The Reunited

by Shiloh Walker

  But she had a fucking gun.

  Look deeper.

  As she raised the gun on him, Joss figured there really wasn’t much chance he could be misconstruing this.

  But then she knocked the foundation of his world out from under him.

  * * *

  “IF you come over here,” Dru said to the woman, although she kept her eyes focused on Joss, “we’ll keep you safe. I’ve got a car. My friend will get you to it. Nobody will hurt you. And if that son of a bitch tries to stop you, I’ll shoot his balls off.”

  The woman just smiled.

  And that was when Dru realized she wasn’t cuffed.

  No cuffs . . .

  And where were the guards? They’d lost sight of them as they came through the woods, trying to keep as quiet as possible, but there had been two guards.

  “Tucker.” She shifted.

  He might not be able to read minds, and maybe she couldn’t read thoughts, but he understood her well enough, turning so that he had his back at an angle to hers. She scanned the area, hating the goggles even as she was relieved to have them.

  “If you’re looking for the guards, you can find them in there,” the woman said quietly.

  She jabbed a finger to the trunk.

  Dru glanced over. Then did a double take as her mind started to process. Two men. Bound. Two guards, men she knew. They’d taken turns trailing after her more than once. And they stared at the blond woman like they couldn’t stop. It was eerie, the way they watched her. Like they adored her. Needed her. Worshipped her.

  Setting her jaw, she swung her gaze back to Joss just as he moved forward.

  “Stay back,” Dru warned.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” the woman snapped. She turned to the truck. “This Mexican standoff is all very entertaining, but there isn’t much time. The others will be rushing up here in no time, and I’m sure none of us want Whitmore’s men moving into his cleanup protocol or whatever he calls it.”

  Cleanup protocol—something tugged in her mind. A tug . . . then a push. She fortified her shields, even as she eyed Joss. He’d told her to stay out of his mind, damn it. She didn’t want in his mind, didn’t want him in hers, even though she was starting to suspect there was something more complicated going on.

  Still staring at Joss, Dru nudged Tucker with her shoulder. They needed to move. Needed to do . . . something. What should they do? Had to get in there. What was going on, though?

  “Here, English. Catch.”

  “Cole,” Joss said, his voice hard with warning.

  Dru tore her eyes from Joss’s face as something came flying through the night. She snatched it out of the air.

  “Stuff it up your ass, Crawford,” the woman said.

  Dru tuned them out, eyeing the leather ID holder she held. Tucker shifted positions with her, automatically guarding her as she stood there, stunned, slammed by the images crashing into her. Just touching an object usually couldn’t do this to her.

  Hadn’t been prepared—

  The woman, disguised. Holding a gun on a man.

  Another disguise, shoving somebody into a waiting car . . . sirens flashing.

  The bottom of her stomach dropped out.

  The pressure on her mind increased as she stared at the credentials in front of her. The woman looked different, hair was shorter, darker, but there was no mistaking her eyes, those cheekbones. Or the FBI written in clear, dark letters.

  FBI.

  Tucker darted a glance at what she held. Started to swear. “Chapman, you get me in the worst messes. The fucking FBI?”

  Dragging her gaze up, she ignored the steadily increasing pressure on her mind as she threw the ID back at the woman. Then she turned on her heel.

  FBI or not, she was going inside.

  This had waited long enough.

  * * *

  AS Dru spun on her heel and stalked off, Joss swore.

  He hadn’t gotten much more than fractured glances at her mind, but the images he’d gotten . . .

  Look deeper.

  Yeah. He’d looked deeper. Not deep enough, but he’d seen . . . well, he’d seen some things he hadn’t expected.

  He’d felt her misery—that sudden, gut-wrenching betrayal when she’d seen him at the party . . . he’s one of them . . .

  And he’d seen her escape from Whitmore’s mansion. And an escape it had been, no doubt about it. If she’d planned an escape, then she hadn’t been there to marry that fucking monster.

  “She’s been trying to stop him, hasn’t she?” he asked grimly.

