by Rebecca York
For a moment it seemed to hover in the water. Then the gas tank exploded with an enormous boom. The boat disintegrated, sending a shock wave across the water, and swamping Matt and Elizabeth’s craft. They went into the water, both of them gasping for air as waves from the shattered craft pounded them.
Elizabeth, Matt cried out in his mind. When she didn’t answer, everything inside him went cold.
Still shell-shocked from the explosion, he tried to focus, tried to figure out where she was. At first he heard nothing. Then he picked up dim echoes from her mind. She was underwater, unconscious and sinking.
He dragged in a breath and held it, diving below the surface, swimming toward where he thought she was.
He could see nothing in the murky water, but he kept going, guided by his connection to her. His own lungs felt like they would burst, but he stayed under, because if Elizabeth died, he might as well die with her.
But finally, finally, his searching hand hit against her shoulder. He grabbed her shirt, trying to summon the strength to pull them both up. Then he realized that another man was beside him, grasping Elizabeth’s other side and helping pull her upward.
They broke the surface, and Matt gasped for breath.
They pulled Elizabeth to shore and laid her on the bank. She was pale and lifeless, and Matt checked her airways before turning her over and starting to press the water from her lungs.
Water gushed from her mouth, and he screamed in his mind as he worked, Elizabeth. For God’s sake, Elizabeth.
For horrible moments, she failed to respond. And then he caught a glimmer of consciousness.
He kept calling to her, saying her name, telling her how much he loved her.
Matt?
Right here.
What happened?
They blew up the other boat, and you went down.
He turned her over, clasping her to him, ignoring the crowd that had gathered around them. But finally their voices penetrated his own consciousness.
“Thank God.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that would happen.” That was the woman who had directed the energy beam at the other boat.
“It’s all right. You kept them from shooting us.” That last comment came from Elizabeth, who was taking in the men and women around them.
You’re like us, she marveled.
Yes. And we have to get out of here before someone comes to investigate the explosion.
Was it safe to go with them? Matt wondered.
Yes, Elizabeth answered, and he let her faith guide him.
The men and women helped them to the van. Like the night at The Mansion. Cold and wet in a van.
Matt pulled Elizabeth closer and tried to pay attention to where they were going, but it was still hard to focus. He knew that they stopped at a shopping center. Some of the newcomers stayed in the van. Others went in and bought dry clothing. First the men cleared out and Elizabeth changed in the van. Then it was Matt’s turn.
The dry clothing did wonders for him, and he looked around at the people who had rescued them.
“How did you find us?” he asked.
“Rachel found you,” one of the men answered. “We’re all children who were born as a result of Douglas Solomon’s experiments—using fertilized human eggs he acquired from his fertility clinic.”
“We found out from Maven Bolton that he was trying to make superintelligent children,” Matt said. “And, instead, he got us.”
There were murmurs of agreement.
“And we are...what, exactly?” Matt asked.
“You probably figured that out, too. Telepaths who couldn’t connect with anyone on a deep level until we met someone else from the clinic,” one of the women said. “I’m Rachel Harper.”
In turn, they all gave their names.
Jake Harper, Stephanie Branson, Craig Branson, Gabriella Boudreaux, Luke Buckley.
“You were probing my mind,” Elizabeth said to Rachel. “When we were driving down here.”
“I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because we had to be sure you weren’t enemies. The first time we met other people who had been altered by the clinic, they tried to kill us.”
“Why?” Elizabeth gasped.
“They were selfish. They wanted to be the only ones with special powers.”
“Nice,” Matt murmured.
They turned onto an access road, then drew up in front of what looked like a large plantation house. “This is where I grew up,” the woman named Gabriella said. “I’ve opened a restaurant here, but it’s closed today. We can all go inside and relax.”
Matt was still overwhelmed to meet this group of people.
We’re on your side, Rachel Harper said.
Matt swung toward her. Got to watch what I think.
We all do. That’s one of the little inconvenient things about us. But I know you’ve been practicing blocking your thoughts. You’ll get better at it.
Inside Gabriella led the way upstairs to a sitting room on the second floor.
Matt and Elizabeth sat together, still coming to terms with their narrow escape.
“Who was after us?” he asked.
“We can’t be sure who he was. Dr. Solomon is dead. And so is a man named Bill Wellington, who funded the project through a Washington think tank called the Howell Institute. That should have laid the past to rest. But it appears that someone else knew about children from the clinic. Either they knew what was going on back then—or perhaps they discovered it.”
“Why were they chasing us? What do they want?” Elizabeth asked.
“They’re after us because of what we are,” Jake answered. “We’ve got powers they don’t understand. Which makes us a threat, or maybe an asset that someone can exploit. Like a secret weapon.”
