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Authors: Shiloh Walker

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Romance Suspense

The Missing (34 page)

BOOK: The Missing
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“Hmmm.” Taige didn’t bother asking again. Instead, she reached out and grabbed Penny’s wrist. Pushing her way inside a person’s mind left a bad taste in Taige’s mouth. She wasn’t a mind reader, and she was damn thankful of that. A person’s thoughts were private, and they should remain that way.
Using her gift like this left her feeling dirty and upset, because it was wrong. It wasn’t something she had to do much, thank God. Usually, she followed psychic imprints left in the environment. But while she couldn’t read minds, she could read imprints; fresh imprints were even clearer than a person’s thoughts, and what she picked up from Penny was as clear and detailed as a blueprint.
Narrowing her eyes, Taige stared at Penny’s face.
“He’s at your house.”
Penny gasped and jerked against Taige’s hold, struggling to break free. “At your house—with your
granddaughter
.”
Behind her, Cullen snarled, “Son of a
bitch
.”
Sick, Taige let go of Penny’s hand, and the woman folded her hands at her waist and gave Taige a pious smile. “Really, Taige. What kind of a language is that? No good, God-fearing soul speaks that way.”
“No good, God-fearing soul lets a man like my uncle put his hands on a child,” Taige said, her gut churning.
But Penny just smiled. “The girl has the devil inside her. Just like her mama. Just like you. I failed with my daughter, just like Leon failed with you. We’re both stronger now. We’ll save my grandchild.”
There was another part of Taige’s ability that really made her uncomfortable. Using it to cause physical harm left her riddled with guilt. But she doubted it would be much of an issue this time. She slammed into Penny’s mind with all the strength she had in her, and when the woman collapsed to the ground, silent, Taige smiled in satisfaction.
She didn’t have a chance too often to use her handcuffs, but she still carried them, just like she carried the Bureau ID and just like she carried the Glock. And she was just as competent with the cuffs as she was with the gun, crouching down beside Penny’s unconscious body. “Help me sit her up,” she said to Cullen. He braced Penny’s body, while Taige cuffed her with her arms behind her back, looping them around the leg of the breakfast bar.
Taige didn’t know how long Penny would be out. That little gift was unpredictable, and it wasn’t one she practiced much. It wasn’t one she could practice much, unless somebody volunteered to get psychically sucker punched. It could last a couple hours, a couple days, or, if Penny’s will was really strong, a matter of minutes.
Thus the cuffs. It wouldn’t do to have Penny wake up and call Leon, alerting him to the fact that Taige and Cullen were coming for him. “Can you check her purse, see if she’s got a license or something? We need to find her house.”
ELEVEN
IT was an older house, one that had withstood hurricanes, floods, and time. It sat by itself on a piece of land, and Taige’s gut churned with nerves as they approached. Training had kicked in, making her think. They had to approach on foot. If Leon heard them coming, he could do God only knew what to the poor kid he had with him.
There was a chance that he’d know they were coming anyway, and not because of some warning from his Looney Tunes assistant, but because he’d sense Taige, the same way she could sense him. Hopefully, all the years of training and honing her gift would give her the advantage. She concentrated on muffling her presence, muffling Cullen’s. Cullen’s natural resistance to psychic energy was once more going to work in her favor. The anger inside him would normally alert any and every psychic within a mile range or more that he was coming, but his resistance muffled his emotions and his thoughts.
Combined with Taige’s efforts, she thought they probably had him pretty much shut down.
Still, it was risky going in like this. The team was coming. On the drive over, Taige’s phone had started to vibrate, and she read the message on the display. The team was en route with an ETA of thirty minutes. Jones must have had them on standby—hell, he had probably been following her with the damn GPS for days.
It wouldn’t surprise her at all, and right now, she wasn’t even that irritated by it.
The team would come in handy. Even if he managed to get past Taige and Cullen, there was no way Leon could evade some of Jones’s psychic bloodhounds. He had a couple of psychics working for him who made Taige’s abilities look like some hokey Gypsy fortune-teller at a county fair.
They kept to the tree line, and Taige thanked God that it had been getting late when they got back to Gulf Shores. Now it was full night, and they had the cover of darkness to help conceal them as they crossed the empty, exposed field between the trees and the old farmhouse.
It was quiet.
She couldn’t hear any sign of life, but she could sense him. Closing her eyes, she focused on the trail Leon hadn’t bothered wiping clean. When she opened her eyes again, she started circling around the house, searching for . . .
There.
The doors to the storm cellar were closed but unlocked. The hinges squeaked, and in the silence of the night, they sounded terribly loud. Logically, she knew they weren’t all that loud, but still, she winced. Opening just one door, she ducked inside, and Cullen followed close on her heels.
At the bottom of the steps was a door. It looked out of place in the old storm cellar, clean, extremely modern, and very locked. Leaning against the door, she strained to hear something, but there was nothing. Either nobody was making any noise on the other side, or that door was damn good at muffling sound.
She had her lock picks on her this time, and she pulled them out and went to work, cursing the dim light that fell through the sole open door. Cullen had a flashlight, but she’d told him not to turn it on unless she said so, and she didn’t want to use it now and risk alerting Leon to their presence.
Sweat dripped down her face as she worked. She’d done this in darker, worse conditions than this, and she could do it again.
There: a faint clicking sound. She turned the doorknob, and it moved, but still, the door wouldn’t open. Damn it. Obviously somebody really wanted the door to stay closed. She stood and gave Cullen a look. He didn’t even have to ask. She stood by as he kicked the door. Wood groaned, but it didn’t give. He swore and then struck again, harder this time.
Wood splintered, and the door flew open with a crash. Light spilled into the stairwell and they both stood, frozen with shock, for a brief second.
