Brain Storm (A Taylor Morrison Novel Book 1) (51 page)

As soon as the door shut behind them, Lars grabbed the chair, setting it upright and sat me back down on it, this time a little more gently than before, but not by much.

“That was stupid,” he growled out, as he checked the damage done to my face. “Smart, but stupid. Now, they’re not sure who to trust.”

“I notice they trust you. Didn’t even think twice about leaving you in here with me.”

He sighed as he squatted down beside me to unlock the cuffs, and I could tell he was frustrated.

“You don’t trust me. I get that. Considering the circumstances, I don’t blame you, but we don’t have time for it.”
 

He sat back on his heels and I rubbed my wrist, glad to be free of the cuff. I looked at him, searching for the earpiece he was usually wearing, but couldn’t see it. For all I knew, Vivian was outside listening to our whole conversation.

“I’m not wired. Too much interference around here for it to work. Look, you either trust me or you don’t. There’s nothing I can do about it. I know what you can do. The power you really have, okay? Not that little show you put on for them.” He jerked a thumb toward the door where Keith and Vivian had disappeared through. “I screw up and you can take me out, no hard feelings. Just make sure I’ve actually screwed up before you do and make sure you take them down too, because I’ve put too much time into this to have you mess it up now.”

For a guy who’d not said but one sentence since I’d met, he’d turned into quite the chatterbox. And he was right. There was nothing he could do to convince me to trust him.

He picked up the towel and pressed it to my cheekbone in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

“This is going to need stitches. You shouldn’t have let her hit you like that.”

“She wouldn’t have believed me, if I’d volunteered the information. That’s not the way she works.” I pushed his hands away, and grabbed the towel from him, succeeding in irritating him further. “Besides, she’s more a slapper, than a puncher. It’s not so bad if you know it’s coming.”

“So were you lying to her?”
 

“No,” I lied, remembering the look on Mama D’s face after she’d killed Brown to save me. “That was the truth.”

Connors walked up while we were talking and stood quietly nearby listening. Hughes hadn’t bothered to secure him. He either didn’t think of Connors as much of a threat, or knew he didn’t need to bother doing it. Why was he here? Was he like Brown? Was he working for them, or did he have his own agenda?
 

He’d been so angry about Abby. There was no way I was wrong about that, but Brown had felt the same way, and he was one of them. I’d been so certain he was innocent just a few minutes earlier. Now I just wasn’t sure. I hated this. Hated not knowing who to trust. I didn’t have any trouble not trusting Lars but Connors I liked and I felt like a traitor for suddenly doubting him, when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
 

“It’s all right Taylor. You don’t have to trust us. I don’t know how you could trust anyone after tonight.” Connors voice, so soft and gentle, practically echoing my thoughts, nearly brought me to tears. “In fact, you shouldn’t. Not knowing who to trust, always looking over your shoulder is a distraction.
You know that.
That’s why you told Keith and Vivian what you did. It’s a good strategy, but it can work against you just as easily as for you. Decide right now to trust no one. Not tonight.”

“He’s right,” Lars agreed. “Quit worrying about it and concentrate on stopping this.”
 

They were right. I couldn’t afford to trust them. Couldn’t waste the time second guessing myself, always afraid of making a mistake. Not now. The decision to stop wondering and just not trust them was an immediate relief.
 

“Good,” Lars snapped out, sensing I’d made my decision. “Connors. Just so you know, if I find out you are working for them I’ll kill you myself.”
 

“Ditto,” Connors challenged back, causing Lars to raise a skeptical eyebrow.
 

I looked at them standing there, Lars, big and fierce, towering over the professorial doctor, both of them threatening to kill each other and felt a ghost of a smile slide over my lips. We’d be lucky to survive the night.

 
“Deal,” Lars growled out before turning back to me. “We’ll cover your back, but assume that our intent is to stab you in the back instead. The Doc and I will follow your lead. We’ve done pretty well so far letting you run with it.”

