The Protected (Fbi Psychics)

by Walker, Shiloh

  Kind of like the hotel.

  Punch drunk with fatigue, she looked toward the highway, half expecting to see another SUV, a sedan with black windows . . . something ominous. It had been quiet for more than a day, ever since she and Gus had left the pyro tied up on the porch of that tiny little shack back in Louisiana.

  She’d called Taylor. He’d said he’d handle it.

  No telling how he was handling it, but she’d kept an eye on the news in that area. No reports of fires springing up out of the blue, so she didn’t have to have that on her head.

  And nobody else had caught up to them yet. The best she could do was hope they could get some rest before anyone new showed up on her radar. A couple of hours, she thought.

  That was all she wanted.

  “Are you thinking about running?”

  She looked behind her as Gus came out of the bathroom.

  She’d already showered and changed into some clothes he’d picked up for her earlier in the day. The tank top and yoga pants were comfortable enough to sleep in, but if she had to move—or fight—she could.

  The only direction she really wanted to move just then, though, was toward the bed. She was so damn tired. Turning away from the window, she decided she’d do just that. This might be her last chance to get any decent rest for a while, right?

  “No,” she said, shooting him a dark look. “I’m not thinking about running. For the hundredth time. If I decide I’m going to run, Gus, you’re not going to see me doing something so obvious as staring yearnfully out the window.”

  A moment passed and then he echoed, “Yearnfully? Is this really a word?”

  “Oh, bite me,” she muttered. She stretched out on the bed closest to the door. She had her Glock on the table right next to her, and out of habit, she reached for it, checked it. Loaded. Ready. It didn’t do much to ease any of the weight on her mind.

  She put it down and closed her eyes.

  Five seconds later, she jerked up in the bed as Gus lay down next to her, shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting gray pants. Low-slung, they revealed far too much for her peace of mind. But then again, everything about Gus was too much for her peace of mind. “What are you doing?”

  “Lying down.” He rolled on his side to face her. “You should do the same.”

  She glared at him. “There are two beds.”

  “There are.” He reached up and touched her lips, and her skin all but buzzed from the light contact. “But I’m going to be closest to the door. And even if you move to that other bed, Vaughnne, once we’ve both had some rest, I plan on being inside you again. Before we leave this room, if nothing else goes wrong.”

  She gaped at him.

  Part of her wanted to sneer at him.

  The other part wanted to forget how dog-tired she was and just crawl on top of him, take him now.

  “You know, that’s a terribly romantic proposal,” she said, shooting for sarcasm. Hopefully it would keep him from realizing just what she was thinking. Feeling. Wanting . . . “But I’m thinking I might pass. You have it in your head that it’s a foregone conclusion, pal, the two of us getting it on again. Whoever said it was going to be a repeat?”

  He just stared at her, and after a minute, a faint smile tugged up the corners of his lips. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Vaughnne?”

  “Are you going to move to the other bed?”

  “I’m staying closest to the door.” He stroked his thumb across her lower lip and then lifted his hand, settled it between them on the bed. That was when she saw the gun—that Sig Sauer he carried around like it was a pacifier. “If you don’t want to share the bed, then you can move to the other one.”

  She should do just that. Really.

  But instead, she lay down.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see that smile of his. Infuriating. She rolled away from him and gave him her back. The guy was hot as hell, too beautiful to be real. And arrogant as all get-out.

  Knowing that last part didn’t make it any easier to convince herself she wasn’t going to have sex with him once she woke up.

  She already knew what was going to happen.

  Assuming they had the chance.

  * * *

  THE phone rang.

  Nalini rolled up off the bed, grabbing the phone as she moved. She checked the caller ID and looked up to see Reyes glaring at her. Her hold only lasted for a short time when she wasn’t in physical contact, and she had no desire to stay in physical contact with this guy indefinitely.

  Tying him up, though, that always worked.

  “Hello?” She smiled at him as she brushed her fingers over his brow, establishing the connection, looking for what she needed. He made it too easy. He was greedy and grabby and wanted everything. She twisted those needs and used them against him. Sinking the compulsion deep inside him, she promised him, You can have what you want . . . me. Hurt me as bad as you want. After you help me. Again . . .

  It was all lies, but he didn’t know that. Didn’t have to, either. He’d figure it out once the compulsion wore off, but it wouldn’t help him then. You’re going to tell them everything is fine. She set the guidelines mentally as she spoke with his second in command.

  They’d all looked at Reyes as though he’d lost his mind when he told them that everybody was going to leave. He wanted a few days alone with his lady. That was the lie Nalini had offered him last time. She wouldn’t be mad at him for hitting her, she’d never leave again, she’d do him however he wanted her to . . . and damn, the guy was a freak. However he wanted sometimes included the kind of violence that women sometimes died from.

  As a voice jabbered on in her ear, she held Reyes’s gaze, watched as his eyes went unfocused, and she felt it when her hold on him snapped into place. “Yes, he’s here . . . we’ve been . . . well, I can’t tell you that, but he was still in bed.”

