The Darkness Within

by Jaime Rush

  “You don’t know me at all.” He let those heavy words settle.

  She pulled her hand back, and he moved his out of reach, clamping onto the steering wheel. “I know you have a good heart, Tucker. I do know that.”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t. For a while I believed that. For a few short years, I felt worthwhile. You and your mom gave me that. Then she told me I was some uncontrollable beast who would harm her daughter, and kicked me out of your lives. So you know where my heart is?” He gestured to the suitcase. “Performing. Making money.”

  She saw him at the fence again, and it tore at her heart. But she’d said she was sorry and it had meant nothing, so she swallowed the words. “I’ll pay you to help me.”

  He gave her a scornful look. “Who said I’d help you at all?”

  “You’re making this so hard.” Yeah, it had come out a bit whiny. She cleared her throat. “Please help me. I’ve got some money in my savings. It doesn’t have to be about our past. Treat me like a stranger. I know you can do that.”

  He blinked at that accusation. “I don’t want your money.”

  She’d seen the box filled with cash. No, he didn’t. He certainly didn’t need her or her trouble. “Thanks for listening.” She opened the car door and made to leave.

  “Get back in the car, Del.”

  She paused, debating whether to make her stand and leave, or see what he had to say. She sank back into the seat and yanked the door closed. Pride had nothing on helping her mother.

  “We’ll go to your mom’s house, see if anyone’s been there. If they haven’t, we’ll remove anything that suggests she has a daughter.”

  He started the car. The engine roared to life, obviously not the original engine. It sounded like a racecar. He turned up the stereo, backed out, and headed out of the garage.

  Okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk on the way. Fine.

  His taste in music in the car ran more to modern, though she didn’t recognize the alternative rock song. An angry-sounding guy was singing about it being his last resort.

  When Tucker lurched onto the street, she grabbed for something, anything. Her hand closed over the gearshift before his hand came down over hers to shift it.

  In that second, she felt what he’d felt when he gripped it in frustration: his pain and his irritation at it. Anger. And she heard his words echoing: You don’t know me at all.

  Chapter Five

  WHAT THE HELL are you doing, Tuck? You don’t need this. You definitely don’t damned need her.

  He glanced surreptitiously at Del, now clutching the seat belt strap. He needed to vent, and taking corners fast was helping.

  No, it wasn’t.

  He turned up the next song, Something to Die For by the Sounds and tried to focus on the way to the house, far from the glitz of the Strip. It would bring back memories, both good and bad. He’d put his attention on the bad.

  He sank into darker thoughts, the implication of her mother’s disappearance the day after the attack. And the fact that having Del sitting there in his passenger seat coiled through his chest in a way he didn’t like at all.

  Awhile later, he turned into the old neighborhood, trying not to feel anything. He hadn’t returned here since the day after Carrie kicked him out. No drive-bys, no stalking or anything. He’d shut the door on that part of his past and moved on.

  He was, after all, the beast Carrie had said he was. Over those next few days he’d tried to Become and failed, nearly convinced she was bat-shit crazy. Then he did, feeling his body change, feeling the energy of what he was morph into something entirely different.

  He never let himself get involved with any one woman long enough to see if he would feel murderously possessive. Women were nothing but trouble anyway, and while he loved partaking in carnal pleasures with one every now and then, that was the only use he had for them. Like that luscious bit at his last show.

  Except he was looking at Del, with her long, dark brown hair and the brown-green eyes that had haunted his dreams for a long time. She glanced up at him, those eyes now filled with worry and other things he didn’t care to identify.

  She turned away, her fingers tightening on the strap even though he wasn’t driving like a madman now. She pointed to the house on the right. “You passed it.”

  He studied the door and windows as he drove past. No sign of anyone inside. “We’re not going to park in the driveway.”

  “In case they come while we’re here. Of course.” She put her hand over her mouth. “God. This is not real. It’s a nightmare.” She pinched her arm, her thigh, then looked at him.

  “Am I often part of your nightmares?” he asked.

  “No.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Tu— Mr. Black.”

  Yeah, he’d been an asshole back there. It had come as a shock to feel something when he’d seen her standing there. The last time he’d been able to shut her out, as well as any lingering emotions. He had to remind himself she’d only come to him because she needed his help.

  But she hadn’t the last time she tried to talk to you.

  He paused in front of a house with a FOR SALE sign in the yard. Mrs. Markham’s house. “Does she still live here?” He’d taken a big risk when he’d broken into her house all those years ago. He hadn’t taken anything, just slept on her couch and ate some cereal, but he could have been arrested for trespassing.

  “She recently moved in with her daughter in Phoenix. It’s vacant.”

  He pulled into the driveway, cut the engine, and got out. He scanned the neighborhood, which was quiet during the workday. Kids played down the street; a car passed by, the driver not paying them any mind. Giving her a nod to follow, Tucker walked to the back yard and followed a fence that separated several of the houses here to give them privacy. Someone might spot them cutting through their yard, but he and Del would already be gone before they could be questioned.

