Bent (The Gifted Series) (8 page)

              He watched her workout daily, and damn, a sheen of sweat never looked so sinful on a chic, but in this bleak and painful moment, he didn’t want sex in the equation.  He realized that he needed someone to hold.  He’d had a suck-ass day.  His face had been beat to a pulp, his hand had been hammered to a pulp, and he was now missing two fingernails, so lying in the dark next to Joss’ sweet smelling body was a mere taste of heaven in this current hell.

              “Would you share a happy memory with me?” she asked quiet and hesitant.

              He fought the urge to pull out her rubber band and run the fingers of his good hand through her long silky locks.  Call him a Nancy, but he’d wanted to do strange girly shit like this all week: brush her hair and run his hands through it, rub the silkiness across his face. Hell, he’d probably paint her freakin‘ toenails is she let him. 

              These urges were knew territory and part of him resisted.  Before this, his only desire with a woman had been to grab a fist full of long hair—any color would do—and pull hard while he fucked her to sated collapse. 

              Mr. Dick twitched, so he quickly dropped the thought of fisting Joss’ blonde locks.  He answered, “Sure.  I guess. Any requests?”

              “Something normal that has nothing to do with the gifted world.”

              Unconsciously, his hand flexed on her stomach; her hand then settled over his.  Although his other hand throbbed in agony, the one she grazed with her own tingled with anticipation he hadn’t felt since the first feel he copped on Rachel Sanders. 
Drop the sex thoughts
, he ordered,
but man, Rach had a nice rack for a fourteen year old
.

              He cleared his throat. “I used to be a cross dresser.”

              She stiffened, then a giggle cut through the darkness.  Ol’ Dickie-boy below twitched again, and he suddenly wanted to make her giggle again.

              “Ladies knickers and all?” she teased softly.

              “Nah … thongs don’t let my boys breathe.  Gotta keep those swimmers swimming.”

              More throaty giggles.  His hand flexed with excitement as her stomach tightened through her laughter.  Although she was too thin, she was definitely cut, and he could only imagine how perfect she’d look smack dab in the middle of an orgasm—muscles flexed, body shaking, a delicious sheen of sweat that he wanted to lick.

              He clenched his teeth as his cock hardened. Christ, his hand wasn’t the only appendage in agony.  His dick was now a throbbing granite rod. The little fucker wanted to
fuck
her.

              She countered unconvinced, “You’re pulling a piss, right?”

              “There you go with that piss pullin’ business again.”

              She gripped his hand, giving it a squeeze as they both chuckled.  She then laid her fingers over the top of his.  It felt so right that he widened his fingers then wrapped them around hers and intertwined their hands.  She didn’t dispute his action, so he continued, “I’m not one to brag but I’m a damn fine-looking female.  At least that’s what my little sisters told me when they played Hollywood make-up artist and donned me in the latest spring fashion from Milan.”

              “Don’t say their names,” she whispered urgently.  “I don’t think we’re tapped, but—”

              “You never know,” he finished.  Though it didn’t matter if he said their names or not.  The bastard, Stephen, had withdrawn the information while Carter was being beaten and electrocuted.  Stephen was a telepath—a weak one—but nonetheless strong enough to extract information during torture-filled moments.  At least he felt some semblance of relief knowing his family was safe at division headquarters. 

              Carter made an oath, though, to see Stephen to the grave, especially after hearing the snide remarks he directed toward Joss.  That douche bag raped her.  Carter knew it, confirmed by the pain and outrage in Joss‘ eyes as Stephen taunted her. 

              That dude signed his death warrant at that moment. 

              Joss’ voice distracted.  “Aye,” she said, “I can tell that you love them very much.”

              “They’re my life.”  Carter frowned at the following silence and her sudden ridged pose. “Joss?  What about you?”  He truly wanted to know her story.

              More silence, then, “No, I’ve never been a cross dresser.  I might lack luscious curves but Underoos don’t do it for me.”

              Carter’s chest shook with quiet laughter, and without thought, he pulled her closer but flinched when her back hit his injured hand that lay tucked up against his chest.

              “Sorry,” she quickly whispered, rolling over to face him in the dark.

