Trouble In Mind (Interstellar Rescue Series Book 2)

by Donna S. Frelick

Her near-breakdown had occurred hours ago—though it seemed like days ago—in Oklahoma. They were a third of the way through New Mexico now, and her eyes felt like they were full of sand, her neck and shoulders were wrung tight as a dishrag, her hips and lower back were fused solid and her right foot was numb over the accelerator. She’d been driving for the last three hours; it was time for another change, thank God. But they were still hours behind Jack and Asia, who Sam said had stopped somewhere in the Arizona desert. She pressed the pedal a little closer to the metal.

  God damn Gabriel Cruz anyway. Damn him for making her cry and double damn him for looking at her with that hunger in his eyes and triple damn him to hell for making her want him as much as he wanted her. She had never needed anyone—she still didn’t, damn it!—so why did she ache to have his arms around her? It made no kind of sense.

  Lana stole a glance at him. He was watching the dramatic desert scenery slide past the window, his tall frame wedged between the door and the dash, one forearm resting on a knee. At rest like this, his face looked as if he had never had reason to smile, as though he didn’t know how. His was a face to break your heart.

  Gabriel turned in her direction and lifted one eyebrow. “You okay? Need to change drivers?”

  “I’ll be okay for a while.”

  “We can stop and eat in Gallup if you want—change there.”

  “Sounds good.”

  There was a small silence.

  Gabriel dropped a question into it. “What was your mom like, Lana?”

  It was as if he had stuck a dentist’s drill into her mouth and hit a rotten tooth. She shot him a look that should have fried him in his seat.

  “Why the hell would you ask me that?”

  He shrugged. “I thought maybe we could try to get to know each other the usual way. You know, like you said earlier. A little at a time.”

  “Kinda late for that, don’t you think? You want to know about me all you have to do is rummage around in the pile of junk you stole from my mind.”

  “I could. But, as you found out, there’s a lot in there that’s not so easy to interpret.”

  She glared at him. “A woman lying in a pool of blood shouldn’t be so hard to interpret.”

  “Context is everything,” Gabriel answered softly.

  “You want context?” She couldn’t match his tone. Instead her words came hard and fast. “Okay, how’s this for context? I’m nine years old. I get off the school bus. I’m thinking, I gotta show Mom the A I got on the spelling test today, and, oh, don’t forget there’s a Girl Scout meeting tomorrow. I go in the house, and there she is on the kitchen floor, her brains all over like a bunch of scrambled eggs and ketchup. I try to scream, but I can’t breathe, my lungs just lock up. I can’t move. I can’t even close my eyes. I just keep seeing her there. When I finally figure out I have to do something, I go next door, and I try to tell the next door neighbor what’s happened, and the bitch won’t understand me. She thinks I’ve had a big attack of imagination or something. It takes her for-fucking-ever to pay attention and go back over there with me. Oh, then there’s some screaming, boy, I’ll tell you what!”

  Lana finally wound down, the story having spilled out of her like poison. She took her eyes off the road to see Gabriel with his head back against the headrest, his eyes closed against the pain in her voice, in her heart. Of course, he knew. He was living it all with her now.

  “Damn it, Gabriel, I had all this strapped down tight until you came along.” Now the detritus of her life was loose and crashing around in her heart, causing new damage. It made her feel too weary even to weep.

  He looked at her, more sympathy than she wanted in his dark eyes. “You could think of it as redistributing the load.”

  “No.” The word had an edge. “This shit is mine. Don’t you get it? I would never have shared it with you in the first place. You’re a thief. Just because the stuff you stole is toxic doesn’t make the theft any less wrong.”

  “I didn’t mean to take it, Lana, and I can’t give it back. Maybe you should think about letting some of it go.”

  Fresh anger, white hot and blistering, rose in her throat. “Let it go? What about your own puddle of blood, Cruz, you wanna let that one go? My mom was a suicide. Not so for that guy in your mom’s foyer, huh? And I’m thinking you know who killed him.”

