Riding the Storm (29 page)

They'd
have to approach Remy the way they'd approach a wounded animal, especially now
that Remy Senior was in danger.

"Let's
show Remy that he can function in a team setting," Dev said finally.
"If he can't be involved, he'll bolt and try to do it on his own. Right
now, that's suicide."

In
his mind's eye, he saw Wyatt and Ender glance at each other in silent
understanding, right before he heard the soft thwack as his operatives shook
hands.

For
the zillionth time, Annika wondered what the hell Dev had been thinking when
he'd sent her to this Disney haunted mansion filled with moody ghosts and one
annoying ghost hunter.

At
least the spirits weren't touching her anymore. She'd never been able to feel
ghosts, not the way people with a natural ability could, but she'd felt Casper
trying to pull her and Creed apart before her nap, and then an hour ago, Casper
wrapped its icy fingers around her throat. On instinct, she'd charged herself
with enough juice to power the space shuttle, and whatever had been touching
her had fled.

And
then told on her. She knew because Creed had pegged her with an exasperated
look before explaining how shocking spirits was not a good idea.

Tattletales.
No wonder Creed got along with them so well.

Now
she crouched on her heels and watched Creed do his thing as he communicated
with the dead who, in her opinion, weren't dead enough.

How
he could tolerate lying shirtless on the cold marble for hours was beyond her.
He didn't appear to be uncomfortable, at least. In fact, though his arms would
flex now and then, and sometimes his abs would tighten, revealing one fine
six-pack, he seemed perfectly relaxed.

Damn,
she wanted to reach out and smooth her hands over all those hard muscles. She
wanted to kiss the look of fierce concentration right off his handsome face, to
make him open his eyes and worship her with them like he had in the bedroom.

Right
now, though, he belonged to the netherworld, a place where she was a stranger,
and she was happy to keep it that way.

Energy
sizzled along her nerve endings, and the lights flickered. Creed's body went
stiff, and his eyes shot open, stared with haunting emptiness at the ceiling.

"Creed?"
Tentatively, she reached out. A chill sank deep into her bones at the feel of
his clammy skin.

Shit.
Was this normal? She grasped his wrist to check his pulse, and cool whips of
air wrapped around her.

"Get
away from me," she growled at the entity, letting her body flood with
energy. "Get away, or I'll light you the fuck up."

A
shrill, angry cry vibrated the house, but the spirit snapped back. Creed's
pulse beat weakly beneath her fingertips, too thready for comfort. Unsure what
to do, she looked up at the flickering lights.

"You'd
better not hurt him, whoever the hell you are."

"Aww,
you really do care."

The
gasp that escaped her pissed her off, but at least Creed was okay. More than
okay, if the glint of humor in the depths of his eyes was any indication.

"I
don't give a shit what happens to you." She twitched a shoulder in a
nonchalant shrug. "But Dev does. That's why I care."

"I
don't believe you," he said, tucking one arm behind his head.

"And
why's that?"

He
gave her the cocky grin that infuriated her every rime. "Because you're
still holding my hand."

She
jerked away like she'd been burned. A lot of less-than-complimentary names for
him came to mind, but the distinct ring tone of her cell saved him from the
humiliation. She drew the phone from her pocket.
Dev. Thank God
.

"Please
tell me you have a new assignment for me."

A
sigh crackled over the airwaves. "You aren't playing nice with Creed, are
you?"

Oh,
she'd played, but it definitely hadn't been
nice
. It had been naughty
and wrong and yet she wanted to do it again. Which was even more wrong, since
she still couldn't stand the guy.

"Just
get me out of here."

"I'll
have a helo there in half an hour."

She
arched a brow. "Seriously?"

"You're
going to join Wyatt and Ender in Louisiana. They're already on their way to
help out Haley. I'll have all essential materials to bring you up to speed in
the chopper."

"Will
I get to beat up bad guys?"

"Most
likely."

Grinning,
she thanked Dev and hung up. Creed was sitting on one hip, braced by one arm,
the other resting atop his knee. The way his legs spread drew her gaze straight
to his crotch, to the impressive bulge behind the leather fly.

Heat
flushed her body, and she tore her eyes away because as much as she'd love to
go another round with him, she couldn't. Not now. She'd gone twenty-one years
believing she couldn't have sex, and the idea that now it was possible but
probably only with Creed had rocked her hard. She'd never needed anyone for
anything, and she wanted to make sure that if she slept with him again, it
would be because she wanted sex, not because she needed it. Or needed him.

"I'm
outta here." She pushed to her feet and headed to her bedroom to grab her
shit.

"Annika…

She
stopped, but didn't look at him. "Don't." For a moment she stood
there, waiting to see if he would say anything else, and when he didn't she
took the stairs two at a time.

She
couldn't put her fists in enemy faces fast enough.

Haley
didn't have time to think too hard on what Remy had said about her being
disposable.

Not
to me, Haley.

Even
now, as they kept to the shadowy back streets of the town Remy had led them to,
she shoved aside what he'd said. There'd be time later to panic, to fully
comprehend how close she'd let him get to her.

And
how close she felt herself getting to him. No question about it, she was in way
over her head and rapidly losing the strength to tread water.

Grunting
when what she wanted to do was curse, she adjusted the pack on her back and
concentrated on how much her feet hurt. Her boots had become soaked when they'd
run through the swamp, and the wet leather had rubbed her skin raw. Her feet
hadn't suffered like this since basic training, when her new combat boots had
been implements of torture.