“Within limits,” Connors corrected him. “Too many more blows to the head and I’ll have to doubt your reasoning abilities. He’s is right about that cut, Taylor. You need stitches.”

“Right now, we need to concentrate on getting out of here.” I looked over at Connors, wondering how long it had been since he’d eaten. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m managing for now. It was hard to stay ... calm, given the circumstances. I thought she was going to kill you. I understood what you were doing, but it was still hard to sit there and let it happen.”

Lars looked at Connors in disbelief. It was easy to see he didn’t think of him as a threat anymore than Hughes had, which was fine, because I knew differently. I knew how much control it had taken to sit there and do nothing with Hughes within inches of him. I knew he understood how important it was that we follow the trail to the end.
 

“You know, I would have never let Keith kill you.” I told him, hoping he could hear the sincerely in my words.
 

“Oh, my dear. The thought that you would have, never even crossed my mind.”
 

FORTY-TWO

THE OUTSIDE DOOR opened, and Lars instantly had his gun out, prodding me forward with the barrel and shoving Connors into step beside me, as Keith stepped through the door.
 

“Here. Get cleaned up and put this on.” He threw a shirt at me, which I didn’t bother to try and catch, letting it fall to the ground instead.

“Where’s Vivian?” I asked, checking the door behind him, expecting her to step through at any minute.

“She’s busy.” He walked over and scooped the shirt up in one fluid movement, trying to shove it into my hands.
 

“Look Taylor, I’m sorry about what happened.” If he was trying to sound contrite, he was failing miserably. It had come out irritated and annoyed.

“What exactly are you sorry about? Lying to me? Betraying me? Letting me think you were dead?”

“I’m sorry about Vivian,” he snapped. “She shouldn’t have hit you.”

Really?
He hadn’t been sorry when Hughes had knocked me around, but then he was trying to push me into using my power. Maybe there were limits. Even for him. He stepped closer, trying to look at my face and I jerked away, refusing to let him see. He reached around and grabbed my chin, forcing me to face him.
 

“It isn’t the first time, Keith. I’m used to it,” I said, knocking his hand away. “Besides, I didn’t exactly see you trying to stop her.”

“It won’t happen again, now that we know.” He jerked me around to face him. “It wasn’t in the reports. We had no way of knowing what she was doing to you.”

I stopped struggling as his words sank in.
We
had no way of knowing? Just who was
w
e? Whoever they were, apparently, they hadn’t been watching. Just relying on the reports that Vivian had filed. Way, way too trusting.
 

 
“I imagine there’s quite a lot that you won’t find in the reports,” I said softly, driving the wedge of distrust further into the hole. I jerked my arm from his grasp and bent to pick up the shirt that had ended back up on the floor, before turning to go.
 

“It won’t happen again, Taylor. You have my word on that.”
 

I nodded that I had heard him, glad my back was to him and he couldn’t see me roll my eyes at the thought that he would think his word actually meant something at this point. Lars poked me with the gun to get me moving again and we headed down the corridor between the crates. I heard the door slam shut behind me and glanced back to see that Keith had left the building.

“Well played, my dear,” Connors whispered. “Well played indeed. He’s out there right now, wondering what else she’s done that he doesn’t know about.”

Lars pushed open a door that led into the bathroom and flipped on the light, leaving me standing face to face with the mirror. They were both right. I needed stitches.
 

“Actually Doc, he said ‘we didn’t know’.” Lars muttered quietly. “He talked to someone higher up, went over her head. That’s the person who’s unhappy with what Vivian did."

I’d been looking around for some way to wash the blood out of my hair without sticking my head into what had to be the dirtiest sink I’d ever seen, but his words stopped me short. I looked from the mirror and the abused and bloody figure I saw reflected there, down to the clean shirt that I held in my hand. It belonged to a woman, and as I rolled the fabric between my fingers feeling the soft smooth glide of silk, I realized it had to be Vivian’s.
 

