Part 12 (1/2)

”Don't worry about me.” He hissed in a breath, s.h.i.+fted his weight. The weightlessness of an elevator descending tugged at her stomach.

What if Sigma's out there? She didn't mean for him to hear the thought, but he did, and a flood of rea.s.surance tingled through her tired, battered head. G.o.d, even a normal person's open sewer of a mind was better than that blind, rotting touch, squirming like maggots inside her skull. Justin's clear, cold calm dispelled the fog of pain and made it easier to think. The walls between them had been shattered. She had the uncomfortable feeling that a mental door between them had been blown off its hinges and she might not be able to put it back on. And something else taunted her, something about what had just happened dancing just outside her mental reach.Then I'll get us out. Brew and Yosh can't stay forever. If they're gone we'll have to steal a car.

Have to stop and wash up, get the blood off. Chest hurts. Don't think about that. Think he got me with that d.a.m.n stiletto. Ouch.

Beating under his thoughts was a collage of aches and pains. The feeling of needles all over her skin was his, from the Zed withdrawal.

”Justin.” She laid her head against his shoulder, wis.h.i.+ng it would stop hurting. Whatever the other man had done, she needed a few minutes to close her eyes and find the wellspring of calm inside herself. She felt filthy, as if the inside of her head had been dipped in slime. Her wrist hurt, a sharp pain under the fuzziness of approaching unconsciousness. ”Glad you're h-here.”

”Me too, angel.” He eased a gun out of the holster, gathered himself to ”blur” them. It hurt, but he discarded the pain. Rowan helped as much as she could, but she was exhausted. She doubted she could use any of her talent without pa.s.sing out. ”Nowhere else I'd rather be.”

The elevator slowed. ”Please,” Rowan whispered, not sure who or even what she was asking.

The doors opened, and Justin went still and cold beside her. But Rowan couldn't worry about it, because her tenuous grasp on consciousness failed and she pa.s.sed out.

Chapter Twenty.

It wasn't the lobby. It was a short hall with doors on either side and the double gla.s.s doors giving out onto the front parking lot. Brew and Yos.h.i.+ should be gone by now. Going to have to steal a car.

As if the thought had summoned them, he saw the black SUV glide to a stop, street lamp s.h.i.+ne sliding wetly off its paint.

I am going to court-martial both of them, he thought irritably, dragging Rowan along. Thankfully, she had pa.s.sed out. He wasn't sure if he could stand feeling the agonizing pain that beat inside her head. Or the sense of violation. Carson had d.a.m.n near raped her mind, almost smas.h.i.+ng in to take control of her, to break her the way he'd broken plenty of other psions. It was ironic in the extreme that if she hadn't been so G.o.dd.a.m.n gifted the blind man would have had a harder time with her. He wasn't so effective when it came to precogs or telekinetics, but other telepaths and empaths were critically vulnerable to the Tracker.

Hurt her. He hurt her. Rage rose, and he smothered it. He couldn't afford to get angry and lose his focus.

The back driver's side door opened smoothly. ”Let's get the h.e.l.l out of here,” he said, manhandling Rowan into the car. Yos.h.i.+ leaned over on the pa.s.senger side and helped as much as he could, pulling her to safety. Then Del was in beside her, sucking in a deep breath that hurt all the way down.

The stiletto. It hit deep. Hope it didn't scratch a lung. But I'd be having trouble breathing if it did.

Yos.h.i.+'s dark eyes met his as Brew pressed down on the gas pedal. Pavement began to slip under the car's broad tires. ”You look awful.” Yos.h.i.+ offered him a Handi Wipe. ”What happened?”

”Carson.” Del smoothed it over his face, wiping away blood. The scalp wound itched. ”Got to Ro somehow. I put his G.o.dd.a.m.n psychopath down and hit the blind man with everything I had. Hope it was enough. G.o.ddammit, Brew, can't you go any faster?”

”If you want to be arrested, I can.” Brew, used to postcombat jitters, didn't take offense. Yos.h.i.+, leaning over the front seat, watched Delgado. Then his dark, eloquent eyes s.h.i.+fted to Rowan, slumped against a pile of hurriedly-stacked gear. Her pale hair had come loose, glowing in the faint light.

It was the darkest part of early morning, the time when old men died. One old man died tonight, I hope. If he recovers from that push he'll ... No, he won't. I've killed him. I sank a knife in his throat. He can't have survived that. Please tell me I've killed the two men that nearly killed me the first time I escaped. Have I gotten better or have they gotten worse?

Hard to get worse than dead. Please let them be dead.

Yos.h.i.+ continued to study Rowan. Jealousy rose sharp and vicious, and Del took a deep breath.

”She is a very dear friend,” Yos.h.i.+ said suddenly, very clearly. ”But no more than a friend.”

Oh, Christ. Del leaned over, finding the seat belt and strapping Rowan in. She wasn't physically hurt, but he wanted to check, to run his fingers over her to make sure.

”Not like it matters,” he mumbled. His cheeks felt hot. Was he f.u.c.king blus.h.i.+ng? He hoped not. It was too dark to tell, thank G.o.d. You probably deserve her more than me anyway.”It matters,” Yos.h.i.+ persisted. ”She's very attached to you, Del.”