"Haley?
Are you all right?" Remy asked, coming to a halt near a row of hedges
between two houses.

"Yeah."
She hadn't realized the pain had caused her to fall behind. "Sorry. I'm a
little distracted."

He
eyed her warily, like he sensed her lie, but she was careful to not limp or
wince or in any way reveal her pain. If he knew, he'd do something manly and
stupid, like carry her.

"Give
me your pack."

"I
already told you I can handle it."

"We've
been over this. Remember what happened last time you tried to do something by
yourself?"

Her
tattoo tingled, and she nearly smiled, recalling the lesson he'd given her on
the dining room table. Then she realized that though he'd changed his tactics,
he was still trying to order her around.

"Giving
me an orgasm isn't much of a threat. I'm keeping the backpack. And I need to
try to contact ACRO now that we're out of the swamp. Maybe I have a
signal."

She
shifted the pack, and he must have thought she was going for her phone, because
he stayed her movements by grasping her arm. "Don't bother. I shorted out
your cell."

"You
what?"

He
shifted his weight and had the decency to look sheepish. "Yeah, well, I
was pissed about the tattoo last night."

"You
really should to work on your temper."

"Later.
Right now we need to grab my dad's truck and find a pay phone."

A dog
howled nearby, a mournful cry at the moon, and she hoped Linda, the lead
psychic of the Triad to whom she'd been assigned, was right about the power of
the full moon to enhance psychic conduits.

"No.
Itor knew things they shouldn't have known, so I don't want to use a nonsecure
landline, in case they're listening. I'll do the backup thing."

"Backup?"

She
nodded, wishing it hadn't come to this. She'd never communicated psychically
before, except in controlled tests, and despite Dev's assurances that it would
work, she had enough skeptic in her to make her nervous. What she hated most
was that psychic comms were one-sided, so she'd have no way of knowing if her
message had been received.

Still,
it was all they had.

"I
need a quiet place." She'd attempted to make the connection earlier, in
the bayou, but her head had hurt too badly to make it work.

Though
the streets were mostly empty, it was Saturday night, and even in a small
town—or maybe especially in a small town—people liked to party, and headlights
flashed ahead.

Remy
took her hand and led her down a side street to a parklike grassy area with
stone benches. "Will this work? What are we doing, anyway?"

She
looked at him standing before her, his clothes wet and muddy like hers, and
thought about how they'd been in a similar state last night, when they'd had
sex outside the house during the storm. When he'd looked at her like no one
ever had, like she was a lifeline.

Her
parents had looked at each other like that.

Heart
pounding, she once again fought down the panic that gripped her, and cleared
her throat, eager to get back to the job.

"Before
I was sent here, I was bonded to a team of three psychics. It's supposed to allow
me to send messages." Bonding with a Triad was an option offered to all
agents before a potentially dangerous mission, but because she wasn't a fully
trained field operative, her participation had been mandatory.

"Uh-huh."
He folded his arms across his broad chest. "So you're calling the cavalry
with your mind?"

"I'd
think you, of all people, would be open to the possibility."

"I'll
believe it when I see it."

Yeah,
she would too.

She
sat and pulled him down next to her. "Just keep an eye out for psychotic-looking
bad guys."

Closing
her eyes, she relaxed like she'd been taught, and then visualized a blue stone
in her mind. A brilliant oval-cut topaz, spinning like a top. When the stone
began to hum and then glow, warmth infused her body, signaling a connection
with one of the psychics assigned to her.

As
though aggravated by the link, her head throbbed, bruised by the earlier
psychic assault. She wondered if ACRO knew about the attack. Linda had
mentioned that even without a deliberate connection, Triads would instantly
become aware of trauma to an assigned operative.

The
mind cries out when the body is injured.

Quickly,
because the pain intensified with each passing second, she fed the stone images
of what had happened so far—Itor attacking, she and Remy escaping into the dark
bayou and then slipping into town.

She
felt herself starting to tremble as the agony of the connection deepened,
drilling white-hot nails into her brain. Linda said that images were more
effective for communication than words, but Haley could no longer think, and
instead screamed inside her mind,
Itor has Remy's father. They want us to go
to Lafayette. We'll make contact when we arrive at a hotel
.

"Haley?
Haley!"

Remy's
voice ripped into her, severing the link. She snapped open her eyes, and
immediately plunged into a bone-deep chill. Shivering, she rubbed her arms, and
Remy pulled her into his warm body.

"You
were shouting. Shaking so hard I thought you were seizing. Are you okay?"

Okay
might be an exaggeration, but at least she no longer
thought her skull would shatter. "Better now. But I could use some
aspirin."

His
hands ran up and down her arms in long, soothing strokes, and she burrowed as
close as she could get, let herself relax into his strength and heat. He
smelled like bayou and ozone and man, and she didn't think she'd ever been so
comforted by any scent.

"What
just happened?"

"I
told ACRO about our night," she said against his chest. "We need to
get on the road and to a hotel."

She
just hoped Remy Senior's truck would be at the bar where Remy said his dad went
every night, because she didn't want to have to steal a car. The last thing
they needed now was to be arrested.

"We
don't have time for a hotel."

"It's
where my agency will meet us."

"No
offense, Haley, but I'm not going to trust my dad's life to your psychic
airwaves."

She
pulled back and looked up at him. "I know I haven't given you a lot of
reason to trust me, but I'm asking you to have faith in this."