Prodigal Son (25 page)

Rafe stayed where he was. “Just like that, huh?”

Adrian paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder. “You want explanations? Come with me. I’m going to get Cara back from those goons before they hurt her. They’ve already killed Artie.”

“What?” Rafe dropped the hose and started forward. “Bartow is dead?”

“Murdered.” Gray stood his ground as Rafe reached him. “Now we can work together and stop the same thing from happening to Cara, or we can have a pissing contest right here.”

“You’re right about one thing—I don’t trust you. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t just hop into your car and help you avenge your boss.”

“Bartow was never my boss; I was the one running things. But there’s another party in the game now, and they’ve changed all the rules.”

“What game?” Rafe demanded. “What rules?”

Gray shook his head, exasperation evident on his face. “Look, I’ll explain it all in the car—assuming you’re coming. Having a Hunter along will certainly make finding Cara easier.”

Rafe scowled. He hated not being able to read the guy. He hated that Gray somehow knew about the Hunter. This could be a trap. “Thanks for helping me out there, but I can find Cara on my own.”

“I’m sure you can. That heap of burned rubble a couple of miles back was your car, right?”

Rafe clenched his jaw, then nodded.

“Then you might as well come with me. I have a car, and I have information, which you apparently lack. Now we’re wasting time. Evan and Mestor could be miles away before we catch up with them.” He stepped into the bar.

“Evan and Mestor?” Rafe followed. “Are those the guys who took Cara and put the whammy on that crowd in there?”

“The whammy?” Gray chuckled. “Interesting term, and that certainly explains why they didn’t listen to me.”

“What’s your angle?” Rafe demanded before they stepped into the main area of the bar. “Why are you so concerned about Cara?”

Adrian paused, his shoulders tense. “Because I was the one who lured her here to find her stepbrother. It’s my fault she’s in danger.”

Rafe nodded. “Finally,” he said, “we agree on something.”

*   *   *

Cara sat quietly in the back of the silver sedan, staring out the window at the passing terrain. It was all she could do to keep the bland expression on her face and pretend that everything was fine. It wasn’t, but her captors didn’t know that. They thought she was under their control, like before.

And yet she wasn’t.

“
You will be quiet and do what you’re told.”

That’s what the one called Evan had said to her, followed by what could only be described as some kind of “push” in her mind. Her immediate internal response had been
No.
And the mental push didn’t take hold, just sort of bounced away. She’d realized her advantage and let her expression grow vacant, as if they had succeeded in putting her in a trance. Amazingly, that had worked. They’d put her in the car as if she were a doll, then gotten in themselves and turned back toward Vegas, talking in low, serious tones in some foreign language. And she’d learned their names: Evan and Mestor. She filed that bit of info away for later.

She had no idea how she was able to resist the compulsion this time, when she hadn’t been able to at least twice before. Maybe it had something to do with that dark force that had swept through her the last time she touched Rafe’s focus stone. He’d said she’d absorbed some of the Hunter energy. Maybe that was helping her now? And if so, how long would it last?

She just hoped it was long enough for Rafe to find her.

*   *   *

They got into the car in silence.

Rafe puzzled over what he’d just witnessed: Adrian Gray easily hypnotizing a bar full of people and convincing them that none of the past hour had happened. Rafe hadn’t been affected—on purpose or not, he didn’t know. But seeing confirmation of what he’d merely suspected made him wary. Either Gray was serious about working together, or he planned to get rid of Rafe when he was done with him.

The fact that he couldn’t read Adrian Gray sat in his gut like cement pancakes.

“I know you have questions,” Gray said. “Why don’t you locate Cara so we know which way to go, and then I’ll answer them.”

An olive branch or a trap? He couldn’t tell.

“I saw you fighting back there,” Rafe said finally. “You’re really good.”

A small smile curved Gray’s lips. “Thank you.”

“But if you try to hurt Cara, I’ll end you.”

Gray nodded. “Understood.” He turned the key in the ignition and waited.

Rafe hesitated. Would he be making things worse by leading Gray to Cara? Then again, at least Gray had helped him out of a bad situation, which meant he might not be an enemy, just a man with his own agenda. Gray had earned a point in the trust scale—a very small point.

The devil you know, and all that.

Rafe closed his eyes.
Where is Cara?