              “Nah … my fault.”  His hand that had been splayed across her stomach now landed comfortably on her hip.  Her hand found its way to his forearm before halting at his bicep.

              “So,” he continued, “family?”

              She shrugged.  “My parents have both passed, and the few remaining are all over … Ireland, Britain, some in the States.” A pause. “I miss ‘em somethin’ fierce.”

              Hearing the despondency in her tone, his hand began to lightly stroke her hip.  He couldn’t imagine spending close to two years in captivity, being kept away from his family, wondering when, if ever, he might see them again.  He couldn’t imagine the pain his family was currently in, scared out of their wits about his whereabouts.

              “It’s all I ever wanted,” she whispered and her hot breath against his chest gave way to goosebumps across his skin.

              “What?” he replied, noting that her voice was barely audible and far away.

              “Nothing,” she said while attempting to turn back around.  His hand clamped down on her hip.

              “Tell me,” he ordered softly.

              She sighed through the darkness and he could smell the mint from her toothpaste. He’d never wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he did at this moment.  Was it their fucked up situation or was it …her? 

              “Family,” she said, almost embarrassed by the words.  “It’s all I ever wanted.”  She continued, her voice so low that he had to lean even closer. “I hate being gifted.  It’s been not but a curse.  I never wanted this life, Carter.”

              His hand left her hip to stroke her cheek.  His thumb felt the dampness and without thought he leaned forward and kissed her tear away.  His lips lingered on the softness of her cheek—like silk against his lips.  Unable to resist temptation, he ran his lower lip against the silkiness. 

              In that moment, he knew his want for this woman was one he’d never craved before. In the next breath, her head shifted, and her lips grazed his.  She gave a tentative lick to his upper lip, so soft and cautious that he had to bite back a groan.  But she held back nothing.  Her body shivered against him as a raspy moan escaped her, and then her mouth meshed against his in the darkness. 

              One word popped into Carter’s mind—
heaven
. 

              Whatever abode of God one wanted to call it—heaven, nirvana, Valhalla, Elysium—Carter was there.

Chapter 6

              “I love you too.  Yep, see you in a couple of days.”  Leah ended the call, slipping her cell into her pocket.  She glanced at her hand, flexing and turning the healed appendage with wonder.  As a child, she’d never really been sick, never broke a bone or suffered any major injury, so she remained clueless about the healing powers of the gifted, and it was impressive.  Even though the wound had been minimal, it had been three weeks and only a miniscule scar remained. Unbelievable.

              “Poor little
Leanora
, so lonely without her man.”  The mocking Irishman sauntered up from behind. 

              Without turning, Leah flipped Declan the bird.  “Yeah, yeah ... You just wish you had a chic to pine over.”

              Declan halted at the table in the dining hall and rapped his knuckles on the wood.  “True.  So any news?  I don’t even care if it’s good at this point; I just want something we can work with.” 

              The Southern Oregon lead hadn’t panned out and Tiago, Mattis, Bo, and Felix were now in Northern Utah.  Leah shrugged.  “More of the same.  Aura sightings here and there.” Leah’s jaw clenched. “I need to be apart of the search, Dec.  You know as well as I that Patrice’s strong hold is being protected.  If they’ve got hypnotics controlling their prisoners, then they sure as shit have them controlling the people around them.  They’re not going to leave themselves exposed like sitting ducks.”

              “I know this,” Declan sighed.  “And Mattis knows this too.”

              “Then why am I not there?” Leah pressed. “My ability goes beyond sensing auras, it’s deeper, it’s ...

              “More visceral,” he finished, fully aware of her growing ability.

              Leah simply nodded.  “It just ... pisses me off that Mattis hasn’t cleared me.  I mean what is his problem?  I see why he hasn’t cleared you—your injuries were worse than mine, but my hand is healed, and it wasn't that bad to begin with.”  She held it in the air, clenching and unclenching her fist. “My recovery is no longer affecting my gifts.”
 
Her voice rose with annoyance. "In fact, my abilities were only affected for about a week."

              Declan propped a hip on the edge of the table.  “Fear I suspect.  Do you have any idea what Patrice would do if she found you?  Because Mattis and T both know exactly what she’d do to you.”