  She went still, her mouth gaping open in shock, as Gabriel watched her with eyes that had gone as black as death. Her mouth went dry. Her hands were shaking so much it was all she could do to keep the car on the road.

  “Pull over.”

  “What?” Her head swung around to look at him, and her hand went to the spot under her left arm where her shoulder holster normally rested. “Why?”

  He uncoiled from his recumbent position and was poised for action, every muscle tense. “Pull off the fucking road, Alana, before you wreck the damn car.”

  She did as he commanded, cursing herself for having left her weapons in her bag in the back seat. The man next to her now seemed very dangerous, the conversation they were about to have potentially explosive. Her sense of security had shattered. She wanted very much to have the comfort of that Glock close to hand before she next opened her mouth.

  Lana stopped the car and turned to confront him. Gabriel was turned sideways, one arm braced on the seat back, the other on the dash, his face an angry storm cloud ready to break.

  “What is it you think you know, Lana?”

  Temper overran her fear. “What I know wouldn’t fill a shot glass. What I’m guessing, though, is that you’re related to those bastards who are chasing Jack and Asia—the ones who almost killed me. They’re your brothers, right? And that body on the floor that I keep seeing? That was your father’s work somehow. How’m I doing?”

  She saw him take a deep breath and the anger in his face morphed into something close to pain. He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the windshield for a long moment before he faced her.

  “Yes. Kinnian and Trevyn Dar are my half-brothers. They grew up with my father, Kylan. I lived with my mother. She owned a tavern in a port town. He was passing through.” His voice took on a bitter edge. “The way she told the story it was a mutual attraction.”

  As he spoke she saw them—Kylan, tall and dark, teeth flashing white against a heavy beard; Kinnian, almost a clone of his father; Trevyn, clean-shaven and fair, sadness shadowing his deep-set eyes; and his mother, coffee-colored eyes like Gabriel’s and a smile like an angel.

  The faces were replaced by the scene she’d viewed over and over. “The murder—what happened?”

  Gabriel sighed. “My older sister’s husband. A political assassination.”

  Her mind filled in the details. Voran Ptorak had been a member of something called Rescue, with enemies too numerous to name. Gabriel’s sister had been pregnant with his child. She delivered safely after the murder—a girl—but killed herself before the child’s first birthday.

  “No one was ever prosecuted for the crime,” Gabriel was saying, “but it was known to be Kylan’s work.”

  Lana’s heart thudded in her chest. “His work?”

  “My father was a Hunter, a mercenary paid to track, kidnap, assassinate, sabotage and steal. My brothers carry on the family business.”

  “They use psi skills to do these things?” She asked the question though she knew the answer.

  “Yes.”

  She looked at Gabriel for a long time, unable to speak. She hardly knew how to name the emotions that squeezed her heart until it threatened to explode in her chest. Anger, yes, and betrayal and a sadness so deep it seemed to have no bottom. Hurt and longing and need. Dismay and denial.

  And yet, despite everything, a stubborn tattered scrap of belief—in him.

  Still, she had to ask. “What about you, Gabriel?” She found his gaze and held it. “How is what you do any different from the family business?”

  His face turned to stone. “Look inside, Alana. You know my heart if you would only l
ook at it. I have no other answer to give you.”

  Asia opened her eyes and saw Geneva Twohawks’s weathered face hanging over her. “Get up, Timewalker. We have no time to waste here.”

  “What?”

  The old woman just grinned and told the others in the store, “She’s waking up.” She turned back to her. “Come on, Asia. Sit up, now, and have some water.” She held out a bottle.

  Asia took it and swallowed in grateful gulps. “Jack?”

  “He’s right here.” Geneva pulled the boy into view. Jack stared at her, a slight frown his only indication of concern. God, he was so withdrawn.

  “I have to get to a phone.” She started to get up, but dizziness caught her halfway to her feet and drove her to her knees. She stayed there, reeling.

  “Whoa, there, lady.” The store owner hustled over to hover close enough to catch her if needed. “Take it easy. Just sit for a minute. You’re probably a little low on water.”

  She settled back down onto the floor and put a hand to her head. She couldn’t think.

