Out of the Dark (The Brethren Series) (26 page)

“Mrs. Morin?” a man’s voice asked—
miss-UZ,
not
MISS.

Naima frowned. “Who is this?”

She’d intended to sound fierce and had apparently succeeded, because when the man spoke again, his voice was shaky. “I…um…this is Les from the motel front office. I’m sorry to disturb you…”

Nearly laughing out loud at her own paranoid reaction, Naima heaved a sigh of relief.
I’m getting to be as bad as Aaron, convinced someone’s out to kill me.

“It’s alright,” she told the clerk. “You didn’t bother me. Is there something you needed?”

“Actually, ah…yes, ma’am. It seems your husband’s vehicle is illegally parked in a fire lane.”

“My husband?” Puzzled, Naima again looked at Aaron. “Oh, no. He’s not—”

“I didn’t get your license number when you checked in, so we had to ask the sheriff to look the plates up. I’m really sorry for the inconvenience. Would you or Dr. Morin mind to move it?”

“Dr. Morin?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am. Mason Morin. That’s who the vehicle is registered to.” Now the clerk sounded slightly bewildered. “You gave the name Morin when you checked in, ma’am.”

“Of course,” she murmured, walking over to the room window, stretching the cord as far as she could. She drew the heavy curtains aside just enough to peer out, and spotted Mason’s Escalade right where they’d left it—and sure enough, less than ten feet away was a sign clearly indicating they were in a fire lane.

“I didn’t want to tow you…” the clerk began anxiously.

“Thank you.” Naima let the drapes fall closed again. “I appreciate that. I’m sorry you had to go to all that trouble. I’ll be glad to move it.”

“It was no trouble at—” the clerk began, sounding notably relieved. Naima let the phone go, telekinetically sending it back to its cradle and hanging it up, thus missing whatever else the kid had to say.

How the hell am I going to do this?
she wondered as she slipped her pants and tank top back on. Aaron had told her she’d be hard-pressed to drive the truck by herself all of the way back to the compound, since she had to concentrate to use telekinesis to control the brakes. She considered waking him up, but quickly dismissed the idea. He hadn’t fully healed from his earlier injuries, never mind the abuse she’d subjected him to when they’d made love. He needed to rest.

I can do this,
she told herself, shrugging Aaron’s hooded jacket on and pulling the truck keys out of his pocket.
It’s not far, maybe fifteen feet. I can handle that on my own.

She stole outside, using her hand to brace the door behind her so that it shut quietly. As she hurried across the parking lot, her breath frosted in the air around her face. She kept her hair close-cropped, nearly flush with her scalp, and it was still damp from the humid shower, leaving her quickly chilled. There were only two streetlamps illuminating the motel parking lot, and one of them was blinking on and off as if the bulb was on its last legs. All at once, as she approached the Escalade, Aaron’s words echoed in her mind.

Whoever killed Michel cut the brakes on your truck. It’s been my experience that people don’t do that as a friendly sort of gesture.

Naima had laughed about this only moments earlier, but now, in the shadow-draped and relatively empty parking lot, it no longer sounded so ridiculous or impossible. When she reached the truck, she looked behind her cautiously, then opened her mind and telepathically scanned the parking lot. Satisfied she was alone, she unlocked the driver’s side door and climbed in.

Aaron’s being paranoid,
she thought, dismissive again, as she started the engine. All of the dashboard lights sprang to life, casting the interior of the cab in an eerie green glow.
Whoever killed Michel was after
Michel.
And whoever it was is probably long gone now that the damage is done.

She dropped the truck into gear, and stepped lightly on the gas, just enough to get it rolling forward. She then put it into neutral gear instead of drive, and steered it to a different area of the parking lot, this one closer to the wing where their room was located. Once she started to ease into a parking place, she concentrated on the brake mechanisms, using her telekinesis to apply the brake pads and come to a stop.

Besides,
she thought, turning off the truck and opening the door.
I didn’t even know I’d be using this truck for anything today. If someone was trying to kill me, they’d have to be a fortune-teller, because even I didn’t know I’d be driving clear to Carson City until Eleanor asked. And even then, I have my own car. This isn’t even mine. It’s…

The thought trailed off as she closed the truck door behind her. Standing in the parking lot, eyes suddenly wide, Naima realized.

It’s Mason’s truck.

“Oh, my God,” she gasped, breaking into a sprint and racing back for the motel room.
“Mason!”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“You need to get in the back,” Naima told Aaron as they drove up the steep, winding road leading to the Morin compound’s gated entrance.

Aaron, who was driving at the moment, spared her a glance. “And how exactly is
that
going to work, considering the brakes still don’t work?”

Naima frowned.
“I drove the truck by myself in the parking lot. I can handle it through the compound.”

“It’s a straight shot across the motel parking lot,” he said pointedly. “And
on a flat, paved surface.”

Naima took a deep breath, because she could feel her temper flaring. She was already so anxious, she struggled to control the Escalade’s brakes sufficiently.
She’d managed to get a hold of Mason before they’d left the Heavenly Motor Lodge, but even so, she didn’t feel very reassured.

For one thing, Mason had still sounded shitfaced. “
Mon bijou,”
he’d slurred upon answering his phone. “I’m fine, yes, and still at the clinic. I’ve been asleep, I’m afraid…”

“Just stay there,” Naima had urged him. “I’m on my way. Keep the door locked and wait for me—
please,
Mason. It’s important.”

He’d chuckled, but agreed. That he’d remember that promise five minutes after hanging up, however, seemed unlikely.

Closing her eyes, concentrating, Naima made the SUV start to slow. Surprised, Aaron managed to maneuver it over toward the shoulder of the road before they came to a complete stop.

