The Protected (Fbi Psychics) (26 page)

“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.”

“That’s going to make this fun,” he muttered, pushing his baseball cap off. He tossed it into the backseat and shoved his fingers through his hair while various plans of attack ran through his mind.

“Is that website still up?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She pulled her phone out. A few seconds later, she angled the display toward him. “Yes. And the fucking ad.”

“Mierda
.
”
The damn website. Alex . . . was he safe?

He didn’t know that one crucial thing.

But he did know somebody was chasing after them.

“If they’ve found us, could they have found him?” he asked softly.

Long, painfully quiet seconds stretched out before she finally answered, “It’s a vague possibility, but unless they’ve got an army, they’ll have a hard time getting him away from Jones. It’s not just one man he’s got watching him now, Gus. It’s an entire unit who’ll take care of him. And they are all very, very good at what they do.”

EIGHTEEN

W
HEN
they split up at the hospital, Tucker had to make a choice. It wasn’t an easy one and it wasn’t a fun one, but it was necessary.

Jones and the kid went one way, with a woman Tucker didn’t know trailing along behind them in a sleek little convertible Jaguar. He wasn’t much for modern cars, but he had to admit, that was one nice-looking car and he had no idea how she afforded it on an FBI agent’s salary. And she had to be with Jones. Even though she had it all wrapped up nice and neat, Tucker felt the power of her mind even from a block away.

While those three headed north, Vaughnne remained at the hospital.

Since he’d promised Nalini he’d watch over the kid, he headed north, too.

And all through the night, he followed them. Bit by bit, in a rhythm so subtle he barely noticed, he realized the “glow” of the boy’s mind was ebbing away.

Not in a dangerous way, exactly. He could still
feel
the kid, the same way he could sense the pretty psychic in the Jag. But he wasn’t radiating so bright. Some weird shit. Made it harder to track him, really, because that wild power was the one thing guiding him, and eventually, he had to move in closer to keep them all where he could sense them.

When they pulled over for dinner at a fast-food place, he pulled in for gas at the station across the street, filling up and adding a few gallons to the gas cans he kept in the back for emergencies. All the while, he watched the cars across the way, ready to take off, and grateful Lucia had convinced him to keep emergency supplies in his car. Emergency supplies including water . . . and food. The energy bars tasted like shit, but since he couldn’t exactly hop over to McDonald’s—

“Hey!”

He jerked his head up and looked across the street.

Hell.

It was the woman.

She held a bag in one hand, the other was propped on her hip, and she stared at him with a grin.

* * *

“WELL,
well, well . . .”

Taylor had met more than a few men and women who had made it clear they’d rather die than join his merry little band of misfits. He was looking at another, he suspected.

It was a damn shame, because he’d managed to get a little bit of information out of Joss Crawford about this guy.

Tucker was the only name he’d been given, but he’d unearthed more on his own.

He went by Tucker Collins . . . now.

Up until he’d disappeared at the age of fifteen, he’d been known as James Tucker Friend, son of Meredith Friend, adopted by the late Senator Bartholomew Friend.

Old Bart had been a man that Taylor didn’t think he’d like, judging by some of the information he’d come across. Taylor made his living on information, after all. And he suspected his information was more than . . . accurate. Bart had been found dead the night of his fiftieth birthday and his stepson missing. Foul play was suspected, of course, but everybody believed the stepson was kidnapped. Meredith still routinely made very passionate pleas on the anniversary of her husband’s death, pretty little pleas for information on the whereabouts of her only child.

She had red hair, like Tucker did.

Dark eyes.
Cold
eyes.

He didn’t have to wonder what she’d do to find her kid. He had heard all about the body trail that had followed Tucker over the years, but that wasn’t a problem for him. Not when he had an idea just what old Bart had been doing only moments before he was found dead in Tucker’s room by a maid. One who was new in the household and had panicked, calling the police instead of running to the missus, who had been outside with her guests.

Police and private investigators had searched far and wide for the boy. None of them had found him. Taylor didn’t have to wonder just how a boy of fifteen had evaded law enforcement officials. The man in front of him looked to be the type who could do almost anything he needed to. Hide, flee, steal, kill.

As Tucker came striding toward him, the air around them went hot and tight, and although there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, it seemed like there was a storm dancing on the horizon.

