Ethan’s head was splitting with pain now as he fought to hold their connection. I’m not going to let them hurt you. I love you and your mom so much. Tell her. Tell your mom I’ll find you.
--Hurry, Dad. The voice was faint, almost gone. I heard them say they don’t need me.
“Mom!”
Asia was being shaken out of a restless half-sleep, Jack’s enthusiastic grin hovering in the dark above her. “What is it, Jack?” She whispered the words, conscious of the fact that the van had stopped again.
“I’m talking to Dad! He’s alive!” The boy’s voice was an excited squeal. “Where are we?”
She shushed him and sat up, trying to gain a hold on reality. She could smell gasoline, hear the sound of cars passing close by.
“A gas station.” She glanced up to see the window to the front of the van open a crack, a face scowling at her. She nodded to show she understood and placed a quelling hand on Jack’s arm. He settled down.
The van rocked as the driver jumped into the seat and slammed the door. “Goddamn it!” The van started up with a roar and the vehicle lurched forward.
“What the hell?! That coffee was hot!”
“Fuck the coffee, you moron! They’re on to us. We need to make it to the safe house, and we need to call for a pickup before the Feds track this piece of shit we’re driving.”
“What happened?”
“They had the news on in there. The FBI has an Amber Alert out, and they somehow got a description of this vehicle and the three of us.”
“Shit!”
“Shit is right, Sherlock! Get me the directions to the closest safe house.”
Hope injected adrenaline into Asia’s veins, kicking her heart into overdrive. They had a description. That could only mean that Ethan had survived. Tears pooled in her eyes as she offered a silent prayer of gratitude. He was alive, and there was a chance now that this nightmare might end. She was shaking with relief.
“Fuck! Close that window, you stupid idiots!”
The window between the sections of the van slid shut, and Asia lost her insight into whatever strategy the men might be devising to deal with their sudden exposure. She couldn’t make herself care.
Jack stirred beside her. He looked tired and drawn.
She gave him a squeeze. “Good news, buddy. The FBI is looking for us. They know what kind of van we’re in and what the men look like, and they’re asking people to watch for us. That’ll make it hard for them to hide us.”
“I know.” Jack nodded. “Dad told me.”
“What do you mean, Dad told you?” Asia was beginning to feel like every conversation with her son led her further into uncharted territory. Her tolerance was being tested with every observation, and more each passing hour.
“I tried to tell you before. I was talking to him in my head. He told me the FBI was looking for us.”
This was too much, even for Asia’s newly expanded frame of reference for the boy. “Jack. Your father is miles away now. You couldn’t have talked with him. I think maybe this time you were just dreaming.”
The hurt and betrayal in Jack’s face pierced her to the heart. “It wasn’t a dream. You were sleeping, but I was awake. I was lonely, and I was thinking really hard that I hoped Dad wasn’t dead. Then I heard him say my name. And I started talking to him, but only for a little while because I got tired. It was hard to do.”
Asia couldn’t speak. She could only stare at her son, her breath caught in her throat. Ethan. In a flash of longing so intense it made her want to curl into a trembling ball, she felt the fragile connection that had somehow come into being between Ethan and Jack. She understood on a primal level how it must have hit Ethan in the depths of his despair to hear his son’s voice in his mind, how he would have first denied it, then reached for it in irresistible need. She understood, because she would give anything at this moment to hear Ethan’s voice in her mind, to be able to tell him the things that were in her heart.
She gave in. “What did he say to you, sweetheart?”
“He said he wouldn’t let them hurt us.” Jack’s small hand rested on his mother’s shoulder as if it was his responsibility to keep her calm. “He said to tell you he would find us.”
Asia nodded. She gathered her son to her and hugged him hard, her need to protect him like a searing flame in the center of her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered. “That sure sounds like your dad.”