  She smiled a little as she put the call on speaker. She kept one hand on his cheek as they lapsed into Spanish. Some part of him tugged against her hold, and she wrapped her will more tightly around him, felt him acquiesce.

  “No, no . . .”

  Reyes smiled, a dazed, blissed-out look on his face as spoke to his second, Yes, yes, everything is fine. No, you are not to return yet. Yes, we are well . . .

  “Mañana . . .”

  Nalini swore silently and pressed harder on his mind. Not tomorrow. Tell him to call.

  Reyes went white around the eyes under the strain of her hold, but his voice was steady as he relayed just that to his second in command. She was pushing her luck, she knew it. But she was going to finish what she started here, and she had to finish dealing with the website, too. All of that took time, and she kept having to stop and reinforce her damn hold on Reyes every time he had a phone call.

  They spoke for another few minutes and then the call disconnected. She broke contact with him, but he continued to sit there, a dazed, happy look on his face, almost like he was high.

  “If somebody gets to sit around looking all strung out and happy, why can’t it be me?” she muttered as she headed back to the desk.

  “Come here, Nala,” Reyes said, his voice low and heated. “I can make you happy.”

  She made a face. The only way he’d make her happy was when she left him far, far behind her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to do that without killing him or not. The option was looking less and less likely, too. This fixation he had on the boy wasn’t going to end unless he died, but that would bring about a whole other mess of problems. When men like Reyes died, people noticed, and she hadn’t come in equipped for that. This should have been a simple information-gathering operation. It was proving to be the most screwed-up disaster ever.

  But she couldn’t walk away . . . not from that boy.

  As she checked the progress on the psychic site, she glanced up at him.
“Why the boy, Reyes?”

  Something else she’d like while he was feeling cooperative—answers.

  “The boy?” he echoed.

  Something flickered in his mind. Her hold was slipping. Already. Son of a bitch.

  It should have lasted longer than that. Instead of looking at the computer, she remained where she was, staring at Reyes. “Yeah. What’s the deal with the boy?”

  “He’s my son,” Reyes said, his voice thick, the words coming reluctantly. “He’s mine.”

  “Yours?” she echoed. “So you miss him, then? You love him? Want to bring him home and . . .”

  His lip curled. “Love him. No. Until I knew what he could do, he was just useful to keep his cunt-mother happy. A man in my position needs a beautiful woman at his side. She served her purpose. But then I realized what he could do. And he’s my son. He will come home.”

  Useful . . .

  Nalini gathered up her hair, securing it at her nape as she settled back behind the computer. Well, that solved that riddle. The images of the night the woman died still weren’t clear. This wasn’t the man who killed her, but he was behind the attacks on the boy, was hunting him down like a wild animal. Not out of love, but because the boy was useful.

  She tapped at a few keys and finally—she had the information she needed. What she really wanted to do was take the entire website down, see it crash and burn, but Jones might need the information on it to track people down. Too much vigilante shit taking place on it, and that was just bad, bad news. Somebody needed to blow that thing wide open.

  But she’d hacked in a mod’s ID with enough clearance to delete that profile. She already knew where it had originated from . . . here. Esteban. The missing Esteban. She’d heard Ignacio ordering his men to find the cabrón and bring him in, but she had a funny feeling they wouldn’t be finding the man. He’d had a desperate look about him when he’d left here . . . how long ago had it been? Almost two weeks ago? She couldn’t even remember. Maybe three? Closer to three, she thought. All the days were running together. But Esteban’s eyes, yeah. That she remembered. He’d had the look of a desperate man, and since he hadn’t found the boy, she had a feeling he’d be doing almost anything to avoid coming back here.

  Still, while she was on the inside, she collected as much information as she could. There were others here that had caught her interest. Nobody wanted to catch Nalini’s interest. Ignacio had, and look where it had landed him.

  First, screen shots of everything and she saved them, e-mailed them to a personal account. She’d access it later and start researching. Once she was away from here. Then she deleted the job listing, wiping it off the server, as well as any and all responses to it. She couldn’t do anything if it had been cached anywhere on the Net, but if it wasn’t an active job posting, maybe some of the people on his ass would stop. The pragmatic sorts, at least.

  After she’d done that, she took care of the protective measures to make sure nobody could get on the computer and find out what she’d been doing. Reyes was no computer genius but he had plenty of them around.

  By the time she was done removing all traces from the computer, so much time had passed that Reyes had thrown off all signs of the compulsion, and when she looked up, he was watching her with the soulless, dead eyes of a killer. “Why are you asking about Alejandro?” he asked gently.

  “Who?” She smiled at him, the coy, promising smile that had suckered him into bringing her here. Of course, it hadn’t just been a smile. She’d thrown in a few casual touches, a few whispered innuendos, basically getting him all hot and bothered.

  Now he was icy and cold, like he was already planning the ways he wanted to kill her.

  “My son.”

  She blinked at him. “You have a kid?”

  “Don’t play the stupid puta with me, Nala. I know what you are, what you can do. Is that why you hunt him? You want him for yourself?”

