Brain Storm, Cat Gilbert [read books for money TXT] 📗

“You had help there,” he snapped out. My reference to his failed attempt in Little Rock had obviously irritated him. “You’re all alone this time.”

As if to prove his point, Lars opened his door and got out, drawing his gun out from under his jacket as he rounded the car and pointed it in my direction. The sight of the gun didn’t bother me as much as the cold look of determination in his eyes. A glimmer of doubt passed through me, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Had I misread him? Lars knew where Jonas and Trinity were. Mac had told him. Told him how to convince me that he was on my side. What if the whole thing had been a sham? How did I know that Mac wasn’t working against me the whole time? How did I really even know if he was actually hurt? He could have been working for Hughes the whole time. What did I really know?

I heard the warehouse door open behind me, the light from inside casting long shadows around us.

“Put the gun down Lars. We don’t want any accidents, do we?” The bottom of my stomach dropped out at the sound of his voice, and I froze, afraid to turn around and see what my gut was telling me was the truth.

“Hello, darling.” His voice brought echoes of the past surging through my mind. I knew that voice better than I knew my own. It was the voice of love and security. The voice of happiness and tender moments. The day I realized I would never hear that voice again had been devastating, but it was nothing to what I was feeling now. The pain that ripped through me nearly brought me to my knees. Anything, anything, God, for this not to be true.

I braced myself, slowly turning to face him, and looked into the eyes of my dead husband. Shock left me speechless, unable to do anything but stare at the smiling face that mere moments ago I would have given anything to see again.

“What? No loving embrace for your husband, back from the grave?” He held out his arms as if he actually expected me to rush into them, assuming a hurt, pouting look on his face when I didn’t. I felt a tremble roll through me at his mocking words and Lars moved up so close behind me, I could practically feel his heartbeat through the back of my shirt.

“Inside. Now,” he ordered, dropping his arms, apparently tired of the game. Lars shoved me forward, and I stumbled, barely managing to stay on my feet. He grabbed me by the arm, hoisted me back up and pushed me through the door.

Once inside, Lars dragged me over to a chair propped against the far wall and I collapsed onto it as he took up station next to me.

“Cuff her to the chair,” Hughes ordered. “We don’t want her to run.”

I offered no resistance as Lars grabbed my right wrist and clicked the cuff tightly around it.

“Snap out of it,” he hissed in my ear as he leaned past to latch the other end of the cuff to the chair back. I looked at him, dazed. I understood what he wanted, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do anything. I felt dead, my arms and legs heavy, as if I was drowning, my brain fogged over in mist.

“Taylor.” It was Keith. His voice sounded like he was underwater, where he was supposed to be, instead of standing in front of me. I easily tuned it out, along with everything else, and stared at the floor, safe in the cocoon of nothingness that I’d retreated to. I was so tired of dealing with all this, and I so didn’t want to deal with him and all the things his being here meant. I didn’t even want to think about it.

The slap sent me out of the chair and onto the floor, and I looked up to see Hughes, standing over me, a smile on his face as he drew back to hit me again. My right hand might have been cuffed to the chair, but there was nothing wrong with my left, and I put everything behind it as I came up on my feet and caught Hughes in the throat with my fist. He went down like a sack of potatoes, gasping for air, as Lars stepped quickly between us effectively stopping either of us from doing any more damage.

He grabbed the chair and sat it down hard enough to smash it and shoved me down on it, while Hughes rolled over onto his hands and knees, struggling to get to his feet. I watched him as blood dripped from my chin, my feet braced to move as soon as he came at me again.

As he gained his feet, I wrapped my cuffed hand around the metal frame of the chair and waited. No way was he going to hit me again.

“Enough!” Keith barked the command, stopping Hughes in his tracks. “You should have learned the first time Hughes. Why don’t you make yourself useful and get Dr. Connors.”

Hughes threw a threatening look my way, and I had no doubt that if he got the chance later, he’d finish what he’d started. I hoped he didn’t get the chance. I’d gotten in a lucky hit. He’d be ready the next time, and I doubted I’d get that lucky again. I used my sleeve to wipe the blood off my face as he stormed out the door we had come through and slammed it shut in a fury.

“Get her a towel and some ice,” Keith ordered, looking at me in disgust.

Lars hesitated, giving me a warning look before he walked off, disappearing behind some crates.

“You’ve been a lot of trouble, Taylor. A lot of trouble.” He walked over to a table that was set up against a concrete column and poured himself a cup of coffee. He lifted the lid to the box of donuts and perused the contents for a few minutes, before deciding against one. “Let’s hope you’re worth it.”

I sat quietly watching him, trying to reconcile the man I knew with the one standing in front of me now. The problem was, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever really known him. I had the sinking feeling the man I thought I knew was one that had never actually existed.

Lars came back with a bag of ice and a cool, wet towel. I took it and wiped my face, putting pressure on the cut Hughes had gouged along my cheekbone. My eye felt puffy, and I could feel the skin tightening around it. Hughes had gotten me good, completely off guard.

“Guess that depends on how much they’re paying you, doesn’t it.” I removed the towel and checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. It hadn’t, but it had slowed down enough for me to put ice on it. I refolded the towel to a clean spot, filled it with ice and settled it gently in place.

“Ah. She finally talks. And that’s what you want to know? Your dead husband suddenly turns up and all you want to know is how much they’re paying me? Fascinating. But then you always were a little odd.” He drained his coffee and threw the cup across the room to bank it off the wall into a waste basket. So calm. So cool. So alive.

“I’d be interested in that answer myself.” I looked up to see Dr. Connors come into the room, Hughes trailing close behind him. “What is the going rate on betraying the woman you love these days?”

“Not much, Connors. The people I work for don’t put much value on love. But then again, you’re assuming that I actually ever loved her.” He looked at me as he said it, wanting to see if his barb had hit the mark. “Keep him over there, Hughes. I don’t want them too close together.”

Hughes pushed Connors down to sit on the floor as far away from me as he could get him and stay in the same general area. How Hughes was able to touch him and not feel the power emanating from him was beyond me. I could feel it now, a snapping current in the air, and I was nowhere near him.

“If that’s true, Keith, then why the charade?” I asked, not bothering to look at him. “Why marry me at all?” The words were so calm and detached that I could barely believe that I’d voiced them.

“We needed your ability to surface, Taylor. Intense emotional traumas can trigger a psychic response. What could be more traumatic than the sudden death of your husband? Unless, of course, you consider the unexpected, violent death of your parents. Such a tragedy. And at such a tender young age, too.”

I lowered the ice pack to look at him, the unspoken question in my eyes. He smiled back at me, slowly nodding his head, and I felt the first stirrings of anger.