No. He discarded the thought. He’d never quit anything in his entire life. He’d never broken a promise. He wasn’t about to start now.
“So how were things in the clink?”
Lane jumped a little, broken out of his reverie. Al looked at Lane hopefully. Al couldn’t stand silence, especially the kind of awkwardness that came after a big fight. He was asking Lane to bridge the gap.
“I did get a chance to do a lot of thinking. I think I figured something out.”
Sam looked over at Lane, arching her left eyebrow. Who knew what that look was about.
“I had an idea, about Sam’s power. Especially after what happened yesterday. It answers a lot of questions.” Sam’s right eyebrow crept up to join her first.
“Tell us what it is, then!” Al said.
Closing his eyes, Lane quietly rehearsed what he would say. He didn’t want to keep the group in suspense, but he also didn’t want to piss off Sam. In this case, he thought, it might be impossible to avoid that.
“Sam you, you don’t have any—no, that’s not quite right. But it’s the only way I can think to describe it—Sam, you’re not a TK. You’re not a kinetic at all.”
Lane waited for Sam to deny in outrage, to laugh in disbelief—but she didn’t. Al was pale, positively stricken. Sam just shrugged, “I knew it had to be a mistake.”
“But her headaches!” Al went on, “The bus. She’s said she could sense power. Those are all signs of talent.”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t a Talent.”
“But if she’s not kinetic,” Harry said, “What is she? I haven’t seen her read minds; she can’t control elements—”
“No,” Lane said, “She can control an element. In fact, she can control an element that, as far as I’m aware, no other Talent has been able to control before. Energy. Our energy. The kind we use to power our abilities.”
Harry and Al exchanged skeptical glances. Samantha leaned forward, “What are you saying? That I’m like, an electrical generator for the rest of you?”
“Exactly. I’d started suspecting it at Audrey’s—you and she had the same dreams, and she said her dreams were stronger than normal. And earlier, at the diner, when you panicked, we lost all our energy and then got it back, tripled. But I didn’t really put the pieces together until yesterday. At Lucky’s, Sam, when you touched me I felt the power flow into me. I’ve never had TK as strong as I did that time. Never. Sam, you’re like a giant amplifier. But like an amplifier, your talent needs someone else as an input. Or else...nothing.”
“But the bus!” Al said, “We checked. There weren’t any other Talents on that bus.”
“No,” Lane corrected, “No Talents registered with N.T.U. Some members of the Corp have never registered.”
#
Putting the missing piece into the puzzle was always a great moment in life. Sam just wished she’d been the one to find it, and not Lane. But it made so much sense. Hadn’t she felt it, the outrush of pressure and instant headache relief every time she’d touched a Talent? And in the bus—she’d been crammed in between two people, touching shoulders. One of them, quite fortunately, turned out to be a Talent. And then, unfortunately, turned out to also be a member of the Corp, who had apparently told the Corporation all about what had happened.
A gear in Samantha’s brain turned and ideas formed. It would be easy to cry about getting the short end of the stick. Everyone wanted to be the superhero, and nature just permanently relegated Samantha to the role of sidekick. Her talent was worthless without another Talent around to use it.
But Sam was used to getting bum deals in life. She’d never met a lemon she couldn’t squeeze every ounce of juice out of. She stared out the window, chewing on her cheek, pondering on how she was going to turn this newfound knowledge to her advantage.
Lane, sitting next to her, worried about the same thing.
Chapter 19
Being the least recognizable of all of them, Harry became the new go-to guy. Lane could use his talent to make himself forgettable, but Harry’s friendly-but-non-threatening features and everyday looks were the best camouflage. So, following their escape, a new system was quickly established. Harry went in and ordered food, and the rest of them ate in the car. Potty breaks were taken at the bathrooms located behind the gas station after Harry got the key. Things ran smoothly, more or less, though Sam retreated into her own thoughts again, interacting only when necessary. Lane worried, thinking that she was distancing herself from them for a reason.
