Brain Storm (A Taylor Morrison Novel Book 1)

by Cat Gilbert

  “There’s no way Gram could walk with that kind of weight, and what if something goes wrong? How do we get her out fast?” Trinity and Mama D were doing the dishes and Mac was busy putting them away. Jonas and I were at the table pouring over his notes, trying to figure out a way to get Mama D in and out with the gold without much success.

  “Too bad we can’t just slap some wheels on it and roll it out.” I threw my pencil on the table and watched it roll along, stopping just short of disappearing over the edge. I was tired, frustrated and worried. It would be so much easier to just forget the whole thing, but there was a part of me, deep down, that said that was the wrong thing to do. We just hadn’t hit on the answer yet.

  I finally noticed that everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at me.

  “What?” I asked totally clueless. I thought back over what I had just said and it finally hit me. We could just roll it out.

  WE DECIDED TO hit the bank mid-afternoon the next day, missing the lunch crowd. With any luck, whoever was watching would be tired by then and not paying close attention. There was no question in my mind that they would be watching. Other than turning something up on Mac’s cabin, which was highly unlikely considering all the precautions he’d taken, their only way of locating us was to watch the places we might turn up. Right now, they had no way of knowing if we had left town or not. That was all about to change.

  Within minutes, we were heading south, on our way to Hot Springs and Mac’s contact to get the new ID’s. Mama D would use her real name to get into the vault and then switch to her new identity. Mac had already taken care of my new paperwork, in the event we had to run, but I needed some form of id in case of a problem at the bank and he didn’t want to use my new id for that.

  I watched out the window as the Arkansas countryside slid by with a heavy heart. In a matter of hours, we would be leaving the state and odds were good, I’d never be back.

  Mac turned onto Highway 5, the old back way into the Springs and as we neared the East Gate to Hot Springs Village, where Keith and I had lived, memories came flooding in. I had loved the drive home. After running after bad guys and seeing the seedier side of life during the day, driving the 40 minutes home, through the winding, wooded hillsides was the highlight of my day. About halfway home from Little Rock, the two-lane highway twisted around, through a grove of trees, their branches stretched over the road. As you came around the last curve you passed the overlook of the long valley spread out below, surrounded by mountains. If I got lucky and hit the overlook right at sunset, the sight was breathtaking.

  I hadn’t seen that view in over six months. A stark reminder that this was no longer my way home. I thought back over everything that happened in the past year. Loosing Keith had been devastating, and the past few days had been nothing, if not brutal. Everything had changed. Everything was different now.

  As we passed the turn off into the Village, I felt hot tears sting my eyes. This was the last time I would be here. In a matter of minutes, I would become someone other than Taylor Morrison. Considering everything that had happened, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.

  Lost in thought, we were in Hot Springs before I knew it. Looking up, I saw we were on Central Avenue, the famous bath houses lining the road on one side, while local shops, filled with tourists crowded the other. Our goal was the mall at the other end of town. If I had been paying attention, I could have directed Mac to take the cutoff through Gulpha Gorge and bypassed the congestion, but I’d missed my chance and now here we sat stuck in traffic.

  “What is that, in front of me?” Mac asked, impatiently. “Is that a duck? Because it looks like a giant duck, and it’s full of people.”

  I leaned over at his question to see around Jonas, who was sitting in the passenger seat, his big frame blocking any view to the front. Sure enough, we were behind a Duck Tour. The huge amphibious vehicles cruised from the Bath house area over to lake where, to the delight of the tourists, they plowed into the water for a boat tour of the area.

  “It’s fine, Mac. They keep up with traffic. You can’t see, but there’s a line of cars in front of them, holding things up. There’s usually a tie up here.” Tapping the steering wheel with impatience, he didn’t look too convinced. “I’m surprised you don’t know that, seeing as how you’ve been following me for years and your contact is here.”

  “I don’t follow you. I just keep tabs. And no, I’ve never been here. I don’t come to him, he comes to me. Today is an exception.”

