Talent to Burn (Hidden Talent #1) (3 page)

On the positive side of his slate, he’d shown up fast, and hadn’t asked any questions. He rode in like a knight in shining armor, handed me a helmet, and away we went.

We took the back roads. Jamie had suggested this would make us harder to track, and I agreed. Heading back toward Seattle had also been Jamie’s idea. He said he had a friend who would help us get to Vegas from there, which would be the last thing anyone following us would expect.

At dusk, we pulled into a Bates Motel-type establishment, down to the old house on the hill. I couldn’t help laughing, although even in my own ears it sounded kind of nervous.

Jamie grinned as he pulled off his helmet and wiped the road grime from around his eyes with the back of his forearm. “In a motel of this quality I can probably park the bike in our room to hide it.”

“Our room?” Uh-oh. I hoped calling for help hadn’t given him any ideas. On the other hand, I considered his long, leather-clad body, and a twinge of lust made itself known low in my belly. I’d always had a thing for bad boys.

“We’ll get a room with two beds, if that’s what you need to be comfortable, but I want you where I can make sure nobody’s going to kidnap you in the middle of the night.”

For some reason, that didn’t make me laugh at all.

“Seriously though, let me check in, then I’ll see where I can hide the bike.”

We ended up eating bad pizza—yes, there is such a thing, if it’s literally dripping with so much grease the toppings keep sliding off—in the skanky hotel room. I didn’t feel like talking, so I turned the TV on and watched repeats of crime shows while I ate.

 
“Tell me,” Jamie said, interrupting my careful lack of thoughts. “What made you change your mind and decide to call me?”

“Oh, you know. Desperation.” I kept my gaze on the screen.

“Cat, I don’t believe you. You’ve been running and hiding from those guys for the last ten or more years. Why do you need help now?”

I put down my slice of pizza and turned to look at him, something I’d been studiously avoiding. He watched me as I moved, and I was fairly sure he’d been doing that since we sat down.

He was a big guy. The room didn’t seem big enough for both of us to sleep in, although, as he’d suggested, there were two beds. Knowing he was watching me shrank the room a little more. I was used to being on my own, and not having to explain myself to anyone.

Guess I owed him something for bailing me out at a bad time. I sighed. “Fourteen years. I’m tired of running. I want to do the things normal people do: go to school, get a degree, have a real job, a decent home, maybe a family.”

“You think helping us will get the Institute off your back?” He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t guarantee that. To be honest with you, it might have the opposite effect.”

“I don’t know. But what I do know—or feel like I’m starting to—is that I can’t run away from them any longer.” This conversation made me twitchy. Just talking about running made my leg muscles tense up.

Jamie reached out and put his hand on my shoulder once again, perhaps to calm me, I didn’t know. The heat from his hand surprised me. He ran a few degrees hotter than I did. “Time to stand and fight, huh?”

I nodded, although my stomach roiled at the thought. Dad had trained me to fight all through my adolescence, but I’d never used any of the training outside of a little push-and-slap in a bar now and then. This fight would hopefully be more figurative than literal.

“All right. Here’s what I think we should do. We don’t know what your brother was doing in Vegas. Let’s go there first and find out exactly what happened. Then we can try to follow his trail.”

“That’s what you’re good at, right?”

“Yep.” He grinned widely, giving my shoulder one last squeeze and then letting go. “Now, tell me—how did you and Eric come to be removed from one another?”

“It sounds like you know part of the story already.” Even to my own ears, I came off sour. I liked my privacy, but this wasn’t the time for it.

He shrugged. “I know he’s from the Institute and you were once there as well. I know he’s in trouble now. I know he’s your brother.”

I sighed. “I left the Grey Institute when I was eleven years old, with my father. Let’s say it was an unofficial exit.” I flashed back briefly to the night Dad had climbed in the window after lights out. Although he’d gotten in quietly, we’d set off all the alarms on our way out and I’d started running, and kept running for years. I missed having Dad for company on the road. It stopped being fun when he died.

“Why didn’t Eric go then too?”

“He didn’t want to go.” I laughed, although I didn’t find it at all funny. Talking about this made me incredibly uncomfortable.

Jamie looked surprised. “What kid would choose to stay at that place? What did they do to him?”

“Eric has always had plenty of Talent. He was a little prince at the Institute. Give up his status and go on the run…why would he? He was thirteen then and completely arrogant already.” I drew a breath and cut off my rant. “Besides, I don’t think his head would have fit through the door.” Thinking about it still made me cranky as hell. I’d consciously closed down the parts of my mind and heart that cared about Eric, and I didn’t like to open them up one bit.

“About his Talent—what could he do? Just the fires?”

“When I left, mostly the fires. Not big ones, things like setting a piece of paper on fire or lighting candles. He could also move objects a little, roll a pen across the table, stuff like that. They thought he’d be able to do a lot more as he got older.”

“And you believe they didn’t come after you before now because you didn’t have Talent?”

Had to be some silver lining, right? The old resentment flared, deep down. “I used to think I was good at hiding. After Dad died, I came to realize they weren’t chasing me because I was useless to them. I stopped being so careful. And now I’m paying for it.” Time to change the subject. I didn’t need to explore my insecurities with a stranger, no matter how charming. “Tell me, what do you know about that blond guy who’s following me?”

“Ryder.” A frown settled on Jamie’s face, and he leaned back, folding his arms. Now, that got me curious. I’d found something he didn’t want to talk about.

“If that’s his name.”

“That’s him. He’s a tracker, works for the Institute. Part of the reason for going back to Seattle is to throw them off the trail. He follows a scent, rather than finding someone like I do.”