Elizabeth shuddered.
“You have to admit that being able to send mental bolts of power at your enemies is a skill to covet.”
Matt nodded.
“It’s a lot to deal with,” Rachel said. “And I’m sure the two of you want some time alone to think about what you’re going to do.”
“What are our choices?” Matt asked.
“You can stay here with us. Or you can go off on your own. It’s up to you.”
Elizabeth looked at Rachel. “You have a shop in the French Quarter. Where you do tarot-card readings.”
“Yes.”
“I went there. I mean, I was drawn there by...” She lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess there was some kind of connection between us.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t in town. It would have avoided that boat chase.”
“Yeah, but the guys in the other boat would still be alive,” Jake said in a hard voice. “It worked out.”
Matt looked at him and knew that it was a lot better to be friends with Jake Harper than his enemy.
Jake answered with a small nod.
They talked for a while longer, each couple telling how they’d met and what had happened to them as a result.
Finally Gabriella said, “You must be worn out. There’s an empty cottage on the property. Why don’t the two of you go over there and relax? And we can all meet back here for dinner.” She looked at her watch. “At six-thirty.”
“Yes. Thanks,” Elizabeth said.
Gabriella showed them to the vacant cottage.
Elizabeth looked around admiringly at the antique pieces and classic fabrics. “It’s charming.”
“Stephanie’s the one with the visual smarts,” Gabriella said. “She did the decorating, but we’ve all been going to country auctions and estate sales—picking up furniture for here and the main house.”
Elizabeth nodded.
&n
bsp; “I’ll leave you alone.”
When Gabriella had walked out of the cottage and closed the door behind her, Matt turned to Elizabeth.
“In my wildest dreams, I didn’t imagine anything like this,” she whispered. “People like us. Friends.”
“Yeah. And the two of us—safe at last.”
He reached for her, and they embraced. He wanted to take her straight to the bedroom, but they were still covered with dried bayou water.
She grinned at him, and he knew what she had in mind. They both headed for the shower, discarding their clothing as they reached the bathroom.
Matt turned on the water, adjusted the temperature and stepped under the spray. Elizabeth followed, and he reached for the soap, slicking his hands and running them over her bottom, her hips and up to her breasts.
She made an appreciative sound, leaning in to him as she soaped her own hands and caressed his back and butt, then clasped his erection, stroking up and down, making him gasp.
“Not like this,” he muttered.
“You don’t like it?”
“You know I do.”
She turned him loose, and they kissed as they washed off the soap.
When she reached for the shampoo and began to lather his hair, he groaned at the delay. But he saw the smile in her mind.
Foreplay.
Are you trying to drive me crazy?
I’m enjoying the freedom I never thought we’d have.
Oh, yeah.
He returned the favor, washing her hair. They’d barely rinsed off when he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her against him as he fitted her body to his. Leaning back against the wall, he let her do most of the work, and they climaxed together in a burst of sensations. As he eased her down, she melted against him, and they stood under the rushing water, spent but happy.
When the shower began to cool, he turned off the taps. Both of them were almost too limp to move, but they managed to dry off and hold each other up as they staggered to the bedroom.
Under the covers, they cleaved together. Two people who had always been alone. But no longer.
The events of the day had taken their toll, and they were both quickly asleep.
* * *
SOME TIME LATER, Elizabeth woke and marveled at the way she felt. Safe and relaxed and free.
For the first time since she’d crashed into that light pole, no one was trying to kill her. I’m still overwhelmed that we found each other.
Yes. And it’s not just the two of us. There are people who understand us.
She nodded against Matt’s shoulder, taking in his thoughts, catching the edge of his sudden tension. Even though she knew what he was thinking, she also knew he was going to say it aloud.
He pushed himself up in the bed, and she did the same, pulling the covers up with her.
He cleared his throat and looked at her. “I’m finally free to ask. Will you marry me?”
“You know I will.”
Reaching for her, he folded her into his arms, and they clung together.
“Being with you is a dream come true,” she murmured.
“But it’s real. And it’s the beginning of our lives together.”
She sensed another thought in his mind. “Getting married is a good idea before we have kids.”
“You want them?” he asked.
“Yes, even though it makes me a little nervous. What powers will they have?”
“I guess we’ll find out,” he said.
“They won’t be alone the way we were. They’ll have us.”
“Yes. And we have to make sure they have a safe place to grow up.”
“Like here,” she breathed.
“You want to stay here?”
“I think so. I feel so blessed that Rachel and the others found us.” She squeezed his hand. “We should get dressed and go over to dinner—before they wonder where we are.”
“They know,” he answered. “But they’re giving us privacy. They know how much we love each other. And they know we’re going to want a lot of time alone.”
