Power Up 3: Whispered Words (2 page)

His broad chest heaved as he tried to get a handle on his temper, not one of Jack’s strengths lately. Built like a linebacker, the guy had muscles growing over muscles, a mind that had Mensa written all over it, and a natural dominance that made his leadership over their psychic squad easy to accept.

A dozen or so members of the government’s now defunct Psychic Warfare Program, or PWP, worked for Jack’s PowerUp! gym. They should have been bored out of their minds, but ever since Jack had taken on their big, anonymous client, adventure had returned to their lives. And thank God for that. If she had to focus on helping middle-aged men lose their love handles for one second more than she already had, she’d have gone stark-raving mad.

“Wake up, King.”

She blinked and tried a smile, but Jack wasn’t having it. She huffed her excuse. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t take backup to that warehouse. It was a simple meet for information. You know that.”

“You still should have taken someone with you.” He blew out a breath. “Damn it, Chloe. This makes no sense. You leaving only puts you in greater danger.” He glared at her. “You’ve spent a week on your ass as it is. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks, Jack.”
Asshole.

“How are you going to keep up with your training?” Courtesy of the US government, every one of the ex-PWP agents working for Jack had been genetically altered to enhance their psychic productivity. Even Chloe had felt a strengthening connection with the voices she’d always heard, and one voice in particular. Her special voice had grown crystal clear after she’d taken the government’s drugs.

Getting cut off from their meds when the program went under had turned a lot of the agents crazy. Many of her peers had decided to stick with Uncle Sam and veered off into other departments. Not Chloe. She was tired of following orders that made no sense. So, with a handful of other independent thinkers, she’d joined up with Jack. Now they used physical and mental exercises—not drugs—to stay focused and rational.

“The workouts aren’t that necessary for me. I’m not like you other freaks,” she said.

Jack just looked at her.

“Well, okay, maybe I am. But I’m not as bad. As long as I use my skills to concentrate on the voices, I’m okay.” Of course, those voices had become strangely silent. She still heard the occasional whisper offering tidbits of information or demanding she fix things for other people, but nothing that related to her specifically. The voice that saved her ass on a daily basis had simply vanished. And she needed it back.

“You’re not telling me all of it. I know it.”

Jack and those damn eyes. “Look, boss. I’ll be fine. My ribs are healed up. I’ll be hiking through snow. In the mountains. That’s a better workout than I can get here. Besides, Psycho Stan can use a few weeks without me. Trust me; I’ll be safer in the woods away from him. When I come back, the situation will resolve itself. 

They
told me.” The voice was never wrong. At least, not when it actually spoke to her.

She hated to lie to Jack, but she really needed to handle her problems by herself. With so many psychics underfoot, one of them would eventually realize she wasn’t herself. In order to center herself, she had to go away. One way or the other, she’d find her voice again. She had to. Because without that particular voice, she feared she’d be worthless to the team.

Her only family now, the team accepted her; they offered her friendship, a sense of worth. She couldn’t lose that. She
wouldn’t
lose that.

“Chloe, talk to me.”

Oh hell. Not the gentle voice. Chloe didn’t like it when Jack turned soft. He rarely used that tone with any of the others. But she knew he had a soft spot for women, though he’d die before admitting it.

She blinked to hold back the tears, knowing that if she relented and shared her worries with Jack, he’d never let her leave. And she
had
to go.

“Damn it.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and his biceps bulged. “I don’t like any of this. Avery still can’t see your future, and Nathan didn’t get any hits off that torn piece of cloth you brought back from the warehouse. That fucker of an informant must have somehow shielded himself from psychic residue, which proves you were right. Your stalker has to be psychic. Whether he’s tied at all to the PWP or not,
that
we’ll soon know. I have Ian working on it.” Jack’s grimace said volumes.

But was he annoyed because of Ian—their newest hire and a constant thorn in their side—or her?

He finished with, “I have a bad feeling about you going off anywhere alone.” Nope, Jack was still annoyed with her. In hindsight, not telling him her voices had started to fade now seemed like a godsend.

“But Jack, the voices told me I need to do this.
Alone
.” 