  “Funny, your covert contact is here in the Springs, Mac. Kind of ironic really.”

  “Why?” he asked, catching my eye in the rear view as he inched slowly forward.

  “Covert operative, spy, whatever, he is, he’s located in what used to be the biggest den of iniquity in the States. I find that sort of amusing.”

  At his incredulous look Trinity began to fill him in on Hot Springs’ notorious past. Mama D even pitched in a few details. Most of the tourists came to see the bath houses, famous at the turn of the century, known for the healing power of the hot mineral water. People had come from all over the world for treatments. Franklin Roosevelt and Babe Ruth were known to frequent the bath houses. It was the gambling dens and the moonshine, though that attracted the likes of Al Capone and Bugsy Malone.

  Few people realized that when Las Vegas was just a speck of dust in someone’s imagination, Hot Springs, Arkansas was the place to see and be seen. At one time there were more than ten casinos in the town, the mob so ensconced that the governor had to bring in a task force to shut them down. Now the only gambling was at Oaklawn Park, a premiere horse racing facility, smack dab in the heart of Central Arkansas and another place to expect traffic problems. Mac was going to have to drive right past it. He was going to be thrilled, I was sure.

  The traffic had finally cleared and we were fast approaching the race course. In season, you could sometimes catch a glimpse of the field making the final turn into the stretch as you passed, but this afternoon the track lay empty.

  I had never gone to the races. I’d driven by, even sat in the parking lot on a few mornings, when I was early for an appointment and watched them take the horses out for exercise and training, but I’d never actually attended. Funny how things like that happen. You think you have all the time in the world, but then opportunity passes and you realize you missed half the stuff you planned to do.

  Morose. I was becoming morose. First I was tearing up and now I was bemoaning not going to the horse races. I didn’t even really like horse racing. I caught Mac watching me in the rear view mirror again and I made a face at him, which I admit was childish, but it sent his eyes back to the road where they belonged. I really needed to talk to him and get some things straightened out. I highly suspected that the Watchers weren’t without their own form of psychic power. Why would you send an unarmed man into a gunfight, right?

  Within minutes, we had arrived at the Hot Springs Mall. It wasn’t big, as malls go, but it had a Sears, a JCPenny’s and most importantly, a Dillards. Trinity, Mama D and Jonas had instructions to pick up clothes and any other necessities for the road. Trinity had changed her hair, left off her makeup and was in jeans and a shirt, the tails hanging loose. The difference from her normal appearance of tailored professional was amazing. I barely recognized her.

  “Try to stay out of Dillards,” I cautioned as she hopped out of the van, knowing full well that would be the first place she’d head for.. Full of designer clothing, it was her favorite store. She threw an evil smile at me as she swung her $800 hobo bag up on her shoulder and walked off with Mama D in tow.

  I was much more worried about Jonas. With his size and looks, he really stood out, even with the dark glasses and hat Mac had given him. If anything, they made him stand out even more, only now he looked like some large scary hoodlum instead of a large scary cop. Mac had given him instructions on what to buy to blend in more. I had doubts Jonas would ever blend in, but I was curious to see what he came up wi
th.

  We arranged to meet them back at the entrance in two hours. Not much shopping time for Trinity, but then Mac had only given her a couple thousand to outfit the three of them, so I figured she’d be cooling her heels by the time we got back.

  “Don’t worry,” Mac said, as I watched them walk away. “They’ll be fine. Jonas can take of them.”

  He was right, I was worried. This was the first time we had been separated since the attack and they were walking around in the open in a mall. For whatever reason, his assurance rubbed me the wrong way, serving to remind me of my intent to talk to him. As Mac turned onto Central, heading to meet his contact, I decided it was the perfect time.

  “You have something else you need to tell me, Mac?” I asked, the irritation I felt evident in my voice. “Because I’m thinking maybe you left out a few things.”

  I saw his hands tighten on the wheel and when he didn’t immediately answer, I felt my anger start to build. Apparently he felt it too.

