Authors: Shiloh Walker
Tags: #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Romance Suspense
The Missing (4 page)
“Get the fuck off, Lee. First time’s mine.” Once more, life took on that surreal quality. She could hear them speaking, feel hands shoving and pulling at her, but she couldn’t move to fight them off, couldn’t even find the energy to care.
They flipped her over. Hot hands touched her breasts, pinched and squeezed. A heavy weight crushed into her again, pressing her into the ground. She could feel them jerking at her swimsuit, hear them swearing.
She groaned and tried to lift her arms, tried to shove them away. Joey pulled back his hand and punched her, hard and fast. “Stupid cunt,” he muttered. “Shut up and be still.”
At that point, Taige didn’t have much choice. Little black dots swarmed in on her, and as she tripped into the darkness, she was even a little happy he’d hit her. She didn’t want to be awake when they—
The weight pressing her into the ground disappeared. Just suddenly gone. Voices rose and fell. She heard something crack, then a scream, followed by a weird, whimpering grunt. Angry voices. She tried to sit up, tried to get to her feet and run. She rolled to her side, tried to push her weight up, but couldn’t. Her body felt like leaden weights, and her legs felt watery. Try as she might, Taige just couldn’t move.
She lay there, hardly able to breathe, as somebody came near. She flinched, and to her shock, she whimpered. Then hands closed around her arms, and she was still unable to move, although all she wanted to do was fight, kick, and scream.
But the hands just rolled her over, one arm sliding behind her shoulders, and then a gentle hand brushed her hair back. She heard a voice, deep and soothing, speaking to her. Taige forced her eyes to open. In the faint moonlight, she saw a face, vaguely familiar. His lips moved, forming words, but she didn’t hear a word he said as the gray cloud swarming at the edges of her brain finally moved in, and everything went black.
WHEN she closed those strange, misty gray eyes, Cullen had one brief moment of panic. Terror, fury, and helplessness had him shaking as he tapped her cheek and tried to wake her up.
Her head lolled to the side, and she lay in his arms as limp as a dishrag. Her chest rose and fell with slow, shallow breaths, but he was still terrified. Even pressing his fingers to the strong, steady beat of her pulse didn’t reassure him much. There was a little bit of blood trickling from her left nostril, and she had a thin layer of grit obscuring her features. He gently brushed away as much of the dust as he could. Under his fingers, her skin felt soft as silk and warm.
She had a pretty mouth. Very pretty. The kind of mouth that would make a guy’s brain empty of all blood as it flowed south. The bastard who had been on top of her had fisted his hand in her hair, and now most of it had fallen free from the braid she’d confined it in.
A soft, weak moan fell from her lips, and the sound of it sent a fresh wave of fury hurtling through him. He shot a vicious look at the punk who was still lying on the ground, moaning and clutching his right leg. The drunk asshole had sobbed like a baby when Cullen took his knee out. The other guy had taken off running, and a few minutes later, Cullen heard an engine roar. As he picked the girl up, he glanced at the sobbing guy on the ground and said, “If you don’t want me to do the left one, you’ll shut the hell up.”
Cullen was pretty sure that if Master Bruhns knew what he’d done and why, the man would understand. He’d been taking karate since he was eight. He’d competed in competitions at the national level, but this was the first real fight he’d ever been in.
First time out, and he’d taken somebody’s knee out. Cullen hoped to hell he didn’t ever have to do that again. The bone had made a sickening, wet crunching sound that even the boy’s pitiful scream couldn’t quite mask. If he wasn’t so hot with fury, he thought it might have made him sick.
But he’d seen what those two were going to do, and if he needed to, he would have done a lot more than bust a kneecap. The stink of booze had clung to both of them, and it reinforced what Cullen had figured out on his own, without all the assemblies at school and without the awkward, well-meaning talks from his parents. Alcohol screwed up the brain, especially if the brain’s owner wasn’t all that impressive to begin with. Give a couple of dumb jocks who thought they were God’s gift some booze, and you could have a problem.
