Bridget whimpered and put her hand on my upper arm.
“Is this why you were training me?” I said, fixing my eyes on Simon. “So I could neutralize people for you?”
Simon gestured with his gun. “No tricks. I know you can do it, and I’ll know if you don’t.” He pressed the barrel of the gun harder into Bridget’s temple.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Relax.”
Bridget’s parents didn’t deserve to lose two children in the same month. I released the dam I’d put up against my power.
I’d never been more sickened to feel the buzz of electric charge light me up. Bridget’s face clouded with confusion as my powers grounded her.
“I’m so sorry, Mina,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” She was crying now, tears splashing down her face and onto her shirt.
“It’s not your fault.” If we’d trusted her enough to read her in, this wouldn’t be happening. Then again, if she hadn’t found me, Paulie probably would have killed me. I looked at Simon. “You’re supposed to be in jail.”
“Lucky for me, you managed to involve an honest detective when you kidnapped Charlie.” He smiled. “Sebastian made a deal with me—a reduced sentence in exchange for bending the guy.” He smiled. “Do you have any idea how easy it is to bend some normals? Poor Sebastian. Apparently he’s wanted in a triple homicide.”
“That’s never going to hold up,” I said. Simon might be able to alter memories, but he couldn’t alter warrants. They would have to let Sebastian go eventually.
“It’ll hold up long enough. Hurry up. I know you can work faster than that.”
I’d been dragging the transfer out, trying to block it as much as possible, but he’d be able to tell if I stopped it completely, and I didn’t want Bridget to end up dead.
“It’s done,” I said, lacing my voice with contempt.
“Dissipate it,” Simon said, the gun still pressed to Bridget’s head. “She’s more useful to me alive, but I’ve got no problem killing her if you try to cause trouble.”
I didn’t doubt him. I let the energy bleed out through my bound feet. There was no way to tell how thorough—or un-thorough—a job I’d done. Simon stood close to Bridget and peered at her face, gun still angled at her head.
“Ah, there we go. Now.” Simon put his hands on her shoulder, letting the gun dangle. “You never saw me here. You never saw Mina. You came up here to meet Paulie for a romantic weekend at the lake, but when you arrived, he attacked you and forced you to give him your bank card PIN. You managed to attack him with a kitchen knife and kill him. You’re wanted for murder. You can never go home.”
I almost laughed. No one would believe that. But Bridget was gazing at Simon with a glazed expression.
“Never...saw...”
“That’s right, good girl, that’s right.”
“How could I...Oh my God. Oh my God.” Tears slid down her face. “What have I done?”
“Bridget, look at me. It didn’t happen that way. You know that doesn’t make sense. Look at me.” She didn’t respond. But I had a shred of hope that I hadn’t grounded her completely. There was a chance she’d remember.
“Shut up,” Simon said, and he raised the gun again. He was pointing it at Bridget, and looking at me. “You interfere, and I’ll kill her. Makes everything easier.” He turned back to Bridget. “You got that, right, Bridge? You killed Paulie and now you have to run. You should probably head for Mexico.”
“...Paulie...how could he do that...he wouldn’t...”
“That’s right. You’ve got it,” Simon said, and my hope dwindled.
Simon picked up the tranq gun Paulie had dropped, shot her in the back with it and pulled out the emptied dart. Bridget’s eyes rolled back and she fell forward with a crunch I hoped wasn’t her nose breaking. I pressed myself against the metal shelving, feeling as if I were going to throw up. The pool of Paulie’s blood had reached the far wall.
“What do you want?” I said.
“You’ll see,” he said, and he shot me in the chest with the tranq gun.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I woke up in jail.
It wasn’t a normal jail. It was freezing, and it smelled like fish. The cell was painted beige, and the paint was flaking. I was sitting on a blanket on a concrete floor. There was a cot with no mattress beside me, a steel sink in the corner, and a black hole where I assumed a toilet used to be.
“Simon!” My voice echoed through the place. The ceilings were immense, with tiny barred windows near the top. Wind whistled through them. “Simon, where the hell are you?”
Footsteps sounded, and a moment later he came into view in front of my cell.
“What is this place?” I asked. Might as well try the direct approach.
“Alcatraz.” He smiled.
That explained the flaking paint and toilet hole. At least he’d given me a blanket. Then again, maybe it was one of the props they set out for the tourists. I debated asking what, exactly, we were doing here.
“It won’t be long,” Simon said. “Don’t worry.”
His cell phone rang, the tone sounding ridiculous in the vast empty space of the former prison. He answered it and walked away, but I could still hear his voice bouncing off the cinderblock walls.
“You came alone? Good...Stand by the dock and wait...Don’t worry. You’ll get your trade.”
I scooted as close as I could to the bars and levered myself up. My feet were still tied together, but there was enough slack that I could stand if I was careful. Then, there was a loud alarm and a creaking sound, and the entire front of the cell slid sideways. I toppled over and hit the floor with bruising force.
“Come on.” Simon grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me up. “We’re leaving.”
“But we just got here,” I said, struggling to keep up.