  She studied him for a minute. “You would think something like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She shut down her computer and stood up. She needed to find anything and everything she could that had belonged to the boy, or to his mother. Once she had those things, she had to destroy them. He had already figured out what she was, so he’d figure out there were more. Ignacio hadn’t been the brains behind The Psychic Portal move, but since he knew there were others out there, she didn’t want him to have any decent tools within his grasp if he decided to reach out to others to help look for his son.

  “How do you know about my son?”

  She smiled at him. “Madame Nala sees all, knows all.”

  The look in his eyes told her he didn’t know if he believed her or not. She managed not to laugh in his face. If he thought she was some all-seeing, all-knowing thing, it might work to her benefit.

  He wasn’t just going to buy it, though. “You don’t think I will just believe that, do you?”

  “I don’t care what you believe, Reyes.” Nalini shrugged. “Doesn’t matter jack to me. Why don’t you sit there and mentally jack off as you think about the way his mama cried when you hit her because she said she’d leave?”

  Direct hit.

  She saw his lashes flicker, the only sign that she’d been right on target. But she knew she had. She’d been living in this hell for too long and she’d picked up enough impressions. From the house. From the jewelry he’d given her. From him.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said after just a few seconds too long.

  “No?” She shrugged and started to gather up her things. After she went over the house, she had to get out of here. She had to do this fast, too.

  As she strode past him, he jerked against the chair. “Let me loose, Nala. Now. If you don’t . . .”

  She paused and looked over at him, smiling a little. “You’ll what? Put your hands on me? Haven’t you seen what happens when you do that?”

  His mouth spasmed. “I don’t need to touch you to make you pay. A bullet in the back of your head will suffice.”

  “You have to catch up with me first.” She shrugged and left the room. The clock was running. She had to gather up anything that could be used to find Alex. She had to gather up anything and everything of hers, but she’d already taken care of most of that. A few other pieces of information.

  So much to do . . . so little time.

  * * *

  GUS expected to sleep lightly, or not at all.

  He was in bed with somebody else, and that shouldn’t be conducive to restfulness.

  It was something of a surprise when he found himself drifting to slow awareness. Slow . . . pleasant . . . awareness.

  He took stock of his surroundings, mentally taking note. Had anything changed? Dirty, smoke-stained ceiling overhead—all of that had been the same as last night. Ugly art on the walls—it had been just as ugly the night before. Thick, blackout curtains on the windows—the only change there was the thin stream of light filtering in through the narrow gap. Hotel room—a piss-poor excuse of a room.

  Damn, what he wouldn’t give to take Vaughnne to a place of luxury, where crystal and gold glinted, where the bed was as soft as a cloud and the cotton sheets felt as smooth and soft as silk against her skin as he lay her down to make love to her.

  Instead, they were in this old, run-down pile of bricks that had seen better days.

  His brain processed everything else, even as he dwelled a little longer on the fantasy. He still had his weapon, gripped in his right hand. And his left hand . . . he closed his eyes and let himself linger in the moment. A few more seconds, he decided, couldn’t really hurt anything, could it? If this was all they’d ever have, why not enjoy what he could?

  Vaughnne muttered in her sleep and snuggled in closer, her face tucked against his neck, her arm slung over his waist. She was as close to him as she could be without crawling on top of him, and
if she decided to do that, he wouldn’t mind.

  He’d actually enjoy it. He’d love to see her riding him, freeing his hands to touch that strong, limber body.

  Heat spread through him as he thought of it, and he had to fight the urge to bring that hot fantasy to life, right then, right there. His dick insisted that he’d warned her. He’d told her he planned on having her again, and if she wanted that not to happen, she should have gone to the other bed.

  But the other part of him remembered how she had looked at him with sad, somber eyes the previous day when she’d pulled a gun on him.

  Saving me. It was a lovely, naïve thing that she thought he could actually be saved at this point in his life. He’d killed. He’d stolen. He’d long since grown immune to the wet sound a bone made as he broke it. He’d done so many awful things, and up until Alex had come into his life, he’d been about ready to go down in a blaze of glory, too. Tired of it all.

  Now he was still tired, but mostly, he was tired of running. Tired of being afraid of what would happen. He didn’t fear for himself, but for Alex. Now for her.

  She thought she was saving him.

  So he could let himself be a little less of a monster and not be the greedy bastard he truly was.

  If she wanted him—

  She woke up.

  * * *

  SHE’D expected to get maybe an hour of sleep. Two, if she was lucky.

  That was how life had been going ever since she’d hit Orlando, after all. Nothing went the way she’d hoped.

  But when she woke up, her head wasn’t muzzy with exhaustion, and her body wasn’t raging in fury at the thought of getting out of bed. It was just growling a little.

  And Gus lay in the bed next to her.

  His long, lean form, so strong, so warm. His hand curved over the swell of her hip, and as she lay there, his fingers spread wide, for just a minute, as though he was learning the feel of her. She wanted to do the very same thing to him, spread her hands open and learn every damn inch of his body.