What had Coop done?
The power of the memory made Sam ache with a cold so deep she wondered if she’d ever feel warm again. How long had she been out?
They were on the road, a curving highway lined with trees. She didn’t know where they were specifically, but she did know one thing: Coop was the man she’d seen in her car memory.
The car lacked a functioning clock, and it was as dark as it’d been when they’d left. Sam peered out the window, her breath fogging up the glass, and watched the trees fly by. “How much longer?”
“Hours.”
The questions she wanted to ask clogged her throat, pushed underneath the weight of everything Coop had given up. Sam mourned the loss of his illusionist Gift without understanding why.
Memories had a way of twisting inside you, changing how you viewed people and life. After a memory of a fellow elder, she’d realized not every elder cared for the Gifted the way her grandma and uncle did.
Coop’s loss felt like her own. Did he regret it? She didn’t know who she was without her memory-bringer Gift, if she would even be able to function. But Coop seemed to meet life with humor and a smile that reached his eyes.
“You’re quiet,” he observed.
Sam pulled herself away from the window and stared at him. How nice for him to have a grasp on the obvious. Her mother had a good grasp on the obvious too, but hers held an edge. You spend more time with your grandma than me.
“I was expecting to drown under all your questions.” He glanced at her quickly, eyes widening as he made the connection. “You had a memory.”
She shrugged. “Yeah.”
“What was it?” His fingers flexed and tightened on the steering wheel as if preparing himself for her answer.
Future memories were easy to manipulate when you knew what was coming. If Sam stuck to her memory’s timeline, she wouldn’t ask this question until they were almost there.
But she was ready for answers. Her limbs felt heavy as she forced the questions to come. “Is it safe there? Where we’re going?”
Knowing his silence was coming didn’t make it less uncomfortable. “As safe as it can be, Samara.”
Sam bit her bottom lip and twisted in her seat. The glow of the dashboard lights barely illuminated his face, his mouth tight and pinched.
“I don’t want to exchange one prison for another.”
“And I don’t want you imprisoned.”
His attempt at soothing her failed. “You helped put—and keep—me there.”
“I thought I was helping.” He clenched his jaw. “You changed everything. Th—”
“I changed everything? I didn’t do anything.”
He glanced quickly at her again before returning his gaze to the road. “You made me realize I’d been doing it all wrong. That I needed to get out of there and start—” He blew out a breath. “There’s a lot you don’t understand, Samara.”
She slid further down in her seat, feeling defeated. “I’m beginning to see that.”
“Ask me what you want to know.”
Sam glanced at him, flipping through her list of questions. The most pressing seemed like the best place to start. “Where are we going?”
“An illusionist safe house.”
Not what she was expecting, but it made sense. “Because you’re an illusionist.”
He turned to her, searching her face. If anything in her face betrayed what she knew, the dim light erased the traces.
“The road,” she reminded him.
He turned his attention back to the windshield, but his suspicion remained. “Your memory wasn’t yours.”
“No, it wasn’t,” she agreed.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “What did you see?”
Sam ignored the hint of trepidation. “I thought I got to ask the questions.”
He made a noise at the back of his throat, his jaw twitching. “You do.”
She blinked in surprise at his easy capitulation, but asked, “Is the safe house empty?”
He hesitated. “No.”
She poked him in the arm and earned an irritated glare. “Who’s there?”
“A sect of illusionist fighters.”
A sect of illusionist fighters. Her uncle took care of the diplomacy between memory-bringers and illusionists, but Sam was observant. Where the memory-bringers lived in larger communities, the illusionists belonged to sects—smaller groups, similar to tribes—and not all of them preferred peace.
“How do I know you’re not just handing me over to my next jailers?”
He ran a hand over his face. “I won’t let that happen, I promise.”
“You’re in no position to make promises to me.”
“Debatable.”
The cryptic statement gave her pause. “You’re going back to the compound and leaving me alone with people who—at best—feel disdain for me. Unless you control them, your promises mean nothing.”
“I’m coming back.” He swallowed and lowered his voice. “I’m not going to abandon you.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“You should. My actions helped land you in the compound, and I’m going to get you out. You’re mine to take care of.”
She flushed. “I don’t belong to anyone. Especially not you.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
She curled her lip. “You mean besides the fact you’re an illusionist and helped imprison me?”
He dismissed her words. “Minor details. You’re not focusing on what matters: my good looks, my charm, and my undying affection for you.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“You’ve turned my brain into mush.”
