Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Delgado stopped at an outlet mall a hundred miles from the city.
Then he had the exotic experience of suggesting clothes to a mostly-silent woman who nodded and tried on whatever he suggested.
He sent her into the lingerie store alone with a couple hundred, however.
His heart wouldn’t have been able to take it.
Instead, he stood outside and waited, scanning the parking lot and holding three plastic bags full of clothes and assorted sundries.
He had no idea what a woman would want beyond the usual extraction list, and did his best to guess.
The last stop was the shoe store. She chose a pair of boots and a pair of black sneakers, and he got a second pair of boots for her—stylish black ones, less functional than the combat boots but pretty.
Christ, he thought, seeing her scrub at her forehead with the heel of her hand, I’m really playing house, aren’t I?
She took one longing look at a bookstore and then glanced quickly down at the ground. He pressed a hundred-dollar bill into her palm. “I’m going to get a couple things. You get what you want from there. Stay in the store. I’ll come get you in a bit, okay?”
She nodded. He slid his cell phone out of his pocket and slipped it into her hands. “There. Now you’re ready for anything. Just get what you want, okay?”
She nodded again, a tendril of pale hair falling across her face. He had to forcibly repress the urge to brush it away. “Thanks.” The rough honey of her voice reminded him of her screaming. “Are you sure?”
“We have time,” he said firmly. “Go on.”
She went, and he watched her hips move for a few moments as she walked away. I am in so much trouble.
He waited half an hour, putting the bags in the car and then drifting through the mall, buying a few odds and ends, a sharp eye out for anything out of the ordinary.
Then he ducked into the bookstore and found her standing by the cash register, paying for an abridged copy of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, a copy of Leaves of Grass, and a blank journal as well as a packet of pens.
He waited by the door, his eyes moving over the entire store, marking two employees and a couple of other customers. No government presence.
Good.
She carried her bag up to the front door and tried to hand him the change, but he shook his head, only taking the cell phone back. “Come on. One last stop.”
He’d taken a spin through the luggage store and got a few pieces to store her clothes and toiletries in, but he took her back there. “They don’t have much,” he said, “but I think you need a new purse.”
She nodded and randomly picked out a small black number. He paid for it, and then shepherded her out to the car. “We can stop by a supermarket for anything else.” He took her elbow as they crossed into the parking lot. “But we need food first. What do you want for lunch?”
“I don’t think I could eat.” She looked stunned, far too pale, her eyes far too dark. “Justin—” She caught herself. “Delgado.”
“You can call me Justin.” The name felt strange on his lips. Nobody had called him that in years. “It’s okay.”
“All right. Where does all the money come from?”
“We have a couple psions who are really good with investments, and another couple that are really good with software,” he said. “We own a couple companies.”
That was a vast oversimplification, but he didn’t want to discuss the funding. Especially some of the less-than-legal aspects—the initial capital for the Society investments had to have come from somewhere.
“Oh,” she said.
“And every once in a while, someone goes to Vegas. Usually one of the telekinetics, but never the same one twice. There’re all sorts of things.” He checked the surroundings again. Nothing. Why was he nervous? “I think we should get out of here. Is fast food okay?”
She grimaced before she could stop herself, and then blinked at him. “I suppose. Look, I feel sick. I can’t eat.”
“You have to, or you’ll get dizzy. You’re in a kind of shock, Rowan. Eating will help. Will you at least try?”
She gave him one extraordinary green-eyed look. He’d seen the look before on interrogation subjects—the look that told him the subject was identifying with him, looking to him for guidance. “All right,” she said quietly. “I’ll try.”
“Good.” He guided her to the car. He got the trunk open and dumped his few purchases in, ripped the tag off the purse with one efficient jerk, and emptied the paper padding from its insides. “There you go, ready to be filled up. Let’s go.”
She carried the purse and her bag from the bookstore around to her side, and he closed her in the car and scanned the mall again. He wasn’t just uneasy—the back of his neck was prickling, and he knew what that meant. Danger.
He went around the car, got into his side, and twisted the key in the ignition. “Let’s drive a bit and then do lunch. I’m a little nervous.”
That made her eyes get even bigger. She stared at him, holding her seat belt in one slender hand. “Do you think they’ve followed us?”