  “Now you’re starting to figure it out. I knew you could do it.” Nalini smiled at him.

  He decided he really, really didn’t like her. Shooting a look at the two in the SUV, he focused on them. “How long will they stay moon-eyed?”

  Nalini shrugged. “If I’m around, awhile. Once I’m gone? Not long.”

  “You won’t be around.” He focused. Pushed. One of them groaned, harsh and broken. The other just lapsed into unconsciousness, a fine line of blood trickling out of his nose.

  “Get in,” he growled, staring down the road, following the shadowy figures of Dru and her companion as they ran through the night.

  “You’re not helping matters any, you know,” Nalini said as she slipped into the front seat.

  “Shut up.”

  “I don’t respond well to that,” she said, shrugging. She stared out the window. “She’s been working this for a long time. Months. Longer, I think.”

  Curling his lip, he asked, “And you know that how?”

  “You might have a mad power crammed inside that hard skull of yours, and it might let you read minds—obviously, she’s blocking you. But she can’t block the flow of her energy—can’t stop the pain and the misery. I read that. And the very heart of her is tied into this. She’s ready to die to see this through.”

  Ready to die—fury punched through him. He’d lost her once . . . not again.

  “You’ll lose her again.”

  “Stop it,” he growled. “Just fucking stop.”

  “Unless you stop feeling, I can’t.” Then she shrugged. “But since you’re determined to screw this up, I’ll be quiet.”

  He gave her a dirty look as he twisted the key.

  Nothing happened.

  Not a damn thing.

  Nalini started to laugh. “Oh. Now that is cool.”

  Twisting his head to look at her, he lifted a brow and waited. When she didn’t respond, he finally just asked, “What’s cool?”

  “Oh, come on now. You had to feel it—that weird little popping thing? It was the dude back there. He fucks with electricity, has to be. And he just shut down your car.”

  * * *

  FBI.

  But he’d taken another woman . . .

  Shutting off that flow of thoughts, Dru skirted around through the shadows, trying to avoid the people she could barely make out.

  Every now and then, Tucker would grab her arm, jerk her to a stop. Then she’d feel that odd energy spark from him. Damn, he was handy to have around. She was panting, edgy by the time they hit the first building. Leaning against it, she sucked in a breath of air like she’d been running for hours instead of minutes.

  Tucker rested a hand on the back of her neck. “We’ve knocked down about six of their men, not including the two guards,” he said, leaning over to murmur in her ear. “There’s another fifteen here, but I dunno who is a guard and who is just one of the victims.”

  She wasn’t going to ask him how he had such an exact number. Apparently he had a number of tricks up his sleeve.

  Nodding, she took another breath and then straightened, turned to look at the building.

  “Joss took somebody in here,” she said quietly. “I know he did. If he’s federal . . . maybe it was a plant.”

  And both Joss and the woman had freaky-ass gifts.

  Glancing at the low, squat building, she thought. Hard. Then she turned to Tucker. The first time they’d met, she
’d known he was like her. Had felt it. Like Joss, he’d been a burn on her brain. Not as intense, nowhere near, but it had been there.

  But he’d sensed it on an even deeper level. They’d been working the same case, hired by different parties, working toward a common goal. He’d realized she had a gift—had felt it, he later told her. So he’d sought her out.

  “Can you tell if there’s somebody like us in there?” she asked.

  Tucker gave her a pained look.

  “You’re killing me, Chapman.” He scrubbed his gloved hands over his face.

  Then he looked at her, sighed.

  “I can tell you that.” Joss appeared out of the darkness at her back, the woman at his side.

  The low, rasping sound of his voice was a stroke over her skin. One she didn’t need. She sensed what he was going to do before he even did it, and she tried to twist away, but . . . too late.

  His hand curled over the back of her neck.

  Stunned by the shock of it, she tried to jerk away, but he held her too firmly, his other hand coming up to wrap around her upper body.

  No. Oh, no. Just who in the hell did he think he was, touching her now, like he had a right to? She reached up, grabbing his arm.