  “Hold on, hold on. Let me get off the road so we can talk.” He swerved the van into a Sonic drive-in at the last minute and pulled into a space between two other cars. Putting the van into park, he left it running, the windows up for privacy.

  “What do you want to know?” he asked calmly.

  “Don’t play games with me, Mac. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Why did you lie to me?”

  “I didn’t. I didn’t lie to you.”

  “You didn’t tell me the truth though, did you? You’re keeping things from me and I’m not working like that.”

  He blew out a breath of air in frustration and turned away to stare at the menu, which really ticked me off. I didn’t consider myself a violent person, but right then, I had an almost overwhelming desire to smack his head into the window and knock him around a bit. Here we had trusted him with our lives and he’d been holding out on us.

  “Stop!” he hissed at me, grabbing my arm. I felt the tremble from him clear to my shoulder. “Stop, please. I’ll explain, but you need to calm down. Please.”

  My emotion switched almost instantly from anger to fear, at the pain I heard in his voice. Sweat began to run down his face and he snatched his hand from my arm like it was a hot skillet. Sure he was having a heart attack, I quickly undid my seat belt and moved to help him.

  “Stop! Taylor, don’t touch me.” He was backing up against the driver’s door in an effort to avoid my hands. I froze in the seat, inches from him as the truth hit me. I was doing this to him. I was hurting him. I didn’t know how, but I knew, without a doubt, it was me.

  Suddenly, I had a desperate need to get out of there. I threw the van door open so fast it hit the menu board and bounced back on me, knocking me sideways as I ran from the van. I had no idea where to go, but I knew I needed to get away from Mac. I headed up the road, back in the direction of the mall, my mind a mass of confusion.

  I looked back over my shoulder and seeing a break in the traffic, sprinted across the four lanes and hopped the divider into the mall parking lot. Out of breath and overheated from the run, I slowed to a walk just as Mac cut in front of me the van rocking as he slammed on the brakes and rammed it into park. I turned to head the other way, but hadn’t gone more than two feet before he grabbed me..

  “Taylor, stop. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He turned me around to to face him, but I couldn’t bear to look at him, remembering the pain that was etched into his face because of me.

  “Let me go, Mac.” I swatted at him as he tried to stop me leaving again. “Don’t touch me! Stay away.” I was trapped. He dropped his hands, but blocked every attempt I made to get away from him.

  “Please Mac,” I begged. exhausted. “Let me go. Just let me leave.”

  “Where would you go?” he asked softly.

  I didn’t know, didn’t care. Just away. I couldn’t take this anymore. Couldn’t live with the thought that I could hurt someone without knowing it, trying to put the realization that I already had, out of my mind.

  “Taylor, you aren’t going anywhere without me. You can leave, but I’ll find you.” He reached over and wrapped his hand firmly around mine. I tensed waiting for him to draw back in pain, but it didn’t happen. “Don’t ever run from me again.”

  He pulled on my arm and led me around the van to the passenger side. Opening the door, he sat me down on the seat and I was too tired to resist. My arms and legs heavy, my mind numb, I slumped against the closed door while Mac rounded the front and climbed in next to me.

  “You’re in shock,” he told me as I began to shiver in the relative coolness of the van. He pulled back out into traffic and headed across the road, back to the Sonic. Parking the van on the opposite side of the drive-in from before, he ordered two Route 44’s and some chili fries. The next thing I knew he was pressing the huge styrofoam cup into my hand and ordering me to drink. He helped guide the cup up and I managed a couple of sips. After a while, the smell of the fries permeated my deadened senses, and I roused myself enough to look over and find the source. He smiled as he waved the steaming tray under my nose and I snagged a fry dripping with chili and melted cheese.

  “I can’t believe all the food I’m eating.” I popped a second fry in my mouth against my better judgement. The way things were going I was going to need a new wardrobe myself. A bigger one. The thought was thoroughly depressing. “I’m always hungry.”

