Prodigal Son (20 page)

Brilliant white fire burning through her being. Warmth and affection and hot, delicious desire raging through her. When he’d ripped the necklace from her fingers, the action had left her confused. Bereft. As if their souls had touched, and then he’d backed away.

She couldn’t believe she was thinking this. Couldn’t believe she was entertaining the notion for the briefest second. But she’d been thinking about it all day, and when she put the facts together, she could only come to one conclusion: this crystal was more than just jewelry.

She’d heard the stories of people focusing mental power through crystals. Chakras and spirit planes and all the other metaphysical stuff. Maybe it wasn’t all legends and old wives’ tales? People had once thought the world was flat after all. What was fantasy but that which had not yet been explained?

She eyed the crystal. Its glow seemed to be dimming. Was that a bad thing? And somehow she needed to wake up Rafe, to get him out of the driver’s seat and find out where they were headed. She shook his shoulder. His head rolled to the side, but he didn’t wake. Unease fluttered in her gut. He was really out. What if his wounds were worse than she could see—internal bleeding or something? What if he needed medical attention?

She pressed her fingers against his neck again. His pulse pounded with reassuring steadiness, but his skin burned with fever. She was stuck in the middle of the desert with a very sick man.

“Rafe.” She gently slapped her fingers against his face. “Rafe, wake up. You have to help me here.”

No response.

She let out a long breath and stared at him.
What now, McGaffigan?

Maybe she’d missed something. She bent over him again, shoving his shirt up to his chin in case she missed some injury. The crystal slid with the shirt, then slipped out of the folds, and landed against the back of her hand. At the instant of contact, the crystal sparkled, its glow becoming brighter, the stone heating.

She squeaked in alarm and yanked her hand away. The glow faded instantly. Rafe let out a tiny groan, rolling his head to face her. But his eyes stayed closed.

This was crazy. It seemed like the crystal had something to do with Rafe’s condition. And if she touched it …

She laid her finger on the stone, watched it glow more brightly. Again, Rafe made a sound.

She fell back again, her gaze locked on the jagged piece of quartz. It looked so normal, but clearly there was something more going on here than met the eye. The world had turned upside down from the minute she landed in Vegas, so why should this be any different? The idea forming in her mind could be categorized as completely nuts, but some of the things that had happened over the past two days didn’t exactly fall into the normal column.

“Ok, Dorothy,” she muttered. “Let’s click those heels.” She scooped the crystal into her hand, closed her fingers around it and concentrated, hoping to trigger—whatever. “Rafe, wake up.”

Almost immediately, heat seared her skin, as if she held the sun in the palm of her hand. White light flooded her mind, pulsed like a heartbeat. She concentrated hard on the idea of Rafe opening his eyes. Visualized it.
Willed
it to happen.

He muttered, writhed in his seat, gripped the armrests. But still did not awaken.

She hung on to the crystal, the dazzling, faceted energy pulsing more and more brightly. She could practically hear the hum of power, yet instinctively she knew she needed more. What would Rafe do?

He’d kissed her. Intimate contact? Worth a shot. Her hands shaking, her body buzzing with the unbridled energy surging through her, she leaned over, pressing the crystal flat against his chest with her palm, and pressed her mouth to his.

Power crackled like fireworks in her hands, exploding through her mind, hurling her into a crazy kaleidoscope of blinding lights, like riding a roller coaster down Alice’s rabbit hole during a psychedelic concert. Suddenly he was there with her, grabbing her head and holding it still as he took over the kiss.

Energy surged back at her as if reflected in a mirror. She took the impact with a soft gasp, allowing him even more access to her mouth in the process. He dragged her against him, greed sweeping over her—from him? Dizzy with wild emotion, she gave herself over to his hands. Burning, burning, her body glowing with heat and want. And more. More.

Inside her. Now. Too many clothes, too many barriers …

He shoved her away, his lungs heaving. His fingers tightened around her arms, holding her at a distance when she would have leaned into him again. His gaze, when he met hers, was intense, feral. His voice, a desperate rasp.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

*   *   *

It took every shred of control not to strip her naked and bury himself inside her.