That night they ate at Lucky’s again, but no one complained. The motto of the day seemed to be: get along and go along.
Or at least Lane had thought. Then, Al pulled a map out. “So, if Samantha’s father lives in Steilacoom, then that’s only, what, about two hours off our given route? I think we can make it by tomorrow afternoon.”
Sam stiffened, “Who told you where my father is?”
“Tess. She called us while you were in the hospital with the address. Said it was pretty tough finding it.”
“I’m sure it was.” Chewing her bite of hamburger carefully, Sam looked out the window. It had rained that day, and in the twilight the glistening of the streetlights on wet pavement was rather pretty.
But Lane knew that wasn’t what Sam was thinking about. If anything, he thought, she was weighing the pros and cons of making a run for it in light drizzle. She turned to face them again, “Seeing as we now know how my talent works, do you think it’s still necessary to see him?”
“Yes,” Harry replied. The fact that he was speaking up was testament enough to how strongly he felt about this. Sam looked to Lane for help, but despite an overwhelming urge to shelter her from pain, he couldn’t bring himself to disagree with his friends. Samantha’s own reluctance to see her father implied that there was more to the story than Sam wanted to share and Lane, for his part, was ready for the whole story.
“All right,” Sam said, “I’m not going to argue.”
#
They checked in at about eleven that night. The Cherry Inn was a franchise hotel, and nicer than the places they usually stayed in. By the time they had pulled into town, they were all too exhausted to look for anyplace cheaper and too frustrated to put up with hard mattresses. Again, Lane thought, not such a big deal. After all, everyone was exhausted. Everyone but him. He felt like he could drive through the night. Antsy, anxious. The truth was, he admitted to himself, that he didn’t want to stop. And it wasn’t just the Corp that drove him on. Sam’s silence after learning about her powers, coupled with her sudden compliance about seeing her father didn’t sit well with him. Sam may not have talent, but her potential power could be staggering, if used in the right—or wrong—way. Enough to throw a woman—a woman who knew all about the ways and uses of power—off course.
These thoughts drove Lane from his room to Sam’s across the hall. He knocked on the door. Sam opened the door and leaned against the jamb, looking up at him, “Yes?” She wore his T-shirt, he noticed.
“I just wanted to say thank you. For bailing me out. I know I wasn’t really appreciative before. It was a good thing you did, coming back for me.”
Her smile was bright and genuine, as though he’d somehow surprised her. And of course she had to hide it, looking down and covering her mouth with a delicate cough, “You’re welcome. As I said, it was the least I could do.” She smiled up at him again, and her eyes strayed to his mouth. And every thought Lane had of warnings and suspicions derailed in favor of one, simple, prevalent feeling: desire. A desire he’d felt since the first moment he’d looked in her eyes. A desire that only continued to get stronger, as much as he kept trying to bury it.
Forget the craziness of everything going on, forget the secrets and the complications, the truth was he liked Samantha. She was damn smart. And she had an inner strength that you rarely saw in anyone, man or woman.
Taking a deep breath, Lane steered himself back to the moment. There would be time for relationships later. Now th
ey had to stay focused. Especially since she was probably going to hate him again. “I don’t know what you’re planning,” Lane said, his voice low and urgent, “but I know you’re planning something. Please, please believe me when I say the Corp is not to be trusted.”
“That very well may be,” Samantha said, “but you can’t spend your life believing in the better judgment of someone else.”
She started to shut the door, but Lane slid his foot in the jamb, “What? What does that mean?”
“It means that I won’t be leaving with you guys tomorrow. I’m taking my chances alone from here on out.”
“Sam, you know that’s a stupid thing to do,” Lane said through gritted teeth.
“No, it’s quite logical. I don’t get a say in what we do. I don’t get full disclosure. I know what’s going on now, and I thank you for helping me with that. But I’ve decided that I’m better off on my own.” Sam tried again to slam the door, but Lane stayed put. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let her do this. She had no idea what she was getting into.
