The Protected (Fbi Psychics) (21 page)

And in the back of his mind, a voice murmured . . .
You must promise me . . .

Just before he slipped under, he heard Vaughnne’s voice,
Don’t you think it’s about time you start trusting me?

FIFTEEN

“
D
ID
you have to choke him?”

Over the bed, Vaughnne glared at Taige.

Taige shrugged easily. “Hey, I was just trying to avoid (a) getting hit, and (b)
having him take that kid out of here. You and I both know that’s not going to end well if he does that. Besides . . . it got him to rest, right?”

Dropping down on the chair, Vaughnne stared at Gus’s battered face. Now he had a ring of bruises around his neck. Lovely. “Yeah, you got him to rest, all right. But how long has he been out?”

“Happened right after you went down.” Taige shrugged. “It’s been about two hours. And it’s
not
because of what I did. His body needs rest and once he went down? Mother Nature took over and forced him to take what he needs. Relax . . . he’s fine. I hear his thoughts if I try and they are just . . . well, not fine, but I didn’t do him any damage. The guy is almost as scared as the kid is, but he’s fine. He’s determined. He’s a wily bastard, that one. But he’s exhausted.” She covered her mouth as she yawned. “So am I.”

Vaughnne curled her lip. “Yeah, that trip up from Gulf Shores was just exhausting, wasn’t it?”

“Actually, it was the sex last night, but hey.” Taige just shrugged and smiled.

Vaughnne cringed. “There’s a kid sleeping behind you. Is that necessary?”

With a grin, Taige retreated to her chair just outside the door. “I’m going to crash for a few, since you’re up and moving. Don’t know how long Jones plans on needing me, but I need a few minutes’ downtime.”

Sighing, Vaughnne stretched out her legs and focused on the two males in the room. Both of them slept, but neither did so easily. Alex’s rest was fitful and he tossed and turned, occasionally muttering in his sleep or crying out. Although Gus was still and silent, even in sleep, he looked ready to battle. His hands were clenched, the muscles in his arms bunched, like he was ready to lunge into action at any moment. Ready to fight. Ready to protect.

Without thinking, she reached up and stroked a hand down his arm, thinking only to soothe him.

And what a mistake that was—

A split second later, her wrist was trapped and she had to bite back a gasp as he twisted it and jerked her forward. Caught off guard
again
, she landed against his chest and glared down at him.

His eyes were foggy but clearing every second as he glared up at her.

Taut silence hung between them.

She licked her lips.

His gaze dropped to her mouth and a hunger like nothing she’d ever felt exploded through her. If it hadn’t been for the boy in the bed just a few feet away, Vaughnne suspected she would have stripped off every damn piece of clothing she wore and rubbed herself against him like a cat. She might have begged him, might have pleaded . . . just one night. That was all she wanted.

Well, no. She wanted everything, but one night would suffice.

She sucked in a breath, and just like that, the moment shattered.

He let go and she shoved away from him, pushing her hair back from her face and clambering out of the chair as he sat up, looking around. His gaze lit on the boy in the bed, and she said softly, “He’s fine. He’s sleeping.”

“We need to go.” The underlying urgency in his voice cut into her heart and she reached out, despite how stupid that had been a minute ago.

But this time, as her hand caught his arm, all he did was freeze.

“Go where?” she asked quietly. “You know what’s after him now, right? I know Jones showed you.”

“That’s
why
we have to go.”

“And how are you going to hide him from all that can come from that? Can you protect him from an army?”

Gus’s hand shot out, fisting in the front of her shirt. He tugged her closer and lowered his head, pressing his brow to hers. Hell warred in his eyes as he stared at her. “Can
you
?”

“By myself?” She laid a hand on his cheek. “Hell, no. But I’m not
alone
.
You
are.”

* * *

ALONE . . .

Yes.

That was something that Gus was painfully aware of.

He’d spent so many months alone. So many years.

Most of his life, really. Ever since he’d left the family, staying far away from them once he’d somehow landed in a life that he’d never planned. Never
wanted
for himself, but it had found him anyway. He’d joined the military—there had been no choice. He was on a road to trouble, going nowhere fast, and it was either join the armed forces or find his ass in jail. He’d chosen the military. It might have been better if he’d gone the other way, though, because somehow, he caught the eyes of the man who’d put him on this road.

Almost from the beginning, they’d been watching him and the persona he’d worn—the playboy, the brawler, the man who’d played at modeling, fucking, and fighting. It had been planned almost from the time he’d agreed to
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 doesn’t
call
me, even though I found out he knew damn well how to find me, knew what I did. I’d been hurt once, and Jones . . . well, he called them, thought they might want to know. My dad denied even knowing me. But he knew where to find me. Jones had left the contact info and everything. He didn’t even bother trying to get in touch with me. I’m a federal agent and he doesn’t bother to reach out to me when my kid sister is taken.”

Hearing the soft tread of Gus’s footsteps, she looked up just as he knelt down in front of her.

He took the picture from her unresisting hands, and she stared at his face as he studied the image.

“She was seventeen,” she said quietly. “Seventeen years old. Smart as a whip. Wanted to be a doctor. And some scumbag son of a bitch kidnapped her. They wanted to sell her.”

“Sell . . .”

“Yeah. They talk about slavery like it’s a thing of the past, but it’s not. A few months ago, we busted open a small ring. It was the monster who organized my sister’s grab. But it wasn’t in time to save her. They killed her because they couldn’t break her. And the only thing
I
could do was help stop the people who hurt her.”