              Leah’s eyes rolled.  She’d succumbed to the notion that she was destine to spend the remainder of her days dodging the Landon clan and their supporters.  This was her craptastic fate, so she figured the proactive approach was the only option she was left with.  If the Landons were gunning for her, well … she’d put her crosshairs on them first. “That’s another thing,” she barked, “I’m done with the coddling from Gracen, Mattis, and Aunt Ray.  Enough already!” 

              Leah stood, sending her chair flying back.  “Declan, since my arrival here, I’ve opened my mind to my abilities and every single day they’ve strengthened.  I feel it”—roughly, she brushed her hands up and down her arms— “like loose fibers under my skin knitting together and solidifying.  I know I’m not an official agent yet,” she reasoned, “but hell, my abilities are stronger than most within the agency.  And this isn’t arrogance, it’s fact.  They should be utilizing me.”

              “I know,” he agreed with a nod, folding his muscular arms across his chest.  His gaze hit the floor as his brow furrowed.  Then, as if making a final decision, he raised his eyes to hers.  “I’m going after her.”

              “Joss?”

              He nodded once. “Aye.  She’s kin, and Carter’s like my brother.  If he’s alive like you say he is, then they’re together.”  His jaw tightened. “I can’t sit around here either.  This uselessness is maddening.”

              “When?”

              “I haven’t narrowed that down, but soon.  I want to backtrack to a couple of locations they’ve already checked.”

              She gave him a why expression.

              He shrugged. “Like you, my aura sensing ability is a bit more developed than I willingly admit.  I hope to pick up signs they’ve missed.”

              Leah smirked knowingly, “Hmm ... Just like your
Gibraltar
shield that no one can break through? And that most aren’t aware of.”

              He smiled slyly.  “Aye.”

              “You’re just a walk-in closet full of secrets aren’t you, Mr. Gael?”

              He snickered again. “I could say the same for you.”

              She scoffed, taking in the man who was like her brother.  “How is it that the two of us have become such confidants?” From the first time they’d met, Leah felt a strong connection with Declan.  They had an unspoken trust.  “Gracen would pop a vein if he knew I kept secrets from him that you were privy to.” 

              “Maybe it’s our Irish blood, but regardless, Tiago will pitch a colossal fit, so keep a lid on it.  I value this mug.” He circled his face with his finger. “It gets me laid … often, I might add.  And not with sub-par muffin-top chics, this puss brings in topnotch ladies of the
runway
variety.”

              Leah chuckled. “Okay, you’ve crossed a line.  That’s far more than I need to know.  But you’re right about Gacen, so mums the word.”  She regarded him again and said, “And speaking of ‘a pissed off Gracen,’ I’m coming with you.”

              His eyes jerked up.  “No, yer not.”

              “Oh yes, I am.” 

              “Not gonna happen, Leah.”

              “Fine.” She shrugged without care, picking up the chair she’d knocked over earlier. “I won’t go with you. I’ll take off on my own.  Want to make a bet who finds them first.”

              Dec cut her a fierce glare and blurted a pointed curse.

              Leah met his fervor.  “Need I remind you that Carter risked his job to help me free my aunt from her mind warp.  I owe him, Declan, and his mom, who also helped me free Ray.”

              Declan gritted, “T’ll kick my arse back to Ireland if I take you with me.”

              “I suspect he’ll kick mine there as well.” Humor hinted her lip. “But I’ve never been, so let’s think of it as an overdue trip to
me
homeland.”

              Declan ran a hand through his hair.  “Yer bloody serious?”

              “Deadly.”

              He nodded slowly.  “Against my better judgement, which obviously I have none, you’re welcome to join.  But Leah, if we do this, then I think it’s time to test that theory of ours.”

              Leah inhaled deeply, fully aware of what theory he was referring to, the one that involved her ducking bullets.  On a resolved exhale, she said, “Okay.  It’s time, but what do you say we start with a harmless bee bee gun.”

              Declan laughed openly.  “Sorry.  Not packing my Red Rider.” He pulled a glock from the holster at the small of his back and waved the gun teasingly. “You got the brass?”