  “Look. My husband will be worried about me. I should have checked in by now. I need to get to a phone.”

  “Where is your husband anyway?” Will’s voice was a suspicious drawl.

  Geneva snapped something in a language Asia didn’t understand.

  “I’m just asking,” he shot back. “Seems kinda strange she’d be out here all by herself.”

  Her heart began a slow thud in her chest. The lanky Indian was a threat somehow, though why she should feel that way, she didn’t know.

  “We’re in the middle of a move from Nashville to L.A.,” she lied. “He can’t leave Nashville for another week.”

  The old woman gave her grandson another tongue-lashing.

  “You’re crazy.” He gave Asia a last sideways glance and stomped off to another part of the store.

  “Don’t mind him.” Geneva waved a hand in the young man’s direction, dismissing him. “I know why you’re here.”

  Asia’s mouth fell open. “But, I—”

  “Shh. You come home with me. You and the boy. You’ll be safe there.”

  Asia shook her head and scrambled to her feet. “Thanks. We can find a motel.”

  “Will says he’s going into Winslow tonight,” the store owner said. “Guess you could go with him.”

  Asia nodded, hope rising.

  “No!” Geneva gestured at the store owner. “Go on back to work, Joseph. I have to speak with Asia.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He was gone with a nod.

  Asia squared her shoulders. “Miz Twohawks, thank you for all your help, but I need to ask your grandson to take me into Winslow with him.”

  The woman’s eyes blazed. “You will not ask him. You will not go with him. He is a danger to you and your son.”

  “What? Your own grandson?”

  “Will is my blood, but he has long since closed his ears to me. He listens to alcohol now, and drugs, to easy money and loose women. Can you tell me if someone speaking his language asked him about you, it wouldn’t matter?” Geneva paused to let that message sink in. “He wouldn’t take you somewhere safe. He would sell you to the highest bidder. Do you understand?”

  “My God!” Asia felt the strength of her legs dissolve like so much sand washed away by strong rain. “How do you know?”

  “It is my place to know.” Geneva’s smile was grim. “Come. You and the boy will stay with me. We can do what must be done to keep you safe.”

  Asia was shaking, her legs unwilling to carry her as she followed Geneva out the door. Will stood with the store owner, smoking and drinking a beer in the thin light spilling from the storefront.

  His grandmother smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey, hardhead, we’re going home.”

  “About time. You know I got to get to Winslow tonight.” He looked at Asia. “I could take you into town, if you want. You could make that phone call.”

  Before she could answer, Geneva spoke. “It’s late. She and the boy are exhausted. They don’t need to be hanging around the bars with you. They’re coming home with me. You call for her.”

  “Me? What’s her old man gonna think, me calling?”

  “He’s gonna think you’re a good man, making the call like that, that’s what.” Geneva looked up into her grandson’s slack face. “He’s gonna stop worrying so hard, maybe. And maybe you’re gonna win some positive attention from the ancestors, for once.”

  Will scowled. “Shit.”

  Geneva turned to the store owner. “When Leonard Begay comes by tomorrow, tell him I need to see him and Martha.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Miz Twohawks, I’ll do that. If I don’t see them I’ll let them know as soon as the phone gets fixed.”

  “You’ll see them.” She nodded and ushered her wards into the truck.

  Asia looked back as they drove away from the lonely store, wondering if they had left the last of civilization behind them—or if it was just her mind she had left in the dust of the pickup.

  Aboard the Bloodstalker, in Orbit, Earth, Sector Three

  “You smell of sex, brother.” Kinnian’s lip curled in a smile that was more derision than amusement. “Who was it—that stupid helmsman’s apprentice you confined to quarters the day we hit orbit? Or the slut down in engineering you favor when you’re trying to work out a thorny navigational problem?”

  Trevyn sank into the chair on the other side of the desk from his captain and used all his skill to appear unaffected by Kinnian’s perceptiveness. “There are advantages to keeping a woman confined to quarters.” He let a smug smile slide across his face. “She was very grateful for the distraction.” And, gods, he had needed her soft skin under his hands, her tight, hot core around his draum. He had needed her reality to ground him before his visions of another man’s woman tore him apart.

