Skin Dive (32 page)

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Authors: Ava Gray

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Skin Dive
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“I know that, too.”
That hit him so hard. The prospect of losing her felt like more than the end of the world, but he donned his cocky mask and shared a smile. He could get through one last weekend.

 

While she might
not understand him as well as she claimed, Gillie knew Taye hadn’t violated her privacy out of insecurity. With Taye, it was always something deeper. And she didn’t mind; it wasn’t like she had anything to hide. She wished he felt the same.
But she was too excited about the trip to linger on such thoughts. It was the first real vacation she had ever taken. Running from Foundation goons didn’t qualify . . . and right then, those days seemed so far away.
Renting the car didn’t take long, thanks to Mockingbird’s quality ID and credit card. The attendant seemed a little squirrelly; he kept glancing at Taye as he processed the transaction. Gillie told herself she was worried over nothing, and they went out to their rented Honda.
Taye drove, of course, because she didn’t know how. Interesting how he remembered motor skills, like dancing and driving, but actual memories eluded him. Privately she wondered how he could recall his name, if he couldn’t anything else, but she’d never question him about it. He had the right to any damn name he wanted, after what they’d done to him.
On the way, they talked and listened to music. She held his hand. It was such lovely simplicity, such pure pleasure, that she should’ve known it couldn’t last. They had been driving about four hours when red and blue lights appeared in the rearview mirror.
“Fuck.” He slammed a hand against the dashboard. “That rat bastard called the tip line.”
“Looks that way.” Fear shifted its coils in her chest like a serpent waking from a long sleep. “As I see it, we have two choices. We can stop or we can run.”
Either way, it wasn’t likely to turn out well. If they stopped, if they went into police custody, the Foundation would pull strings high up the ladder and get them “extradited” for international trial. Her conscience wouldn’t let him hurt innocent policemen, but she couldn’t go back either.
If we’d stayed away from each other, if we’d followed all the rules in place for our protection, we wouldn’t be in this situation. He did this for me . . . because of me.
“I’m sorry, love. I wanted so bad to give you something to remember. One special day.”
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she wasn’t a weeper. Never had been. “You already did. It’s not your fault . . . I forgot, too. And really, it’s just bad luck he’d decide to report you on the off chance you turned out to be the guy.”
“Tell me now . . . this is your call. What do we do?”
Behind them, the siren wailed; the cops were now signaling them to pull over to the shoulder.
I don’t want this. I don’t want to decide.
But she squared her shoulders and took the burden because he asked her to, and that meant he saw her as an equal.
“Stop. If we run, they might get hurt. This isn’t their fault.”
With a tense nod, he eased off the road and put the car in park. Her hands trembled and she clenched them in her lap. The next few minutes could change everything.
The cop came up and tapped on the window, which Taye powered down. He shone a flashlight into the car as if looking for weapons or hostages. That didn’t bode well.
“License and registration, please.” The stone-faced officer gave no indication what the problem was, and that didn’t do anything to calm her nerves.
Gillie had studied enough psych to know what she shouldn’t do, so she tried not to fidget as Taye handed over the paperwork on the rental car. The state policeman walked back to the patrol car and gave the documents to his partner, presumably to run them. She didn’t know if they always rode together, or if they had taken the clerk’s report seriously enough to proceed with caution. The first cop came back and studied them for a few seconds in silence.
“Are you the folks who rented the vehicle originally?”
“Yes.” Taye looked too wary, and the guy had to be picking up on it.
Not good. Dial it down. We can walk away from this without trouble yet.
But to say he had issues with authority—well, that’d be an understatement.
The officer asked a few more questions, clearly killing time until the other one got out of the car with the results. Gillie watched in the side mirror as the second cop came up on her side of the car.
Taking no chances,
she thought.
Guess they were warned to show caution with us.
“Can you please step out of the car?” the first asked.
She closed her eyes for a second, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. Flashing Taye a pleading,
don’t kill them
look, she complied, keeping her movements slow so as not to alarm the policemen. He lifted his shoulders in a quiet shrug, promising nothing.
“What’s this about?” she asked.
“The FBI wants to ask you some questions. We’ve been asked to bring you in until they can send agents to talk to you.”
Gillie saw the tension coiling through Taye. When they got within ten feet of the car, he threw out a hand and pulled. Lightning blazed from the car’s hood as he drained the battery, and then he slammed the gas tank with a blue-white arc. His face shone stark and white against the dark, electricity limning him in ragged light. The subsequent explosion flung her down, and it knocked the cops off their feet, too.
“Run,” he said, extending a hand to pull her up.
This was an admission of guilt but she knew there was no way he could’ve gone with them and trusted it would work out fine. He had no such faith in the system. Most likely, that was wise, as a conspiracy like this one could only function with certain officials on the Foundation payroll. Otherwise there would be more press, more stories leaked. The fact that few people heard of anything unusual at all proved that point. She took his hand and sprinted for the Honda. As they drove off, one of the cops fired a few shots, but they didn’t hit anything crucial.
Taye drove hell for leather, likely knowing those cops would be calling for backup. Soon this whole highway would be crawling with troopers looking for them. His face was still pasty, and he looked agonized, more so than she ever remembered after he did his thing.
“Call Mockingbird,” he said hoarsely. “We need an immediate exit.”
Fearful, she did as he asked. MB answered the ping fast, which was a good thing.
