Bringing Benjy Home (Security Ops) (6 page)

Her gaze followed his and she had trouble formulating an answer.

“Highway 128.” The words sounded strangled to her own ears.

“You said that,” he agreed, gazing at his hand fascinatedly as he slowly wrapped the blond strands around his index finger. “But what city is it near?”

“City?” she whispered blankly, her eyes never straying from his hand. With each movement, more of his finger disappeared under the blond wrapping. Each rhythmic twist sent a corresponding tingle to her scalp.

Swallowing hard, Jaida watched until his finger was covered from base to tip as if with a blond ribbon. Then his thumb rose to stroke the strands gently. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she was dimly aware that she’d lost track of the conversation. With physical effort she forced her gaze to his face. His thick, dark lashes were lowered, his eyes still trained on the action of his hand. Concentrating fiercely, she picked up the direction of their earlier words. “I don’t know. About the city, I mean. I couldn’t tell . . .”

His lashes swept upward and suddenly she was staring directly into his eyes. She abruptly forgot what she’d been saying. She’d seen his eyes icy, skeptical and sardonic by turn, but right now they were devoid of those emotions. For the first time since she’d met him she didn’t sense the familiar shield he used to keep the rest of the world at bay. That didn’t mean, however, that he was any easier to read. She still wasn’t able to recognize the light shining from those green orbs, but it filled the pit of her stomach with an undeniable heat.

“Surely you have an idea, though.”

At those softly uttered words, her gaze fell to his mouth.

He continued in the same dulcet tone. “We need to know where to focus our search. If you could just give us a bit more information, we could use it to help Benjy.”

The meaning of his words was lost for long moments as she watched his mouth form them. His well-shaped lips barely moved as he spoke, but each word uttered deepened the cleft in his chin. Those lips seemed much too close to her own.

“I’m sorry,” she responded helplessly. “I don’t know . . . .”

The phone jangled then, breaking the spell that had shrouded them. Trey went still. A moment later Mac appeared in the doorway.

“State police,” he said tersely. His eyes flicked over Trey and Jaida, taking in their proximity on the couch, then settling on the pale strands stilt trapped between his partner’s thumb and forefinger.

Trey disentangled his finger from its silken bonds and rose with swift, sure grace. He reached for the receiver in Mac’s outstretched hand and walked back into the kitchen.

Jaida took a deep breath and sank against the back cushions of the couch. She felt as though she’d just been released from a magnetically charged field. The force of Trey’s presence was enough to keep her nerves jumping; his nearness had short-circuited her brain. At last, the meaning of Mac’s words sank in, and she looked at him.

“Trey never got around to answering my question. Were you able to locate the motel from the information I gave you?”

He seemed to weigh her words before answering. Apparently deciding there was no harm in responding, he said, “We did find one by that name on Highway 128.”

He turned and went back to the kitchen, leaving Jaida filled with relief. It wouldn’t be long now. The fact that the state police were calling meant that they would already have something to report. Perhaps even now they were on their way to locating Lauren’s son.

The state police were calling
. The thought lingered in Jaida’s mind, until her relief was pushed aside by something else. If Trey had known which state police to alert, he’d undoubtedly known where the motel was located. Which meant he hadn’t needed that information from her.

Which meant he’d been
testing
her again.

Her fist slammed into the cushion next to her. She wished with all her might that it was Trey taking the blow. Damn that man, anyway! She couldn’t let her guard down around him; she’d known that. But there was no denying that if she had been hiding anything from him, he would have gotten that information from her a few minutes ago. She gave a mirthless laugh at the polished act she’d fallen for. He’d been so smooth, so . . . so damn human for once. And he’d reeled her in as easily as a spotted bass on a spinning rod.

Her cheeks heated in remembrance of the scene. She was never at her best in the morning. Her mind didn’t start functioning until her first two shots of caffeine, a shower and breakfast, in that order. She’d had none of those this morning. But she couldn’t totally blame her gullibility on that lack. No, her real embarrassment stemmed from the fact that she’d
wanted
to believe him. She’d wanted to think he was coming to trust her and yes, dammit, that he was beginning to respond to her in some way.

The knowledge filled her with self-recrimination and she gave her suitcase a childish kick. Immediately she winced, and bent to rub her bare toes. So she’d been stupid and naive. It certainly wasn’t the first time. But she’d do her best to make sure it was the last, at least where Trey Garrison was concerned. Using her sight to find Benjy was going to be traumatic enough. She didn’t need the kind of emotional damage Trey could inflict with the blink of an eye.