He grinned at her, and she followed his thoughts.
“Not just for sex.” She said it aloud.
“Of course not.”
They climbed out of bed and began to dress, both of them loving the freedom to joke around and the freedom to plan the rest of their lives together.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from JOSH by Deloris Fossen.
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Chapter One
This was exactly the kind of homecoming that Deputy Josh Ryland had wanted to avoid.
Just the sight of the guy with the gun caused his head to start pounding, and his heartbeat crashed in his ears. The flashbacks came.
Man, did they.
Flashbacks of another surveillance, another gunman. And the three .38 jacketed slugs that the gunman had fired into Josh’s chest. The wounds had healed, for the most part anyway, but still the flashbacks came.
“You okay?” his cousin whispered.
His cousin was Grayson Ryland, sheriff of Silver Creek, Josh’s hometown where he’d been born and had spent his childhood. Not a town where Josh had expected to see a man carrying an assault rifle. It wasn’t exactly a standard weapon for a Texas cattle rancher.
“I’m fine,” Josh lied. And he tried to level his breathing. Tried also to ignore the healing gunshot wounds on his chest that had started to throb like a bad toothache.
“I can call one of the other deputies to come out here,” Grayson offered.
There was no shortage of them. Like Grayson, four of the deputies were Josh’s cousins, too. And if Grayson had thought for one second that he would encounter a rifle-toting man on what should have been a routine call, then he would have almost certainly brought one of the others and not Josh.
“You made me a deputy,” Josh reminded him. “This is part of the job.”
That sounded good. Like something a small-town deputy should say to his boss.
It was pretty much a lie, though.
The truth was, Josh had come back home after taking a leave of absence from the FBI so he could avoid gunmen. Assault rifles. Bullets to the chest. And the tangle of bloody memories that he fought hard to keep out of his head.
So much for that plan.
Using the binoculars, Josh watched the rifleman pace across the front porch of the two-story ranch house. He was clearly standing guard.
But why?
Too bad Josh could think of several reasons why a rancher would need a guard with an assault rifle, and none of those reasons involved anything legal.
Josh handed Grayson the binoculars so he, too, could have a look. “You think they’re hiding drugs in the house?” Grayson asked.
“Drugs or guns, maybe.”
Whichever it was, it had created a lot of traffic, because there were plenty of tire tracks on the gravel driveway in front of the ranch house.
It was that unusual traffic that had prompted someone to make an anonymous call to the sheriff’s office to report possible suspicious activity at the ranch. It didn’t h
elp that no one knew the tenants. The place had recently been rented by a couple from nearby San Antonio who’d yet to turn up in town.
Josh could see the source of some of that traffic. There were four vehicles—two trucks, an SUV and a car, all parked around the grounds. No tractors, no livestock or any signs of any ranching equipment.
That didn’t help the knot in Josh’s stomach.
“The gunman’s not the new tenant of the place,” Grayson explained.
No. Josh had glanced at the couple’s driver’s license photos in the background info that he’d pulled up on them before Grayson and he had even started the half-hour drive from Silver Creek out to the Bluebonnet Ranch. A peaceful-sounding name for a place that was probably hiding some very unpeaceful secrets.
And speaking of hiding, the front door of the ranch house flew open, and Josh didn’t need the binoculars to see another armed man step into the doorway.
Yeah, this was definitely a bad homecoming.
Grayson and he stayed belly down on the side of the hill dotted with spring wildflowers that overlooked the ranch, and Grayson returned the binoculars to Josh so he could take out his phone and call for backup. Unfortunately, they were going to need it.
Josh zoomed in on the second guard who’d stepped onto the porch. Both men were dressed in dark clothes, and both carried the same type of assault rifle. Maybe they were part of a militia group, though Josh hadn’t heard of any reports of that kind of activity in Silver Creek.
The second man glanced around. The kind of glance that a cop or criminal would make to ensure he wasn’t being watched. Josh was pretty certain that Grayson and he were well hidden, but he ducked down lower just in case, and he watched the man motion toward someone else in the doorway.
A woman stepped out.
And Josh’s pulse kicked up a significant notch.
He adjusted the zoom on the binoculars. Hoping he was wrong. But he wasn’t.
Josh instantly recognized that pale blond hair. That face. Even the body that was hidden beneath a bulky pair of green scrubs and a gray windbreaker.
Jaycee.
Last time he’d seen Jaycee Finney was the morning of his shooting when she’d been half-naked and skulking out of his bedroom. He hadn’t stopped her, that was for sure, because he’d already figured out that a weekend affair with a fellow agent was a bad idea. After the shooting and after he’d realized what she’d done, Josh knew it hadn’t been just bad. It had been one of the worst mistakes of his life.
