Gus slid a hand up her back, curving it around her neck and tugging her closer. “You keep throwing your chances away. Sooner or later, they will all be gone,” he said softly, leaning in to press his lips to hers.
She sighed as he pulled away. Just that light touch had heat spreading through her, a hot, delighted shimmer that she wanted to wrap herself in. Wrap herself in, lose herself in. Except now was so not the time, not when the alarm in her head was slowly getting louder and louder.
He glanced around and then grabbed his bag. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”
“Outside?” She eyed his back as he headed for the little door at the back.
He didn’t answer and she purposely avoided thinking about anything, staring at nothing more than his back, his hips, the long length of his legs. He moved through the door, and Vaughnne had to admit, leaving the hot, confining air of that closed-up little cabin was almost a relief.
She felt terribly exposed as she followed him out of there, although it was just her imagination. Nobody was watching them . . . yet. But they were close. So very close. Her heart raced, her breathing sped up, her muscles had that odd tense feel to them. Deliberately, she made herself relax. Rotating her neck, she eased through the tangle of trees and brush, following along behind Gus. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, she decided. And once again, she had to admire how he moved.
He moved, and he moved well.
He found an area for her, gestured to it, and she tucked herself behind it, not the least bit surprised that she had a fairly clean field of vision ahead of her, although she was mostly out of sight because of the way he’d positioned her.
She shot him a look, saw that sleepy smile on his face as he settled in his own position. It wasn’t long, though, before his face went smooth and blank. His eyes were cool, and butter wouldn’t have melted in his mouth. He waited behind a tree maybe ten feet away. He eyed the gun in her hand and shook his head as he unzipped his bag.
She closed her eyes as he took out the Heckler & Koch MP5. He checked it with quick, competent hands and loaded it in the same fashion. As he slipped the strap over one shoulder, she swallowed the knot in her throat and looked back at the house. I’m an FBI agent. Is this what I need to be doing . . .
The thought was still circling through her brain when she felt something nasty settle in her mind.
I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t do this—
Her legs were wooden. Mechanically, she felt herself starting to rise as those thoughts tripped through her mind. I can’t do this. I can’t—
Something crunched under her foot and the sound of it penetrated her mind. Dazed, she looked around. Something edged against her thoughts. Can’t do this. Can’t . . .
“Not right,” she mumbled, reaching up to smack her hand against her temple. The butt of her weapon smacked against her head, hard, and the flash of pain cleared the fog from her head. It was enough to snap the alien hold on her mind.
Fuck—
Jerking her head up, she saw Gus, realized he was coming toward her.
Stop. I’m fine, she told him, shaking her head.
Like a scummy rope, the unseen psychic had wrapped his gift around her brain and tried to drag her places she didn’t want to go.
Bastard was a controller.
A few, a very few, had the ability to coerce others to do things. Nalini Cole was one of them, but she actually had to be touching the person and her skills were . . . odd. This one apparently didn’t have to be touching his target.
We got problems, she said into Gus’s mind, not bothering to shield her voice. It took everything she had just to fight that pull. Sweat broke out on her skin and she dropped down on the ground, digging her hands into the damp earth, anything to ground herself as she fought that pull on her mind.
It hurt, and the harder she fought, the more it hurt.
A hand touched her arm and she looked up, saw that Gus had come to her side.
“What’s wrong?” Gus murmured, his voice calm, unaffected.
Somebody there can force people to do shit. Look for him. He’ll be focusing—She wasn’t even able to finish the thought as the strain on her brain increased. Biting down on her lip, she slammed her hands against her skull, but it didn’t even touch on the pain there. Damn it, damn it, damn it—
She slammed up her shields, the ones she’d lowered when she tried to draw them in, but it was hard, so hard to concentrate, and it felt like she was trapping him inside those shields with her. Him. That nasty, slippery presence. It was like having a giant, mutant slug trapped inside her head, in the innermost part of her.
But as she formed one set of shields, then another, and another, some of the pressure on her brain eased off. Panting, she slid Gus a look. “They ought to be close now, really close.”
He lifted a hand to his lips.
She sucked in a breath, a second one. Okay. Better now. That pressure was still there and the intensity of it increased, but instead of a rope that was trying to drag her away, it was more like a raging thunderstorm. She wasn’t inside a house—she felt like she had an umbrella over her head, though. It was enough to protect her from the impact. It worked.
She focused on Gus. Do you see them?
He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
Watch for a reaction . . . whoever reacts, take him out.
Maybe she should thank the son of a bitch who’d just tried to mind-rape her. It made this easier. Controllers were dangerous. If they used that ability without any sort of care . . . yeah. He’d made this a lot easier.
She gathered up her control and narrowed her thoughts down. It was like weapons practice, really. Just a different sort of weapon. She had a line of sight, thanks to what that son of a bitch had tried to pull. With her mind’s eye, she could see that line, that connection that led her to his mind . . . and once she was there, she unloaded.
A shriek rose up—yeah, she’d been right. They were close.
An odd little pop echoed through the air.
Somebody swore.
She didn’t have time to process that, because a hand appeared in her line of vision. She reached up blindly and found herself on her feet a second later, staring up into Gus’s face. Her head was screaming at her but that pressure on her brain was gone, too. “He’s dead,” she said softly.
He didn’t respond.
She didn’t guess there was any point.
Out behind them, in that little field behind the house, somebody called out, “Y’all can’t avoid all of us, not for forever. Just tell us where to find the kid and this all stops.”
She snorted. Yeah. Sure it would stop.
Gus stroked a hand down her arm and then crowded her back against the tree. She didn’t know what he was doing, or why, and just then, she decided she was maybe okay with that. She was out of her element here. She worked on task forces. She’d been shot at before, had been hunted before, and done her share of hunting before, but it had all been within the confines of the law. On her part, at least. There were rules in her world.
She’d left her world behind and she was still struggling to adjust to that.
Gus dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “Any idea what he can do?”
She turned her head and looked at him. Then, silent, she shook her head. Whatever the guy was, he either wasn’t very strong, or he was very, very smart, and very, very good because she couldn’t feel much more than the faintest buzz from him.