A pair of arms came from behind to wrap around her waist, and hot, heavy breath rasped on the back of her neck.
“Nice try, guys,” Tops said, “But you know she’s going home with me.”
“Eeeew! Where did you come from?” Sam drove her elbow back and into Tops’ solar plexus. He grunted, letting her go. Breathing deeply, Sam took a few steps back, waiting to see what Harry’s and Al’s reactions would be. But they seemed to be torn, captivated by Sam but thrown off by Tops’ aggression. In this case, Sam decided, leaving is probably my best option.
Tops took a step forward, holding his arms out, tone wheedling, “Wanna go get dinner?”
Gross. Dinner with the Neanderthal. That was at the top of her list. Sam smiled, conciliatory, and continued walking backwards. “I’m busy right now,” she said, “How about I meet you, uh, around eight?”
Bypassing the dubious aid of Al and Harry, Sam slipped down the other side of the aisle, first walking quickly and then running towards the front of the store. Tops, unfortunately, was only steps behind her, shouting something along the lines of, “Hey baby where you goin’?”
“Samantha? What’s going on here?” Lane stood at the counter, looking at her curiously. Oh yes, Sam thought, just the idiot I’m looking for. Placing herself strategically behind him, she pointed over at Tops and the other men: “You screwed up. Fix it!”
“Lane, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Al said, “We were meant for each other, Samantha, you know that!”
“Sam, you know he wouldn’t treat you right, not like I would,” Harry said.
“No, baby, you want to come home with me,” Tops advanced on the two of them, pulling the wrench out of his pocket.
“OK. I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s going too far.” Lane put his hand on Tops’ chest, stopping him with the gesture. “You need to go home. Now.” Sam could almost see the power that Lane put behind those three words. Tops blinked and shook his head. His gray eyes latched on Sam, “Don’t tell me you’d pick this loser over me, sweetie.” The words held an undercurrent of threat.
Sam started to move forward in protest, but Lane held her firmly in place, “It doesn’t matter if she picks this loser or not. She hasn’t picked you. Go home.”
“Listen, buddy.” Tops drove his finger into Lane’s chest. It suddenly occurred to Sam that Tops, while not seeming that prepossessing at first, was actually a rather large man. A couple inches taller than Lane, even, and bulkier. The kind of man who knew how to throw his weight around when he wanted to.
If he hurts Lane, a wayward thought popped into Sam’s head, I’m going to kill him.
“No, you listen, buddy.” Lane grabbed the finger, slowly bending it back towards Tops’ chest, “Go home.” Lane released the finger and Tops took his hand back. For a second, Sam thought the bigger man was going to punch Lane, but Lane remained firm, staring him down. Tops broke first. Giving them the bird, he turned and stormed out of the store.
Lane turned to Al, Harry, and the lurker. “That goes for the rest of you, too,” he said, “We discussed this, remember? Sam is off-limits. Non-territory. Comprende?”
“You mean your territory,” Al said, tilting his chin up in an attempt to stare Lane down. “And you don’t want us poaching. You’re afraid of the competition.”
“No,” Lane said with a chilly smile, “I’m afraid of what I might do to the competition.”
Al and Harry tried to stare him down, but like Tops, they broke first. They left, following Tops out the store. All Lane had to do was stare at the lurker father and he followed them sheepishly, holding his son by the hand. But they didn’t get far. In front of the store, a crowd of men had gathered. Al and Harry joined them, staring through the glass front of the store with mournful puppy eyes. The rest were men from the town, ranging from a lanky twelve year old to a man pushing his fifties. Sam could even see Tops still hovering in the background. They looked at her through the glass like she was the last lollipop in the candy store.
“Thanks, Lane,” Sam said, turning away from the store front, heading towards the back of the store, “But you have to fix this, right now.”
“OK,” Lane said, “But you’re not going to like it...”
Grabbing her arm, Lane pulled Sam back and kissed her, deeply.
When he finally came up for air, he grinned at the men standing outside of the store wolfishly. “Mine,” he said.