He eyed her with suspicion before sighing. “Oh hell. Okay. I have Kitty and Gavin looking into the pocket watch, so that’s handled. Take the next two weeks off, since we’re near the holidays anyway. But you check in with me twice a day, you got me? Consider it your vacation, since you still refuse to take any. And you’re sure the ribs are better?”

His easy acceptance bothered her. Jack didn’t like to lose. Not at anything.

“Yes. Much better.” One thing the gene therapy had done for her and the others. It made them resistant to a lot of diseases, and she healed faster than a normal person.

“You need to get back to training, Chloe. I worry about you.”

“It’s a size thing. I’m sure you’ll get over it eventually.” Every one of the ex-agents—male and female—treated her like the weakest link on the team because of her smaller size, and it grated.

His lips quirked. The closest Jack ever got to a smile. “Sure thing, Tinker Bell.” She hated when he called her that. “So the voices. You’re absolutely sure they’re telling you to go this alone? Because I’d hate to think one of my own is lying to me.”

The burning stare almost broke her. But she needed to handle this herself. She always had and always would deal with personal business in private. And she considered her ability private.

She kept eye contact as long as she could, then looked away before she lost herself in his stare. More than one of them had mentioned they thought Jack had gained some sort of mesmerism talent since leaving the PWP. But no one had the guts to out-and-out ask him.

“Guess I’d better go, then.” She put her hands on the chair arms, preparing to leave.

“Good luck. Just make sure you turn everything over to Ian before you go.” She stood before the name registered. “Wait. What? Ian?” 

He blinked. Jack could do anger, hostility, and menace better than anyone she knew. But innocence?

“Ian is your replacement.”

“Not him. He’ll make a mess of everything,” she whined and hated herself for doing so. But Frank—Ian—whatever the hell he was calling himself these days, had made it his duty in life to become her personal pain in the ass. “Come on, Jack. Let me put Nathan on point. He already works the night shift, and with the holidays getting even busier, you need someone who can do the job.”
And not turn my office
into a natural disaster.

“Ian has a knack for handling people. Nathan just pisses them off.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, then opened them again and glared at her. “Hell, he pisses me off on a daily basis. And before you say it, yeah, everyone pisses me off. I tell you what. I’ll keep Nathan where he is, but I’ll move Avery to nights to help the guys. It’ll do him good to get away from the pool.” She didn’t know if that would be such a good idea, since Nathan and Avery started arguing the minute they caught sight of each other. But, eager to depart before someone else prevented her from leaving, she nodded. “I’m good, then. The voices are telling me to hustle. Gotta go.”

He stood with her, a frown on his face that turned to outright hostility when Keegan Price suddenly occupied the doorway. Like oil and water, Jack and Keegan didn’t mix. Too much testosterone to occupy one small space, Chloe thought and held back a smirk.

The long, tall Texan drink of water grinned at her. “Hey, little bit. Just the person I wanted to see. James and I are going into the mountains with you.”

“No, you’re not.” Jack folded his arms across his chest. He looked like a rock wearing a frown.

Not to be outdone, the good old boy blocking the exit did the same. Keegan had to be the only one in their organization with the balls to cross Jack on a regular basis. Even finding himself happily married and in love with both his wife and his partner hadn’t softened the man. But at least his interference would guarantee she had Jack’s okay to go solo. Jack would agree with the devil himself just to aggravate Keegan.

She patted Keegan on the arm. “This is my cue to head out. I’ll talk to Ian, Jack.” She turned to Keegan. “Keegan, wish Rory and James a Merry Christmas for me.”

“But—”

“Look, dickhead…” Jack cut him off, and the pair started in on an argument about to turn ugly. On her way up the stairs, she ran into the team’s resident empath. Just the person she didn’t want to face. She constantly feared Kitty would see her facade and know Chloe had issues with her abilities.

Chloe pasted on a smile and forced herself to remain normal. Strong. In control of herself and her abilities. “Just the person I wanted to see. Kitty, Jack needs you.

Keegan’s down there in Jack’s face, and Jack’s not having one of his better days.” Kitty sighed. “Crap. Okay.” But before Chloe could move past her, Kitty grabbed her by the shoulder. “Don’t think we’re not going to talk about this anxiety that flares up whenever I see you lately.”