She moaned again, and the sound was louder. Gently, he tapped her cheek and said, “Hey. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
The girl went from unconscious to wide awake in the space of one heartbeat. Her lashes lifted, and he found himself staring into the wide, misty depths of her eyes. Her pupils flared, and she tensed. If she could have retreated into the hard dirt at her back, she would have. Cullen eased back. “It’s okay.” He shifted to the side so she could see the kid lying on his back. He still clutched as his knee, and he wouldn’t look at Cullen or the girl.
“He’s not going to touch you,” Cullen promised. He shot the bastard a dirty look and raised his voice so that he knew the kid heard him. “He touches you again, I’m going to rip his balls off.”
Her voice was clear and steady when she responded, “Oh, I’m not going to wait to do that. I’m going to do it right now.”
She rolled to her feet, moving with a liquid grace that reminded Cullen of the way she’d looked when she cut through the water earlier, saving that boy’s life.
Still a mermaid,
he thought whimsically.
Still a mermaid,
he thought whimsically.
Cullen was perilously close to being a serious geek, and he knew it. He played basketball, took karate, and had even spent a couple years on the swim team at school, but still, he pushed real close to the line of geekdom. He loved to read. He loved to write. Since he was twelve years old, he’d been writing his own stories and, to the delight of his parents and his own self-conscious pride, he had even written two different short stories that had been published by a fantasy magazine.
His room had its share of typical teenaged kid stuff—video games, a computer, a ball that he’d caught when he went a game with his dad at Yankee Stadium—and bookshelves. Tons of books, most of them either fantasy, science fiction, or books on Greek and Roman mythology.
Mermaids hadn’t ever been his favorite figures from mythology; he was more into the Amazons or Herculean myths. But this girl could definitely change his mind. She still reminded him of a mermaid, although she wasn’t the kind who would lie around on a bed of rock while she combed her hair and used her voice to lure men to their deaths.
She’d be a fighter. If Neptune really existed, he would have had an army of mermaids serving under him, and they’d all look like this girl. Then Cullen shook himself out of that fantasy, tucking it away so he could remember it later—might be a story there.
IT hurt to breathe. Taige stood there, shaking with rage and fear and confusion. She felt weak, and her head felt muffled, like it did after a particularly intense dream. But so much worse.
Something had happened. Taige wasn’t sure what, but something had happened. Whatever weird ability let her see events before they happened was mutating. Going from a weird tool of sorts to a weapon.
Just frickin’ great. She stood staring down at Joey, and she could feel it forming inside her head again. That odd awareness, almost like a physical presence. It wanted to hurt Joey, hurt him worse than he already was. Joey lay on his side, clutching his right knee and whimpering like a baby. He had a series of mottled bruises around his throat. It almost looked like fingerprints. But she hadn’t actually touched him.
Yes, you did.
She could remember the feel of his throat, but not under her hands. She’d touched him, somehow, and left those bruises on his neck, choking him as he tried to rape her.
She could remember the feel of his throat, but not under her hands. She’d touched him, somehow, and left those bruises on his neck, choking him as he tried to rape her.
Then the hottie had shown up and taken Joey’s knee out. Joey didn’t look like he knew who scared him more: Taige or the tourist. She crouched down beside him just long enough to punch him in the nose, a short, straight-armed jab. She heard bone crunch, heard Joey’s scream, and she watched as blood fountained. “You ever touch me again, I’ll cut your dick off. We clear?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she stood and looked at the other guy. He looked familiar, and she ran faces through her mind until she placed where she’d seen him. On the beach in front of the Dunes, and later. She just barely remembered it, but he had followed her away from the crowd at the beach after she’d pulled boy out of the water.
The white sands, the turquoise green waters, and the endless stretches of beach drew tourists all year around, but in the summer, Gulf Shores, Alabama, often had more tourists in residence than locals. She had seen this one a few times, and he had stood out in her mind because he was so damn cute.