  Flash, flash, flash.

  A woman. The woman she’d glimpsed in the picture he’d shown Patrick. But now she was in a room. Dru recognized the setup. A guy in a suit. A crime board. You’re sure this will work? the suit asked.

  Fuck, no. But do you have any better suggestions? Joss demanded.

  The woman, the one Dru had thought Joss had kidnapped, smiled. Stop looking so worried. It’s going to be fun for me for a little while. After all, I get to hit you in that pretty face of yours . . .

  Groaning, Dru severed the connection.

  But Joss still held her. “Let me go,” she said hoarsely. She could feel that connection trying to reestablish itself and she had to get away.

  “You’re not barreling in there blind,” he said flatly. “This is a federal investigation and—”

  Snarling, she dropped and pivoted, trying to throw him off.

  It didn’t do much good, because he moved with her and now she was pinned against the building, with that big, heavy body pressed against her. “Stop it, Dru,” he rasped against her ear. “It looks like you want this done as much as I do, but I’m not risking this getting fucked up.”

  “You want it done?” A hysterical laugh burning in her throat.

  Memories of all the pain she’d taken. The abuse. The times she’d allowed Patrick to hit her, and she’d just taken it. All so she could be here. Right here . . . finding a way to stop him.

  “You have no idea how badly I need this,” she said, and the misery from all the past months tried to crush her. Her shields fractured. She felt bits and pieces of herself slipping out, and desperate, she clung to them. “Let me go, damn it. Just let me—”

  “Not until you get ahold of yourself—”

  From behind them, Tucker spoke up. “Actually . . .”

  Joss went rigid.

  From the corner of her eye, Dru saw Tucker, that fine line appearing between his brows. “You’re going to let her go now, or I’m going to fuck you up in so many different ways,” Tucker said, his voice lazy. Easy. But there was a storm in his eyes.

  “Stay the—”

  A strangled groan was all that escaped him after that and his body went rigid.

  Dru wiggled her way out from his grip, moving to stand by Tucker, eyeing Joss narrowly. He was pale, eyes glittering like black ice in the night. And the woman, she was watching it all with the keen interest of a hawk watching her prey.

  “Here’s what we need to do,” Tucker said easily. “I can’t hold you forever without killing you. And I’d rather not do that. But if you put your hands on her again, that’s what I’ll do.”

  A growl escaped Joss.

  Tucker arched his brows and slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “This is a federal investigation now,” the blonde said.

  “Tough shit.” Tucker shrugged. “There’s information inside her head that you all probably don’t have. And if you keep dicking around, people are going to die.”

  And then the next card was thrown.

  A voice, clear and sharp, rang through their minds, so loud, it practically rattled their brains. The guards just arrived. With guns. Big, ugly guns with silencers. That cleanup protocol apparently isn’t a myth.

  Dru closed her eyes, not even wondering why in the hell some unknown woman was speaking into her mind. She turned, ready to run into the building.

  But Tucker continued to stand there, holding Joss. “Are you done?”

  * * *

  WHATEVER it was freezing his brain, it was like a boa constrictor or something, and it loosened just enough that he was able to snarl out, “For now.”

  Then it was gone. Whatever weird energy that had been freezing him, pressing in on him and sucking out his ability to move, even think, it was just gone.

  He could move, could think. Although he could barely breathe . . . flickers from Dru’s mind danced through his own and he wanted to kill. So badly, it was a scream in his brain. He tightened his hand on his weapon, but the object of his wrath wasn’t here.

  It had to wait, though. Had to, because he hadn’t been able to miss the urgency in Vaughnne’s voice.

  “Where are you, Vaughnne?” he asked.

  Two of them, Dru and her companion, gave him startled looks.

  Nalini just checked her weapon.

  Just start moving. I’ll get you here the best I can.

  Not very reassuring, that. But it would have to work. They were now on borrowed time.