“You want to give me a little warning next time?” he asked.

“Listen to me.” Naima turned in her seat to face him. “You can’t drive onto the compound. There will be people armed at the gate. They’ll see you.”

“And you’ll run over them if you try to walk and chew gum at the same time,” he replied. “Look, I’ll just crouch down on the floor. You sit in the driver’s seat, and I’ll reach up and steer.”

“You won’t be able to see.”

“Sure I will. Open your mind. I’ll look through your eyes.”

“I’m not—” she started, but then bit back the rest.
I’m not going to let you inside my head,
is what she meant to snap. But then she remembered that he’d spoken to her mentally, both in the bar and while they’d had sex. She hadn’t needed to ask—or read his mind—to know this had taken a tremendous amount of courage and trust on his part—trust in
her;
trust he had awarded few people in his entire life.

I don’t talk to anyone this way. There’s never been anyone around to listen…until now.

But there was a difference between trusting someone enough to use psionic speech with them, and opening your mind completely to another telepath. And she didn’t like the idea of Aaron—or anyone else—having such free and unrestricted access to her every thought, emotion and—most importantly—her memories. There were things there, dark moments from her past, like the night of her rape, that she didn’t want anyone to know.

“Hey,” Aaron said softly.
“You can trust me.”

She had no reason to, she knew—this was the guy who’d shot Michel and had re-entered her life with the specific intention of killing Tristan—but at the same time, she felt she had
every
reason to.
Because he’s Aaron,
she thought.
And because Augustus was wrong. The man I knew—the one who saved me—he
is
still inside of Aaron, a part of who he is. I know I can trust him. And…

“I
know,” she said softly. “I
do
trust you, Aaron.”

He smiled, lifting his hand and brushing his knuckles against her cheek. His fingers unfurled, stroking her ear, and then he cupped the side of her head lightly in his hand as he leaned toward her. She closed her eyes, letting him draw her forward to meet him, and his lips touched hers.
The kiss lingered, then grew deeper, their lips parting, their tongues brushing against one another.

As they drew apart, he smiled again; God, he could just about melt through the glacier that had crept over her heart in the preceding centuries every time he did that.

“You’re not going to rack me in the balls again for that, are you?” he asked.

Naima burst out laughing. “No. I didn’t mind that time.”

“Yeah?” His brow raised. “Maybe I could try it again, then.”

“Maybe,” Naima agreed with a nod and another laugh. “Sometime.”

***

As they neared the compound, Naima again brought the Escalade to a stop. Aaron put it in park, then hopped out of the driver’s seat as she walked around the front of the truck from the passenger side.

“You’re going to have to move the seat way back,” he said as she climbed in again.

She pulled the driver’s seat back as far as it would go on its mechanized track. Her legs were long enough that she could still reach the gas pedal. It didn’t leave Aaron much by way of room, and when he tried to climb in, he wound up pretty much sitting in her lap until he could fold his legs beneath him and squat on the floor.

“This isn’t going to work,” Naima growled.

“Sure it will,” he replied, then he hit his head hard enough on the steering column to make him wince.

“It would be much easier if you had telekinesis, too,” she told him.

“
Yeah, I’m beginning to see the benefits to that myself,” he replied.

She ended up grabbing a blanket from the back and throwing it over her lap, letting it hang down past her legs to the floor, and thus covering him as well. It was messy, but at least he wasn’t as obvious. Even so…

“This is never going to work,” she muttered as the Escalade rolled toward the gate. Now there were at least six armed men standing there. She recognized Elliott as he climbed over the gate stood in the middle of the drive.

“Sure, it will,” Aaron said again, muffled. She could feel him in her mind, a soft warmth, like a shot of whiskey settling into your belly after you’ve been outside on a winter’s day.
He could be doing anything in my mind,
a part of her worried—the anxious part that would seize control of her during her fugues.

Yes, he could,
she told that part, her brows narrowed, her grip on the steering wheel tightening as Elliott tromped toward the driver’s side window.
But he’s not. He’s seeing through my eyes. That’s all. I trust him.

She pushed a button and the window rolled down. “Hey, Elliott,” she said.

“Why are you driving Mason’s truck?” he asked, looking baffled.

“Mine wouldn’t start. Eleanor asked me to take Augustus to the airport.”

“I thought he went yesterday,” she heard Phillip say.

She hadn’t noticed him among the group at the gate, but saw him now as he strode toward the truck. He wore a heavily lined barn coat, with a rifle slung over his shoulder and a sock cap pulled low on his brow. His breath drifted from his mouth like cigarette smoke.

“He did,” she replied, and as he came to stand beside Elliott, looking in at her, she found she had a hard time maintaining a smile. “I stopped off last night, had a few drinks. I didn’t want to drive back in the hills after that, so I got a room in town.”

Aaron sat wedged by her feet
and she’d had to sit with her legs spread wide to accommodate him at least somewhat comfortably. He’d positioned himself so that he could rest his shoulder by the gear shift and tuck his head against her thigh. He’d started stroking her other thigh lightly, almost idly, from the moment she’d rolled down her window. Trying to be nonchalant, Naima reached down and swatted him through the blanket to get him to stop.

“I didn’t know you took Mason’s truck,” said Phillip with a frown.

Aaron’s hand caressed higher along her thigh. She could just envision the wry little smirk on his face as he did this. When his fingers brushed between her legs, she managed to cut short a sharp gasp.

“I…like I was telling Elliott,” she said, stiffening in her seat and trying to clamp her legs together to discourage his hand. For his part, Aaron found her clit with his thumb through her pants and began to rub gently, slowly, in small, circular sweeps that sent shivers through her. “Mine wouldn’t start.”