  He was paying as much attention to his senses as he was to his vision. Unfortunately, if he felt the tremor of someone like him, they would feel him, too. Still, it was better than being taken off guard. Of course, he was feeling Del’s tremor, like the stinging tentacles of a jellyfish, which might distract him from picking up someone else’s tremor.

  He slowed as he approached Carrie’s house. He remembered this little backyard, had spent many an hour kicking around a soccer ball with the kids in the neighborhood. And a few evenings sitting on the back steps talking to Del about school, life, anything but the raging desire he’d suddenly developed for her along with his facial hair and morning wood.

  He pulled her close to him as he leaned at the edge of the window and peered inside. No sign of movement.

  She held up a key and gestured to the back door. He nodded, and she slid it in and quietly turned the knob. She stepped in before he could nudge her aside and go first. So he shadowed her, searching the dim kitchen where they’d come in. No sign of disturbance. He stepped in front of her and walked to the living room. His body froze, and he instinctively grabbed her arm.

  She sucked in a breath at the mess. The drawers in the desk were upended on the floor, files and papers scattered everywhere. Before he could stop her, she dashed to Carrie’s bedroom, her hands gripping the doorframe. There was no sign of chaos here, nor that Carrie had packed anything.

  He pulled Del along, checking the rest of the house. “They’re gone.”

  She dropped to her knees, picking up her mother’s open wallet. “This is how they knew where she lived.” She looked at the papers. “But what were they looking for?”

  “You, probably. They’d want to know if she had children.” His chest tightened. “She would die before she’d reveal you.” He’d never known that fierce kind of motherly love, but he’d been a threat to one who felt that way about her daughter.

  Del gasped, a choked cry.

  He reached for her before thinking better. It was her despair that had drawn him back earlier. He had a weak spot for genuine
tears.

  Or maybe you have a weakness for Del.

  No. That ship had sailed, that heart had shattered. He settled his fingers on her elbow, guiding her to her feet. He looked at the wall where once there had been school pictures of Del—and of him, too. Two pictures were missing. “Were your pictures hanging there?”

  Her fearful eyes took in the wall with the two bare hooks. She nodded.

  “Please tell me she didn’t have any of me. No, she didn’t,” he added when he saw her contrite expression. “It’s a good thing. We’d better go. Is there anything your mother would have in there with your address? Any information about you?”

  She looked lost as she took in the papers on the floor. “I don’t know, I don’t know.” She knelt again, picking up a card. Her fingers trembled as she turned it over: a mother’s day card. “I mailed this to her, and I know she kept all her cards in their envelopes so she’d have the dates.”

  The envelope was missing.

  “Did you put your return address on it?” he asked.

  She nodded. Del was now a target. An inconvenience, probably. That old protectiveness reared up. “We’re going to your place, because that’s where they’re going. And that may be our last chance to find her.”

  DEL FOLLOWED TUCKER along the same route back to his car. She didn’t question him, even though she could safely talk. He’d survived on the streets, knew how to elude muggers or perhaps even the police.

  Once they were back on the road, she directed him to an apartment complex not far away. He cruised the parking lot, surveying their surroundings with narrowed eyes.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked.

  “Your mother. The guy who grabbed her might have subdued her and left her in a car so he could go up and take care of you.”

  A whimper escaped her throat. Her mother, knocked out, tied up, possibly in a trunk. Some guy hunting her down.

  “Can you sense me?” he asked.

  She blinked at his question. “What do you mean?”

  “The reason I knew you were in the crowd was because I felt you. Do you feel the tremor when you’re with me?”

  How could she begin to sort out what she felt when she was with him? “I feel something, but not as distinct as that.”

  His face was a mask of concentration. She searched, looking for a man who might be the kind of person who would kidnap her mother.

  The moment she saw the big broad-shouldered man step out from the courtyard entrance, Tucker’s hand flattened against her face and he pushed her down to his thigh.

  “He’s one of them,” he said. “He’s looking for you.”

  She stared over his leg to the dashboard, fighting an urge to look, because she’d gotten a flash of dark hair and silver eyes . . . Tucker’s father. His hand remained, keeping her in place.

  “Shhh,” he said softly.

  She felt the car turn, heard him slide down his window.

  A man’s voice floated on the air. “Bengle, it’s Elgin. Where are you? . . . Found any of your little bastards running around yet? . . . Me, either. We just need to find the one who went berserk and we’ll be done with it. I need your help. I’ve got an old problem I’ve got to take care of. I—”

  The sound of a car door closing shut off any further words they might hear. She lurched up, pressing close to Tucker to stay out of sight. A green Buick backed out of the parking spot. She searched for any sign of her mother in the car. He was alone, or appeared to be.

  “Elgin,” she said. “That’s the man my mom thought was your father. He looks just like you.”

  “Yeah. He does.” Tucker closed the window and backed out, too. “He didn’t pick up on us, which could mean your mother is in that car. If he felt a tremor and didn’t see us, he’d assume it was hers.”

  Del imagined her lying in the back seat . . . or, more likely, stuffed in the trunk. She stared at it, two cars ahead of them, as though she could see straight through the metal. She couldn’t, of course, and forced herself to settle back in her seat. Tucker looked casual, slouched in his seat, one hand draped on the wheel. But his gaze was on that car, too.