He regretted saying anything. She was fragile right now. Too fragile.
“Nah,” he said. “Just better to be safe than sorry, you know. Look, don’t worry, Rowan. I’ll take care of you.”
“You walked around that whole place with guns on,” she said, buckling herself in. “Maybe they called the police.”
“Nobody saw the guns. They only saw a guy waiting for his girlfriend.” He backed out of the parking space, dropped the car in drive, and started negotiating the maze that would get them back on the freeway.
His neck was crawling and her nearness—and obvious trust in him—made his entire body prickle with electricity.
She blushed and looked down at the purse. “I keep thinking this is a nightmare. I’ll wake up soon. And then I figure out it’s not, and I won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again. Get her talking about something else, you idiot. Another question occurred to him—how had she showed up at the abandoned house, appearing out of nowhere? It wasn’t the type of place he’d expect to find a psion. “Why were you at that house? I never asked.”
“I thought a bunch of teenagers were playing in there. Then I saw a candle and wondered if someone was going to get hurt—a fire, or something. I was curious. I was going to call the police if it looked like some kids drinking.”
That was close. If she hadn’t stopped he might not have marked her, and Sigma would have scooped her up in a heartbeat.
He would never have known.
His entire body went cold for a moment. Thinking about what could have happened to her made him feel suddenly, terribly glad she had been curious.
And who knew? Her curiosity might have been a kind of precognition.
“I’m glad you were curious,” he muttered, pulling out in front of a white Cutlass waiting at a stop sign.
“If you weren’t, they would have you by now. ”
She tucked the money he’d pressed in her hand into the wallet that came with the purse.
Got to give her more, maybe a third of what’s left, just so she knows she can use it if she wants.
Then she stuffed the history book into the purse, the journal as well, and two of the pens.
She left the Whitman and the rest of the pens in the plastic bag and reached over the seat to put it in the back.
She had to lean close to him to do so, and he took a deep breath, smelling her, the prickles of her talent running over his skin.
No wonder she feels like a lightning bolt. Over a thirteen. God.
She blows the equipment down without even realizing it, Henderson had said. She’s over a thirteen, we can’t even measure her. I think she didn’t blow the dampers completely because of the sedation. We were goddamn lucky, Del. It was close.
“Too close for comfort,” he murmured.
“What?”
“Just thinking.” He checked traffic and pulled onto the freeway on-ramp. “Look, Rowan—” It was a trick to extract his wallet while he was driving, but he did it. “Take what’s in there and put it in your purse. Just in case.”
“But what about—”
“I’ve got plenty. That’s for you.” Give her something to hold onto, even out the power pattern here.
In a regular extraction, he wouldn’t be evening out the power pattern.
He would keep her dependent for another couple days, just to make sure the relationship took.
And for something like this, when he was playing not just for safety but for keeps, he should maneuver her into bed to force the bonding.
What the hell am I thinking? I still might. But what would she do if she realized he was maneuvering her, even if it was to keep her safe?
She was just unpredictable enough, right now, to make him nervous when he thought about it.
He couldn’t call Henderson to check in—they were radio silent, just in case. The next time he spoke to Henderson, it would be at Headquarters. Not like he needed advice on how to run an extraction, but he was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he and Rowan were being pursued.
And there was another problem. If he kept playing aboveboard with her, she might decide to try to escape him.
He had no choice.
I hate having no choice. He watched the traffic around them. It was light, easy to spot a tail in, but Delgado kept checking and rechecking. Something didn’t smell right. His instincts were in a frazzle.
Rowan had leaned back, her head tipped against the headrest and her eyes half-closed. She looked sleepy.
He didn’t blame her.
“Go ahead and rest,” he said, quietly. “If you want, I’ll wake you up for lunch.”
She gave him a startled glance, and then her eyes drifted closed. After a long ten minutes, her breathing evened out, and the flush of sleep rose in her cheeks. The tingling along Delgado’s skin intensified.
Are they tracking her? They couldn’t be—nothing to get a pattern from. They never had a chance to scan her in a chair, so they couldn’t… ah, shit.
He was assuming their technology was still the same, he realized. Even if Sigma wasn’t scanning for her, he needed to trust his instincts. Maybe he was just afraid of fucking this one up.
He settled himself into driving. He had some thinking to do.