Sam blinked at him. She wanted to say something, but for once in her life was at a total and utter loss for words. Not Lane, too?!
Then he looked down at her and winked.
He’d just faked that? He’d just faked that! Bastard! Sam wanted to kick him in the shin.
“Before you kick me,” Lane said, “Let me explain that that’s the only way I can get them to back off for good. Call it a heavy dose of suggestion. And alpha pheromones.”
“Alpha. Like a dog. Yes, that’s exactly what I would call it. Especially after a sloppy kiss like that.”
Lane shrugged and pointed towards the window. Sure enough, some of the guys had backed off. A few had even left. Lane’s trick seemed to be working. Still, they left out the back of the building, passing the redhead on their way out. The girl watched Samantha go with a mixture of fear and admiration.
“Whatever she has,” she said, “I don’t think I want it.”
#
Taking her hand, Lane led Sam down alleys and deserted streets, ducking behind cars whenever they saw a man. The route he pulled her was circuitous, but within a few minutes they were within sight of the Land Cruiser, hiding behind a discount shoe store. Sam started for the car, but Lane tugged her wrist. “One more thing, Sam.”
Turning back to him, Sam found herself pressed gently against the wall.
This time the kiss was different. Slow, gentle, testing. She found herself responding, melting into Lane as desire warmed through her. Sam knew she should stop, but she didn’t want to.
Sam had kissed other guys before, of course. But it felt nothing like this. For one thing, Lane seemed to actually care if she enjoyed it. For another thing, she actually did enjoy it.
Lane came up for air. Panting slightly, he held her gaze. “I happen to resent being called a sloppy kisser.”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh, until she saw a teenage boy, about sixteen, standing at the end of the alley, watching them with a moonstruck look on his face. Uh oh.
#
“Let’s get in the car,” Sam said. Lane didn’t argue.
By the time they’d crossed the parking lot and safely locked themselves in the SUV, Sam had acquired another small crowd of males. They circled the car like lost souls.
“What happened, anyways? I thought we’d figured this whole power transfer thing out.”
“Maybe it’s the power of suggestion? We’re all mammals at heart. If a bunch of guys see that another guy wants something, they want it, too.”
“Really? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“OK.” Wrinkling his nose, Lane hesitated, embarrassed. “All right. I didn’t do anything to Tops. I did it to you. I made you feel sexy. And you know how I said thoughts and actions follow feelings? Well, so do pheromones.”
“Asshole!” Sam said, “You told me you weren’t going to mess with me anymore!”
“I did ask you first!”
“I didn’t think you were making me into, into, some cat in heat. I mean, gross, Lane!”
“It wasn’t supposed to be that severe. I may have been a tad bit sloppy when I got the power boost. I didn’t really think your power would increase the effect so, exponentially.”
“I thought you were the pro here. You should have known better.”
“Sam, your talent’s an unknown! Besides, in my defense, I was distracted.”
“By Tess.” The precise way Sam cut the words betrayed her annoyance with the unseen woman.
“Jealous?” Lane raised an eyebrow, “Why Samantha, be careful, I might
think you’re growing to like me.”
“Think? You kissed me and you still have all of your vital male organs intact. That should tell you right there.”
Lane glanced at Sam and was glad to see the glint of amusement in her eyes. She was a hard card to read, but he allowed himself to think he was getting a little better at it. In fact, he was pretty sure that what he was reading was that she wanted him to kiss her again.
“Lane!”
“Hunh?”
“I asked when you thought it might wear off. Or if maybe you could try to cool them off.” Sam leaned forward, “All of this infatuation is really starting to creep me out.”
Right. Of course. So much for getting better at reading her. He probably shouldn’t have kissed her the first time. Or the second. But, the first time he had to think of some way to get the other guys to back off and the second—
Oh, who the hell was he kidding? He’d been waiting for an excuse to kiss Sam since he’d first locked eyes with her in the library. That smile, that damn elusive smile, is what had dragged him into this in the first place.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to mess around with your powers again,” Lane said, “But I think the infatuation might be wearing off on its own.”
