In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2) (39 page)

Three mouths dropped open when the bullets bounced harmlessly off an invisible barrier surrounding her parents. Her father had instinctively wrapped himself around her mother, turning so he would take the bullets if Ari had failed, but they hadn’t moved from the boundary she’d set. Thank God for her father’s rigid discipline.

The lab rat turned his seething glare on her and began advancing, a syringe in his hand. His two goons also began to close in around her and she let her powers fly.

Every single thing she’d dreamed up while lying in the cell with her parents unrolled with ease. She didn’t dare close her eyes to concentrate on what she was attempting to achieve over a much longer distance because she faced the very real threat of being drugged, which would render her ineffective. The barrier around her parents would simply disappear and they would die.

So one problem at a time. Her parents were safe. She still had faith that Beau would come to the rescue. All she had to do was wreak some serious havoc in the meantime. And right now? After all these bastards had put her and her family through?

She was thinking this was going to be a lot of
fun
.

Resolve and determination settled over her, cloaking her with confidence she hadn’t imagined ever possessing. And she set about unleashing the hounds of hell on the three men who posed the most immediate threat to her.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” she said in a soft, menacing voice that didn’t so much as tremble with fear.

Gone was the meek, shrinking violet
weak
Arial Rochester. Yeah, that’s right.
Rochester
. Her name. Her heritage. Blood meant nothing. After all, look where it had gotten Caleb and Beau and their siblings.

Really shitty parents who didn’t one damn about them. Yet her adoptive parents had given her more love in twenty-four years than most people were blessed with in a lifetime.

“That’s my line,” Goon A said coolly. “I have a score to settle with you, little bitch. And don’t think I’m not going to enjoy every second. The people who pay me may want you alive, and now that we’ve confirmed your powers, your price just skyrocketed, but there’s nothing to say I can’t make you
wish
you were dead.”

Before she could react, taunt him back or make a wickedly sarcastic remark, he pulled out a pistol and put a bullet in the back of lab rat’s head. Before Goon B could respond to that shocker, he also received a bullet. In the forehead. Right between the eyes.

Holy shit!

Oh God, oh God. Okay the little fucker had completely stolen her thunder and had temporarily scrambled her brains, and now she was at a loss as to what the hell to do next.

Play it cool, Ari. Never mind you’ve never been a cool kind of girl. You freak at the slightest fright. You’ve always been frightened by your own shadow. Get over it.
You’re not that girl anymore.

“Well, thanks,” she said cheerfully, her mind racing as she ran through the possibilities. For once, her photographic memory came through in spades. Yes, it was helpful in her profession as a teacher, not that she’d likely ever have that job again. But now it was going to save her ass because her mind was processing each scenario at the speed of a computer, discarding ones with the least likelihood of succeeding, latching on to the ones with more merit.

His eyes narrowed at her quirky response.

“What?” she asked. “You not used to being thanked? My mama did teach me manners. You just took out two of the guys on my hit list. Now if you’d be so kind as to shoot yourself then I could move on down the list and call it a day.”

She was doing a miserable job of covering her panic and hysteria and the bastard realized it. He actually smiled at her. It was a perfectly evil smile, worthy of any movie villain. But then they could be the lead roles in a sci-fi movie. Hell, they were living a damn movie because who would ever believe this shit?

Her mom was so going to wash her mouth out with soap. Apparently being around Beau and his co-workers had lowered her verbal acuity by more than a few points. She’d never cursed so much in her life, despite her father’s own propensity for F-bombs.

“What I think is that you’re scared shitless, Arial,” he said in a mocking tone. “Not so brave now that you have blood on your hands. Were you playing pretend? Or were you really going to kill us all in cold blood?”

“Damn straight,” she said, anger injecting a bite to her words. “And I’ll suffer not one iota of remorse when I send you straight back to hell, where you crawled from. This time I hope you stay there and rot for eternity.”