  The red-haired son of a bitch studied him and Nalini before tugging off his pack. A few seconds later, night-vision goggles hit his chest. When he looked back at him, the guy just smiled. “Me and lights don’t always mesh well. I like to be prepared.”

  “Imagine that,” Joss muttered as he put them on. Glaring at the other man, he asked, “You got a name?”

  “Sure. Call me Tucker.”

  Tucker. Asshole suited him better, Joss figured.

  Somehow said asshole ended up in front. Twice, they had to stop and Joss felt that power rip through the night, those little pop, pop, pops . . . it seemed so innocuous, but it was like the force of a hurricane trapped inside one drop of rain.

  Once, Tucker caught somebody—he moved so fast, Joss barely saw what he did as he jerked off one glove, then laid his hand on the guy’s throat. Light flashed between them—the light had glowed. Just . . . emanated from Tucker’s hand, flowed into the other man’s neck. A second later, Tucker let him go and the man crashed to the ground like a fallen tree.

  Joss didn’t know if he was dead, but at the moment, he couldn’t even let himself worry about it.

  More people. Too many, milling in the darkness, panicking, shouting for flashlights, screaming about phones. Too many. Joss used his gun to club one of them over the back of his head. Nalini, with her devious little smile, laid her hands on the two closest to her, and they slid to the floor with a smile. He turned to check on Dru as the agent pulled a couple of cable ties from her belt.

  Dru was nowhere to be found.

  Vaughnne?

  He felt the whisper of her thoughts in his mind. Distracted. Flooded with tension.

  He reached for Dru mentally. Came up smack against her shields, felt her rebuff. And was just fine with it, because she was okay. Somewhere in the dark maw of this squalid hellhole.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  SHE followed her gut.

  There was a miasma of fear and horror, and that was the path she followed.

  Twice, she had to duck inside a doorway as she heard people coming. When she was slipping out of the doorway a second time, she crashed into a hard male chest. Immediately, she panicked and went to head-butt him, only to have Tucker jerk his head back out of range at the very last second.

  “Ease up, sugar,” he mur
mured, absently stroking a hand down her hair.

  “Fuck me,” she said, her voice harsh. Edgy.

  “Oh, will you? What do you say, when this is over?” he teased.

  “Ha, ha.” As her heart continued to race, she let herself lean against him for a minute. Solid, sturdy, there. The one person she knew she could count on, thank God. Through the thin material of his T-shirt, she could feel the heat of him—the burning heat. “You’re bloody burning hot.”

  He gave her a playful leer. “That’s what all the pretty girls say.”

  “So damned insistent to get in here but you’ve got time to stand around flirting,” Joss said, his voice not much more than a snarl as he came around the corner.

  “Piss off,” she said, turning to stare down the hall. Tucker laid his hand on her shoulder.

  Joss went to say something and then he stopped, shook his head. “Five more ahead . . . they’re hurting. Somebody’s screaming.”

  Dru looked at him. “I don’t hear screaming.”

  “Aw, shit.”

  * * *

  HUDDLING up in the seat, Taige Morgan clamped her hands over her ears and whimpered as the scream echoed through her mind. Loud. Endless. No human could scream like this, not using their vocal chords, because at some point, they needed to breathe.

  A hand curled over her shoulder, shaking her.

  “Damn it, Taige, snap out of it,” Taylor shouted.

  She groaned. Tried to push her shields up, but that scream just carried on. And on.

  “If you don’t snap out of it, I’m going to use that damn Taser on you.”

  “Kiss ass,” she gasped. And still the scream raged.

  Shield. Had to.

  One thin, shaky layer.

  Then another.

  Finally, by the time she was establishing a fourth, she had a little bit of peace in her mind, and she could almost hear herself thinking. Almost. “Who the hell did you put in there?”

  “Vaughnne.”

  “I’m going to punch her,” Taige said fervently. “I don’t know her. I don’t want to know her. But I’m going to hit her.”

  “If she’s making noise, it’s because there’s trouble.”

  Taige groaned, her head still ringing. “There’d better be. Or I’ll make trouble.”