Cute and decent. Decent enough to help out a girl he didn’t know.
“Thank you.” She wished she could think of something else to say, but the ache in her head was getting worse, and her belly was knotting. She had to get to Rose’s and lie down before she fell down. She turned away, but she only made it a few feet before he was at her side.
“Where are you going? You need to call the cops.”
Taige shook her head.
Oh, no. No cops.
She didn’t even want to think about the trouble she’d get if they took her to the station and called her uncle. And they would, too. She was a minor out late, and she’d nearly been raped. If she looked half as rough as she felt, then she’d be lucky if they didn’t try to cart her off to the hospital.
Oh, no. No cops.
She didn’t even want to think about the trouble she’d get if they took her to the station and called her uncle. And they would, too. She was a minor out late, and she’d nearly been raped. If she looked half as rough as she felt, then she’d be lucky if they didn’t try to cart her off to the hospital.
But she didn’t need the attention from that on top of what she’d done earlier. No, absolutely no cops. “Sorry, but I’m not calling the cops.”
“Are you nuts?” The question slipped out of him before he even seemed to realize what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back. “You got any idea what they were going to do?”
She stopped and looked at him. Yes. She knew exactly. She probably knew better than he did. The ability that had let her save that boy earlier had also led her to girls who had been grabbed off the highway and raped until they bled. When she was twelve, it had led her to the partially decomposed corpse of a nine-year-old boy who’d seen his mother’s boyfriend selling cocaine.
“Yeah, I know,” she said, unable to curtail her sarcasm. “I figured it out when he was trying to rip my shorts off. But I’m not going to the cops. And I think he’s probably going to think twice before he grabs another girl like that.”
“They were going to rape you. They need to pay for it.”
Taige grinned then. “Then go take care of it. I’ll let you handle the bill. Hell, I’ll even tell you where to find the other son of a bitch.” She would, too, and the thought of what Sir Galahad might do was enough to have her grin widen. Then it faded. “But I’m not calling the cops. I need to go.”
The ache in her head was getting worse, and Taige had a bad feeling she might puke. The thought of walking a good two miles still was enough to make her want to cry, and she hadn’t cried in years.
He didn’t want to let her leave. She knew he was frustrated. She could see it in his eyes. But Taige didn’t bother trying to explain. She just turned away and started to walk.
One foot in front of the other. She could do this.
But ten steps later, she wasn’t so sure. Everything started to spin kind of like she was stuck on a Tilt-A-Whirl, and she knew she wasn’t going to stay upright. Just when she felt her knees start to buckle, a hand came around her arm. Automatically she shied away; Taige didn’t like being touched, especially by people she didn’t know. All the mental baggage waited just under the surface, and one touch was enough to open a bridge between their minds.
But there was nothing. Strange, too, because the frustration and anger she saw in his eyes should have surrounded her, stinging her skin like angry fire ants. Yet it was like staring into waters of the Gulf right after a storm; she could see the water, but she couldn’t see beyond it.
It was—bliss. And she probably would have enjoyed it even more completely if her legs hadn’t decided to give out at that moment. But they did give out. Fortunately, the hand on her arm kept her from falling to the ground. Instead, she tumbled forward against his chest. His other hand came up, and he murmured softly, “Hey, easy there.”
He brushed his thumb over her cheek, scowling. “You still don’t want me to call the police? Maybe I should drive you into town at least. There’s a hospital around here somewhere, right?”
Oh, no. No hospitals. She wasn’t doing no damn hospital. Taige shook her head and tried to pull away, but her legs were still wobbly, her head was still spinning, and Galahad was staring at her with dark, concerned eyes. He was wearing a faded button-down shirt with a wild Hawaiian print. It hung open over his chest, and Taige could feel the warmth of his skin and the slow, steady beat of his heart.
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