Sam growled and seethed in frustration. She couldn’t have a logical or sane conversation with him. Maybe if she tried another topic. “What’s the story between Amy and Jennings?”
“Ahh. More mushy brains. Amy’s been with the Hunters for a while—she’s the one who turned her parents over. Guess she didn’t like growing up with weak abilities. Jennings is part of the team who handles people like that—still in training that one—and that’s how they met. Can’t stop true, twisted love, I guess.”
Sam digested the information. The sun had begun to rise, and with it came waving corn fields locking them in. They’d left the highway a few minutes ago, and Coop slowed over the gravel road. As the dust and dirt kicked up behind them, she placed her forehead against the cool window. They had to be close, but she had no desire to talk to him.
Coop slowed the car more, turning onto another road, this one so untraveled it was merely two narrow ruts through the weeds.
He nudged her shoulder. “We’re almost there.” She jerked away from him, but it did little to snuff the thread of humor in his voice. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get out.”
She crossed her arms.
“Samara.” She ignored him. He brought the car to a stop, shifting into park. “Look at me, Samara. This is important and we’re not going to be able to have this conversation later at the safe house.”
She continued staring out the window.
His hand snaked out and grabbed her chin, turning her to face him. His blue eyes blazed when she tried to bat his hand away. She didn’t trust him enough yet. She didn’t even know him.
Sun hit the back of the car, casting heavy shadows over one side of his face. Sam tried pulling away when he caressed her cheek with his thumb. The sensation was not unpleasant.
“This isn’t going to be easy.”
She lifted an eyebrow. Easy compared to what? If it was going to be worse than the compound, she should have cut her losses and struck out on her own.
“This sect doesn’t like memory-bringers. The one thing they hate more is the Hunters. They will test you. You mustn’t let them get to you.”
“Why bring me here if they hate me so?”
Coop frowned, his eyebrows sweeping together. “I had no choice. I can’t leave you alone without protection. It was saving you and brin
ging you here, easily within driving distance, or abandoning you with Reed. I told you, I’m not going to do that.”
“But you’re leaving.”
“Listen to me, Samara. Now isn’t the time to question me. Pay attention. These guys trust me—barely. They’ll shelter you, but they won’t do you any favors. You must be prepared.”
“So it’ll be a lot like dealing with you.”
Coop chuckled, startling her. “They don’t have your best interests at heart.”
Sam didn’t believe him. “And you do?”
“If everything had gone as planned, we would have skipped this place and headed straight to find your mom and uncle.” Sam’s heart slammed against her chest. Her uncle made sense. But her mother? Not at all. Her eyes widened.
Coop continued, “But first I have to finish my assignment at the compound. This is the safest place I have for you given the circumstances. I will come back and we will leave.”
Sam reached for an alternative. “I’ll just wear the body suit and lurk around the property. They won’t even know I’m there.”
Coop tapped her head. “You did notice I could see you when you wore the suit, right?” She nodded. “Samara, any illusionist can see through illusions. It’s like seeing a transparent version over the real thing. And that includes the body suit. They’ll be able to see you.”
She frowned. “But you—I thought you didn’t have your illusionist abilities anymore.”
His grip on her chin tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Your memory was about me.” He searched her gaze. “What did you see?”
“You.” She could be cryptic too.
“Samara.”
“You don’t have time to listen to me recount every memory I’ve had.”
“Every memory?”
“There’s more to life than memories of you.”
His eyes carried a smile his face didn’t. “I’ll give you that—for now.”
“Coop.” Sam figured it’d go faster if she gave him the benefit of the doubt. Once he left, she could set off on her own if she needed to. “What do I need to know about the illusionists?”
He blinked slowly, an expression passing so quickly over his face that Sam had no time to decipher it. He broke out in a grin, leaned forward, and brushed his lips against hers.
Before she could react, he was already launching into his answer. “Illusions may seem real on the surface, but there’s always something off about them. Watch everyone and everything closely. Never trust what you see—inspect everything thoroughly. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
With that, he put the car back in gear and continued down the road. Sam lifted her hand and touched her lips. He’d kissed her. Was this how he wooed the fool ladies his fellow guard talked about?
An old homestead rolled into view, capturing her attention. Its white paint sloughed off in places and the windows were broken and boarded over. A few outlying buildings had sagging siding and roofs pockmarked with holes. Doors hung ajar. Sam cocked her head, studying the safe house. Interesting choice.