He knew she was as turned on as he was; he could feel it through their link, through the stone. But how the hell had this happened?

“I didn’t know what else to do.” She stared at his mouth, licked her lips.

Could she taste him? He clenched his eyes closed, struggled for discipline. “What happened?”

“You were out cold. Something about the stone…” She rubbed her thumb along the crystal she still held.

He shuddered. They were so closely linked, it felt as if she stroked his bare skin. “Unless you want to jump in the backseat with me, you need to let go.” Bracing himself, he tried to pry her fingers off the crystal. But the first touch of his flesh to hers only stoked the fire. A vision swelled in his mind, the two of them tearing up the sheets—hungry, hot sex. But not here. Not now.

“Rafe.” His name emerged as a throaty invitation. Desire shimmered in her eyes.

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon. But not now.” He gritted his teeth and peeled her fingers away from the stone.

She fell back in her seat with a soft cry, longing and need still plain on her face as she cupped her hand against her chest. He gripped the crystal in his own fist, focusing on throttling back the power. Layer by layer, he backed it down until only a quiet vibration remained. Then he dropped it beneath his shirt again. Looked at her.

The fading energy had succeeded in calming her as well, though both of them were hair-triggered right now. One misstep, and they would definitely be in that backseat screwing like rabbits.

“So,” he said. “Tell me what happened.”

“You tell me.” She studied him as if she’d never seen him before. “I don’t remember anything after Maisie called me. Not until you kissed me.”

“Yeah, about that—”

“It was like the hotel, wasn’t it?” she interrupted. “Somebody drugged me again. Or something.”

“Yeah. Or something.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I know you’re holding back on me.”

He didn’t dare tell her the truth. She’d never believe him. “Why would I do that? C’mon, Cara.”

She folded her arms. “What is burnout?”

He jerked at the word, then realized he’d betrayed himself when her eyes narrowed. “Where did you hear that?”

“From you. Before you passed out, you said the word ‘burnout’ and that the fight had drained the stone.” She flicked a hand at his chest. “I assumed you meant that stone—especially after this morning.”

“No way.” He let his head fall back against the headrest, disbelief battling with the evidence in front of him. The fight. The Hunter. He’d hit burnout, passed out.

And she’d somehow recharged the crystal and revived him. Impossible.

He turned his head to stare at her, everything he’d believed for the past twenty-eight years shaken. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at the dashboard clock. “Ten, fifteen minutes.”

“
Minutes
?” He rubbed a hand over his face. It normally took hours to recharge his powers. Sometimes a day. How had this untrained woman managed such a thing? He reached for the Hunter, tested—and was awed to find his abilities fully charged.
In minutes
.

Who
was
this girl?

“Yeah, I thought you were never going to wake up,” she was saying. “You wanted me to drive, but I couldn’t move you.”

“Drive. Yeah, let’s do that.” He started the car.

“Hold on, cowboy. You owe me an explanation.”

“We’ll talk and drive.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at the empty highway behind them. “We have to put miles between us and the Ugly Twins.”

She frowned, glancing behind them. “We haven’t seen them since yesterday.”

“Wrong, sweetheart. They were at the last diner we just left, and they tried to kidnap you.”

“What? I don’t remember that.”

“You don’t remember what happened in Vegas, either.”

“Right.” She swiped her hands over her face. “Okay, I’m officially sick of this. Who keeps messing with my memories? And what is burnout, and why did you pass out like that?” Her pitch grew higher with each question. “And why does your crystal do weird stuff when I touch it?”

He flashed her a quick glance as he pulled out of the emergency lot and onto the highway. “I just thought of a really inappropriate response to that question.”

“Oh, please.” She snapped on her seat belt and glared at him. “No more joking around, no more half truths. I feel like I’ve landed in the middle of some sci-fi movie.”

“Not quite.”

“Well, that just helps so much.”

He ignored her sarcasm and hit the gas, cranking the SUV as fast as he dared. The last thing he needed was to draw attention from any cops who might be nearby, but at the same he had to put as many miles as he could between them and the diner.