“What is this about? Is this about seeing your dad? Or that, that conversation I had with Audrey?”
“Both,” she said, “You don’t trust me, and I can’t trust you to be honest with me.”
“Let me ask you something, Sam.”
She held herself stiffly and waited.
“Why is it OK for you to keep your whole life a mystery, but I can’t have just one secret?”
Sam paused for a second to consider this.
“Because my secrets don’t involve you,” she said finally, firmly, “but your secrets involve me. My secrets aren’t a risk to you and, frankly, yours are a risk to me. And no matter what you say, ultimately, I’m in charge of my safety—not you, not Al, not Harry, and certainly not some shadow organization I hadn’t even heard of a month ago. So I have decided that it’s best, for my safety and yours, not to go along with you anymore.”
Damn those were valid points. Even though he had said he wouldn’t, Lane couldn’t help but test Samantha’s block. What is going on in there? he thought. What’s making you do this? Faint, but distinct, he felt the tinge of fear.
“Sam, are you afraid of me? You must know I would never hurt you.”
Sam’s expression went dark. “No! And I thought you were going to stop doing that!”
Lane raised an eyebrow.
Sam sighed slightly, “It’s relying on you that scares me. And I can’t anymore. It’s asking too much.”
Something snapped. Lane took a step back. “It’s asking too much? It’s not too much for you to ask me to turn my life upside down hauling your ass across the country or to risk my life facing down those psychos coming after you or to go to jail for you or to give you my favorite fucking T-shirt but it is too much for me to ask for a little trust in return? Don’t worry Sam, because you won’t have to worry about relying on me any more. Go off and do whatever the hell you want!”
Lane turned and stormed across the hall towards his room. Sam slammed her door behind him. Hand on the doorknob, Lane paused. He couldn’t face Harry and Al. They were going to want answers, and that was one thing he couldn’t provide right now. Changing course, he headed for the elevator instead.
#
There was such finality to the sound of a door slamming. Samantha knew her message had been heard, loud and clear. I don’t want you anymore. And that drop in her stomach was fine. Because it was for the best. Every word she’d spoken was the truth. It was only what she hadn’t told him that mattered more.
She had realized, during the car ride, that it wasn’t so much about trusting Lane as much as trusting herself around him. The interview had brought back memories, hard memories.
Rescuing Lane had meant sacrificing her privacy, the one thing she had worked to protect above all else. And she had done it readily, eagerly. She didn’t regret the action—after all, it did even the debt—but the easy way she’d made the decision scared her. What would she be giving away for him next? It was a slippery slope and she couldn’t afford to fall.
The quiet comfort gained from being near him was too addictive. That sense of well-being. She could feel the pull even now. A small voice inside said, “Say you’re sorry. Tell him everything. He’ll take care of you. You won’t have to worry anymore.”
And what would she gain from that?
Weakness. And Sam had promised herself, long ago, that she would never be weak again.
So she sat in her room, telling herself over and over that she was doing the right thing. And maybe if I repeat it enough, she thought, I’ll actually start believing it.
Chapter 20
Lane stomped down the hallway, nearly colliding with another guest as he stormed past and slammed the button for the elevator. When it took too long to suit him, he went for the stairs, taking the steps three at a time.
How could she? He thought darkly, how dare she? Afraid of him? After all he had done for her. All the time he sacrificed, he thought, all the effort, all the patience. And for what? For this? To be treated like scum? Like he wasn’t fit to shine her shoes?
Forget her, he decided, striding to the hotel bar and ordering a shot, forget her and her stupid mistrust of every goddamned person that ever walked the planet. And damn me, he thought, for ever thinking she might change.
When the shot arrived, he downed it quickly, then made a face, nearly spitting it out. That’s right, Lane remembered, I hate scotch. He ordered a coke next and sat there, silently nursing the soda, aware of how pathetic he must look to fellow barflies.