”Leave him alone, mate. He's had a hard night.” Brew sounded amused. Almost as if he was suppressing a chuckle, his crisp British accent blurring a little under the weight of laughter.

Don't they realize we're possibly in the middle of a Sig net? Carson and what's-his-face weren't working alone, were they? Then again, Carson usually does work alone. He worked alone the first time he found me. And Ro didn't sense any Sigs. Then again, with Carson there, they might have been under dampers and he could technically keep a small team under wraps, he's talented enough ... Dammit, Del, keep your G.o.dd.a.m.n mind on business. Now's not the time to be debriefing, now's the time to clean yourself up and make sure you can fight again if you have to.

Get your team to capacity before unraveling the rest of it.

”Is there a medkit back here?” He swiped at his face again, cleaning off even more blood.

”You bet there is. Look under her elbow.”

For some reason, Brew seemed to find this incredibly funny. At least he shook with mostly repressed mirth, though the car didn't waver on the road.

Del worked the medkit out from under Rowan's elbow. She was out cold. Now that he had a chance to breathe, his shoulder wrenched with pain. He probably had almost dislocated it. And the knife hadn't helped any. Neither had the shot to the face, and the little j.a.panese snot had probably cracked a rib.

Lucky it wasn't his spleen. His back hurt, too. The shot to his kidneys.

He suddenly realized he hadn't been thinking about Zed withdrawal for the last half-hour. Instead, he'd been concentrating solely on getting Rowan out of a dicey situation. He hadn't bothered to think about his own survival.

Yos.h.i.+ slid back into his seat and punched Brew lightly on the shoulder. It was a rare gesture of camaraderie. Brew said something too low to be heard over the soughing of tires on the road as he turned onto the main drag. Lights flashed red and blue in the distance. Police lights.

Brew obeyed the speed limit and took the freeway ramp. Del kept watch out the back window, his hand on Rowan's knee, rea.s.suring himself that she was still alive. He caught no breath of pursuit, but he kept checking. Finally, he let out the long breath he seemed to have been holding since realizing the stairwell was trapped.

Rowan made a small sleepy sound. Del glanced down at her, his heart finally beginning to slow down.

His lungs didn't hurt quite as much now. She wasn't very hurt, just had a nosebleed and a slight scratch on her scalp as well as a bruised wrist. He spread antiseptic over the cut and wiped the blood away, checked her again. Pulse strong, her breathing even. She was out cold. The best thing for her right now was rest. Her violated psyche needed a little oblivion to distance itself from Carson's filthy touch.

He managed to bandage himself and changed his s.h.i.+rt in the back seat, wincing and hoping his ribs weren't truly cracked.

Then again, hanging around her will heal me up in no time. He swallowed the sick, acid taste of fear. Just rest, angel. I'll take care of everything.

”How did they find us?” Brew shook his head. ”What should we do? Henderson needs to know about this.”

”G.o.dd.a.m.n Carson.” Del coughed and considered spitting out the window. How did Carson get soG.o.dd.a.m.n close? ”Think he triggered the cops on us to flush us out?”

”We were clean. You were clean when you came to the house.” Yos.h.i.+ stared straight ahead out the winds.h.i.+eld. ”I scanned you and every inch of gear you brought in. Maybe they caught some chatter or codestringing. d.a.m.n it.”

Del was about to reply, but a horrible thought froze him. The Zed. The bag with the Zed. Maybe the last hypo had a tracker, or the bag itself. My G.o.d. I could have led Sigma straight to them.

He didn't know for sure, but it was a d.a.m.n good guess, and it felt right to his gut. ”It doesn't matter,” he said harshly. ”We got out of there and Rowan's safe. We'll be cautious and go radio-silent for a while.”

Brew accepted this with a nod. ”Glad you're here, Del. I wouldn't want to take on Carson alone.”

If the old man hadn't been so occupied with Rowan, I would have been dead in the water. She was vulnerable to him, but she put up a h.e.l.l of a good fight. Delgado s.h.i.+vered. Now was not the time to think about what could have happened.

”Glad I was here too,” he mumbled, and settled back in the seat, watching Rowan's breathing. ”Let's just hope I hurt them bad enough that they can't follow for a day or so.”

Rowan stayed in a soupy, half-conscious daze for a good three days. They reached the new headquarters thirty-six hours after the attack and Del half-carried her into the main house. He had to admit, Henderson had outdone himself this time. The new base for the Society was a former Catholic school and seminary perched outside a pair of cities that glared at each other over a river and a state line.

They were close enough to the urban sprawl that the static of so many deadheads would camouflage them, yet far enough away and with considerable grounds attached to the old school to give them some privacy, plenty of escape routes and room for expansion. It was just about perfect, especially since the property was near an old defunct gravel pit. They had already started the excavations that would eventually make an underground complex too, but it would take a good five years or so before they had anything like the extensive transports and other advantages of the last Headquarters. Having the gravel pit next door would provide them with the perfect means to get construction equipment and get rid of the excavation debris. Concrete and crushed rock could be sold and a legitimate business used as a front.