Alex leaned in closer to him, and absently, Taylor reached up, rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“He thinks you’re taking me away,” Alex said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Taylor promised even as he shifted his body to guard the boy a little better.

Taige was just two feet away. If he had to have this confrontation here and now, he figured Taige was a decent person to have with him. She was one of his bloodhounds, but she also had a decent telekinetic gift and one she’d honed into a weapon. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to do anything out in the open, but Tucker Collins was a wild card. Taylor could read people pretty damn well, and he suspected Tucker was willing to do anything and everything to accomplish his goals.

“I’m not going with him,” Alex said softly. “He wants to take me back to Florida . . . or somewhere. There’s a woman. It has something to do with a woman. I don’t know her. She can’t help me.”

Abruptly, Tucker stopped in his tracks, and even though he was ten feet away, Taylor suspected he’d heard the kid. Alex gulped and Taylor squeezed his shoulder. He wanted to tell the kid not to worry, but it was a waste of breath. At this point,
he
was a little worried. He had some level of control over his agents—
usually
—but Tucker wasn’t one of his and control was out the window and screaming on its way down to earth.

“Kid . . . stay out of my head,” Tucker said, his voice quiet, despite the fact that it managed to carry over the distance that separated them.

Alex flinched.

Taige snorted. “Oh, take a flying leap, pal. He’s not
in
your head. He’s still trying to learn some control and all those random thoughts are out there like bits and pieces of a song. You don’t want him hearing anything? Then you better just stop thinking until he knows how to close all those doors.”

Tucker cut a glance her way and his eyes narrowed.

She just smiled serenely at him.

As he went to take a step in her direction, she angled her head to the side. “Nah. I think I like you better there, pal.”

Taylor
felt
that. That odd twist when she was using her abilities. He wasn’t psychic, but as much time as he spent around them, he knew how to recognize when they were using their gifts, and he suspected the reason Tucker had stopped was because he had no choice.

“I don’t like it when people pull shit like that,” Tucker said. His voice was neutral. But that odd, heavy feeling, like a storm surging closer and closer, increased.

“Promise me you’ll be a good boy and I won’t.” Taige shrugged, looking unconcerned. “I heard about what went down in Orlando, you know. Word travels. We heard reports of somebody fitting your description on the scene there and I have an idea of what happened with the slave ring, too. I have my own theories on what you can do, so unless you plan on behaving? You can keep your distance.”

The lights in the parking lot all flashed on, burning hot and bright—so hot, they exploded. People screamed in surprise. Alex flinched. Taylor clenched his jaw as he watched the display play out between Taige and Tucker. Taige just smirked. “You think
that
is going to freak me out, buddy?”

“Nah. I think you’re too stupid to be freaked out. But you can take it as a warning . . . I don’t need to be
close
—”

He didn’t get another word out, and Taylor sighed. If anybody else had been standing close, they’d see what he saw. The way Tucker’s throat went in, like an invisible hand was squeezing it. In a way, that’s exactly what it was. Taige’s gift . . . the way she’d honed her telekinesis into an offensive skill. He’d actually been at the receiving end of it a time or two and it wasn’t pleasant.

“I don’t need to be close, either. Thanks to the demonstration, I can feel what it’s like when you’re . . . amping up.” Taige smiled.

Tucker’s face was turning red now. But unlike a lot of people, he wasn’t clawing at his throat. Wasn’t struggling to get away from something he couldn’t see. Control. The man’s control was something else, Taylor mused.

“Now, I’m going to let go and hope you’ll see the sense in all of us playing nice,” Taige said softly. “And please . . . don’t swear around the kid, and keep in mind, he’s been through more hell than most of us can imagine.”

She released her grip on him, although the only obvious signs were the slow return of normal color to Tucker’s face and his one, single gulp of air. He continued to glare at her, his eyes like black death on her face. “Woman, you’ve got no idea the hells I can imagine,” he said quietly.

“Point taken,” she said, inclining her head. “But whatever hell you can imagine, whatever you’ve been through, does it justify scaring him? Making it any worse on him than you have to?”

* * *

THANKS
to Tucker’s little temper tantrum, they ended up leaving the McDonald’s and buying some KFC. It worked out better anyway, Jones figured, even if the food was a heart attack waiting to happen. He’d gotten used to having more junk food in his diet, thanks to Dez, and he managed to eat it without grimacing. Much.

Alex, though, he seemed to inhale the food in front of him. As long as Tucker wasn’t looking at him.