  “It’s the stress. And your abilities. You’re system is rev-ed up, burning more calories. You’ll settle into it in time, but right now, you need food. It will help.”

  He was right. By the time we had polished off the fries and I was half way through my Diet Coke, I was feeling halfway human again. Not back to my old self, but good enough to talk.

  “Okay, so what happened back there, Mac?” My voice broke and I realized I wasn’t doing quite as good as I thought. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I tried again. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m an Empath,” he said, looking at the steering wheel instead of me. “All Watchers are. It’s one of the requirements for the job.”

  I was confused, this psychic stuff was still new to me. “So what? You can read my thoughts?”

  “No. Taylor. Never. Empaths sense emotions. It makes them ideal for watching over the Clients.”

  So that’s what happened. He was picking up on my emotions. That’s why he always seemed one step ahead of me. That explained a lot and wasn’t far off from what I had expected him to admit to, but it still didn’t explain the past few minutes.

  “Seems kind of dangerous to me, considering what just happened.”

  “This isn’t normal.”

  Not normal. Now why didn’t that surprise me? I knew nothing about Empaths except what he had told me so far and even I had figured out this couldn’t be normal. Mac was still focused on the steering wheel or something close behind it. He seemed as confused as I was, and I could tell he was trying to sort things out in his head before trying to explain them to me.

  “Maybe you should start at the beginning, Mac. When did you start being a Watcher?”

  “Right after I got out of Special Ops.” He looked up and shrugged. “I’d always been sensitive to people’s emotions. Could tell when someone was hurt or angry. It came in handy during missions. I’d know if someone was lying, or if they had given us all the information they had. I always assumed I had, I don’t know, like a second sense. When my last tour was over, I was approached by the Agency. I went in for their testing and apparently passed with flying colors. I didn’t have anything else in the tube, and it sounded interesting, so I signed on.”

  “How did you get assigned to me?”

  “I did my basic training and then taught some, working with some of the Handlers. Those are the guys who teach the Clients how to use and control their abilities,” he explained at my confused look. “I told you that you didn’t have a Watcher until 7 years ago. They just keep an eye on things and stop by once in a while to make sure everything’s going okay. The ab
ilities manifest themselves in people at different times. Something usually sets it off, a trauma, or high stress situation. When a person is a high candidate for having some abilities, they send a Watcher in if there’s an event that might precipitate a change. In your case, it was the death of your Aunt that started the ball rolling.”

  “And lucky you, you got stuck with me.”

  “Actually, that’s not true. I picked you.” He started playing with his straw, moving it up and down nervously. “I was sent do a visual check on you when your Aunt died. You didn’t see me, but I was at the funeral, sitting in the back. Even that far from you, the connection was strong. Stronger than anything I’d come across. I didn’t understand it, but I pulled some strings and made sure I was assigned to you. I packed my bag and flew in the next week. I’ve been with you ever since.”

  I was surprised at how calm I’d remained during his explanation. He had given me bits and pieces before, but now, for the first time, I was getting the full picture and it should have been overwhelming. Somehow it wasn’t and I had a feeling that had something to do with Mac.

  “We need to head out to met my contact. We need those ID’s.” He checked his watch and stowed his drink, putting the van in gear. “We’re running behind, so we’ll finish up after we pick up the crew at the mall.”

  He pulled onto Central and headed toward Lake Catherine. As we passed the huge lakefront homes and marinas dotting the shoreline, Mac’s fingers beat out a rhythm on his leg. I had never seen him nervous like this before and I wondered what problems he was anticipating that had him so worried.

  “What about this afternoon?” I asked. “You said it wasn’t normal, what happens between us. What’s different?”

  “I told you I felt a connection with you immediately?” I nodded that I remembered. I wasn’t likely to forget. “It was strong. After I got here, it grew stronger. Empaths can sense emotions, but this is more. It’s like I feel your emotion. Almost like I absorb it. It’s stronger if I touch you.” He ventured a quick glance at me and then back at the road.