Leon was in there, all right, his face wet with sweat, his eyes bright and mad—with a whip in his hand that came screaming through the air to land on the slender, naked back of a girl who looked to be all of thirteen or fourteen.
Her uncle wasn’t aware of them. It was like nothing in the world existed, save for the helpless girl lying facedown in front of him. Blood streaked down her back and sides in rivulets, pooling on the table where she lay restrained. Thick leather straps held her in place at her waist, her thighs, each of her hands, each of her feet. Her head was turned so that she faced them, but there was no sense in her eyes. Nothing but terror and pain. As the whip landed, she made no sound.
It would have been hard to, because Leon had effectively gagged her with a piece of silvery gray duct tape. Above the strip of tape, her face was bruised and battered. Taige could see the imprint of a hand on her cheek, and the telltale bruising around her throat where somebody had wrapped their hands around her neck and squeezed. Both of her eyes were bruised and so swollen, it was amazing she could even open them.
It took less than a few seconds to take all of that in, but it seemed forever. Like a movie trapped in slow motion, Taige could see herself turn to look at Leon, each movement painstakingly slow. She was aware of each breath, each heartbeat. Fury knotted her muscles.
Still unaware of Taige, Leon lifted the whip, screaming out, “Will you repent?”
His own fury had blinded and deafened him, because he remained unaware of them until Taige pounced. Time sped back up as she leaped for him, using her weight to ride him to the floor, and there, she started to hit him.
Over and over. Pain shot up her arm, hands grabbed her and tried to pull her away, and still, she pummeled Leon. He screamed and swore, words that no decent preacher would ever speak. He struggled underneath her, and without thinking twice, Taige used her mind, blasting through his shields to hold him immobile with her gift. “You sick son of a bitch. You bastard,” she screamed at him, seeking some outlet for the fury inside her.
But nothing helped. The anger grew, threatened to overwhelm her. Hands once more grabbed her arms, and Taige struggled against Cullen as he pulled her off and hauled her away from Leon, kicking and screaming.
Part of him wanted to turn around and finish the job as Cullen struggled to control Taige. She fought against him with the strength and fury of a tiger, snarling, practically growling. “Taige.” He called her name over and over, but there was no response. Finally, he dragged her over to the table where the girl was still lying, breathing shallowly and staring into space with the blank gaze of a doll. “Taige, damn it, she needs your help. She needs us.”
Leon lay in a pummeled, bloodied mess behind them. Taige fought a little more, squirming, but Cullen used his body to block Taige’s view of her uncle, and that seemed to break through the rage, reaching the woman inside. Her breath wheezed in and out of her lungs. Slowly, cautiously, he reached up and cupped her face, forced her to look at the girl. “She needs us, Taige.”
The girl.
Taige blinked and stared at the girl.
Yeah, focus on the girl.
The girl’s eyes stared at her, but Taige knew the girl saw nothing. She’d retreated into the safety of her mind. Whether or not she’d ever come out was something that only time would tell.
At least she’s alive . . .
But Taige knew there could easily come a time when the girl didn’t share that sentiment.
Taige had experienced brutality at the hands of her uncle before, but never anything like this. Not in her worst nightmares. “We need to get her up,” she said, her voice hoarse. It hurt to speak, hell, it hurt to even breathe. She pulled the phone from her belt and punched in 911. After calling for an ambulance and the police, she disconnected and then called Jones.
The team would be there in another fifteen minutes, and after he told her that, Jones laid into her for going in alone. Just as before, she glanced at Cullen and told her boss, “I’m not alone.”
“One of these days, you’ll find yourself in a mess that we can’t get you out of,” Jones said. He had the same tone that a principal would have used on a recalcitrant student, and Taige cared for it about as much as that student would have.
“Kiss ass, Jones,” she said sourly, and then she disconnected before he could start demanding some kind of status report.
The status is that my sorry, son-of-a-bitching uncle is still breathing.
Fighting to control her rage, she glanced back at Leon again. He still lay on the ground, moaning, his breath whistling through his busted nose.
At the moment, he was unconscious. More than anything, she wanted to pull the Glock at her side, level it at his head, and pump him full of lead. She wanted it with an intensity that scared her.
Hatred—finally, Taige understood the hatred that had driven him, and it was that knowledge alone that kept her from pulling her gun. She wanted him dead too much to do it herself.
“Watch him.”
Cullen smirked. “Great idea, baby. Like I don’t want to finish him off myself.”
Despite herself, she laughed. “Kind of like asking the wolf to guard the sheep,” she murmured as she approached the girl, staying where she could see the girl’s face. That way, the girl could see her—in theory. But she was lying there, still, motionless, her eyes not even tracking Taige’s movements. “God help her,” she whispered softly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He can’t hurt you again. He can’t hurt you . . .”
Nothing Taige did or said had any effect. The girl didn’t so much as blink when Taige touched her, and if it wasn’t for the warmth of her flesh and the blood still trickling from the open wounds on her back, Taige would have been checking for a pulse. Her pupils were mere pinpricks, and her breathing came in short, shallow pants. “She’s in shock,” she muttered grimly.
Damn it.
She didn’t how what in the hell do for her other than free her. Rolling her onto her back would be best, so Taige could elevate the girl’s feet, but her back looked like raw meat, crisscrossed with so many open, bleeding cuts. “Can you carry her out of here?” Taige asked quietly. The ambulance would be there soon, but Taige just couldn’t let her remain on the table another second. She went to work on the thick leather straps, freeing the ones at her waist and thighs first. The blood on the straps and the tears in Taige’s eyes made it slow going.
BOOK: The Missing
6.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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