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, gripping the seat belt with fear and frustration.

  “We follow him.”

  “He called Mom an ‘old problem.’ I’m sure he was talking about her. If Darkness makes you territorial, he must have been furious that she left him.” She ran her fingers across the seat belt. “Have you ever felt it?”

  “No.”

  She looked at his profile, the jaw that gave away his tension. “What he said . . .”

  “I know. He’s looking for his bastard children. Because they think one of us killed that man. We’re a liability, just like you are.”

  “The man he was talking to, he’s obviously looking for his offspring, too.”

  His expression froze. He picked up his cell phone and dialed as he cut through traffic, remaining three car lengths behind the Buick. “We have another problem. Our daddy’s in town . . . yeah, that daddy. And he’s not alone. Apparently they’re looking for their bastards. I’m guessing it’s not for a warm reunion.” He gave a description of the man and his car. “Call the others and put them on alert, tell them to meet at the house. I’ll be home in a bit.”

  He disconnected, set his phone into the center console, and didn’t offer any more information about that call.

  “Who was that?” she finally asked, because sitting there watching the ass-end of the Buick, with her mother possibly locked in the trunk, was about to drive her crazy.

  “Greer. My brother.”

  That socked her in the chest. “You have a brother?”

  “Half-sib. Same father. We think so, anyway.” Tucker took a corner, nice and easy. “We have the same eyes.” He swallowed hard, making his Adam’s apple bob. “That man’s eyes. Otherwise we look nothing alike. His mother was Apache, and he took after her.”

  She imagined a man with Native American looks and gray eyes. “And there are others?”

  “Yes.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was unwilling to talk about them or if he was concentrating. She let him concentrate as they wound their way north. His life was none of her business anyway. The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains.

  She started worrying the seat belt again. “What if he’s taking her to this compound where they all live?”

  “When we get away from traffic, I’m going to run him off the road. Be ready to pop the trunk, grab your mom, and get her out of there. Take his car if you can. If you can’t, take mine.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m going to distract the guy, and if I can, take him out.”

  “ ‘Take him out.’ You mean kill him?”

  His fingers curled around the steering wheel. “I don’t mean take him out for dinner, Del.”

  “No need to get smart-assed about it. It’s not like I’m used to hearing someone say they’re going to kill another person.”

  “In my world, sometimes it’s kill or be killed. You have to be ready to defend your life, because there are plenty who will take it for a buck. Or a fu—” He clamped his mouth shut. “You get the idea.”

  God, she did. She didn’t want to imagine his life, but that gave her a brutal picture. “Have you ever killed someone? I mean, could you do it?”

  “Yes. I killed a guy who was trying to rape this boy.” He flicked a glance at her, and she had to wipe the horror at the thought of that from her face, because she knew why that would tear him apart. “I killed him with my human hands. Took his knife and cut his throat. I made the world one sleazeball better.” He nodded to the car ahead. “And I have no problem doing it again.”

  She looked away from him. She was no stranger to the vulgarities of life and how ugly people could be, but she’d never talked to someone who had killed before.

  Isn’t that why you came to Tucker? Because you knew he was capable of doing what needed to be done?

&nbs
p; She stilled that inner voice and kept her eye on the green car.

  Traffic was still heavy, workers fleeing the city while others drove in for the evening. Tucker stayed back, hopefully far enough that Elgin wouldn’t pick up their vibration.

  “Have you been working on the skill we used when we pulled that con?” Tucker asked.

  “No. I wasn’t as good as you were. Psychometry is enough.”

  “I could always tell when you were lying, Del. Remember that.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I play with it, when I’m bored. I can move papers and pens on my desk. I close my door sometimes. But that’s when I’m not scared or stressed out.”

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I work with kids at risk. I’m a caseworker for the state.”

  He slid her a look. “I bet your psychometry helps with your job.”

  “It does. I give a child a bear to squeeze while I ask them questions. Then I take it and see what they’re not telling me. Not that I can use what I pick up in court, but I can sometimes coax the child into telling me the truth.”

  She thought about the boy she’d just met with. The one with Tucker’s eyes.

  He gave her an appraising look. “That suits you. You were always about saving some poor kid or another. I remember you defending the underdogs at school when they were being picked on. That first time you saw me, I could see your compassion as you made a beeline right for me. I didn’t know what compassion was at the time, but it felt good.”

  She smiled at his admission. “I could see that you were a wounded child. But it was more than that with you. I could probably feel the tremor on a subconscious level.”

  “Did you ever use your ability to see my past?”

  She thought about lying but decided against it for more than one reason. “Yes. I didn’t mean to, but we lived in the same house. It was hard not to touch what you touched.”

  “What did you see?”

  “It was the harshest thing I’d ever seen in my young life. I saw your mother hit you for walking in while she was conducting . . . business.” She shifted her gaze away. “I saw her trying to talk you into letting this creepy guy touch you, because he would pay a lot of money for that. I felt your anger at her betrayal, your shock.” She forced herself to look at him, but his expression was shuttered. “That’s why you ran away, isn’t it?”