He ignored me, using telekinesis to bring me up a flight of stairs and through a dark hallway. We left the building and walked down a wide concrete path that switched back and forth down the mountain. The fog was thick and a strong wind was blowing, and I wished longingly for the sweater Paulie had brought me. I wondered if anyone knew he was dead, if Bridget had left the state or the country. If she’d go on thinking she’d killed him for the rest of her life.
“You know,” Simon said as we walked, “at one point I was hoping you’d end up working for me. Once I got Charlie to confirm your abilities, I knew you’d be valuable. Too bad you had to take up with Herring.”
I resisted snapping back with “Too bad for you, you mean,” but he must have heard it anyway, because he laughed at me.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I agreed to hand you over alive.”
I didn’t find this reassuring. After what felt like hours, the path widened and sloped down. The moonlight was faint through the fog, but when I saw a figure standing by the dock at the base of the path, I knew immediately it was Jackson.
For a moment, my heart soared. He was alive. He was unhurt. He’d come for me. But Simon didn’t seem surprised to see him, and that was definitely not a good sign. An even worse sign: he stopped walking, pulled a gun out of his waistband and pressed the barrel to my head. Jackson stood absolutely still.
“Mina.” There was a torrent of emotion in his voice. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay. I’m not hurt.” I wanted to run to him. I wanted to feel the place where Paulie had stabbed him with that dart, sweep my hands over his head and make sure he was uninjured, feel his arms wrap around me and block out the cold.
“Did you bring it?” Simon said.
Jackson threw a black duffel bag down at his feet. I recognized it. It was the one we’d filled with drugs and money from Conner’s safe deposit box.
“It’s all there,” Jackson said. “Now let her go.” He was looking at me.
Simon ignored him. “Out of curiosity, how did you find it? I searched that asshole’s apartment high and low.”
“Safe deposit box,” Jackson said. “I guess you didn’t search hard enough.”
“That fuck-up was smarter than I gave him credit for. Though trying to take over my operation wasn’t his brightest move.”
“Maybe you should think about that,” Jackson said. “Taking things from dangerous people has consequences.”
“Back away.” Simon gestured with the gun. “Slowly.”
Jackson kept his hands up and took slow steps backward, coming up against a low building. I expected Simon to pick up the bag, but instead, he dragged me with him toward the dock. There were two boats tied there, a sleek white yacht and a small speedboat. He kept the gun on me, and I watched as the outboard on the smaller boat snapped off of its bracket and sank below the dark water. Jackson’s face was like stone.
“She’s coming with me.” Simon brought the duffel bag soaring over telekinetically and looped the straps over his shoulder so he could keep the gun on me. He wasn’t paying attention, and his arm grazed the exposed skin below my elbow.
“That wasn’t our agreement,” Jackson said, but I barely heard him. I focused every bit of mental energy I could on that spot of skin.
I couldn’t ground him fast—he’d notice. But I knew the contact wouldn’t last long, and I had to make it count. I pulled as deeply as I dared through the tiny path of connected skin. Simon shifted, and the transfer cut off. It wasn’t nearly enough to disable his powers.
“You agreed to let her go,” Jackson was saying. “Leave her here, and I’ll let you go.” I could hear the threat in his voice, but it was lost on Simon.
“I won’t hurt her. I’ll drop her off down the coast. As long as I’m not followed.”
“Be reasonable. How could I follow you?” He glanced toward the disabled boat. He was moving closer, very slowly, very carefully.
Simon gripped my arm more firmly, the edges of his fingers meeting the skin of my forearm where my sleeve had inched up. I met Jackson’s eyes, held them, and hoped he could hear the message at the top of my mind. Keep him talking. Power was slipping into me, out of him. I kept it slow, controlled. I prayed it would be enough.
“Not another step.” Simon shoved the gun into my cheek. I couldn’t control a whimper of fear.
“Okay, okay.” Jackson stopped moving. “Tell me where you’re going to drop her. At least tell me that.”
“Do I look like an idiot?”
Simon pulled me back toward the dock, heading for the yacht. He shoved me up the gangplank, and I stumbled, twisting so I fell to the deck on my butt instead of my face. Simon followed me and untied the boat.
“Think about what you’re doing,” Jackson called. He’d stayed where he was. “Think about what your life is going to be like if you do this.” He was walking forward again.
I’d managed to shift so my ankles were right by Simon’s feet. He was starting the motor, checking the control panel. I inched my legs up until my exposed calf grazed his leg. Another little sip, another chance to gain an advantage.
“You know,” Simon said, “you might be right.” He turned from the control panel to face Jackson, a few yards of deep water between them. Then he pulled his gun from his waistband, pointed it at Jackson and shot him twice in the chest.
“No!” I couldn’t stop the scream, I couldn’t stop myself from struggling like a landed fish to get to the back of the boat, to get to him. He hit his knees, his face still with shock. He fell forward onto his chest. I kept screaming. Simon caught me by the shoulder and dragged me back to the cockpit.
“Shut up, just shut up!” He hit me across the mouth when I didn’t quiet. Jackson wasn’t moving. His arms were splayed at his sides, his legs at odd angles. All the air left the world in an instant.
