Brain Storm (A Taylor Morrison Novel Book 1) (22 page)

“Don’t play games with me, Mac. You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t lie to you.”

“You didn’t tell me the truth though, did you? You’re keeping things from me and I’m not working like that.”

He blew out a breath of air in frustration and turned away to stare at the menu, which really ticked me off. I didn’t consider myself a violent person, but right then, I had an almost overwhelming desire to smack his head into the window and knock him around a bit. Here we had trusted him with our lives and he’d been holding out on us.

“Stop!” he hissed at me, grabbing my arm. I felt the tremble from him clear to my shoulder. “Stop, please. I’ll explain, but you need to calm down. Please.”

My emotion switched almost instantly from anger to fear, at the pain I heard in his voice. Sweat began to run down his face and he snatched his hand from my arm like it was a hot skillet. Sure he was having a heart attack, I quickly undid my seat belt and moved to help him.
 

“Stop! Taylor, don’t touch me.” He was backing up against the driver’s door in an effort to avoid my hands. I froze in the seat, inches from him as the truth hit me. I was doing this to him. I was hurting him. I didn’t know how, but I knew, without a doubt, it was me.

Suddenly, I had a desperate need to get out of there. I threw the van door open so fast it hit the menu board and bounced back on me, knocking me sideways as I ran from the van. I had no idea where to go, but I knew I needed to get away from Mac. I headed up the road, back in the direction of the mall, my mind a mass of confusion.

I looked back over my shoulder and seeing a break in the traffic, sprinted across the four lanes and hopped the divider into the mall parking lot. Out of breath and overheated from the run, I slowed to a walk just as Mac cut in front of me the van rocking as he slammed on the brakes and rammed it into park. I turned to head the other way, but hadn’t gone more than two feet before he grabbed me..
 

“Taylor, stop. It’s okay. I’m okay.” He turned me around to to face him, but I couldn’t bear to look at him, remembering the pain that was etched into his face because of me.
 

“Let me go, Mac.” I swatted at him as he tried to stop me leaving again. “Don’t touch me! Stay away.” I was trapped. He dropped his hands, but blocked every attempt I made to get away from him.
 

“Please Mac,” I begged. exhausted. “Let me go. Just let me leave.”

“Where would you go?” he asked softly.

I didn’t know, didn’t care. Just away. I couldn’t take this anymore. Couldn’t live with the thought that I could hurt someone without knowing it, trying to put the realization that I already had, out of my mind.
 

“Taylor, you aren’t going anywhere without me. You can leave, but I’ll find you.” He reached over and wrapped his hand firmly around mine. I tensed waiting for him to draw back in pain, but it didn’t happen. “Don’t ever run from me again.”
 

He pulled on my arm and led me around the van to the passenger side. Opening the door, he sat me down on the seat and I was too tired to resist. My arms and legs heavy, my mind numb, I slumped against the closed door while Mac rounded the front and climbed in next to me.
 

“You’re in shock,” he told me as I began to shiver in the relative coolness of the van. He pulled back out into traffic and headed across the road, back to the Sonic. Parking the van on the opposite side of the drive-in from before, he ordered two Route 44’s and some chili fries. The next thing I knew he was pressing the huge styrofoam cup into my hand and ordering me to drink. He helped guide the cup up and I managed a couple of sips. After a while, the smell of the fries permeated my deadened senses, and I roused myself enough to look over and find the source. He smiled as he waved the steaming tray under my nose and I snagged a fry dripping with chili and melted cheese.
 

“I can’t believe all the food I’m eating.” I popped a second fry in my mouth against my better judgement. The way things were going I was going to need a new wardrobe myself. A bigger one. The thought was thoroughly depressing. “I’m always hungry.”

“It’s the stress. And your abilities. You’re system is rev-ed up, burning more calories. You’ll settle into it in time, but right now, you need food. It will help.”

 
He was right. By the time we had polished off the fries and I was half way through my Diet Coke, I was feeling halfway human again. Not back to my old self, but good enough to talk.

“Okay, so what happened back there, Mac?” My voice broke and I realized I wasn’t doing quite as good as I thought. Taking a couple of deep breaths, I tried again. “What’s going on?”

“I’m an Empath,” he said, looking at the steering wheel instead of me. “All Watchers are. It’s one of the requirements for the job.”

I was confused, this psychic stuff was still new to me. “So what? You can read my thoughts?”

“No. Taylor. Never. Empaths sense emotions. It makes them ideal for watching over the Clients.”

So that’s what happened. He was picking up on my emotions. That’s why he always seemed one step ahead of me. That explained a lot and wasn’t far off from what I had expected him to admit to, but it still didn’t explain the past few minutes.
 

“Seems kind of dangerous to me, considering what just happened.”
 

“This isn’t normal.”
 

Not normal. Now why didn’t that surprise me? I knew nothing about Empaths except what he had told me so far and even I had figured out this couldn’t be normal. Mac was still focused on the steering wheel or something close behind it. He seemed as confused as I was, and I could tell he was trying to sort things out in his head before trying to explain them to me.
 

“Maybe you should start at the beginning, Mac. When did you start being a Watcher?”

“Right after I got out of Special Ops.” He looked up and shrugged. “I’d always been sensitive to people’s emotions. Could tell when someone was hurt or angry. It came in handy during missions. I’d know if someone was lying, or if they had given us all the information they had. I always assumed I had, I don’t know, like a second sense. When my last tour was over, I was approached by the Agency. I went in for their testing and apparently passed with flying colors. I didn’t have anything else in the tube, and it sounded interesting, so I signed on.”
 

“How did you get assigned to me?”

