Quick.
And this guy was a telekinetic.
Paired with that bitch, he might be able to level the whole damned hospital.
We need to get out of here, she told Gus, shoving off the wall.
SEVENTEEN
JONES had told her he’d leave a car in the garage.
He’d also told her that if she didn’t remove herself from the premises in a very short amount of time, he’d be unleashing holy hell.
She suspected that meant he’d be putting his people on Gus’s very fine ass in an attempt to bring him in.
All things that wouldn’t go well. If he’d decided Gus was a person of interest, he’d put his best people on it and it wouldn’t end until there was bloodshed. Probably lots of it. And she didn’t know what it would take to stop Gus.
It would take a hell of a lot, she thought.
Or maybe just a bullet. That was one fact she was almost painfully aware of as they moved through the parking garage. She noticed the placement of the cameras, watched as they moved back and forth. They wouldn’t catch everything, she didn’t think. A few blind spots, just at the end of the aisle, and right . . .
Shit. That spot right ahead of them. Her skin prickled and she tugged on Gus’s arm, bringing him down to a snail’s pace.
There was a funny way of talking in a garage. You can say something and the words would go nowhere. And then you could whisper something, and it almost echoed.
She waited until she heard nothing.
She didn’t hear the doors close.
She didn’t hear footsteps.
But she knew they weren’t alone. It wasn’t even a prickle of awareness on her skin. It was just instinct. And as they walked, she said in a low voice, “We need to hurry. He’s keeping the boy at the safe house, but we’ve only got so much time to get there or he’s just going to take him in. If he goes into custody, it will be hell trying to get him out.”
“They can’t just take my kid away,” Gus said. He looked over at her and she saw the knowledge glint in his eyes. And she was also painfully aware of something else. As he moved, he shifted his body, placing it behind hers.
Not cool, that.
How could he go after his brother-in-law if he was taking a bullet?
She didn’t know the answer to that. She didn’t care. What she did know was that they needed to be in the car Jones had left. Just around the corner—that next blind spot.
Both she and Gus hit the ground at the same time and she groaned as her sore muscles screamed out at her. She rolled and jerked her Glock up, aiming it in the face of the man.
He just smiled and held out a hand to the woman with him.
The weight that slammed into Vaughnne’s arms was so heavy, she thought an elephant had dropped down on them.
Gus swung out with his legs and the two psychics went crashing down, but that wasn’t going to last for long.
Vaughnne rolled to her feet, an order forming in her mouth. But the words died before she could really even give voice to them. Somehow Gus had arrowed in on the one who was the biggest danger. Silver flashed through the air, flying toward the woman. The subclasses were often misjudged by a lot of the psychics Vaughnne had worked with. But anybody who could suppress or boost her gift was a problem in her mind.
The subclass was no longer a problem. For a moment, she stared at the blade buried in her chest and then looked up, an expression of blank astonishment on her face. Clumsily, she reached for it, but her aim was off and she toppled over to the side before she even made contact. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth.
“Anton,” the woman whispered, and the word was faint, almost like a ghost had whispered it.
That soft, broken sound shattered the other psychic’s stillness and he turned, lunging himself at Gus.
Gus shot him between the eyes and the odd, muffled pop of the silencer seemed even more disturbing than the woman’s dying whisper.
Swallowing the bitter, nasty taste of bile rising up in her throat, Vaughnne looked at the woman. There was a chance she might not die if she got help now. A faint chance.
Crossing to her, she eyed the woman narrowly. “Do you know it’s an innocent boy you’re trying to kidnap?”
Lashes flickered over the woman’s eyes. Dull confusion shone back at Vaughnne. “It’s a job. Money . . .” She shuddered.
Turning her back, she looked at Gus. “Get your knife.”
As he did that, she checked the cameras again. They should still be in the blind zone, but damn it. This was getting dicey already and they were still in the damned garage. Grabbing the man’s ankles, she hauled him between two of the cars. She hadn’t even straightened from his body when Gus dumped the woman on top of him.
“You would have tried to help her if she had answered the right way, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly, his pale eyes unreadable.
She stared at him. “I don’t entirely know what the right way is.” Then she turned her back to him and made her way around the front of the car. He could stand there and glare at her or he could follow.
Security could show up at any second. So could any number of visitors, and for all she knew, these two had partners somewhere. They needed to get out of the hospital before bystanders got hurt. She had no problem compromising herself or crossing her own lines to go after a monster, but letting innocent people get hurt was a line she couldn’t and wouldn’t cross.
She didn’t bother to look backward. Gus was behind her before she’d even gone five feet.
But if she thought the discussion was over, she was so very, very wrong.
BORROWED time. Esteban was now operating on borrowed time and he knew it. The men he’d sent after Alejandro had failed. The first pair . . . well, he’d allow himself the one mistake.
But then there had been nothing but more mistakes.
Every which way he turned, he was outsmarted or outmaneuvered and now he had it confirmed that the boy’s uncle was no longer operating alone. A woman had been seen with him.
He didn’t know who she was, but this changed things.
Matters were even worse than he liked to think. Too many knew how badly things were going.
He’d updated the profile on the site with a vague reference that hopefully people would realize was an increase in the reward.
One of them had outright said, And what good is that if I end up drooling down my hospital gown?
They knew what had happened in Orlando. Somehow they knew.
He no longer wondered just how many of them were legit.
Too many of them were very skilled. Too many knew exactly how badly things were going and it seemed the wiser ones were pulling back.
Options were becoming too limited for him now.
The boss had already called him home. He was driving in that direction. Driving. Not flying. Señor Reyes would expect him to fly, but the señor could fuck himself. Of course, he didn’t want to appear like he wasn’t following orders. But he wanted to think his options through. One last time.
He could run, of course.
There had always been that option, but if he ran, and if he was caught . . .
His gut twisted and his bowels felt watery even thinking about it, but he still had to consider running. It wasn’t an option that left him filled with happy, pleasant thoughts.
The other option . . . just thinking about it made him feel better. Peaceful. That decided him. Mind made up, he turned off the interstate. It only took a few hours to reach the spot he had in mind. He ignored a call from the señor and had a moment of terror when he thought he’d spotted a car that appeared to be following him. But it hadn’t been. Thankfully.