I almost gagged, tasting the residual burn of pizza sauce in my throat. “He can smell me?” And I thought he was creepy before I knew that.

“Psychically, but yes. It’s no reflection on your personal hygiene.” No longer serious, Jamie laughed at me.

I didn’t appreciate the show of levity. The smell thing made all the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. “There’s still something disturbing about that.”

“There’s something disturbing about Ryder. He always manages to turn up when you least expect him. He’s also…cold.” The laughter had disappeared from his voice.

“Have you been through this before?”

“Seems like Ryder and I always want the same thing.”

There was a story here somewhere, and to me it had the scent of a woman. “Who usually wins?”

Jamie smiled slowly, and ran one long fingered hand through his dark hair. “Depends who you ask. But nobody’s keeping score.”

I was pretty darn sure that was a big fat lie, but who was I to call him on it? I’d been a little careful with the truth myself.

Shortly after that, I took a shower and headed for my bed, slightly less saggy than the one I’d slept in the night before, and free, thanks to Jamie’s credit card. I noted the card had a name on it that had nothing to do with either Jamie or the Order. Letting them pay suited me, and let me save my meager funds for another day. If they had untraceable funds, even better.

Once in bed, I fell asleep quickly but peace eluded me. What felt like moments later, I slammed awake, shrieking and tangled in the sweaty sheets. Someone held me down. I screamed and fought to get free, half-awake.

Chapter Four

 
At first, I didn’t know where I was, but then I registered hands on my shoulders, then strong warm arms around me, holding me, stroking my back, comforting my nightmares away. I rested my head on Jamie’s shoulder and sighed, and was then suddenly aware of bare skin against my face. His scent filled my nose, warm and headily masculine. I pushed myself back from him.

“Dreams again?” He reached up and stroked the damp hair out of my eyes. He sat on the edge of my bed in his boxer shorts, his body long and curved with muscle, not much spare flesh on him. It looked like the kind of muscle you got from doing actual physical work as opposed to pointless workouts at the gym, and the whole package covered in smooth, lightly tanned skin.

My previous guess that he probably had a couple of Celtic knot tattoos was incorrect. He did have tattoos, but they were more unusual. Not wanting to stare, I didn’t get a solid look, only the impression of writing across his chest.

 
It did me no good. He caught me sneaking a glance and my face flushed with heat. I knew from experience that flush was deep, deep red on my pale complexion. As if I wasn’t uncomfortable enough already.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest.

He raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you wouldn’t have such odd dreams if you didn’t insist on sleeping in jeans and a sweatshirt.”

“I blame the pizza.” The lie sounded pathetic even to me. I didn’t want to undress in front of him, and if we had to run in the middle of the night, I didn’t want to be running in my underwear.

“Seriously though, did your dreams tell you anything?”

I bit back a sigh. Another one. He didn’t know how much of a sore point this was for me. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you—my dreams don’t tell me anything. Yes, I dreamed about Eric, yes, I dreamed about a fire. No, there weren’t any details that are predictive of anything or would be useful to anyone.”

“Have you tried hypnosis?”

“I’ve tried everything. Or rather, they tried everything.” I looked away from him, down at the blankets, and squeezed my arms around myself. I wouldn’t cry in front of him.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” His voice was quiet.

I felt off kilter for many reasons—being asked about the dreams was the least of them. It was odd to have someone there when I woke up screaming. It had been years, and the last time it had been my dad.

“I’m going to wash my face.” I needed to clear my head and take a step back from Jamie.

He glanced over at the old-fashioned clock radio as the hour flipped over with a click. “It’s about time we got going anyway, if we’re going to meet the plane.”

“The plane? I thought you said you had a friend who would help.” A shiver of cold ran through me. Planes meant documentation, which I didn’t have. And flying, which I’d never done.

“I do. He happens to have a plane and that’s how he’ll help us. And it will make it harder for them to follow us. We can fly direct to Vegas.”

Oh. “No tickets or anything for them to trace, huh?”

“That’s right. It’ll also make it harder for Ryder to follow our scent.”

I shuddered, imagining the blond man sniffing the air in this room after we’d left it. How much would he know about what I’d felt, thought, seen?

The sooner we could lose our tail, the happier I’d be.

When we got to the airfield outside Seattle, Jamie’s friend waited for us. A tall guy in dark glasses walked out from behind the hangar, said hi, then merely gestured at the plane and headed for it himself. Jamie did not introduce us. I stifled the awkwardness. We were trying to sneak out of town, after all, and it would probably be easier if this guy never even knew my name.

Wow. I was hardly an expert but the plane looked more like “private jet” than “crop duster” to me. Clearly, Jamie’s friend wasn’t short of a buck. Was this standard operating procedure for the Order? Anonymous credit cards, private planes? I could get used to this, but the big budget reminded me unpleasantly of the Institute. I wondered where the money came from.

Once on board, I held the armrests of my comfy leather seat in a death grip.

Jamie stretched out in the seat next to me. “Bit nicer than the Greyhound bus, don’t you agree? Do you want a drink?”

I nodded. “It’s better than the bus. I’ll have a double bourbon.” That ought to help the nerves. He rose and fetched it from a small bar without comment and I tossed it back as he sat down next to me.

“That was fast.” Jamie leaned over and bumped my elbow gently. “Not a good flier? You’re pale as hell.”

“I don’t know.” I put down the empty glass and went back to gripping my armrests.

“We’re still on the ground. You don’t need to hold on just yet.” He raised one eyebrow, considering. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Those of us that live under the official radar don’t exactly fly a lot. I never had the money, anyway. Bar work and international jet-setting don’t exactly go together.” Yes, I had no Talent. No, I had no money, either. Today was not a great day for my ego.