My screams faded to a litany of denial. This wasn’t possible. I loved him, and he couldn’t be dead. I made a deal with myself that if I could get to that dock, if I could just touch him, I could stop the bleeding. That everything would be all right.
Simon started the boat. The rumbles of the motor made my body vibrate through the teak decking. We were gaining distance from the dock. Ten yards, fifty. The farther away we got, the less chance I had of being able to swim the distance. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Jackson still hadn’t stirred—I was thinking only about my goal. I had to get to him. It had to be now.
I hadn’t stolen enough of Simon’s power to make a dent in his telepathy or telekinesis. I didn’t have enough energy to zap him and knock him out. But in the clarity of desperation, I knew I had enough for something else. I turned my face toward the steering column.
If my brother Shane had been in this situation, he would have known exactly which wire to hit or which component to disable. I was going to have to take a less subtle approach. We were clearing the dock, picking up speed, and there was no time left to figure out the electronic workings of a pricey yacht. I struggled to my feet, lurched forward and fell face-first onto the control panel.
I was used to discharging energy through my hands and feet, but I figured any body part would do. I let the power I’d stolen rush out through my temple and right onto the yacht’s control board. Sparks flew. The panel sizzled and smoked and went dark, and smell of burning plastic stung my nose as the hum of the motor died. I slumped to the deck as Simon grabbed me.
“You stupid bitch! What did you do?”
I let him shake me. Nothing mattered. I let him shake me and drop me to the deck.
“Goddammit!” He kicked me in the back, and I barely felt it. I rolled away from him as he turned his attention to the panel, still cursing.
A circular life preserver was tied to the bench at the back and I made for it, walking backward on my knees, letting Simon think I was afraid of him. If I could get to that life preserver, I had a shot of making it to Jackson.
Even if I was too late to save him, maybe he wouldn’t have to die alone.
Simon was distracted by the utter destruction of the yacht’s control panel. He had the cover off, and smoke still wafted from the plastic. He clearly didn’t think I’d do anything as insane as jump into the freezing San Francisco Bay while handcuffed. Just a few more feet, and I’d be there.
We’d drifted even farther from the dock, but I didn’t dare turn around and see how far. I kept my eyes on Simon, who was still cursing at the control panel. I made it to the life preserver and put my back to it, standing on tiptoe so I could use my bound hands to untie it. One knot came free, and then another. Almost there.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
He’d seen me. He reached into his waistband for his gun—and came up with nothing.
“What the fuck?” He looked at me, obviously assuming I’d stolen the gun. I wished I had, but as he advanced on me, I turned around and saw something I didn’t dare believe. Jackson, standing in the motorless speedboat, pointing Simon’s gun and moving smoothly closer over the choppy water.
“Don’t move,” he called.
I almost sobbed when I heard his voice. Not a mirage.
It took a couple of moments for Simon to take in what was happening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bottle. Enhancers. He took two, swallowing them dry.
“Don’t think I can’t get out of here under my own power,” he called to Jackson.
“Don’t think I can’t kill you where you stand.” Jackson had to yell over the water, but there was no threatening bluster in his voice. I believed him. Simon clearly did too. He spun, grabbed me around the torso, and flung my bound legs over the railing. My toes brushed the cold water.
I didn’t dare struggle. Simon’s arm was the only thing holding me up, there was no way for me to reach a handhold with my wrists bound. We were close enough no
w for me to make out Jackson’s face. How long would it take for the enhancers to kick in, for Simon to win the telekinetic battle?
“Drop the gun, or I let her go!” he yelled.
Jackson met my eyes, and all at once, I saw where he was aiming the gun. I took a deep breath, and then another.
“Do it!” Jackson called back. “Seb cares more about taking you down than one woman’s life.”
Simon hesitated. I was his only bargaining chip, after all. I could almost hear him thinking it out. He’s lying. Drop her, and he’ll dive in after her—even if it’s just a distraction, it gives me time to get away. A sensible enough plan. He’d protected his skin well this time, and I couldn’t tell if the enhancers had done their work on his powers or not. But I could tell from the way his muscles tensed when he decided.
“I warned you!” he yelled, and he let me go.
I had time to take one final breath before I hit the icy water. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t try to kick for the surface. I let the water cover me, let my body slowly sink. I’d trusted Jackson with my secrets, my body and my heart. It was no great leap now to trust him with my life.
Chapter Thirty
It took a few moments, but I felt the percussion wave jolt through the water when the yacht exploded. The gas tank. Jackson must have hit what he’d been aiming for. A moment later I was rising, rocketing toward the surface, my lungs burning for a breath I couldn’t take yet, water rushing all around me as the air above blazed gold.
I rose out of the water like a bizarre fish and took one painful, gasping breath after another. I couldn’t hold myself up, but Jackson was there, treading water, his arms and his power surrounding me and keeping me afloat. He buried his face against my neck.
“Thank God, thank God, thank God,” he said, his voice thick. He was crushing me, using telekinesis to keep us both from sinking, and as much as I wanted to lose myself in the safety of him, I had to focus to keep from grounding him.
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