Ghost Phoenix (6 page)

The dragon's den, Richard thought. After this quest, he'd planned to visit them. Edward's death needed explanation, at the very least. Or maybe vengeance. He wasn't entirely sure. Now, he'd have to decide.

“What the heck is a Phoenix Institute?” she asked.

“You'll see when we get there,” Montoya answered.

“Not good enough, dammit.” She punched the driver's seat.

So this was what his angel was like angry. No, frustrated, he guessed. True anger would be nastier and less under control.

“This whole situation is crazy. First, you follow me, then we're shot at, my client is injured, and now we're speeding to a place I know nothing about.”

“Sorry. The being shot at part was not my idea,” Montoya answered. “Anyway, the Phoenix Institute is a place to train people with abilities like your client there. But we have medical facilities too. No worries.”

“Right,” she said, grinding her teeth. “Everything's fine. No worries.”

She was eating anger again, Richard thought, but in this case, that was a good idea. Montoya was somewhat of an unknown. For all Richard knew, the shot at Montoya had been a test for him, and he'd passed. Meaning, as he tested Montoya by pretending to hurt Marian, someone might have tested him to see if he'd defend Montoya.

He didn't know if Montoya's leader was that Machiavellian, but Richard knew that the former head of the Phoenix Institute certainly had been. And now they'd sent Montoya to follow him when Richard had done nothing to threaten them.

And his brother was dead.

Richard wrapped his arm around his angel. He would heal and be at full strength. He must.

“I'll protect you,” he whispered into her ear.

“I know,” she whispered back.

Chapter Six

To Marian, the rest of the ride seemed to take forever. She changed Richard's bandage, sealing the second stack of sterile pads down with medical tape. It still turned red but far slower. She thought that was good.

Richard said he would heal and she would have to believe that.

If she'd had any doubt before that Richard was what he said he was, she didn't anymore. A normal person would have bled to death.

When she was finished changing the bandages, her hands were caked in dried blood. Ugh. It was just as well she didn't have a problem with blood, like her sister. Jen nearly fainted every time she had a blood test. It was a wonder she had been able to give birth without fainting. Though Jen claimed she hadn't looked, only pushed. Her sister would get a kick out of this, except for the blood. Jen liked adventure. I might too, Marian thought, if I could ever choose my own.

The van took a sharp turn once they were out of the Lincoln Tunnel. She wrapped her arms around Richard to keep from being thrown to the side.

“Nice,” Richard muttered.

Bad enough he kept calling her
angel
. She didn't want to be infatuated with him. He was a client, for one. It was hard, however, not to feel something when he spoke in that sexy rasp and he kissed her cheek. She pressed her palm against the bandage, just to keep the pressure on.

“How you doing back there?” Montoya asked.

“Okay,” she answered.

“How is he?”

“I'm not a doctor. The bleeding's slowed. That's all I know.”

“Sorry about all this. I didn't mean to get you involved.”

“You two acted like enemies before someone started shooting at us. Are you going to hurt him at this Phoenix Institute?”
Are you going to hurt me?

“You're not the enemy.” Montoya answered her unspoken question first. “Like I said, no worries. We'll get you back home safe soon.”

“And what about Richard?”

“I'm not in the habit of letting people bleed to death if I can help it. Neither is Firefly. But it's not safe to take someone like Richard anywhere else.”

“Firefly? Who's he?”

“Alec Farley, the head of the Phoenix Institute.”

They took an exit off the highway. Bergen County, she noticed. Well, better than Paterson or Passaic.

“How do I know you'll take care of him? All I know is that this Alec Farley sent you out to spy on me.”

“He sent me out to spy on Genet, not you. Alec's job is making sure guys like your Richard don't mess with people's lives. To him, people are pawns.”

“Richard's paying me a considerable sum for a job I do well. If that's a pawn, I'll take it.” What the hell was she in the middle of?

Montoya only grunted.

“What about the person shooting at us? What did they want?”

“No idea yet who that was or what they wanted yet. When I do, I'll let you know.”

“Great,” she snapped. He was miffed. So was she. Except she wasn't sure if she was angrier with Montoya or the person shooting at him or her grandfather for putting her in this mess.

However, she was certain she wasn't angry with Richard.

“I'm curious to meet your Firefly,” Richard said, opening his eyes. She'd thought he was asleep.