“Hey dude.” Harry slid into the seat next to him.
Lane slouched in the chair, resting his head on his arms, “What are you doing here?”
“Laughing at Al trying to pick up girls at the pool.”
“There aren’t any girls at the pool,” Lane snarled, “It’s the middle of the night.”
Harry shrugged, “You caught me. We heard the fight and I drew the short straw.” He ordered his own soda and fell silent for a few moments, “Want to talk?”
Lane grumbled an answer.
“Yeah, I guessed that.”
“She thinks she’s the only person in the world who matters. Do you know what she said to me? She’s leaving. Because it’s the best for her safety. For her safety. Like we haven’t risked our lives keeping her safe? Does she really think she could do better by herself? She’s going to be dead by the end of the week.”
Harry shrugged, “Maybe. She’s pretty plucky though.”
Lane took a sip of his drink and stilled. “Harry,” he said, “she could be dead by the end of the week. I have to talk to her. Now.”
#
It was for the best. Samantha was starting to feel more certain now. Security was paramount. A cute face and sweet personality wasn’t worth the risk. How many girls had she known who’d had their lives ruined and sidetracked by relationships that wound up going nowhere? Sam would have a relationship, but not until she was good and ready. At this point, she was only setting herself up for hurt.
Except that she was feeling pretty damn hurt right now. And she didn’t know whom she was angrier at: Lane or herself. The reasonable part of her mind couldn’t help but say that he was more than a little justified to be mad, even if she was also justified to say what she’d said.
So we were both right and wrong, she thought, is that even possible? Her anger leached away, leaving her feeling hollow and alone. She picked up the little stuffed cat Al and Harry had bought for her. She’d put it in the paper shopping bag she used for holding her things, the little head sticking out. She knew it was silly, but she liked having it around.
She wouldn’t change her mind, but that didn’t mean she had to leave things with Lane the way they were. She’d offer an apology, an olive branch. He deserved that much. And who knew, maybe, one day, when this was all over... A tiny flicker of hope leapt into life at the thought.
Mind made up, Sam pulled her shoes on and grabbed her room key. She strode
to the door and yanked it open.
There, to her shock, stood Lane. Looking as surprised as she did.
“Samantha,” he said, and smiled.
She started to swing the door open, thinking hurriedly. She wouldn’t apologize, exactly, just explain her point of view and—Sam paused. The hairs on the back of her neck went up.
Lane continued smiling at her. Mouth open, eyes intent on hers. He looked almost hungry. Something was very wrong here.
Samantha didn’t hesitate. She slammed the door. Acting fast, Lane shoved his foot into the jamb, keeping it from closing all the way.
“Let me in,” he said, making eye contact, “I just want to talk to you!”
#
“Sit down,” Harry said, “You’re in no position to talk to her right now.”
“You’re right.” Lane sat. “I shouldn’t bother anyways. Should I? She wouldn’t even listen. I could write her a song and she wouldn’t listen. I haven’t met such an ice queen in my whole life.”
“Write her a song?” Harry asked, then shook his head, “You’re a lightweight, man. But you’re right, she can be pretty chilly.”
“And mean. And distrusting. She thinks she can do this alone, fine. We’ll let her. We’re going home tomorrow. The ice queen can help herself—oh god—”
Lane suddenly collapsed, tumbling to the floor. Harry almost wasn’t fast enough to catch Lane before his head collided with the floor. He propped his friend up as Lane moaned, clutching his head, “What’s the matter?”
“Sam,” Lane gasped.
#
When Lane had asked to come in, he hadn’t just meant it literally. And without waiting for an answer, he grabbed her shoulder as he forced his way in both to the room and her mind.
Sam’s block was up, of course, but she could feel it collapse under the force of Lane’s immense power, like a brick wall bulldozed by a tank.
A dark, sticky feeling stole into her consciousness. Samantha took a step back, eyes widening as she felt the presence spread through her thoughts.
Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) Page 16