Neither of them reached for the car door—or seemed in any rush to.
“I thought you said people were here.”
Coop squinted at the homestead a moment before turning to her, his expression unreadable. “There are people here. They want it to look abandoned so people leave them alone. It’s an illusion.”
Stupid. Of course it was an illusion. “Oh.”
“You’ll have to take the body suit off before going in. Body suits were created by the Hunters. They won’t like seeing you wearing one—or using illusionist abilities in any way. Many sects became wary of the practice of infusing their Gift into inanimate objects. Once the Hunters found out about it, they increased their attacks on us. Now the Hunters have figured out the technology, they drain illusionists of their Gift to create suits like this.”
Sam’s stomach rolled. “It’s terrible. How can they do that?”
He flipped her hood off and began unzipping the suit. “They don’t see us as human.”
She shivered.
“We’ll get you warmer clothes when we get inside,” he said.
Cold hadn’t caused her shivers, but Sam wasn’t about to correct him. She batted his hand away and struggled out of the suit. Her elbow smacked against the window and she winced. Coop grabbed her other wrist, looping his fingers underneath the cuff—with a quick and light caress against her skin, making her start and gasp—and helping her with the other sleeve. Sam muttered a reluctant thanks and wiggled the suit down her torso.
She was reminded of the feel of his lips against hers. Nothing. It meant nothing. His way of pushing her buttons—of dealing with women. She ground her teeth together, trying not to let it affect her. But a hot flush crept up her face. Once she untangled her feet from the suit, she scrambled out of the car, nearly getting caught in the rest of the suit.
Her flush grew into a burn.
Coop appeared in front of her, a lopsided grin on his face.
“Don’t say it,” she warned.
“Those body suits will get you every time. Dastardly things.” His grin grew wider.
Sam jumped up and busied herself with brushing non-existent dirt off her clothes. “Don’t you have to leave?”
Still grinning, Coop ignored her pointed glare and grabbed her hand, tugging her to him. Her hands landed on his chest, her fingers flexing into him without her permission, and Sam absently noted the solid strength, the hardness of his muscles. If she let herself, it would be easy to fall into him. Literally or figuratively.
When she realized what she was doing—and the direction of her thoughts—she snatched her hands back, shoved them at her sides, and lifted her head to meet his eyes in defiance.
He dipped his head to her ear and whispered, “Are you really trying to get rid of me or are you fighting against your desire to beg me to stay?”
Sam smacked him in the shoulder, annoyed their closeness kept her from getting the leverage she needed to hit him harder. “Let’s get this over with.”
He seized her hand before she could escape. Lifting it to his mouth, Coop watched her carefully, refusing to give in to her repeated tugs.
She opened her mouth so she could order him to let her go, but he placed a kiss on her fingers and said, “United front, Samara. They’ll pounce on any weakness they can find.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Pretend for a moment you like me.”
Sam snorted and pulled on her hand again. She wasn’t a prisoner here. Once Coop left, she could strike out on her own. Sam cocked her head. Pretending for a few hours couldn’t hurt.
Coop pulled her hand, demanding her attention. “Look at the barn over there.” He pointed to his left and waited until she did. “Do you see those holes in the roof?”
Sam nodded.
“Those are real. But the windows,” he said, pointing at the windows and encouraging her to follow his lead, “are fake. Squint at the corners.”
“Why?”
“Humor me.”
She raised her eyebrow with disbelief, but shrugged. When she squinted at the corners, her heart stuttered. “The lines are jagged and don’t line up.”
“Exactly. It’s like looking at one thing with one eye covered and switching to the other. It never looks fluid.”
“An illusion.” She’d never seen one before. It was awe inspiring. “So why mess with the windows?”
He motioned to them. “Probably to hide a lookout.”
“Oh.” She really should have thought of that. It was a safe house, after all.
Coop peered at the barn for a moment more before saying, “They probably knew we were coming as soon as we hit their driveway, if that makes you feel any better.”
“It does not.”
He winked. “Worth the try.”
But no one met them when they walked up the concrete sidewalk that led to the house. They’d parked far enough away; it wasn’t a short walk. If there were people watching them in the barn, th
ey didn’t seem particularly concerned.
Rather than feeling relieved, it put Sam more on edge.
No one answered when Coop knocked on the door. If she thought no answer would deter him, she would’ve been wrong. He pulled it open like he owned the place and dragged her into the small entryway that led into a dining room—where four men sat at the table with guns pointed straight at them.