  “Ha! I’m certain she was! Maybe I need to pay her a visit myself, hmm?”

  Trevyn’s heart stuttered. “Give her some time, my lord.” He tried to keep his tone light. “I left her with little energy for you.”

  Kinnian laughed again. “I don’t doubt it, little brother! Maybe tomorrow!” His sibling heaved his body out of his chair and paced across his cabin to pour himself a draft of ale. He poured a second mug for Trevyn and passed it over. “I’m not in a giving mood, at any rate.”

  Trevyn drank, raising his eyebrows in question.

  “When will our quarry arrive at Groom Lake?” Kinnian took up his stalking across the cabin again. “The wait is killing me.”

  “We have several more hours yet, perhaps as much as a full day dirtside. We can’t know how fast the men are moving with the boy. Planetary technology is primitive; it requires frequent maintenance and refueling. Don’t worry. They’ll be there soon enough and everything is ready for them.”

  Kinnian stopped his pacing and glared at him. “What if you’re wrong about this place?”

  “I’m not wrong.”

  His brother bared his teeth. “And yet I sense your fear.”

  Trevyn shrugged. “What you sense is legitimate apprehension, my lord. The boy is powerful, and the men transporting him across many kilometers of uninhabited country have little idea of what he can do.”

  Kinnian cocked his head. “Are you saying you think the boy can engineer his own escape from them?”

  “It’s unlikely, but possible.” He held up a hand to forestall his brother’s impending fit of temper. “I’m monitoring communications in the organization that has him. If anything happens in transit, I’m sure I’ll hear about it.”

  “By that time it will be too late!” The captain loomed over Trevyn’s chair, an ion storm of fury. “We should have pursued the vehicle when we had a chance.”

  Trevyn thought it safer not to remind his brother that they’d had no information on the vehicle with which to follow it in the first place. “If the boy escapes his captors, his first instinct will be to contact the authorities and try to get home. We are monitoring all communications, my lor
d. We will be on him before those keeping him can clear their throats.”

  Kinnian froze, thinking it through. Then he relaxed and began to laugh. “Ah, Trevyn, you do have your uses. It is a wonder, though, that I haven’t killed you before now, the way you make me sweat.”

  The younger man brought the mug of ale to his lips and drank it dry. “You should learn to trust me.”

  His captain’s eyes narrowed. “Not bloody likely.”

  Trevyn grunted. I didn’t think so.

  In one swift movement, Kinnian stepped closer and grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head back to look up at him. “You are far too clever for your own good, brother. There is the stench of something other than sex about you lately. Betrayal, perhaps? Or perhaps simply ambition. Whatever it is, my gut tells me Gabriel’s sudden reappearance in our lives has something to do with it. You always cried after our oldest sibling like a mewling babe.”

  Trevyn’s eyes flashed—he could feel it, he couldn’t help himself—but it was the only sign he gave of his reaction. He took his emotions, his knowledge and all his connections and buried them deep, as deep as any blue ocean, as unreachable as any dark recess in the planet spinning below them.

  “Gabriel again,” he said, as though he was merely annoyed. “What is it that disturbs you so much about our sibling?”

  Kinnian held his gaze for one more second, then threw him off. “Did you know Father had a plan to use our bastard brother to forge us into a weapon he could have wielded to take all of Thrane? You and I alone were too weak, not good enough. He had to have that son of a Terran whore to make it work. But Rodyn had turned Gabriel against us. The old slave hid the bastard. And Father spent our inheritance scouring the galaxy for Gabriel, trying to kill him, until the old merox died himself.”

  Kinnian took up his angry pacing again. “Our brother has grown stronger since the last time we fought him. I was certain I had a link to him, but I can’t seem to open it. Every time I try, I’m diverted, or I’m entertained with drivel in a remote corner of his consciousness. He has set traps within traps to keep me from unlocking his secrets. It’s frustrating.”