Part 2 (2/2)

A hammer smashed against her right shoulder, drilling fiery pain. Rowan stumbled and saw blood bloomon the pavement. She kept going, but she tripped over her own feet and almost fell headlong. Heavy gelid warmth flowed down her right arm, slipping against the inside of her coat sleeve, the lining now slicked with blood that dripped off her fingertips. The sense of heaviness fighting every step eased. She had made it through the concentric rings of psychic pressure.

Like a gift, the black van appeared, its side door open. Boomer leaned out, his face contorted with effort as his limited telepathic ability reached toward her, a fine, thin thread of help Rowan grabbed at, and she fell gratefully into his arms. He yanked her inside and Henderson jammed the accelerator down as Cath dragged the door shut.

But Rowan didn't care. She closed her eyes, the leftover pressure of the Sigma psions snapping as soon as she was in the van's s.h.i.+elded interior. The vehicle swayed as Henderson took a corner, rocketing toward the freeway on-ramp and zigging at the last second to plunge the van into the shadow of a tree-lined lane. The Sig net was left behind, and there was no pursuit. The cops were too busy trying to sort out the mess at Lew's office building. ”Lew?” she whispered in a cracked voice.

Nine-tenths of her didn't care, was hunting frantically for the contact. It had been familiar, as familiar to her as her own breath. It was him, and she'd felt the dizzying electrical crackling over her skin that told her he was close. Very close.

”She's bleeding pretty badly,” Boomer said. ”Winged her, went right through the meat in the upper arm.

d.a.m.n lucky there's no bone.”

”We got him, Ro,” Cath said.

More pain grated against Rowan's shoulder as someone's hand clamped over the b.l.o.o.d.y wound. There was the rip of a pack of sterile gauze and the hiss of an antiseptic pack. ”Just relax. Lew's safe.”

”Justin,” Rowan whispered, and pa.s.sed out.

Chapter Four.

Delgado leaned against the alley's wall, his head pounding no less than his heart. What the h.e.l.l did I just do?

If he wasn't so sure he was sane, he might have wondered if the Zed had finally cracked him. Andrews was in the van, leaning out the open side door while collating and doing damage control, conferring with two handlers while warily eyeing Agent Breaker. Delgado wasn't needed, so he simply stood with his back against the brick, his only avenue of escape blocked by the van, his arms folded, apparently composed. Inside, his heart labored and his breathing threatened to short out completely.

What the h.e.l.l had happened? One moment they'd been tightening the net, ready to bring in Price and the precog-Lewis, whoever the h.e.l.l he was-and snare the other Society members too.

The next moment it had all gone to h.e.l.l in a handbasket. The woman thought quickly on her feet. She had worked the crowd like a pro. She'd also managed to tangle up the collective will of several Society psions set in a circle around the site, all concentrating on bringing her down. It was incredible. He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it himself.

But the most incredible thing of all had been the wave of fear and pain rocketing out from Price, as if she'd been shot. Delgado's stomach had flipped, and every psion in sensing range had flinched. Hard on the heels of that psychic cry, Del had realized she was deliberately broadcasting to throw them off, and the knowledge had frozen him in place. That should have been impossible, both for her to do it and for him to know her intent. Andrews had shoved him out of the van, and he'd made it to the ground and moved smoothly and habitually into the prescribed guard position, unwilling to let Andrews suspect he was having any deep philosophical thoughts.

Bitter copper flooded his mouth, the taste of adrenaline. The heat out here was incredible, simmering even in the alley's shadow. A hot stink of garbage rose, everyone ignored it. The comms inside the van crackled-cleanup taking place, the Sigs coordinating with each other.

If the van hadn't been there, Delgado might have tried to get the h.e.l.l out and disappear.

”Get me a trace,” Andrews said. ”Something, anything. Now.”

Delgado filled his lungs and tried to force his heart to stop pounding. She had linked with him, her mind sliding through his apparently with ease and familiarity.

And she knew his name, the name he'd left behind as dead. n.o.body called him that, it was Del, Delgado, or ”Breaker,” not Justin. But she'd said it as if it was old habit, as if she'd resurrected that name for him.

Hearing it was like waking up in his own grave with a mouth full of dirt and his skin wet with mud.

