said.

  “Leave him alone.”

  “Do you want those people finding him?”

  “We’re thirty miles from where we were,” he pointed out. They couldn’t track somebody from that far. It wasn’t like they were sharks in the water. These were just people. The SUV hadn’t shown up once, and if they were being followed, he would know. That much, at least, he would know.