That was the greeting Sam had expected.
Adrenaline whooshed through her body, making her shake. This was not what she wanted to deal with. Coop squeezed her hand, and she stepped closer to him, heart pounding so hard she was amazed it didn’t burst out of her chest.
“Hey guys. While I always appreciate a display of big guns—and who doesn’t, really?—we’re not here to start a fight, so you can put them down.”
None of them moved.
“Uh, please?”
The man closest to the door lowered his gun and spit in Sam’s direction. “Why did you bring a memory-bringer?” The name came out in a sneer and Sam absently lifted a hand to her mark.
“Now, now, Jones. Is that any way to greet your newest guest?”
Jones curled his lip in disdain. “Get out.”
“No can do. She’s staying.”
Sam inched closer to the door.
“Looks like she’s leavin’,” he said smugly, hitching his head in her direction. “Just like she should be.”
Coop pulled her back to his side. “You owe me, Jones. Besides, she’s not going to bite.” Coop paused and winked, nudging her. “At least not unless you ask nicely. Isn’t that right, Samara?”
Jones stared. One of the other men shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes on Coop. Sam blinked slowly in horror as she realized they were trigger happy and Coop was antagonizing them.
“I won’t stay here long.”
“If you stay here at all,” Jones corrected, “you won’t stay here long.”
“I need to return to my position at the compound for a few more days and take care of loose ends. Gather more information. Clear the systems of my identity before I leave for good. And so on and so forth. I’m sure you understand the complexities of undercover soldier duty, Jones, as well as paying off debts.”
Sam’s fingers itched to smack the condescending tone out of Coop’s voice. Had he stopped to think what it would mean for her if he pissed them off now? “You’ll barely even notice I’m here,” she said.
Coop squeezed her hand again, pulling on her arm as if to warn her. But of what? He was the one being an asshole. Her eyes were drawn back to the guns. But a noise further in the house splintered her focus and she followed it to the adjacent room.
Along the wall was a couch, where a girl, about eleven or twelve, sat staring at a TV. Why would she be staying here? It was no place for children, with trigger-happy men.
“Don’t look at her,” Jones snapped. Sam jerked her attention back to him.
“Dude, chill. She doesn’t like looking at the guns. Where else is she gonna look? Certainly not at your ugly faces. Can we get the gunhounds to disarm themselves yet?”
“Fine.” Jones flicked his wrist and the men put their weapons on the table. Their hands hovered, ready to retrieve and shoot, if needed. She wasn’t safe yet.
“Now let’s get Samara some warmer clothes and settled.”
Jones eyed Coop for a moment before responding. “I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to like it. You have to do it.”
“Through the living room is a storage room and washroom. You’ll find clothes there.” He pointed at Sam. “Do not talk to the girl.”
She nodded. But if Sam had wanted to talk to the girl, it didn’t matter; she didn’t register their presence, even when they crossed her line of sight. Sam bit her lip.
The storage room was colder than the rest of the house, and Coop was quick to locate clothing.
“Put on as much as you can without looking like you’re taking everything.”
Her head jerked up at his words. “Why?”
“Planning for the worst. Always plan for the worst, Samara.” He smiled. “But hope for the best.”
“How do you know it’s safe here, Coop? The Gifted barely trust each other and they certainly don’t like me.” They probably thought memory-bringers stole memories.
“It’s safer here than the compound.”
She filled in the blanks. “So not very safe at all.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise.”
Sam retreated into the washroom. She didn’t want his promises—she wasn’t even sure if she was ready to trust him yet, but he was her best option for getting back to her family. She could use him for that.
She took the opportunity to clean up. How long had it been since she’d been able to wash herself? She didn’t want to think of it—or how she smelled. She dressed quickly, returning to the storage room where Coop was waiting.
She stood awkwardly under his scrutiny. He pulled her to him, enveloping her in his arms. His hand threaded through her hair. “We’ll get out of this. It’ll get better. I promise.”
Sam breathed deep and pushed away. “I don’t want your promises.” She just wanted this nightmare over. She straightened. “You should go.”
He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go piss Jones off some more.”
“Leave him alone, will you? I’ve got to stay here after you leave and I don’t need him to take out his anger on me.”
Without a word or indication that he’d heard, he led the way back to the dining room. Jones and the other three men hadn’t moved, and the alertness in their eyes and hands hadn’t dissipated.
