The Missing (31 page)

Read The Missing Online

Authors: Shiloh Walker

Tags: #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Romance Suspense

BOOK: The Missing
12.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Hmmmm . . . not a bad idea.
As she stood up in front of him, he reached for the waistband of her shorts, but before he could strip them away, she stiffened. From head to toe, her body tensed, and she pulled away.
“Taige—”
Shaking her head, she flung up a hand and rasped, “Stay back. Oh, God . . .” It was a harsh, tormented moan. Slowly, she sank to her knees and doubled over, her arms wrapped around her middle like she’d been punched right in the gut.
Frustrated, helpless, Cullen stood by watching until she fell over in the sand, and then he couldn’t hold still anymore. A weak whimper escaped her throat as he scooped her into his arms and sat there, holding her in his lap. Stroking a hand up and down her back, he murmured to her and brooded. Prayed. He kissed her temple and rocked her back and forth, and all the while, she curled into him. She didn’t speak. Occasionally, there was a soft little mewling sound, but that was it.
Cullen didn’t know how much time passed. He lost count of the waves that crashed into the sand. The tide moved out, and water that had been lapping just inches away from his feet was a good five or six feet away. The clear, flawless blue sky slowly started to deepen and darken, the moon making its ascent while the sun still burned, sinking closer and closer to the horizon.
The setting sun had started to paint the sky with a palette of orange, gold, and pink when Taige finally moved. Deep in her throat, she made a harsh, guttural moan, and her spine bowed, her neck arching back. For the first time, he saw her face.
An icy chill ran through him when he saw her eyes. They were black. The pupil was so huge, it had all but eclipsed the iris, and he couldn’t see the soft gray at all. In a matter of heartbeats, her icy skin started to warm, and by the time the sun had completely set, she was burning hot in his arms. Her skin was dry, although he had broken out into a sweat from the heat she was throwing off.
Terrified no longer described what he felt. There was only one time in his life he’d felt like this, and that had been in the hours after he’d learned that Jillian had been abducted. His fingers trembled minutely as he went to push her hair back. Fisting his hand in her soft thick curls, he said, “Taige. Come on, baby. Talk to me.”
“It’s him.” Her lashes drooped low over her eyes. Her voice was dreamy and oddly disconnected. “He’s there. Burning . . .”
Cullen didn’t waste his breath asking
who
. He knew in his gut. The pad of his thumb stroked across her cheekbone. “Look at me, Taige.”
It was as though she hadn’t heard him. Lids hanging low over her eyes, she whispered, “There’s gas. I smell it. Damn, it’s hot.”
A fine sweat broke out over her skin. For a second, the air stopped smelling of the heat, the sand, and the Gulf, and the sickly sweet stink of gasoline filled the air. A hot breeze kicked up over the water, and the smell faded. Or maybe he hadn’t really smelled the gas to begin with. At that point, Cullen didn’t know. She shivered, and Cullen rubbed a hand up and down her back, trying to warm her. Cuddling into him, Taige rubbed her cheek against his chest.
He kept talking to her, but nothing he said got through. Finally, he just wrapped his arms around her and held her as close as he could. One hand rubbed up and down her naked back. Her breasts were bare against his chest, but Cullen could honestly say he didn’t have one lascivious thought. Amazing how terror could wipe out an all-consuming lust so easily.
It ended as suddenly as it came on. One moment, Taige was cuddling into him and holding on like he was some teddy bear warding off the boogeyman, and in the next, she was stiff in his arms and sucking in air like a drowning woman. Her body shuddered, and then she pushed against his arms. “You’re going to crush me, Cullen.”
He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Damn it, you keep scaring me like that, I’m going to die of a heart attack before I turn forty.” But he did let go, slowly, reluctantly. She tried to stand up, but her legs wobbled, and Cullen had a feeling she wouldn’t make it ten feet without hitting the sand. Pushing to his feet, he gathered up her clothes. After tucking them into her arms, he lifted her. “You need to lie down,” he said softly.
But Taige had other plans. “No. We need to leave. He’s at the cabin, or he’s going there.” Her mouth twisted in a grimace. “At least what’s left of the cabin—no telling how much of it Jones has torn down to get to the bodies.”
The need for vengeance warred with the need to take care of Taige. Her hands shoved against his chest, but it was pitiful how weak she was. Under normal circumstances, if Taige wanted to be put down, he’d have a fight on his hands, and chances were, he could easily lose that fight. At the moment, she’d have a hard time holding her own against a kitten.
Physically.
The look in her eyes was one of sheer stubbornness, and Cullen knew that if he let her, she’d take off on her own and keep going until she collapsed. She was just that determined. If he wasn’t so damned worried she’d end up passing out on him and scaring him to death, he’d go along with her just fine.
But . . .
Her eyes, once more that soft, misty gray, narrowed, and her pretty mouth flattened out into a tight, thin line. “Damn it, Cullen. You’re wasting time. We don’t have much as it is.” Fisting a hand in his shirt, she gave him a fierce stare and said, “I am
fine
. Okay?”
“You’re not fine,” Cullen argued. The last rays of sunlight were fading fast, but he could still see how pale and wan she’d become. “You’re almost as pale as I am. Hell, you probably can’t even walk to the house on your own two feet.”
Her lids flickered. “I don’t need to walk to the cabin. And it’s a good three hours north. By the time we get there, I’ll be steady.”
“And if you’re not?”
“If we don’t go
now
, it’s not going to matter. Because he isn’t going to be there.”
Cullen gave in. He guessed there hadn’t ever been doubt on that. Between the need for blood and the innate desire to do whatever Taige asked of him, Cullen didn’t even have a fighting chance. They were out of the house before another twenty minutes had passed. She’d insisted on changing, and Cullen watched over her protectively, ready to catch her if she looked the least bit unsteady.