“I did my basic training and then taught some, working with some of the Handlers. Those are the guys who teach the Clients how to use and control their abilities,” he explained at my confused look. “I told you that you didn’t have a Watcher until 7 years ago. They just keep an eye on things and stop by once in a while to make sure everything’s going okay. The abilities manifest themselves in people at different times. Something usually sets it off, a trauma, or high stress situation. When a person is a high candidate for having some abilities, they send a Watcher in if there’s an event that might precipitate a change. In your case, it was the death of your Aunt that started the ball rolling.”

“And lucky you, you got stuck with me.”

“Actually, that’s not true. I picked you.” He started playing with his straw, moving it up and down nervously. “I was sent do a visual check on you when your Aunt died. You didn’t see me, but I was at the funeral, sitting in the back. Even that far from you, the connection was strong. Stronger than anything I’d come across. I didn’t understand it, but I pulled some strings and made sure I was assigned to you. I packed my bag and flew in the next week. I’ve been with you ever since.”

I was surprised at how calm I’d remained during his explanation. He had given me bits and pieces before, but now, for the first time, I was getting the full picture and it should have been overwhelming. Somehow it wasn’t and I had a feeling that had something to do with Mac.

“We need to head out to met my contact. We need those ID’s.” He checked his watch and stowed his drink, putting the van in gear. “We’re running behind, so we’ll finish up after we pick up the crew at the mall.”

He pulled onto Central and headed toward Lake Catherine. As we passed the huge lakefront homes and marinas dotting the shoreline, Mac’s fingers beat out a rhythm on his leg. I had never seen him nervous like this before and I wondered what problems he was anticipating that had him so worried.

“What about this afternoon?” I asked. “You said it wasn’t normal, what happens between us. What’s different?”

“I told you I felt a connection with you immediately?” I nodded that I remembered. I wasn’t likely to forget. “It was strong. After I got here, it grew stronger. Empaths can sense emotions, but this is more. It’s like I feel your emotion. Almost like I absorb it. It’s stronger if I touch you.” He ventured a quick glance at me and then back at the road.
 

“It’s incredibly strong if you direct it at me. This afternoon, you were angry at me. Then you were scared. It was . . ” He paused, searching for words. “I don’t know, like a sensory overload. I don’t understand it. I’ve never seen it before, but that’s the best way I can think of to explain it.”

“So that’s why you know when I am starting to freak. That’s when you tell me to calm down.” He nodded.

“Why are you nervous now?” I gestured toward his tapping fingers.

“I’m not,” he answered, with a half laugh. “You are.”

I SAT IN the car while he met his contact. We had gone to a park on the lake for the meeting. Mac had phoned ahead to let him know what we needed and e-mailed digital photos of Jonas, Trinity and Mama D to him to use on the ID’s. The rush job had cost extra, a lot extra, but if he was as good as Mac claimed, it was well worth it. While I was waiting I had time to think about what Mac had said and the pieces starting fitting together. It made sense in an insane sort of way. One thing I knew for sure. I needed to quit second guessing myself and stop being suspicious of every move he made.
 

He opened the door and tossed the packet of ID’s to me as he slid behind the wheel. I stopped him before he could put the van into drive, though. If we were going to be together on this, I needed to set some ground rules.

“Mac, why didn’t you tell me about this before?” It may have sounded a lot like my other questions, but my attitude was different. This time I was curious, not angry and accusing. I needed to know how he thought, how he worked. The best way to do that was to find out how he reasoned things out.

“There wasn’t a good time. You were a bundle of emotions, all of them threatening to erupt at any minute. You’d had a lot of stuff coming at you and it didn’t seem like a good time to throw something else on the fire.”
 

He put the van into drive, but kept his foot on the brake. I could tell he was debating with himself and I tried to stay relaxed as I waited for him to decide what to do.

“That’s not all of it though. The main reason I didn’t say anything was because this is something between you and me. I don’t understand it, but there’s a bond between us. I don’t know what’s going to happen or how this is going to end, but I think the fewer people that know about it, the better. That includes Jonas and Trinity.”

He was telling the truth. I knew it, could sense it. I didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from Jonas and Trinity, but I had to agree with him. The less they knew, the safer they were. At least for now.

Mac waited while I weighed things in my mind. He knew the minute I had decided, as he nodded at me, and put the van in motion. He might not be able to read my mind, but being able to sense my emotions so strongly was pretty close. After all, he’d had seven years to practice.
 

 
I reached down and snagged the envelope before it could slide under the seat. We were due at the mall to pick everyone up in 10 minutes and we were barely going to make it on time. As we sped back to the highway, I opted to worry about whether anyone had recognized them and if they were all safe rather than the fact that I had just colluded with Mac to keep secrets from the people I loved and trusted.
 

WE PULLED INTO the parking lot with one minute to spare, and relief poured through me when I spied Mama D coming through the glass doors. Right behind her were Trinity and Jonas, both of the them loaded down with bags.

“Good grief.” Mac threw the van into park as soon as he saw the bags, hopping out to open the back for Jonas as he threw me a horrified look. He had vastly underestimated Trinity’s shopping prowess. I had to laugh when I got out to help them stow the bags. Trinity was practically dancing around, while Mama D was proudly wriggling her fingers in front of me, waiting for me to notice her new acrylic nails.

I made the appropriate complements, assuring her several times, that they were in fact, the perfect color, the shape was wonderful and the length, just right. Reassured, Mama D, finally got into the van and sat there, quietly wiggling her fingers, watching the light bounce off the shiny red polish. I looked at Trinity and she threw me a smile and a wink, obviously enjoying herself. I couldn’t be sure, but from the way Mama D was acting, she’d never had her nails done before. Scrubbing floors and doing laundry wasn’t really part of a good hand care regimen.
 

Jonas pushed past me and latched onto the front door handle.