The Narrows was a classic horseshoe bend in the Harpeth River, a canoeist’s dream. It was possible to put in on one side of the horseshoe, float for a couple of hours in the green, rippling Harpeth and take out on the other side. Then you could hike over the high bluff in the center of the horseshoe, get your car where you’d parked it at the put-in site, and bring it around to pick up your canoe, all in a lazy afternoon. Lana had done it with more than one boyfriend over the years growing up, with plenty of stories, at least one broken heart, and a scar or two to show for it. She loved the place.
So Lana didn’t go far when she and Gabriel left the grove on one side of the horseshoe that had become a crime scene. She simply drove around to the other side and parked the car at the river access there, grateful that the police activity around the Narrows had spooked the usual crowd of teenagers and river enthusiasts for the day.
Gabriel got out of the car and took the path through the high grass down to the river bank before she had a chance to say anything to him. He began to wander the shoreline, picking up stones to skim across the sun-splashed water. Lana followed him, found a flat rock to squat on and sat watching the river flow for a while. As always, the sound of water over stone, the smell of wet mud and growing things soothed her.
After a while she roused herself enough to speak. “So were you born with this ability you’re about to demonstrate on me, Gabriel?”
He looked back at her from a spot on the bank a few feet away. “Yes. I had to learn to control it.”
“Must have freaked Mom and Dad out a little.”
One rock skipped across the river, then another. “Let’s just say Mom was expecting it. Dad was a no-show.”
Lana gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yours too, huh?”
His head snapped around to look at her. Then a slow grin spread across his face.
“And here I thought you were some pampered suburban princess.”
She barked out a laugh. “Oh, yeah, that’s me. Remind me someday, I’ll give you the whole, sad story.” But not today. Not while the sun is shining, and I have a chance at feeling good for half a second.
Gabriel’s eyes lingered on her face for a long moment before he sauntered over, jumped to the rock and lowered himself beside her. “Someday I’d like to hear it.”
That’s all. He said nothing else, did nothing else. But warmth spread through her like melting butter, and she had to look away before she did something she would regret.
The world was still, waiting. The Harpeth sluiced over the shoals, gurgling and lapping in endless rhythm. The sparrows and finches, the redwing blackbirds and cardinals and jays challenged and called in the rising midday heat. Lana didn’t want to get down to the business they had come to this lovely spot for, but she knew better than to put it off. Despite her reluctance, despite his deep brown gaze on her face and the way he made her feel when he looked at her like that, she said the very thing she did not want to say.
“So. What happened with that gun, Gabriel?”
His lips curved upward for the briefest second. Then it was as if he had never smiled in his adult life. The lines of his face were taut, hard, almost cruel. But his eyes! Lana thought. It was as if his eyes held all the grief of the world. What had this man seen in his life to give him eyes like that? Yet even as she lost herself in their mahogany depths, they changed, and whatever she had seen was gone.
Gabriel held out his hand to her. She felt herself tremble, and clamped down hard to control it before she reached out to take what he offered. She stilled, breathing, not sure what to expect. A
t first she perceived only his hand—warm, strong, closing over hers as if he would protect her from harm. Then she felt a jolt, like the one she’d felt earlier when he touched her, only stronger. And the world dissolved . . .
Three men in ski masks stood in a loose ring around his beleaguered family. Asia and Jack were behind him, backed up against the big oak. Jack was whimpering with fear. The sound tore at him, ripping a bleeding hole in his heart. He gripped the branch, determined to do what he could, refusing to think beyond the next second.
Lana squirmed inside Gabriel’s mind. She didn’t want to see this. She didn’t want to feel this. Her heart twisted in her chest—for Ethan, for Asia and Jack. Anger rose to meet the fear. She wanted to kill those men. She would kill them. Her hand clenched around Gabriel’s.
The closest man pulled a gun from his waistband. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, Roberts. The woman comes with us. You and the boy take a nap. Nice and easy.”