“He's kinda anxious to meet you too, Genet,” Montoya said with a growl.

“Why do you hate my client?” Did everyone but her know what was going on?

“His brother was behind some really bad shit.”

“They killed my brother,” Richard said.

“He deserved it.”

“And that means I deserve to die as well? Do you always try to kill the families of those who attacked you?”

He didn't, Marian noted, sound the least bit scared. What other immortal tricks did he have besides self-healing?

“If you share your brother's attitude about how to treat people, then we're gonna have a long discussion. It won't be pretty.”

“I look forward to it,” Richard said.

Marian shook her head. This was making her more confused. She lowered her voice. “Richard, why did Montoya call his boss Firefly?”

“Farley is a telekinetic and firestarter. He makes the flames dance.”

“Oh.” Someone else with powers? “Is Montoya a psychic too?”

“Nope, not psychic,” Montoya said.

“Montoya works for Farley. Tell your boss I disapproved of my brother's methods. And that we might have some interests in common.”

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“Really? Then why am I bleeding in the back seat of your van after taking a bullet meant for you?”

Montoya didn't answer.

“So what does the Phoenix Institute do besides send you to follow people around and kill immortals?” she asked Montoya.

But Richard answered instead.

“The institute is ostensibly a place given to the study of those with extraordinary abilities so individuals who possess them can use them responsibly. Do I have that right, Montoya?”

“Yeah, Genet.”

“Perhaps that's true. Or perhaps Farley is busy gathering all the telepaths, telekinetics and other psychics of the world together for some other purpose. Such as manipulating those with no defense against him.”

“Fuck you,” Montoya said.

“Power was Richard Lansing's goal. Why not the same for his heir?”

“Who's this Lansing and what was he to Alec Farley?” Marian said.

“Lansing was the founder of the place. He raised Farley. Lansing is gone now but Farley's lover is a telepath. They're a team well suited to manipulate others.” Richard directed his last sentence at Montoya.

“Lansing is dead, and Beth is the last person who would control someone. Besides, your brother worked with Lansing on his last project. It was Alec and Beth who shut that down. So what does that make you?”

“The person who took a bullet for you. And I'm not my brother nor did I work with him on that operation. Or with Lansing. Ever.”

“We'll see.”

“Yes, we will.”

“Okay, so what is the actual goal of the Phoenix Institute? Was Richard right?” Marian asked.

“Alec wants to help those with psychic abilities learn how to use them safely,” Montoya repeated. “He worries if people aren't properly trained, their lives will be messed up.”

That's a really good idea, Marian decided, if that's what this Farley really wanted. A firestarter and a telepath? Wow. She'd known about the family gift long before she started manifesting the signs of the phantom power. What would she have thought if she had no knowledge that her gift was real?

Terrified, most likely, especially when various body parts had turned immaterial without warning. She hated a lot of things about her power, mostly connected to her grandfather, but she wasn't scared of it, and she knew damn well how to use it.

Montoya tapped the steering wheel. “I'm sorry to bring you with him, Miss Doyle. We're not kidnappers. We just need to talk to Genet.”

“And if I pose a threat?” Richard raised an eyebrow.

“You're done.”

“Forgive me if your threats mean nothing, coming as they are from someone who already needed rescuing today.”

“Oh, it's not me you have to worry about.”

Under other circumstances, Marian would like meeting a firestarter and a telepath. But not if they wanted to kill her.

She stared out the window as they turned off the highway onto a suburban road. Getting caught by customs had been her worst fear before today. She should have quit as she'd intended, at the party last weekend.

Oh, hell, stop complaining, Marian. You love that Richard keeps calling you
angel
in a voice that makes you swoon.
What was she, fifteen again when it came to this guy, ready to go weak in the knees? Apparently.

But when she was fifteen, she hadn't dared show her power to anyone. Her grandfather's insistence on using it just for family gain had changed her perception of her gift as a true gift and instead as something to be ashamed of.

Richard made it feel like it was part of her.

She looked down at her bloodstained hands. This Phoenix Institute wasn't even the worst of all this. There was somebody out there who had shot Richard.

“So do you expect me to pick a side?” she asked Montoya.

“Looks like you already did.”

“Because I helped bandage a man who was shot saving your life?” Of course, maybe Montoya had noticed her clinging to Richard.

Richard squeezed her hand.