She wished she knew what was going on in the kitchen as a result of that phone call, but darned if she was going to ask any more questions. Trey would have to come to her eventually. She knew that as certainly as she knew her name. And if needed, she’d help again, no matter what she thought of him and his tactics. Benjy Garrison was alone out there, snatched away from his mother and everyone who loved him. He was confused and scared and lonely, and she was going to help bring him home.

But, she thought, bending to pick up her suitcase, her nature wasn’t so forgiving that she relished spending any more time in Trey’s presence. She started toward the bathroom, then stopped and turned an appraising eye on the plate of sandwiches. From the dealings she’d had with Trey Garrison so far, she knew she was going to need her strength.

After her shower, Jaida took her time in the bathroom. She interspersed drying her long, pale hair with taking bites from the mound of peanut-butter sandwiches on the plate. As she dressed in jeans and a tee shirt, she mentally calculated how long it had been since she’d last eaten. Much too long, she concluded, reaching for another sandwich. Her body burned calories at a rate that baffled modern science. Normally she took pleasure in restocking at regular intervals. Yesterday’s fast had been out of the ordinary for her, another sin she could lay at Trey’s door.

She looked in the mirror. She usually didn’t bother with much makeup, finding the results garish with her unusual coloring. But today she’d used some concealer and a small amount of eye shadow. The concealer was to disguise the shadows beneath her eyes, attesting to the fact that she’d gotten much less than the twelve hours’ sleep she preferred after one of her sessions. And the eye shadow was . . . well, because she needed every hint of fortitude she could muster to take on the man in the other room. To that end she’d put on her favorite outfit and a little highlighter. Somehow she knew her efforts would be woefully inadequate.

She returned to the living room, placing her bag near the couch and the plate on the table. A moment later a prickle ran down her spine. Even as she slowly straightened, she knew whom she would see when she turned around.

“Lauren is awake.” Trey’s voice was peremptory. “Do you want to join us in the kitchen?” She didn’t even try to hide her irritation with him, he noted. She swept by him regally, leaving in her path the scent of perfume and shampoo. His nostrils flared in immediate masculine appreciation.

In the kitchen, Mac lounged against the counter, his arms crossed around the front of his wife’s waist, holding her against him. Lauren already had a cup of coffee sitting in front of Jaida, and they sat next to each other at the table. Trey stood facing them, his countenance grim. “After you lay down last night,” he told Lauren, “Jaida gave us some information that helped lead us to a motel she claims Benjy was at.”

Jaida wondered if she was the only person in the room to hear the note of derision in Trey’s voice as he imparted this information.

Lauren gave a little gasp, her hand rising to her lips. She spoke not a word, but the hope on her face was easy to read.

Trey’s voice softened a little as he addressed his sister. “The state police were alerted, and they’ve searched the motel. There’s no evidence he was there.”

“Have they questioned everybody?” Lauren demanded desperately. “Surely someone saw him.”

“The desk clerks have been questioned and they couldn’t recall anyone traveling with a small child matching Benjy’s description. Although,” he added almost reluctantly, “they wouldn’t necessarily have seen him. The rooms are accessed from doors that open onto the parking lot.” That was as much of the conversation as he was willing to share with his sister. The night clerk had received a call complaining about a crying child, but he wasn’t about to lay that one on Lauren.

“You have to go there, Trey,” Lauren said firmly, meeting her brother’s startled gaze. “I won’t be convinced unless you check this out yourself. No one can get information from people the way you can.”

His mouth flattened. “Honey, it’s pointless. I told you, Benjy isn’t there.”

“But he might have been.” Lauren’s eyes were bright, determined. “And if he was you may be able to figure out where he was taken.” Her gaze slipped to the woman beside her. “If you take Jaida with you.”

Jaida’s heart sank immediately at the words. Although she was committed to helping this family, the thought of additional travel with Trey was decidedly unappealing.

“You’ll go, won’t you, Jaida?” Lauren pleaded. “Maybe you’ll know more when you actually see the spot where Benjy was.”

Jaida could feel the force of Trey’s gaze, and it was an effort to keep her eyes on Lauren. She was all too aware of what she would see in his eyes at any rate. “Yes,” she responded quietly, surely. “I’ll know more then.”

