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 Alex 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—”