“Last time we dealt with this guy's brother, he was specializing in medical experiments and kidnapping pregnant women.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Some sort of plan to create a specific psychic power.”

That was similar to the reason why Richard wanted to use Rasputin's DNA, assuming they could find the body. But Rasputin was hardly in a position to object. What harm could that do him? And just because Richard's brother had done something wrong, it didn't mean Richard was doing something wrong. God forbid she should be held accountable for something her grandfather did.

“Do you always divide your world into those with you and those against you, Daz Montoya?” Richard asked. His voice sounded nearly normal now.

Montoya pulled up to a locked steel gate with barbed wired around the top. Past the gate, she could only make out the distant outline of a building with a tower in the center.

“Alec Farley's my friend and my teammate, Genet,” Montoya answered after he spoke to someone via a speaker at the gate. “I divide the world into those who want to help him and those who want to hurt him.”

“I helped you,” Richard said.

“Maybe.”

“If I had died, would that have proved my intentions to you?”

“You didn't die,” Montoya said.

“I know. Very inconvenient for you.”

Montoya, Marian finally realized, was a bit scared of Richard. Or maybe wary was a better term for it.

The gate swung open and they drove through.

The lawn surrounding the Phoenix Institute buildings was lush and well kept. To the right, she caught a glimpse of rose bushes and a garden beyond them. The main building resembled a large hotel and conference center.

Huh. She expected something far more sinister.

She looked over at Richard to see what he thought, but his expression was unreadable. What kind of man faced the people responsible for his brother's death with no expression?

A dangerous one.

Montoya parked next to a line of vans that looked exactly the same as the one he was driving.

“Did you get a bulk discount?” she asked.

Montoya smiled for the first time. “Something like that.”

He stepped out of the vehicle to walk around to the passenger door on their side. Marian reached to open it. Richard clamped his hand around her wrist. “Let him,” he whispered. “And let him think I'm weaker than I am.”

She nodded.

Montoya slid open the door and offered his hand. She took it, thinking if Richard wanted to look weak and non-threatening, she could play along with that. Meek and helpless tended to work well for her at border crossings in Europe.

“Thanks.” She looked down at her skirt, which was caked with blood, like her hands. She took a deep breath. Montoya noticed.

“Look, whatever happens in there, I'll make sure you're okay,” Montoya said. “Don't be scared.”

“Too late.”

Montoya grimaced. “Sorry.”

Another protector? Montoya confused her as much as Richard did. First, he followed them, then he jumped to her rescue and now he vowed to take care of her. This whole situation was maddening.

Don't talk, she thought. She always babbled when she was scared. That would be especially bad now.

Richard let Montoya help him out. He stumbled on his first step. She steadied him, and he draped his arm over her shoulders. Montoya offered to help them again, but Richard waved him off.

As they walked to the entrance of the Phoenix Institute, Richard leaned heavily on her, part of his plan to seem weaker than he really was.
And to stay close to me?

Hah. Maybe she was overestimating her appeal to him.

Being intrigued by her powers wasn't the same as being intrigued by her. She drew in a deep breath. Shot or not, Richard smelled like sand and waves. Would he really teach her to surf?

The lobby was circular and ringed by windows that let the sunlight stream in. The scents of jasmine and other spices hung in the air. Numerous planters with bonsai trees were set under the windows, soaking in the light.

It seemed a happy place.

The Phoenix Institute wasn't trying to scare people. Or maybe they wanted to lull visitors into a false sense of security.

Montoya led them down a short hallway, opened a door to a room and gestured for them to go inside. She did, with Richard still at her side.

“There's a bathroom to clean up and some clean shirts and sweats in the cabinets,” Montoya said. “Do you want the med techs to look you over?”

Richard put a hand on the wall for added support. At least, that's what it looked like. “No doctors needed. Thanks for the welcome.” He smiled.

“You're hard to figure out.” Daz shook his head and shut them in.

“It's probably locked,” Richard said.

She sighed. “There's no place to run, anyway.”

The room was more living space than a conference room, complete with a kitchen area to the left of a living room with couches, chairs and a coffee table in the center. All the place lacked was a bedroom.

She walked to the kitchen and began opening cabinets. The bottom one contained the promised clothes.

“Is he going to confer with his people?” she asked Richard.

“I assume.” Richard walked to her slowly, as if he still felt the effects of being shot. He leaned over her. “There are cameras watching us,” he whispered. “Be careful what you say.”