Trey focused on the tremulous smile his sister aimed at Jaida and his face went still. Despite everything that had happened to Lauren in her life, she continued to be as trusting a person as he’d ever met. He’d wondered about that sometimes, how the events of their early lives could have had such opposite effects on the shaping of their personalities.

His gaze shifted to encompass both Jaida and Lauren. They were a picture of contrasts, his sister’s dark hair providing a foil for the other woman’s translucent blond shade. Doubtlessly, their differences went far deeper than the physical.

“Trey.” Lauren’s soft voice held an imploring note. “You’ll take Jaida with you, won’t you? You’ll let her help?”

Trey studied his sister, remembering the promise she’d asked of him last night, the one he hadn’t given. There was only one way to fully discredit Jaida to Lauren, and that was to play this scene out until Ms. West had enough rope to hang herself with. “I wouldn’t even consider leaving here without Jaida,” he said.

Despite his expressionless tone, Jaida felt a palpable chill settle over her at his words. She knew that he was far from trusting her yet. About as far as it was possible to be. That shouldn’t have surprised her, and it certainly shouldn’t have caused this forlorn feeling to spread inside. As she met his eyes, she wondered if it was even within her power to change his mind.

Their gazes clashed for several moments before Lauren’s voice interrupted them.

“You never did say where the motel was. Where is it that you and Jaida will be going?”

Trey looked at his sister and smiled. He didn’t miss a heartbeat delivering the lie. “Didn’t I mention that?” he asked smoothly. “I could have sworn I did. We’re going to Idaho, honey. Boise, Idaho.”

Chapter 4

Finding herself airborne twice in two days was enough to severely dampen Jaida’s normally sunny disposition. She forced her fingers to uncurl from the armrest she was clutching with white-knuckled desperation. Ignoring her queasy stomach, she exhaled a breath and snuck a glance at Trey, who was sitting silently beside her. He looked impatient, a little bored and lethally dangerous. The flight attendant didn’t seem to interpret his dark good looks in quite the same way, however. She paused in her busy schedule several times to banter with him.

Jaida snorted delicately. She’d like to warn the other woman not to be taken in by Trey’s handsome affability. It was a guise he seemed capable of donning at will.

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at the memory of how easily he had duped her this morning. She’d known from the beginning that he was a threat to her, although not in the physical sense. She supposed that if she really wanted to find out more about what made the man tick, what he was really thinking, she could manufacture a reason to touch him, could invite the unconscious bits of knowledge that would surely follow.

Just the thought had her shrinking deeper into her seat, away from him. She’d spent too many years trying to shield herself from human contact, avoiding the accompanying
knowing
that inevitably ensued. Few people took any pains to keep their thoughts and emotions hidden far beneath their surface, anyway. The most casual of touches could transmit them to Jaida, leaving her feeling buffeted and exhausted.

She sliced a glance at Trey from the corner of her eye. He’d circumvented her usual responses from the first. The few occasions when she’d been unable to avoid it, his touch had evoked powerful currents, the mere memory of which could still send her reeling. She hadn’t received peeks into his emotional corridor at those touches, but the resulting sparks that had leaped between them were even more frightening for their unfamiliarity. There was no way she was going to invite that again. And there was really no reason to. The one thing that was easy to read about him was his complete disregard for
her
.

Trey glanced at the woman by his side. She hadn’t said a word since they’d left the house, not on the way to the airport, not since they’d boarded the plane. He knew her well enough by now to be certain this silence was uncustomary for her. Noting her pale complexion and drawn expression, he gave an inward sigh. “You aren’t going to toss your cookies, are you?” he asked abruptly.

She closed her eyes in embarrassment, then opened them again to glare at him. “Thank you so much for your delicately worded expression of concern. But I’m fine.”

He grunted and turned back to his magazine. “Well, you don’t look fine. You look ready to keel over at any moment.”

“If I look nauseated, it’s only in reaction to your performance with the flight attendant,” she retorted. She leaned over and snatched a handful of magazines from his lap, taking care not to touch him.

That remark recaptured his attention. “My what?”

“Your performance,” she enunciated. “You know. That little act of oh-so-charming civility. Why, with charm like that, you could make a killing selling Bibles at a Baptist revival.”

His gaze narrowed at her gibing tone.