He clapped, the sound jarring, startling her, his eyes laughing, mocking her at every turn.

“Watch and learn a lesson,” she hissed. “Never piss off a woman who has the power to take your balls and feed them to you on a plate.”

She caught his look of surprise just as he lifted straight up into the air and hurtled backward, slamming into the wall several feet away. The force with which she sent him flying through the room made the sound of his impact loud and forceful. Satisfaction gripped her and it was her turn to openly mock him.

“Amazing how much of a pussy men become when you threaten their wee little manhood,” she drawled. “Bet you don’t have that much to work with anyway, so I don’t imagine it’ll take much effort on my part to separate you from your smaller head.”

She donned a thoughtful expression and cocked her head to the side just before she sent him straight upward, crashing into the ceiling. She held him suspended, pinned against the ceiling as though he were caught in a spider’s web.

“Although there
are
limits to my powers,” she said in amusement. “I have to be able to imagine it in order to manipulate it and if there’s not much to work with . . . Well, you understand my problem.”

His eyes glittered with fury and then, strangely,
triumph
. A chill went up her spine just as the overwhelming urge to duck and react defensively overtook all else. She dropped like a rock and then performed a powerful leg sweep, rotating blindly behind her.

She connected with something hard and solid, pain shooting up her leg at the contact. Judging by the muffled oath, her assailant hurt worse than she did, though. Splitting her concentration between two objects, or rather people, was more difficult than she’d imagined it would be.

Goon A, still suspended from the ceiling, dropped about a foot before she shot him upward again, but the lapse in concentration cost her dearly. A fist connected with her chin, sending her reeling back several feet. The damn man had
bricks
for hands.

She grasped her jaw, massaging as she focused on keeping the man who scared her the most where he could cause her no harm while planning her offense against her newest assailant.

Her gaze lighted on the pistol the goon trapped on the ceiling had shot the lab rat and Goon B with. Evidently, he’d dropped it when she slammed him into the wall. Remembering what Beau had told her about Glocks she whispered a prayer that this was a Glock as well and she didn’t have to figure out how to mentally turn a safety off. But then surely the goon wouldn’t have engaged the safety after killing two men.

Now that she was effectively splitting her mental energy between three things, she found it a lot harder to summon the pistol from across the room. It went skittering erratically over the floor, bumping and knocking. She winced hoping to hell it didn’t arbitrarily go off because if she had to ward off a speeding bullet, she could kiss all her other focus goodbye.

Finally the gun lifted into the air and floated toward her, unseen by her newest assailant. The damn goon shouted a warning though, and the man turned just in time to see the gun dangling in front of his face.

Shit!

He reached for it and her instincts, or self-preservation, kicked in. She pictured the gun leveling itself, aiming for the man’s shoulder, because damn it, she just couldn’t bring herself to be the cold-blooded killer she’d
almost
convinced herself that she could be.

The gun went off and the man went down, holding his left shoulder as blood rapidly spread, seeping through his fingers, coating them red.

She flipped the goon off and then sprinted from the room, knowing she had a hell of a lot more to do before she could call it a day. She squared the ceiling goon away, compartmentalizing him in a section of her mind, issuing a firm command for him to stay.

Then she realized, to her utter horror, that she’d been thinking she was having to split her focus on
three
things when, in fact, she had
four
things going on simultaneously.

Her parents!

Oh God. What if the barrier had slipped? What if she’d killed
them
because she’d spent too much time focusing on
not
killing someone who actually deserved it? She and her conscience were going to have a serious come-to-Jesus meeting when this was all over. Because clearly, having a conscience didn’t get one ahead in life. If anything it put her at a major disadvantage in the evolutionary chain.

Her plan would have to change on the fly. She couldn’t very well bring the building down and reduce it and everyone in it to rubble if her parents were vulnerable. Damn it all. She wasn’t an on-her-feet thinker!