The image solidified in his mind almost instantly. Cara sat in the back of the silver sedan, her expression blank. Rage surged through him. Had they put the whammy on her again?

Then she looked around, a small frown between her brows, and he saw her lips form a word: Rafe.

Stunned, he allowed the vision to dissipate and opened his eyes as he digested the rest of the information being fed to him. It was almost as if she’d sensed him looking for her.

“Well?” Gray said.

“She’s in their car. They’re headed back toward Vegas.”

“All right, then.” Gray pulled out of the parking lot onto the highway and started back the way Rafe had come only an hour ago. “Did she look all right to you?”

Rafe frowned. “Yes, she looked fine. Unharmed, which is lucky for them. Now it’s your turn. Start talking, pal.”

Gray looked amused, which only irritated Rafe. “What would you like to know?”

“What the hell did you do to those people back there?”

“A simple suggestion to smooth things over. Considering the situation was caused by another Whisperer, I thought it was fitting.”

Rafe digested that, then had to ask, “And just what is a Whisperer?”

Gray frowned. “Rafe, how much do you know about your heritage?”

Rafe narrowed his eyes. “You tell me.”

“Are you testing me, or don’t you know what you are?”

“Why don’t you talk to me about what you are instead?”

“You really don’t know, do you? That puts you and your family in a lot of danger.”

“Wait, what’s this about my family?” Rafe turned in his seat. “Start talking, Whisperer Boy.”

Gray’s mouth thinned, rewarding Rafe with a brief moment of petty satisfaction. “I’m very disturbed by your ignorance, Montana. It does not bode well.”

“For you or for me?”

“For all of us.” Gray glanced at him, his expression grave. “The very world depends on us.”

“Wait a second. How did we go from rescuing Cara to saving the world?”

“Because we are all part of the same whole.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not much of a joiner. Start explaining.”

Gray slowly shook his head, like a patient mentor dealing with a difficult student. “We’re not going to be able to stop Jain Criten until you begin trusting me.”

“What does Criten have to do with all this?”

“He’s the heart of it. Evan and Mestor work for him.”

Rafe settled back in his seat. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. What does the president of some foreign island want with Cara?”

“Criten is a powerful Channeler, a man on a mission to right what he sees as an ancient wrong. That makes him dangerous. He wants to use Cara to find her stepbrother.”

“You lured her out here. Wasn’t that your plan?”

Gray shrugged. “I hoped that if he realized she had come looking for him, Cangialosi might surface. I never intended her to get hurt. Frankly, until yesterday I thought she’d gone back to New Jersey.”

“Sure. That’s why her hotel room was trashed and someone—some
Whisperer
—put the whammy on her to send her home.”

“I didn’t toss her room; that was Criten’s doing. But yes, I did plant the suggestion that she return home. I was trying to protect her.” He frowned. “How did you get her to go with you, by the way? I don’t recall anyone ever breaking one of my compulsions.”

“I’m asking the questions. What’s a Channeler?”

“Someone who can manipulate energy and change matter.” Gray’s jaw tightened. “Look, we need to work together to rescue Cara and recover the stone.”

“Stone?” Rafe narrowed his eyes. “That’s what this is all about? Some rock?”

“The Stone of Igarle—”

“Geez, it has a name, too? What is it—some huge diamond or something?”

“No, not a gemstone.”

“Then what?”

Gray sped up, passing a slow-moving truck. “The Stone of Igarle is very powerful and very dangerous in the wrong hands. I have sworn an oath to protect the stone at all costs.”

“Powerful how?”

Gray reached over and tapped the lump beneath Rafe’s shirt that was his focus stone. “Powerful like this.”

“Hey.” Rafe shoved his hand away.

“Relax. I can’t use your crystal against you. I am not a Seer.”

“No, you’re a Whisperer.”

“Exactly. And a Whisperer cannot manipulate the powers of a Seer.”

“Well, that’s good news.” Rafe lay his hand against the stone. Power stirred, warming the crystal against his chest. “Why don’t you tell me more about you Whisperers?”

“We are the strongest of the Warrior sect of Atlantis,” Gray said.

Rafe stared, wondering why he was shocked to hear the
A
word come out of Gray’s mouth. “Come again?”