“I suppose that polished pretense goes a lot further in getting you what you want than, say, outward distrust. Although we both know that’s really how you view the world.” She stopped then, her wayward tongue as usual running ahead of her brain.

“You know so much about me?” he questioned
sotto voce
. “Your psychic abilities must be something indeed for you to have arrived at such an in-depth understanding.” He made a gesture of invitation. “Go on. Let’s hear this insight of yours.”

She returned his stare with one of her own. Wiser women than she would hurriedly retreat from that silky tone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t one to back down from a dare, and that was exactly what he’d issued. Added to the fact that she was at her absolute worst when she was hungry or sick, he had the makings of a human storm on his hands.

“You’re an accomplished liar,” she said simply. At the look of menace that crossed his features she raised her eyebrows. “Do you deny how easily you lied to your sister? Boise, Idaho, my granny’s left foot. Don’t you think Lauren deserves to know the truth about our destination? Especially since it concerns her son?”

“I have my reasons for not telling Lauren we’re going to Boston. Reasons,” he added meaningfully, “that have nothing to do with you.”

“Of course they have nothing to do with me. I’m just the person you’ve dragged across the country and back to help you,” Jaida agreed mockingly. “You couldn’t trust me with your precious reasons, just as you couldn’t share the information with your sister. Because there’s only one person in the world you really trust, and that’s Trey Garrison.”

He surveyed her from beneath lowered lashes, battling, not for the first time, an urge to throttle her. “If that’s the extent of your half-baked abilities, you wouldn’t even make a decent living telling fortunes in the circus.” After a pause he added deliberately, “But perhaps you’ve already found that out for yourself.”

The plane hit an air pocket then, and Jaida’s stomach did a nauseating roll. She swallowed hard and concentrated on his demeaning words. Circus fortune teller indeed. The big jerk. “You have a lot of nerve believing I’m a fake, when you’re one of the biggest phonies I’ve ever met,” she shot back.

“Lady, you’d better be damn careful,” he warned softly. “You’re really starting to annoy me.”

“Good. Because you’ve had that effect on me since yesterday. I’m used to people being skeptical about me, and that’s okay, I can handle that.” She even preferred healthy doubts to the macabre fascination some reserved for her abilities. “But just remember,
you
came to me. I didn’t seek you out. I’ll help in any way I can to find Benjy. But I’m getting darn sick and tired of being treated like some kind of fraud. And it wears a little thin, coming from you.”

She halted abruptly as the flight attendant stopped beside them and spent an inordinate amount of time providing just the right snack for Trey. As an afterthought, she inquired about Jaida’s preferences, turning quickly away when Jaida shook her head.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” she muttered, intercepting the easy smile he bestowed on the woman. “You’ve got hot-and-cold running charisma, and you use it so effortlessly when you want to. But it’s nothing but a means to an end. If anyone is a fake around here, it’s
you
.”

He tamped down his annoyance with conscious effort. The fact that her words had a grain of truth to them only fed his irritation. That certainly didn’t mean he gave credence to any special powers she claimed, only that, as he’d suspected, frauds like her made a study of human nature. And he’d been admittedly lax about keeping his opinions of her and her abilities to himself.

“Do you have any other pearls of wisdom for me, or are you going to let me eat these—” he raised his food packages “—in peace?”

Her stomach roiled. “You should be aware—” she managed the words through suddenly dry lips “—that I’m a straightforward person, and I expect to be treated the same. I don’t like games.”

“And you should be aware that any games I play, I play to win.”

It was clear that he considered the conversation at an end. Jaida wouldn’t have been able to continue it at any rate. Oxygen suddenly seemed in short supply, and her stomach was doing gymnastics.

It was several minutes before Trey glanced at her again. He noted her pasty complexion and the dampness that had appeared on her forehead. Swearing silently, he took immediate action, placing one hand on the back of her head and forcing it between her knees. “Breathe,” he ordered. “Deeply.” He grasped her free hand in his and squeezed tightly. “That’s it,” he said encouragingly, ignoring the current that transferred from her palm to his, and her efforts to extricate herself. “Slow, deep breaths. It’s mind over matter.”

Jaida gasped at the jolt of raw electricity that sprang between them when he took her hand. Heat flowed from his hand to hers, with an accompanying charge of energy. When he didn’t release her after a few seconds, the expected happened. The nausea, heat and electric charge faded and she felt as though she were being hurled at Mach-I speed down a wind tunnel. Colors swirled wildly behind her eyelids, and then the colors receded, to be replaced with snippets of images, disconnected fragments that formed fleeting mental pictures.