“They found us. Can you send Heron?”
He didn’t ask for explanations. Thankfully, he also didn’t offer recriminations or
I told you so.
That might come later. “I’ll send him. Where are you?”
Gillie gave him the highway, mile marker, and the name of the truck stop where they were stopping.
“Good enough. What’re you driving?”
“Red Honda Accord.”
“I’ll tell him it’s a 911. Sit tight.”
Terror made her juggle the phone in cutting the call. As Taye drove down the ramp to the station lot, mostly full of semis at this time of night, she noticed that his pain didn’t scale back. Once he parked, he stumbled out of the car and puked. Terrified now, she ran around the car, only to have him fend her off with an angry gesture. In the yellow light shining down from the post, the fluid looked dark against the gray cement, horribly, awfully so.
“Tell me you’ve been drinking raspberry syrup.”
“I can’t lie anymore.”
But whatever he might have said, she didn’t get to hear it because Heron appeared and ported him away.
CHAPTER 23
Cale now had
a good idea where he’d find Ty Golden, known to him as Electro. The research trip had been a good idea, and the Foundation had provided new intel. All helpful. He felt like he knew his target now. That meant it was almost over. But it was getting so fucking hard to pretend he didn’t care how much Kestrel hurt.
They’d just stopped for the night when she said brokenly, “I know where he is.”
“Show me.” He got out the map, and after some resistance, she pointed, unable to defy the hardware in her head. Reluctant remorse coiled through him. Shit, he hated using her, rued the day he’d agreed to accept her on loan from that creepy bastard.
“On the road to Denver? You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
He had been certain the guy would gravitate to the cold, given how much he hated Florida. His mother had been clear on that point; Tyler had only ever wanted to get the hell away from the heat, the swamp, the bugs, and the gators. Damage reports from the Foundation confirmed someone was targeting facilities in the north and northwest. The MO and the repeated success of the strikes indicated the participation of T-89. That was why Cale had laid a trap, asking the Foundation to plant false data, though the motherfucker had gotten away
again
.
Now he planned to play the odds. There was only one more facility in this part of the country. One place for the bastard to strike; he just had to get there first, and do a better job of laying the snares. He hadn’t known about the magnetism; he’d bet the Foundation didn’t either. Now he’d compensate. Gas him. No more tranqs. If he wound up subduing the whole facility as well, so be it.
“Wait.” Her face crumpled. “He’s gone.”
“
Goddammit
. How the fuck’s he doing that?”
“I don’t know. They must’ve found some way to block me.” She squeezed her eyes shut and dug her knuckles into her eyes. “I wish I could reverse engineer it.”
She had become increasingly less useful as time wore on; he had been led to expect she could take him right to his targets. Now, she was more of a companion than a beneficial tool, so at this point, he should call the Foundation to pick her up, but something held him back. Maybe it was her obvious torment. Shit, he was such a sucker, and it had gotten him in trouble before.
Cursing silently, Cale stood and crossed to where she sat at the cheap motel desk. He’d wanted to do this for days now. He set his hands on her shoulders and kneaded, feeling the knots of pain and tension in her frail body. Christ, she felt like a little bird in his hands; this overture didn’t come from a sexual impulse, but an instinct purer and more profound. Once, he’d been a good soldier, fighting so women like her could draw water from their wells.
“Are you going to send me back?” she asked, her voice low and hopeless. “I’m not helping you at all . . . they counter too fast, and I can’t find them anymore. I’m just dead weight.”
An affirmative answer trembled on the tip of his tongue. What the hell did he care what they did to her? This was a job, right? But then she bent forward, giving him access to the nape of her neck. He could see all the delicate bones, the little knob at the base. He could so easily break her in his bare hands; it seemed wrong that anyone should be so reduced. Anyone. Let alone Kristin Shaw, who knew about science and could show kindness to a distressed stranger, even after all she’d been through.
“Is that what you want, Kes?”
“No.” She turned in the chair, her hands open on her knees, an oddly prayerful pose. “You’re kind. You got something so I can sleep.”
Such a fucking thing. What the hell had they done that she’d call a man like
him
kind? He shook his head without realizing he’d made a decision. “No. I’m not sending you back.”
“Ever? Or right now?”
Cale knew he couldn’t keep her. He didn’t have the resources to take on the Foundation, and that gizmo in her head probably told them where she was. Sooner or later, they’d both wind up dead. But honesty hurt him.
“Right now.”
“Would you kill me?” she asked. “I can’t do it myself, because of the chip.”
“
No
.”
Her eyes went feral and she clutched his hand, bringing it to her small breast. “I’ll sleep with you. You can do anything you want to me, as long as you end it afterward.”
He yanked away and stumbled back, unsure what horrified him most—that she’d been tortured so much that she’d ask such a thing, or that she thought he’d consider the offer. Shaken, he sank down on the bed and rested his head in his hands. Undeterred, she came up beside him and burrowed close, desperate with determination.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want me? The guards did. The orderlies did.”
Slam. Slam. Slam.
Each word pounded like a nail into his brain. That was the outfit for which he worked. They took women like Kes, stripped away their will, and then forced them to any damn thing they wished. He’d always prided himself that no matter the pay, he’d never worked for human traffickers, but in its way, this was worse.
Great time for a crisis of conscience, mate. What the hell’re you gonna do?
Under other circumstances, yeah. Perhaps. Sometimes he fought back glimmers of attraction because she wasn’t whole. They’d broken her. But maybe . . . maybe someday. He just had to figure a way out of this mess first. That was, if he intended to give up a quarter million dollars for her. That was the big question, wasn’t it?

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