Like Gabriel had done, Lana focused on the weapon. It was the same one they’d found by the river, the same shape and size and caliber, there was no doubt. She felt Gabriel’s presence as he made certain she saw clearly what happened next.
The gun that had been pointed in their direction twisted out of the man’s hand and flew into the thin stand of trees near the river.
Lana shook her head, not believing what she’d seen. The action in the scene stopped at that point, Gabriel taking control of the “playback” so they could both be certain. Then he showed her again. And there was no question. For no reason at all, the gun wrenched itself out of the man’s hand and hurtled into the underbrush where they later found it.
Lana broke her connection with Gabriel and sat gawking at him. “What the hell was that?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Her cheeks flushed with heat. “You don’t know? What do you mean you don’t know? How the hell am I supposed to explain that to my superiors? ‘Oh, yeah, well, then the gun just up and took itself out of the guy’s hand and tossed itself into the fucking bushes.’”
She got up, too angry to stay in one place, and found a level space to pace along the bank. She pushed both hands through her hair, a gesture she was aware turned her blond waves into feral curls in an instant, and exhaled with enough frustration to end up in a snarl.
“How am I going to explain any of this?” She glared at Gabriel. “And don’t say Ethan took the gun off the guy and threw it. No one’s going to buy that either.”
He shrugged, his lips curling with poorly-concealed amusement. “Um, the guy had a seizure?”
Lana stared at him for a second, then caught the gleam in his eye. She had to admit the image of a masked assailant going into spasms and losing his weapon was funny. She relaxed, laughter bubbling up through her chest.
“Very funny. Thank you, Jimmy Fallon.”
Gabriel stood and leapt from the rock to the bank in one easy movement. Lana drew in a breath watching him. The way he moved—Jesus, he was beautiful. Like a big cat, all grace and power, with nothing wasted. He was standing next to her in a heartbeat, so close she had to keep herself from stepping back—or closer.
“Just tell them Ethan’s not sure what happened. He hit the man with the branch and the gun went flying. It’s Ethan’s story, not yours. And he was hit on the head and drugged, remember?”
She considered that option. “It might work.” One hand went through her hair again, taking her styling beyond all redemption. “At any rate, it’s all we’ve got. I’m sure as shit not giving them a word of what I saw.”
“That would be my advice, also.” He reached out and stopped just short of touching her hair. His voice went soft. “I didn’t realize it was so curly.”
Lana did back up, then, her cheeks growing warm. “Yeah, well, a legacy from my Granny Jen. And no thanks to her for that.” She turned toward the car, desperate to hide the emotion he’d brought to the surface. “I’m starving. How about you?”
He said nothing until he was in the car with her and she’d started up the vehicle to head out. “I like it.” His voice was even softer than before and his gaze stroked her unruly mane from the crown of her head to the curly tips. “You can definitely tell Granny Jen thanks from me.”
She was going to tell him that was grossly inappropriate. She was going to tell him to keep his preferences to himself. She really was. But before she could find the breath to do it, he’d withdrawn his attention. He turned his face to stare out the window, as if his mind was a million miles away.
In the empty silence that fell between them, Lana could only wonder why she suddenly felt so alone.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gabriel let his soul take in the healing energy of the lush Tennessee countryside and mulled over how this job had so quickly gotten out of control. Dirtside tracking was difficult enough without the complication of local authorities sniffing around. They got in the way; they compromised evidence; they wanted bribes to do their jobs or they threatened to jail him or kill him for one reason or another. But this was even worse. In this case the local authorities were actually competent—and Alana Matheson was not going to be as easy to lose as he’d once thought.
He thought of the touch of her mind in his, her discipline and intelligence, her humor and courage, so tangible despite the shields he’d held in place to limit their contact. She had been so open, almost as if she had psi talent of her own. It would have required the slightest caress of thought to know her—her frivolous likes and dislikes, her deepest desires, her secret fears. He’d found himself wanting to let her into the vault of his own psyche in the same way, a temptation he had never felt before.