Had he known Rowan Price? Was that what he'd pushed himself to forget? How well had he known her? Had they been friends? Teacher and student?

Justin, no! Her horrified mental scream rang inside his head again.

Lovers? No, probably not that. He was too damaged.

It's me. Don't you remember? A lovely contralto husk of a voice that made his body tighten with recognition, a wash of complex feeling boiling through him-desperation, relief, and a deep aching he couldn't name. If she hadn't been so hurried he might have gone a little further, instead of simply reaching through her to strike at the Sig with the close-cropped hair and guiding Price free of the net. The instinctto protect her had been deep, immediate, and full of a terrible fury.

But the most incredible, absolutely unbelievable part? It hadn't hurt.

Agent Breaker, whose talent could crack a mind like an eggsh.e.l.l given the proper motivation, had one severe drawback. His Talent killed or drove people mad. He literally couldn't make mental contact without pain for his subject and himself.

But linking with her hadn't hurt. Suddenly, he was intensely hungry to do it again-feel the brush of that clean, deep mind against his, feel the strange sense of calm sinking into his skin with a crackling electric glaze.

”Delgado,” Andrews barked.

Do I kill him now or later? It was tempting. For a moment Delgado considered unleas.h.i.+ng his talent on Andrews. It would be satisfying, if agonizing, to break the Colonel's lapdog. And then he could elude the Sigs and follow the woman who had turned all their careful plans and procedures into a complete cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k.

Easy as pie, right?

Only one consideration stopped him. He had to get as much information as he could from Sigma before he made his break for freedom. It was the way he'd done it before.

A mind I can make contact with, without pain. And she knew something about him, something he had pushed himself to forget. The hypo-marks in his arms burned, reminding him that very soon he'd need another dose of Zed. If he wanted to break the addiction again, could he? It had been h.e.l.l the first time.

But now he had an objective to pursue, not just a simple escape to plan. And if there was anything Sigma had trained him for, it was the single-minded pursuit of a target.

”Delgado!” Andrews repeated. Del stiffened reflexively.

”What?” She got away from you. Good luck catching her now. I must have trained her; she's too good for anything else.

Anderson's blue eyes blazed. For a moment Del wondered if he was going to unleash his own talent on Del. That wouldn't be comfortable for either of them.

Maybe Andrews remembered that, because he only snarled, ”You f.u.c.king well trained her, what's she going to do now?”

Yap, yap, little dog. That's the wrong question. The right question is, what is Henderson going to do now? He'll wait for a little less than twenty-four hours and then break camp and move everyone out, after Sigma thinks he's already blown town. If you want to catch them, you'd better start setting up grids now.

”They'll be heading out of town,” he lied smoothly. ”As fast as f.u.c.king possible, they'll head for the city limits. They'll be gone in two hours max. Not enough time to get a full-scale grid going.”

For you, Miss Price, he thought. I'm not going to let them catch you until I've had a little chat with you myself.The woman probably couldn't hear him. There was no answering echo inside his head. The need to feel her again was almost as bad as the need for Zed. If he put the two addictions together, which one would win out?

I don't want to be caught in the middle of that. He was still trying to track down the third emotion she'd drowned him with. Desperation, relief, and what else? What had she been feeling? It bothered him that he couldn't find a word to describe such a clear beautiful feeling. It was too pure, and he had nothing to compare it to.

Andrews's blue eyes narrowed. ”Why?” he challenged.

”Because it's what I'd do.” I wouldn't. I'd b.u.t.ton everyone down and stay tight unless you were running grids. ”And I supposedly trained her.”

”Did you train her?” Andrews hopped out of the van-turned-impromptu-command-center, landing as lightly as a cat. If Del was going to attack him, the time was now. He let the moment pa.s.s.

”She's too good for anything else,” he replied. His voice was steady, and his pulse had returned to its regular rhythm.

”Where's she going next? How can we track her?”

Get a f.u.c.king grid going now, you idiot. ”Set up check teams on every major avenue out of town for the next couple of hours. Then you're going to have to s.h.i.+ft to chatscan.” Delgado shrugged. ”If you sent me out with a full team and support, you might be able to catch her.”

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