It was true. The men who had found their way to the car were dispersing. Now even the last one—the sixteen year old, who looked to be genuinely smitten with Samantha—had turned and wandered away, though he still turned to cast the occasional moony glance back their way. Lane could sympathize. It was hard to understand that draw Sam had, but even harder to deny it. The worst part was, trying to bring her closer was the surest way to make her pull away. Damn catch-22s.
“We should probably get going,” Sam said.
Nodding, Lane pulled out his cell, calling Al and asking for the guys to return. They arrived a few minutes later, heads hanging in shame and embarrassment. Harry slid into the back seat without looking at Samantha. Al fixed the car wordlessly and climbed in next to Harry.
When they were on the road again, Samantha cleared her throat delicately to get their attention. “As far as any of us is concerned,” she said, “Riddle, Oregon does not exist and will never be mentioned again.”
“Fine by me!” Al said.
#
Salt and vinegar, white cheddar, onions and parsley. Where, Sam thought, was the ranch flavor of corn chips? She had her Dr. Pepper; all she needed were some dang plain corn chips. She’d visited gas stations across the West Coast and had yet to understand why in the world most couldn’t stock the original, boring flavors of her favorite snack items.
“Sam,” Lane whispered in her ear, “Looking for these?”
Turning, Sam saw Lane holding a bag of corn chips. He shook the bag with a smile. Sam reached for the bag and Lane yanked it out of her reach. “Ah ah ah, we have to talk.” He looked around to make sure that Al and Harry weren’t hanging around nearby. “This is the only chance we’ll get.”
Damn it. Sam didn’t want to talk. But she did want the corn chips. Her stomach was growling, a noise that told her it would only be happy if it had something processed, salty, and with some sort of artificial coloring. She allowed Lane to lead her to the back of the QuickPick mini-mart, uncomfortably aware of the similarities to the last time someone had led her to a rendezvous near the nacho machines.
“We need to talk about the kiss. Kisses.”
Oh. No.
“We do?” Sam really didn’t see the need. She’d already forgiven him, what more did he want? After all, the kiss was entirely his fault. Entirely. She may have kissed him back, but could you really blame her? Lane was...Lane. She doubted a girl on this earth could resist kissing him back.
“Don’t you think it’s important?”
Sam bit her lip, squirming. She hated this touchy feely stuff. No amount of corn chips was worth this sort of torture.
“Do you think it’s important?” she asked.
“Samantha, will you please stop doing that answering with a question ploy?”
“I’m answering with questions?”
Lane crossed his arms. “Fine, I’ll just refuse to pay for your snacks from here on out.”
Now he was playing hardball.
“OK, you got me. The kisses happened under dubious circumstances. I didn’t entirely dislike the second one. But don’t worry, I don’t hold you responsible. Does that about cover it?” Mr. Girl, she added silently. Mr. Girly Girl who always has to talk about relationships and feelings like he’s some... girl.
“Almost,” Mr. Girl said, “But what if it meant something to me?”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“I liked kissing you, all right? It was nice. No, it was a hell of a lot better than nice, and you know it. I don’t know about you, but I don’t see sparks fly on a regular basis.”
Sam shrugged in grudging agreement.
“And the truth is, I would like, I mean, I would like to try it again sometime if you didn’t object.”
Lane waited, breath bated, to see what Sam’s response was. She didn’t respond. She just looked at him.
“So?”
“So?” She looked pointedly at the corn chips.
“Are you going to say something? Do you object or not?”
“When you put it so charmingly, how can a girl resist?”
“Like you’re one to talk, Little Miss...doesn’t talk.”
“You’re truly terrible at being mean.”
“I know.” Lane sighed, “But you haven’t answered my question.”
“Fine. I guess I don’t. Object, that is.”
“OK, well, great. But something tells me starting a romance under these circumstances isn’t the best idea.”