Gabriel breathed, seeking to clear his mind with the fresh smell of the red clay and deep green vegetation outside the car, but Lana’s warm ginger-cream scent overrode all else and heated his blood. It made him want to bury his face in the hollow of her neck, to lick and nip at the throb of her pulse there while he drew that delicious scent into his lungs. He shifted to reposition himself in jeans that were suddenly too tight and tried to get his mind back on the business at hand.
So far, he had to admit, his alliance with Lana had been useful. His usual practice was to avoid any police presence, and he almost never had access to anything they knew. He rarely needed the help. Yet until Sam came back from delivering Martin Blake to safety on Terrene, Gabriel had limited technology at his disposal. Tracking the kidnappers’ vehicle would be impossible without the sensors aboard the Shadowhawk. He could only hope Lana and her colleagues would do that for him.
“Hey.” Lana’s light touch on his shoulder interrupted his strategizing. “I’m too hungry to wait until we get all the way back to town. This place has some decent home cooking. Wanna stop?”
“Sounds good to me.” He smiled at the unassuming little place she’d picked. The parking lot was almost full of older sedans and pickup trucks. “Looks like a popular place with the locals.”
“Should be. Been here since I was a kid.” She slipped the Chevy between two battered Jeeps and switched off the engine. She glanced once at him in invitation and was gone. He followed her across the parking lot and into the restaurant, anticipation tugging at him for no reason at all.
The girl who served them looked to be no older than 18 and was as thin as a refugee, but she was friendly enough. “Hey! Can I get y’all something to drink?”
“Iced tea, unsweetened,” Lana said, her eyes on the menu.
Gabriel had no time to decode that phrase, but he nodded to indicate he’d have the same. The girl disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
His gaze roved over the menu offerings, most of which were at least recognizable as food. This wasn’t his first job on the planet many of the peoples of Terrene had once called home, and he’d explored the origins of their transplanted culture before.
His real attention was on Lana—her hair a temptation of soft curls, not uniformly one color of blond, but streaked and interwoven wit
h light and dark, honey and pale gold. Her skin glowed with the kiss of the sun, as if she lived her life outdoors, instead of behind a desk. And her eyes—he was waiting for her to lift those wide green eyes from the page she was studying just so he could see them again.
He realized he was acting like a fool, and looked down again at his menu just as Lana looked up. “What’s good here?”
“The barbecue’s great. The chicken’s pretty good. And the cornbread’s to die for. Save room for pie.”
“Spoken with authority.” He thought it might be safe to find those eyes now. “Come here a lot?”
“I was on a case down here last year.” She made herself comfortable in the booth. “This is one of Tom Radford’s hangouts.”
Gabriel felt a pang. “Oh? A friend of yours?”
Her lips curved upward. “County sheriff.”
The waitress returned and took their order. When she left, Gabriel got to the point.
“What do you do for fun, Lana? Are you married? Got a boyfriend?”
She grinned, as if she knew what he was up to. “Not that it’s any of your business, Gabriel. But no, I’m not married. And after this morning, I can’t say I have a boyfriend, either.”
“Mark?”
She shrugged, but offered no further details. “Tit for tat, Mr. Cruz. You married? Got a girl back home?”
“No wife, no girl back home.” It had never bothered him until now.
She considered him, the smile lingering around her lips. “Let me guess. You’re the kind with a girl in every town. Or do you just love ’em and leave ’em?”
He laughed. “Neither. The nature of my work makes it hard to form relationships.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “A hard case. I believe I know the type.”
His eyes locked onto hers, the connection made at once. Warmth blossomed in his chest, even as his lungs struggled to take in air. His heart stuttered, then began to gallop, pumping blood to the growing ache in his groin.
He was grateful for more than one reason when the waitress brought their food.
Trouble In Mind (Interstellar Rescue Series Book 2) Page 8