Chloe frowned, sure she’d put a lid on her worries. “Not sure what you’re talking about. But Jack’s waiting.”

A burst of psychic power flashed up the stairwell. Kitty’s eyes widened, and she raced down the stairs.

Relieved at her narrow escape, Chloe hustled up the remaining steps and out the door into the staff changing room that was off-limits to everyone but her psychic peers. No one in Bend knew their history, and they intended to keep it that way.

Maintaining a low profile kept them off the government’s radar as well as let them live normal lives. More or less. She exited the room and made sure to close the door behind her, the lock overloud in the silence. On her way back into the main gym, she passed a few of the regular staff, locals who had no idea the rest of the staff bulked up because they
had
to, not just because they were into health and fitness.

Chloe nodded to their new aerobics instructor and passed Avery, their precognitive genius, on the way out. “Hey, Avery, you’re going on night shift while I’m gone on vacation. Jack will be talking to you about it soon, if you didn’t already know.”

His frown came and went in a split second. “Okay.” He stopped her before she walked past him. “One thing before you go.”

She prayed he hadn’t seen anything dire in her future. “Yeah?” He pulled her in for a hug. “Merry Christmas, sweetie.” Her return wishes that he have a nice holiday were lost, muffled against his expansive chest.

Avery laughed and let her go with a chuck under her chin and a sly look in his eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll like it once you’ve tried it.” His wink did nothing to settle her nerves. “Man, what I wouldn’t give for a pack of Doublemint gum right now.”

“You’re a loon, you know that?” She ignored his laughter and left before another of her friends delved into her business. Even the snow didn’t bother her as she left the gym and drove to Frank’s—
Ian’s
—house.

The forger previously known as Frank Hanover answered the door before she could knock. The wide smile on his face did nothing but raise her blood pressure.

“Chloe King. My
favorite
person in the whole wide world.”

“Asshole.”

He chuckled and pulled her into the house. She wasn’t surprised to see artwork all over the place. The once-master forger and art thief couldn’t stay away from paints and canvas. She’d busted him enough times to know. “All legal, Frank?”

“Quit calling me Frank. Frank’s dead and gone. I’m Ian Ryder. Say it with me.”

“Hell. Okay,
Ian
.”

“Good.”

“So, is this legal?” she asked again.

“You wound me, boss. Of course it’s legal. Mostly.” He laughed, and she remembered the first time she’d nailed him for art theft during her rookie days as a cop. So very long ago.

Ian continued, “What’s up? It has to be something important to get you to my place on your day off. Unless you’re determined to prove you can turn me from the dark side.” He wiggled his eyebrows and tried to feign interest in her breasts.

“Ian, I’m
glad
you’re gay.”

“I’m thinking of going bi for you.”

She groaned. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going away for two weeks. I need you to manage the night shift.”

Ian beamed. “Really?” He studied her with a keen eye. “Jack forced me on you, didn’t he?”

“Of course.”

He shook his head. “Too much to hope you trusted me by now. I won’t let you down, boss.”

“Stay out of my office, and stop calling me boss.”

“I will if you’ll tell me the truth.” His smile faded. “I know how to read people. I mimic for a living. I mean, I
used
to mimic for a living,” he hurried to correct. “So what’s up? The ribs are barely healed, and you’re going away without backup. The voices come back yet?”

She didn’t know what to say. “I, what, how…?”

“I know the look you get when you hear them. You haven’t made that face in weeks. But I’m told you normally hear from your otherworldly friends all the time.

So spill it, Tinker Bell, or I’m going to Jack.” She poked him in the chest. “First of all, you’re not that much taller than I am.

You’re also five years younger. So can the Tinker Bell crap.”

“Hey, I’m six foot.”

“Five-eleven, if that. And secondly, you tell anyone what you suspect, you’re on toilet duty at the gym. I’ll sic Avery on you.” He threw his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I’m just worried about you. Is that so wrong?”

She let out a breath, tired, achy, and strangely relieved to share the truth with someone, even Ian. “I have to go away. I need to regroup, so I’m going to a cabin in the woods. The coordinates are in my desk at work, under the King file.” She’d been planning to let Jack know after she’d gotten a head start on her “vacation.” Ian nodded, no questions.