She seemed to sense his purpose and stayed quiet, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think she had dropped the subject. They’d gone at least fifteen miles before she spoke again.

“So, I’ve heard of people channeling energy through crystals or whatever, but I never actually believed it. I thought it was all nonsense.”

“It’s not.”

“Yeah, I figured. So what’s the deal, Montana? Spill.”

“You won’t believe me.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“It’s a little out there.”

“This whole trip has been a little out there.”

“Okay.” He glanced at her. “I’m psychic.”

“I’m serious, Rafe.”

“So am I.”

“Psychic? You’ve been in Vegas too long.”

“It’s true. I specialize in being able to find people. Hence my record.”

She opened her mouth—no doubt in advent of some smart remark—then frowned. “Zero percent failure rate.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know…”

“Look, you asked. I told you.”

“You’re seriously psychic.”

“Yeah.”

“And the crystal?”

“Helps me focus.”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No way. There has to be a logical explanation.”

“That’s all there is. I’m psychic.”

“Yeah? Prove it.”

He nearly groaned at the challenge in her tone. “What am I, a trained monkey?”

“Look, you just told me something crazy. The fact that I haven’t jumped out of the car screaming should tell you how open-minded I’m trying to be. Of course, if you can’t do it…”

The disbelief in her tone decided him. “I can do it. I just don’t like being made to sing and dance on cue.”

“Not sing and dance. Use your psychic powers.” She leaned back in her seat, her brows raised in mockery. “Tell me, swami. What’s my future?”

He pressed his lips together. How could he possibly tell her?

“Can’t do it, huh?”

He glanced at her. “It doesn’t quite work that way. I’m not the crystal ball type. Sometimes I just … know things.”

Like you’re going to die sometime soon unless I can stop it.

“If this gift of yours is so unreliable, then I can’t imagine how you actually use it in your work.” Doubt rang in her tone. A little bit of hurt, too.

He should have just left it there. Let her believe what she wanted. But he hated that look on her face, that she thought he was putting her on. Damn it, when had he started to care so much? It was never a good idea to get too involved.

Shoulda thought of that at the motel this morning, buddy
.

Okay so he
was
involved, enough that she somehow connected to him through his crystal, enough that she had been able to bring him out of a flat burnout and back to full power in minutes. He’d never heard of such a thing, not even about his grandfather, who’d also been a Hunter. Not in the family history. He’d never known it could be done.

“You could just tell me the truth, you know,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to make things up.”

“Okay, fine.” He pulled over to the shoulder, shoved the car in park and turned to face her. “Here’s the deal. I’m psychic, but my abilities are very specific. Sometimes I just know things. That’s totally random. I can also tell if someone is lying to me—every single time. And I can find anyone, alive or dead. I just think about them and know where they are. Every single time.”

“Handy in your line of work.” The disbelief still rang in her tone, shone in her eyes.

He gritted his teeth. “Try me.”

“Okay then. Where’s Danny?”

He groaned. “Of course you would ask me that.”

“What’s the matter, Psychic Man? Don’t know?”

“Look, something weird has been going on with your brother. Sometimes I can’t see him. I don’t know why.”

“Try.”

“Fine.”
Where’s Danny?

Nothing happened. Of course.

She watched him, irritation evident in her tight lips. “Well?”

“Like I said, sometimes I can’t see him.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

Her skepticism grated. “Is your cell working?”

“You tell me.”

“Geez, woman. I thought I would tell you where Maisie is, and you could call and confirm.”

“Seriously?”

“Look, you’re the one who wanted the circus act.” He turned back to the road and started to put the SUV in drive.

“Oh, hang on.” She grabbed her purse and rummaged. “Where’s my phone? I was talking to Maisie—”

“At the diner, where the Ugly Twins grabbed you.” He rubbed his temple. “They must have taken your cell.”

She threw her hands up. “Great! How am I going to get a replacement phone out here in the middle of the desert? And how’s Danny going to find me now?” She slanted him a mocking glance. “Unless you can home in on him, Rafe the Great.”