I had never been allowed to touch her things growing up, most especially her clothes. The penalty for doing so had been severe. A lesson learned once and not ever forgotten. How it must have pained her to give this to me now. Something she would never have done given any other choice. She was in trouble and she knew it. I wasn’t about to help her cover her tracks.

I let the fabric slide from my grasp and tumble in a heap onto the floor, deciding I looked fine, just the way I was. Let them see a sample of Vivian’s handiwork close up and personal. See what they were dealing with. If we ever got there.

“Lars!” Keith’s voice boomed through the warehouse, making me jump. “We’re moving!”

“You ready? He’s not going to be happy,” Lars asked, casting a glance at the discarded shirt.
 

I nodded and turned to look at him, just in time to see the gun emerge from behind a stack of crates and take aim at Lars.

There was no time to think, no time to yell a warning. Barely enough time to react. I shoved Lars aside while giving the crates a mental heave, just as the bullet hit the wall between us. Lars hit the ground and rolled away as I whirled toward Connors, and knocked him to the floor, scrambling for cover.
 

“Taylor, stop. He’s down.” Lars was moving rapidly, clearing the distance to the crates where I’d seen the gun. “Stay over there.”

He didn’t need to tell me twice. Connors and I had ended up crouched down by another stack of crates. I pressed my back against the hard wood behind me, closing my eyes. I had no desire to see what I had just done. The adrenaline was pumping through me like fire and my lungs ached with each breath I took.

“Who’s shooting at us?” Connors whispered.
 

“Whoever Hughes sold her to, Doc, or whoever was working with Hughes. Doesn’t much matter. They’re here to collect her,” Lars replied, moving quietly in next to me. “What do you want to do?”

The sound of gunfire outside confirmed that whoever had been about to kill Lars hadn’t come alone.
 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to help them. Make sure that Keith and Vivian win this.”

Connors grunted in agreement, wanting to know who was behind all this as badly as I did. Getting on that plane was the only way we were going to find out. The trick was going to be making sure things ended up the way we wanted, without them knowing we’d helped. That, and staying alive.
 

“Okay then,” Lars whispered, handing me his own gun, keeping the one he’d picked up from the dead man for himself. “Use the gun from now on. Lot easier to explain.” He cocked an eyebrow, bobbing his head back toward the fallen crates, making his point. “Stay close, Doc, and keep your head down.”
 

We silently wove our way back through the crates toward the main room. We were nearly clear from the crates, when I grabbed Lars’ arm, stopping him from walking into the open room and pulled him back.
 

Shaking my head, I put my finger to my lips, cautioning them to silence as we backed away and melted into the crates behind us. They were waiting for us there. I could feel it. The man they’d sent in was meant to flush us out. The empty room was a trap.
 

We needed to draw them out and I was the best bait we had. They needed me alive so they would hesitate before opening up on whoever came into the room, giving me some time to turn and run. Or at least I hoped so. I handed my gun to Connors and motioned for them to stay put and to be ready. It was obvious that neither of them were happy about it, but they kept quiet, following my lead, like they had promised me earlier.

I turned and ran the rest of the way through the crates and into the room as if Satan himself were at my heels. The response was immediate and what I had been expecting. The taser points almost seemed to be flying toward me in slow motion, the wires coiling out behind them in graceful spirals. I fell backward, letting my feet drive forward and watched as the spikes passed inches above me, before reaching the end of their lines and being jerked back to the floor. I rolled over and was moving, scrambling on all fours, clawing my way back toward the shelter of the crates, my pursuers hot on my heels. I gained my feet and off balance, careened into the first stack of crates, losing precious time. Hard fingers closed around my right arm, jerking me back, and using the momentum, I whirled around, driving my left palm heel forward, meeting bone with a resounding crack. He didn’t go down, but his grip loosened and I twisted free, nearly falling, fighting to stay on my feet as I turned once more to run.