Coop tapped the shoulder of one, who responded by grabbing his gun and swinging it in Coop’s face. Coop held up his hands in surrender. “I was just going to tell you that you’ve got a stain on your shirt. Thought you’d like to know, man.”
The man glared at him, lowering his gun slowly. Coop said, “You know, Jones, having backup is nice, but do illusionists really fall for the two fake guys you have over there?” He hitched his thumb over at the two farthest men.
Sam followed the direction of Coop’s thumb and stared. The men looked real. She squinted. Like before, something about them wasn’t quite right. There were waves and bumps where there should be none. Too wrapped up in fear and Coop, she’d already forgotten to not trust her eyes.
She had a sinking feeling about her time here.
“Just seeing if you still had it, Coop. You know they compare having your abilities removed to having your penis removed. Makes you less of a man.”
Coop winced. “I still got it, Jones.”
The two illusions disappeared. “Let’s hope your memory-bringer will fare as well.”
Coop stiffened. “Don’t mess with her.”
Jones just smiled.
“If anything happens to her while I’m gone…”
“I can’t make any promises,” Jones said.
Sam was getting sick of hearing that word. Coop moved forward, reaching out to grab Jones by the collar. A gun cocked and pressed against Coop’s head. The other guy.
“Coop,” she whispered. “Don’t.”
But Coop didn’t let go of Jones and the other man didn’t drop his gun. Images of Coop with his part of his head blown off flashed through her head. Not memories, just fear. If Coop and these men wouldn’t see any reason, she’d solve this herself.
Sam took a shaky breath. Walking over to Coop, eyes trained on the gun, she put her hand on his forearm, feeling his muscles tense and shift. He looked at her then, his blue eyes meeting hers. With flecks of blue in every shade, she felt herself getting lost.
And if he hadn’t had a gun to his head, she would’ve been tempted to let herself stay lost.
“I’ll be fine here,” she said, hoping it was true. “Don’t make an issue of this.”
A battle raged in his expression. Sam stroked her thumb over his arm. Words didn’t concern her; physical violence did.
Words could be ignored. It was more difficult to ignore a kick in the side. Or a bullet to the brain.
Coop released Jones’s collar, but got in his face. “Don’t mess with her. She’s on our side.”
Jones raised an eyebrow. “So you say.”
She pulled on Coop’s arm, moving to twine her fingers with his to pull him back. She wanted these men to leave her alone, not eye her with suspicion after Coop left.
“I don’t have time to deal with your antics, Jones. Get her settled in one of the rooms and let her be. She’ll stay out of your hair.” He paused and a glint appeared in his eyes. “If you had any.”
Jones’s face darkened, but he said, “Get out of here before I change my mind about letting her stay.”
Coop lifted her hand to his, grazing it with his lips before letting go. With a wink to her, he slammed out of the house, leaving her alone with the two—no, three—men. Sam resisted the urge to shake her head.
“I know there are only two of you,” she said, eyeing the third.
Jones shrugged. “Just testin’ how dumb you really are, memory-bringer.” He drawled the term, turning it into an insult.
Sam gritted her teeth and told herself to ignore him. She’d escape soon and be free of him. Find someone she trusted. Someone to partner with against the Hunters. Getting to her uncle and finding her grandma was her first priority. Together, they’d figure out something.
Why did Coop think her mother could help them? Her uncle made sense—he facilitated relations between the Gifted. But her mother dealt strictly with memory-bringers. She didn’t even work in the same building as her uncle.
The girl on the couch pulled her gaze to the living room. Was she a “guest” too? Fatigue began to creep into Sam’s stance, weighting her shoulders.
She hadn’t slept since Jennings knocked on her cell door. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Sam rubbed her face and asked, “Will you show me to my room?”
Jones snorted. “You think this is a hotel? Through the living room, up the stairs, second room on the right. Don’t make noise, don’t talk to the girl—don’t do anything to remind us you’re here.”
Fine with her. Sam turned to leave.
“Except,” Jones added, stopping her progress. “Report to Joan in the kitchen tomorrow morning. You didn’t think you could stay here without serving us, did you?”
Sam barely had the time to process her escape, the memory of Coop, his kiss, and this place, let alone what trials they were going to put her through here. More important considerations took over—like how she was going to fight the Hunters. Thinking about staying here wasn’t on her mind.
Deciding silence was the best option, she nodded and disappeared to her room.
Chapter Nine
Elusive Memories (The Hunted #1) Page 13