Finally, they finished eating and Taylor had the boy gather things up to throw away in one of the nearby trash cans. It was safe enough to let him walk around. Taige would know if it wasn’t.

As Alex left the table, they all mutually stayed quiet until he was out of hearing range, although he never once left their sight. “Any chance I can talk you into coming back in for a while to help with him?” Taylor asked softly.

Taige made a face at him. “I’m not the only one who has a handle on the kind of shit he has in his head, you know. You’ve got others. Use them. Sync me up to Joss and have him do it.”

Taylor shook his head. “Joss is all wrong for the kid right now. He needs . . .”

Taige grimaced and looked away. “I know what he needs. Let’s get things settled first.” Without saying anything else on the matter, she looked at Tucker. “You’re not taking that kid. I don’t care who you’re working for, who she is, what her claim on him is—”

“Do you all ever talk to each other?” he asked, cutting her off. “I’m working with Nalini. She asked me to keep an eye on him, but that agreement
never
involved me letting the FBI get their hands on him. He’s just a kid.”

“Nalini?”

Taylor smoothed his tie down. “Another freelancer, Morgan. But she got with Tucker here on her own. I have no idea what her agenda is.”

She shrugged. “Fine, whatever.” She looked back at Tucker. “Yeah, he’s just a kid. But he’s a kid who has the ability to kill somebody with his mind. He needs to be trained before he does just that.”

From the corner of his eye, Taylor saw Tucker’s reaction. Or lack of. It was a very careful lack of. “It’s likely if he did do just that, it would be somebody who deserved it,” Tucker finally said after a long, tense silence.

“Not the way he’s been forced to use his gift,” Taylor said. “He’s got a knack for picking up on danger and his . . . guardian, uncle, whatever . . . knows it. He’s been using the kid as a walking, talking lie detector.”

Tucker tensed.

Taylor turned his head and looked at the other man. “One of the people he had the boy read was Vaughnne. Alex told me about it. He wasn’t careful enough and she collapsed.”

Alex glanced over their way, and Taylor gave him an easy smile, keeping his surface thoughts neutral. The kid gave him a weak smile. “What do we do, Tucker? Let him go around, barely controlling a gift that could kill people?” He rose from the table, still watching Alex. “Some of you learn control easier than others. Out of necessity, maybe, or because it’s in your makeup. He’s not learning it and he’s going to get stronger over the next few years.”

“So you . . . what? Imprison him?” Tucker’s mouth twisted and the air went hot, tight once more.

“No.” Taylor tucked his hands into his pockets. “There’s a far cry between imprisoning a person and
training
him. Once he’s trained, he’ll be a weapon in his own right and he can watch out for himself. But for now, he’s not just a hazard to others around him. He’s a hazard to himself. And you saw that for yourself. Those men who tracked him down were trailing him. You know that.”

“He’s just a damned kid,” Tucker said, his voice rough.

“So was I,” Taige said softly. “I was a kid when it came on me. I bet you were, too. My daughter? She’s just a couple years older than Alex is, and she may well be as strong as he is. And I can tell you this . . . she’s better adjusted, better controlled, and far less likely to attract the
wrong
attention from people, because she
has
been trained. So . . . what would you do? Let him out loose in the world where he’s hunted . . .
again
? Or have him trained, and
protected
while that takes place?”

“His parents should get to decide that,” Tucker said, and then he swore, turning away. “Shit. He doesn’t have any, I’m betting, does he?”

“We don’t know. He isn’t telling us and I’m not prying,” Taige said softly. “He’s got the guy we left back in Atlanta, and I think he’s family, but that’s not the same as parents, I know. I know he cares about him, and I know he’s doing his best. But his best isn’t getting that kid trained, and at some point, Alex needs to decide . . . does he
want
to be a walking, talking lie detector or would he like to learn to use what he has before the gift gets out of hand and he damages somebody? What will that do to him, huh? You got any idea, electro-boy?”

Tucker sneered at her. “If he’s damaging somebody that’s trying to damage him, more power to him.”

“And if he’s damaging somebody who
isn’t
trying to hurt him?” she demanded. “What then? Can
you
imagine being a kid and knowing that you hurt somebody who had never once done a damn thing to you?”

Something flickered across Tucker’s face, darkened his eyes. That dark, dark brown deepened to near black and his expression went tight. Finally, he turned away.