“You and I have a common ancestry,” Gray said. “We are both descendants of the survivors of Atlantis.”

“Atlantis? Are you nuts?” Then something Gray had said registered. Rafe stopped even trying to play ignorant. “Wait,
survivors
? As in, more than one?”

Gray laughed. “Of course. Surely you did not think your ancestor was the only one?” A glance at Rafe’s face had him shaking his head, clearly still amused. “Wow, you did.”

Rafe just scowled, feeling five years old again and very dumb.

“Okay, history lesson. And perhaps when you have heard the tale, you will trust me enough to let me help you.” Gray kept his foot heavy on the gas, leaving the truck far behind. “Centuries ago in the great kingdom of Atlantis, there were three sects of advanced citizens: Seers, Warriors, and Channelers. Each sect balanced the other to create a perfectly synchronized society.”

“And a Whisperer is a Warrior?”

“Yes.” Gray nodded. “The Warriors are the protectors of Atlantis. Some of the more advanced ones also possess the Whispering gift—the ability to implant suggestions in others with merely a whisper.”

“Doesn’t seem too warrior-like to me.”

“Imagine,” Gray said with a smile, “the effect of such a gift on an attacking force. Or a mob.”

“That would take some loud whispering.”

“It’s just a term, Montana.” Gray sent him a glance of annoyance. “Remember what I did in the bar. And what Evan did before me.”

“Yeah. Thanks for not including me in your whammy.”

“It wasn’t my doing,” Gray said. “Our powers don’t work on other Atlanteans, only humans. I couldn’t put a compulsion on you if I wanted to.”

“Nice to know.” An idea clicked in Rafe’s mind. “Wait a second. I can always see anyone, except my own family. Is that why?”

“I would think so.”

“And I couldn’t read you when we met at the casino.”

“Read me?” Gray arched his brows.

Rafe silently cursed himself for revealing that small vulnerability. “I’m a Seer, pal. I
see
things. Except with you and Criten.” He frowned. “And Cangialosi. Is he—you know, one of us?”

“Not that I know of.” Gray gave a sigh. “It’s probably the influence of the stone.”

“The Ugly Stone?”

“
Igarle
.”

“The Igarle Stone. And this is some ancient relic from Atlantis supposedly?”

“You know,” Gray said, “for a man who can manifest the essence of a primeval warrior at will, you are amazingly skeptical.”

So that’s what the Hunter was
. Rafe bit back the hoard of questions that flooded his mind and asked instead, “So Criten wants the stone, probably for power. What do you want it for?” At Gray’s quick frown, Rafe added, “I assume you want it, too, or else you wouldn’t be involved in this mess.”

“My job is to guard the stone from misuse.” Gray jerked his chin forward. “Look, there they are.”

Rafe fixed his gaze on the silver sedan ahead of them. The Hunter yanked against the leash, hungry to do some damage. “We have to stop that car without hurting Cara.”

Gray gave a slow, deadly smile. “Leave that to me.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Cara knew something was wrong when her captors began jabbering urgently in their own language. Mestor was driving and kept glancing in his rearview mirror. Evan, in the passenger seat, turned to scowl out the back window. Keeping her expression serene, Cara glanced behind them.

A black car was coming up on their tail at a suicidal speed, the low growl of the machine’s engine indicating the driver had his foot planted hard on the gas pedal. Evan glanced over at Mestor and said something in their language. The car behind them crept a few inches closer—and Cara glimpsed Rafe in the passenger seat. Excitement sparked through her, but she managed to maintain her expressionless demeanor and turned to face front again, as if nothing interesting were happening. But inside she wracked her brain for a way to help Rafe rescue her.

Her kidnappers didn’t pay her any attention, no doubt assuming she was still under their spell. The engine of the car behind them roared louder as it crept even closer. Mestor fired off what sounded like rapid-fire questions to Evan, who responded just as urgently. Suddenly Mestor hit the brakes, then the gas.

Cara jerked forward in her seat, then was thrown backward. A squeal of tires sounded from behind them, and she stole a glance out the rear windshield. The black car had jerked to the side and was now coming up beside them. Mestor yanked the wheel hard to the right, nearly striking the other vehicle. Luckily it swerved enough to avoid collision. Evan shouted at his partner, who shot back equally irate responses.