“So, wait, what was all of this for? You’re just wasting my time!”
“No! Here’s what I’m saying. We put everything on hold for now. Strictly platonic. And then, when all of this is over, we go on a date. Or, if you like, we can forget this whole thing ever happened.”
Samantha mulled this over while Lane tapped his foot.
“It’s a date,” she said finally, handing him her drink. “Hold this, please, while I use the restroom.”
Lane grinned and took the soda, looking like he’d just won a marathon. When her back was safely turned away, Sam allowed herself her own smile of triumph.
#
As far as gas station bathrooms went, Samantha had to give this one some credit. Not only was it by far the cleanest she had yet encountered, but it was also clear that someone somewhere was trying to dispel the gas station bathroom reputation. The bottom half of the three-stall room had been painted green, the top half sky blue. Hand-painted flowers dotted the green half and fluffy sponge clouds occupied the upper half. Pots of silk plants and country signs completed the look. It wasn’t to her personal taste, but she appreciated the effort. Especially the lavender scented towel to dry her hands with.
Preoccupied as she was with both the décor—which amused her much more than it would have under normal circumstances—and her thoughts about Lane, and Lane’s shoulders, and her objections, Sam was caught completely unaware when a body slammed into her, shoving her back against the wall, forcing her face into one of the silk plants she’d just been admiring. The feel of the chill barrel of a pistol or revolver under the jaw was unmistakable. Damn it, Sam thought, that’s exactly what I get for daydreaming.
“I’m sorry,” a male voice whispered in her ear, “I can’t let it happen again.” He sniffed, and a shift in body weight suggested he was wiping his nose.
Sam’s face was full of green leaves, “Hmmphwhat?”
“You’ll go bad just like he did. And I can’t let them have you, too.” Another sniff. Actually, it was more like a sniffle. Wait a second, was this guy crying? A crying assassin? God, what a wimp.
Wimp he may have been, but when Sam heard the click of the gun cocking, she knew she was screwed if she didn’t act. When the guy sniffed again, she was ready. When he went to wipe his no
se, releasing some of the pressure used to force her down, Sam brought her leg up and back. If Sam hadn’t felt it, the scream and release of pressure was a sure indication that she’d nailed her attacker square in the family jewels. Groaning, he collapsed on the ground where he curled up into the fetal position and whimpered.
That, Sam thought, was surprisingly easy.
“He, who’s this evil he you think I’m going to take after? Not my dad?”
“Yes, your dad, of course.”
First the motorcycle assassin, and now this guy, and Sam was entirely sick and tired of hearing about her father.
“Stop crying,” Sam said. Bending down, she gently took the gun from him. She wasn’t surprised to see he’d left the safety on. Lucky her, that the assassin that managed to take her completely by surprise was either totally incompetent or incapable of actually pulling the trigger. Or maybe not so much lucky as pathetic on her own part.
Grabbing some toilet paper, she wadded it up and handed it over to the man in lieu of a tissue. “I’m not my father. I’m not going to lose it like he did.”
“He didn’t lose it,” the man said, pushing himself to a sitting position and resting against the wall. The craggy, sad face was that of an old man but his hair was still a dark brown. An overly aged forty-something. “I should know. I was assigned to him for his transition.”
“You were his teacher?”
He nodded forlornly, his head buried on his chest: “He was a latebloomer, too. You were already born. But I thought, maybe we could get through it. I never had a problem before him, you know. I had a clean track record.”
“Something went wrong,” Sam said. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a half-eaten chocolate bar. “You want some?”
“I’ll say,” he sighed, accepting the chocolate bar and taking a bite. “I thought he transitioned OK, but something broke, you know? Then, after your mom left, he...really went off the deep end. Started doing things. Evil things. Terrible things.”
“And the wonderful N.T.U. didn’t rein him in, he didn’t go to jail?”
“Ha! Right. N.T.U. can’t touch anyone the Corp doesn’t want them to find.”
Chasing Power (Hidden Talents) Page 20