She’d committed the winding passageways to memory—again, thank you, eidetic memory—on her way out today with the guard dogs because her first trip through them wasn’t exactly under the best circumstances.

It took her three of the longest minutes of her life before she finally entered the long hallway that housed the ancient jail cells. Where the hell were they, anyway? What kind of creepy place had a lab and prison cells?

She was at full sprint, counting the cells, until she skidded to a halt outside the one that housed her parents. The door was wide open and not only was there no invisible protective bubble. There was absolutely no sign of her parents.

What she
did
see froze her heart to the very core and fear blazed like a wildfire through her veins.

There were multiple puddles of blood—a mortal amount of scarlet liquid pooled on the floor exactly where she’d instructed her parents to stand.
Fresh
blood. Worse, there were smears of blood that ran from the spot in front of the cot all the way to the door, and as she looked down, she realized it had continued into the hallway. What the hell had they done to her parents? Had they shot them and then dragged them off to parts unknown?

While she was being snarky and sarcastic, indulging in taunts with her enemies, her parents had been left unprotected because she wasn’t adept at multitasking with her newly tapped powers.

Utter despair, grief and . . . rage flooded her mind, swamping her in wave upon wave of agony. She’d failed. She’d vowed to them she could do this. Had made them
swear
they’d trust her.

And she’d failed.

Desolation and vast emptiness invading her soul, she slowly turned, her eyes glowing so that she felt the warmth emanating from them. Robotically, she stalked back through the passageways, the twists and turns that would take her back to the center.

God help whoever crossed her path. Gone was her conscience, her squeamishness over killing quickly and efficiently. Revenge and retribution consumed her. She could taste it, feel it. Wrapped herself in its cold and soulless embrace.

A sound alerted her to the presence of men in the passageway with her. They stepped in front of her, an ambush.

She lifted her frigid gaze, completely unruffled by the fact that they were spraying the entire hallway with bullets. They bounced off her, off the barrier that had formed without her even needing to focus on its construction. She saw fear in their eyes, the realization that she was untouchable. It was the last cognizant thought they’d have.

She simply snapped their necks—a quick mental flick of her powers and they collapsed onto the floor. She kicked one aside as she pushed past them, not giving them any more attention than they deserved.

They would pay. They would all pay. Starting with the bastard still suspended from the ceiling where she’d left him minutes before.

THIRTY-FOUR

“WE’RE
going in hot,” Beau said grimly as the highly classified stealth chopper prototype that did
not
officially exist zoomed over the land, hugging the treetops and traveling at a dizzying rate of speed. “This has to be fast, as clean as possible,
until
we retrieve Ari and her parents. Once they’re accounted for and safe then I vote we level the entire goddamn place.”

“Fuckin’ A,” Zack muttered.

“That gets my vote,” Eliza said, a scowl darkening her pretty features.

Dane simply nodded his own agreement while the other two operatives, Isaac and Capshaw, gave a thumbs-up, something that amounted to eagerness reflected in their eyes.

They were all looking forward to some serious payback after the breach that resulted in Ari’s abduction. It was a black mark and a blow to their pride that they’d been fucked on their own turf. For a second time.

When this was all over with, Beau was going to take great satisfaction in leveling the fucking house that had proved nothing more than a means of hurting the people he loved. And if he was lucky enough to have a future that included Ari—God he hoped he wasn’t setting himself up for major disappointment—then he’d build a fucking fortress that would make security at Fort Knox look like child’s play.

Ari would always need protection from the public eye and fanatics wanting to harness and use her powers for their own twisted agenda. Oh
hell
no. Not while he breathed.

Just as Caleb had closed ranks around Ramie and was ruthless in his protection of her, so too would Beau do the exact same with Ari. He may not have understood his brother’s overzealousness when it came to Ramie in the past, but he damn well understood it now. Identified with it. He’d spend the rest of his life keeping Ari safe, no matter the cost.