Never happened. Although he’d carried her to the house, by the time they walked out the front door, her color had improved, and she moved with that easy, confident grace that he remembered from years before.
Steady,
she’d said.
Hell. She was going to be steadier than he was, that was for damn certain.
TEN
Too
late.
They were still a good twenty miles away when the skin on Taige’s spine went tight. Too late. He was gone. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but by the time they got to the cabin, he would be long gone.
And there would probably be no trace left behind. Again. Somehow this guy managed to wipe the slate clean, psychically speaking, and she’d get nothing. None of those intangible little vibes that she couldn’t see or feel, but which existed nonetheless.
Useless—
She blocked that out. If she started swimming in guilt or self-doubt, she’d be of no use to anybody. So, instead of dwelling on that old bullshit, she closed her eyes and reached out. It didn’t come so easily this time.
Sometimes the gray came on her like a summer storm, quick, violent, and all-encompassing. Other times, it was like a heat mirage, wavering and unclear. Right now, it was like trying to push her way through quicksand. It came, but there was a reluctance to it, and the vision that had been so clear just a few hours ago was now murky.
There was nothing definitive this time. Reaching out, she tried to connect with her prey, and there was, for just a second, a brief connection. Tenuous at best and too weak to sustain contact. Even as she tried to strengthen the connection, it faltered and faded.
It left her with the impression of a deep rage and a conviction that could only come from the mind of the truly insane. Her mind tried to hold on to that little bit of knowledge. There was something important there—something very important. But she couldn’t focus.
Couldn’t see. Smoke obscured her vision, and heat stung her skin. She tried to take a breath, and it choked her. The underlying stink of gasoline filled her nostrils, and she gagged.
“Taige.”
The sound of Cullen’s voice was the sweetest damn thing, and she turned toward it, tried to reach out. Reached out—and he touched her. She felt his hand land on her shoulder, and he shook her. Feeling a little bewildered, Taige opened her eyes and rubbed them. Still the smoke burned.
Damn, am I still under?
she thought. She breathed in and tasted the acrid bite of smoke in her throat.
But it wasn’t the remnants of a vision. Smoke hung in the air, and the direction of the wind carried it to them as Cullen pulled to the side of the road. Off to the left was the pitted, sorry excuse for a road that led to the cabin. The road no longer looked abandoned, and Taige couldn’t even begin to guess how many agents had been out here, how many forensics teams had gone over every inch of land.
Right now, though, it wasn’t the FBI trekking over the rough road. It was a line of fire trucks, ambulances, and several black and tan county sheriff cruisers. Up on the mountain, just barely visible above the tree line, was a flickering orange glow.
Just as she’d seen in her vision, the bastard had set the cabin on fire.
He’d been here not long ago.
Part of her wanted to hope that maybe he’d been caught.
But Taige was a realist. He wasn’t here.
Her Bureau ID got her and Cullen past the line of officials. There weren’t a lot of gawkers, not this far out of the way. A few questions revealed that a father and son had been hunting and seen the flames. Dry as the summer had been, if they hadn’t called it in when they did, the fire would have presented a serious hazard. Even now, it looked like the firefighters were going to have one hell of battle keeping the fire from spreading.
Sirens split the air again. As one, Taige and Cullen turned to watch another truck come screeching up. “We need to go,” she said softly. “We’re just in the way here.”
“But . . .”
Taige glanced at Cullen and shook her head. “There’s nothing here for me, Cullen. If there was, I’d know.”
Somehow, her man had slid right past her, and just as before, he’d left behind nothing of himself.
Eyes burning from the smoke, Taige turned away. Cullen fell into step beside her. They wound their way through the mass of rescue personnel and law enforcement. A few people tried to intercept them, but Taige flashed her ID from the Bureau, and they grudgingly stepped out of her way, usually with a muttered warning, “Stay out of the way.”
After the fifth time, Taige swore. “Damn, it ain’t like I’m up here trying to throw a party.”
And that earned her an irritated, territorial look.
Get the hell out,
was the general consensus. These people didn’t want her here, but Taige honestly didn’t give a damn. She wasn’t too thrilled to be there, either. And then it got worse. Somebody recognized her.
Although she’d tried to avoid it, somebody had connected her to Jillian’s rescue. Old pictures of her had been dug up and plastered across several major papers, and she’d had to dodge a couple of reporters back home. Word spread as fast as the fire was spreading, and she felt the change in the air, going from disgruntled territorial macho crap as the firefighters and cops thought the FBI was intruding, to curiosity, mixed with a little bit of outright hostile disbelief.
No thoughts were clear, but that wasn’t unusual for her. Awful of her, but at that moment, she was glad the fire raged on, because it kept most of the people too damn busy to come up and pester her. It also kept them from staring at her. For the most part. She could see or feel several different gazes on her, measuring, evaluating.
It added to her already strained state of mind, and trying to block it out was getting harder and harder. Her control was always weaker when she was tired, and she had passed the point of tired a long way back.
Halfway to the car, the exhaustion snuck up on her, and she tripped, stumbled. Cullen caught her right arm and steadied her. Another hand closed around her left arm, and a concerned voice said, “Ma’am, are you okay?”

Other books

Just Add Magic by Cindy Callaghan
The Heart of a Duke by Victoria Morgan
The dark fantastic by Echard, Margaret
The New Kid by Temple Mathews
The Straight Crimes by Matt Juhl
The Digging Leviathan by James P. Blaylock
The Silver Wolf by Alice Borchardt
Asking for Andre by Malone, Minx