Smoke and fire poured from the ruined building. Trey stumbled out of it, almost falling under the burden he carried. People were racing past him, and finally he fell to his knees, sliding the man he’d hauled out of the building to the ground. A pool of blood formed around them, and Trey’s face was a mask of anguish and determination. She could feel his pain as sharply as if she were experiencing it herself, and something else, a combination of fury and fear. A litany pounded through his head.
Don’t die, don’t die, c’mon, Mac, don’t die on me now!

Jaida finally managed to wrest her hand free from Trey’s at the same time that he let her raise her head. She pulled away from him and huddled deep in the corner of her seat. Her eyes were wide and her breath came in pants. Color had returned to her cheeks, a deep pink flush that didn’t look any healthier than her former paleness.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Trey asked, his voice tinged with reluctant concern.

She raised a hand, as if by doing so she could keep him from reaching for her again. “Yes . . . I’m better. I’m fine. Just don’t . . .”
Touch me
.

After piercing her with a long stare, Trey gave a shrug and turned away. Reopening his magazine, he turned his attention to an article on computers.

After several long minutes Jaida’s breathing slowed, and she straightened in her seat. Noting that her hands still had a tendency to tremble, she clasped them tightly in her lap. Never had she experienced a vision as strong as the one she’d just had. Trey had touched her before, and the current that had run between them had shocked and, yes, frightened her. But it hadn’t begun to match the vivid mental replay she’d just been a party to. She’d wondered several times in the past twenty-four hours whether Trey was capable of human emotion, at least toward anyone other than his family. She wouldn’t wonder anymore. Now she knew there had been a time in his past when he’d been full of panic at the thought of losing . . .

His only friend.

The snippet of information flashed into her mind, unbidden. A chill pervaded her limbs, and she rubbed her arms frantically. She didn’t like this at all. By some quirk of cosmic fate Trey seemed to have the power to heighten her uncommon powers, to magnify them. She managed a grim little smile. Fate did indeed, as Granny always said, have a warped sense of humor.

For a moment, she wished mightily for Granny’s comforting arms and her uncommon wisdom. Maybe she could explain Jaida’s uncustomary reactions to this man in a way that made sense of them, that relegated them to the ordinary.

But somehow she thought this strange pull that existed between her and Trey might even be beyond Granny’s comprehension.

It seemed like déjà vu as they stood in line to rent a vehicle, a quick little Oldsmobile this time. Jaida waited off to the side, not even offering to help and let Trey retrieve their luggage. She got into the car while he stashed their bags in the trunk of the rental. Then he slid in behind the steering wheel and programmed the in-dash GPS before he began to drive.

“So what’s your plan once we reach the motel?” Jaida asked after long silent minutes had ticked by.

Trey took his time answering, as if weighing how much to tell her. “I called the state police and told them I was coming. Hopefully they will have left an officer for me to talk to. There’s been plenty of time for them to have gone through the place pretty thoroughly. If proof exists that Benjy has been there, they will have found it.” He spoke with more confidence than he felt. He hadn’t been completely assured when he’d talked to the police that they were giving his nephew’s disappearance top priority. And when they’d pressed him about the “tip” he’d received, placing his nephew at the Glenview, he’d been noncommittally vague. He didn’t doubt that their questions would be more pointed when he arrived, and he felt a sense of distaste at the upcoming interview. He didn’t believe any more than they did that Benjy had been there, was certain, in fact, that this whole thing was a lame hoax, perpetuated by the woman sitting next to him.

And yet . . . he couldn’t deny the surge in his stomach as he drove toward the motel. He couldn’t help remembering the complaint to the night clerk about the crying child. Not that he put any stock in psychic nonsense. Yet, in spite of his steady disbelief, there was a tiny seed of hope unfurling deep inside him. A bloom not nurtured by any faith in Jaida’s ability, but born of his abiding love for his young nephew and his fervent desire to hold him safe in his arms again.

Jaida wanted to ask him more questions, but he was reticent at the best of times, and something told her now didn’t number among those. Though no expression showed on his hard face, he was radiating energy, and maybe a hint of nerves. She slid a little closer to the passenger door. She was still shaken by their earlier encounter, and she desperately wanted to guard against a repeat occurrence.