Riding the Storm (36 page)

But
when he heard her whisper his name back, he knew something had gone right. The
tattoo, which had continued its slow burn, now throbbed as if it had a pulse of
its own, as if his heart and soul were connected to the ink embedded in his
skin.

If
the marking connected him to Haley, then it most definitely did contain the
best part of him.

Focus,
Remy. She's helping you through this storm. Concentrate
—
don't break the connection
.

The
connection had the power to shed their clothes—which was good, since he didn't
exactly have a free hand.

"
Bebe
,"
he murmured, slid inside her without any further talk. Her hips moved to meet
his and she thrust against him, while lightning tore at the sky.

They'd
somehow been transported to each other and to the center of the storm, open to
one another as well as the outside elements. His mouth skimmed her breast, her
nipple, even as rain mixed with hail tore at him, sliced at his bare back, as
he moved his body to cover hers completely and shield her from the elements.

Focus
on me, Remy. Only me.

He
pressed his head against her, her sweet, hot sex holding him inside, helping
him ride out what could've been a painful experience thanks to his bound hands,
which left him no way to give himself relief during this storm. Instead, waves
of pleasure stroked him, Haley's nimble hands swept his body—and he shuddered
over and over into her.

Thunder
boomed overhead, pulled his senses outward. His breathing was audible, sharp,
his chest tight, and he flickered between where he was, arms straining against
the restraints, and where he wanted to be, back inside Haley, where it was
safe.

She's
not safe, though. Never will be, as long as you're around.

He'd
always known that, but the tattoo connecting them confirmed it. He had a strong
suspicion that just removing the ink wouldn't break their bond—one put in place
long before he'd ever met or fallen in love with Haley Marie Holmes.

It
was time to do the right thing. The hero's choice. He had to be ready for the
last resort plan, because if Ender, Wyatt and Annika were really gone, he was
in pretty big trouble. And from the way Charles had been talking, so was the
world if Remy got into the wrong hands.

While
he strained against the bonds, one of them loosened.

In a
minute, he'd be hands free, and there were more than a thousand means of
destruction around this old barn to fashion a weapon.

But
Haley was tugging at him, pulling him back down to her, like she was going to
fight his plan till the last.

Remy.
please…

Haley's
emotions swirled and tangled with Remy's, so fast and furious that every time
she reached out to capture and hold one, it slipped between her fingers. Love,
sadness, joy… it was all there, but she couldn't get close enough to any one to
absorb the significance behind it.

Around
them, the storm roared, though some distant part of her knew she was warm and
dry on a soft bed. They floated in the heart of the tempest, hail and wind and
lightning spinning beneath them, above them, all around, but she cared about
nothing except how Remy felt inside her.

She
wrapped herself around him, using more than her arms and legs—her entire being
surrounded him and kept him with her, because something else tugged, trying to
draw him away. Pain and sadness… and worse, resignation.

Shh
…
love me, Haley
.

She
didn't hear the words, but she felt them, just as she felt him move inside her,
felt her heartbeat and panting breaths synchronize with his.

His
hands were everywhere at once, caressing her breasts, drawing seductive
patterns on the skin of her back, framing her face to hold her for a kiss that
transmitted the rapture of loving so deeply, so wholly that the world around
them ceased to exist.

They
rolled together so neither was on top for more than a moment, but never once
did they come apart. His cock filled her to overflowing, and God it was good,
the way he drove into her, every powerful stroke taking her to the very edge.

The
textures, the sensations, they were more intense here. Sweet, sharp pleasure
built with each clever tug of his fingers on her nipples. Pure flame streamed
through her sex, as though a fuse had been lit.

Her
mind spun with lust—sexual, mental, emotional.
This is love
, she
thought.
This is how it should be. No pain. No fear. Just trust
.

It
was a high she'd never experienced, and as Remy thrust inside her, kissed her
savagely yet tenderly, she shattered. Her orgasm ripped through every organ,
her brain, took her apart at the molecular level. Remy went with her, and it
was as though lightning had struck, seared them together in a possession of
ecstasy that went on and on.

I
love you.

I
love you too.

Now
there were no secrets, and she knew his heart. And he knew the truth of hers,
as well. She loved him beyond anything she'd ever believed possible.

You'll
be safe now
, he told her.
I'll
make sure of it
.

The
connection began to weaken, like they were on two ends of a rubber string that
had started to stretch and crack.

I'll
make sure of it? What
was he talking
about?

The
string broke, throwing her violently back into the farmhouse bedroom, but not
before she caught Remy's last secret. The one that ripped through her like a
bullet.

Rolling
over, she lost her lunch on the floor.

Remy
was going to make sure no one used him as a weapon or hurt those he loved.

He
was going to take his own life.

Haley
staggered to her feet, her body shaking as she stumbled to the window. She'd
break out, jump to the ground, stop him somehow.

The
door opened, and she whirled, the sudden motion making her dizzy.

A man
stood there, a scrawny, short guy wearing glasses. "Come with me,
Haley," he said in a deep, calm voice she didn't expect from such a small
man.

This
was her chance. She could get away from him, make a run for the barn. Before
the thought could go further, he grasped her wrist. Instinctively, she jerked
away, but her arm snapped back to his hand.

Strings
of white goo stretched between his palm and her wrist.

"No
escaping, said the spider to the fly," he murmured, and she shuddered.
ACRO agents unnerved her at times, but this guy's creep-factor shot right
through the troposp here.

He
pushed her ahead of him, and the goo lengthened so she was forced to lead as
they moved through the old farmhouse that had been transformed, on the inside
at least, into a crazy den of technology and Itor agents. Clearly, they'd been
operating covertly here for at least a few days, probably to ensure plenty of
backup.

She
had no idea which of the half dozen or so agents on the main floor below
possessed special powers of any kind, but it didn't matter. Were they
completely normal humans, she couldn't overpower them and escape.

Especially
not with the scary little nerdman attached to her and right on her heels.

"Keep
going," Nerdman said, in his mild-mannered voice that made him all the
more frightening. He prodded her with a finger, and she started up the
staircase in front of her.

At
the top of the stairs, he pointed to a door at the end of the hall.

"Go
inside."

"What's
in there?"

Nerdman
pushed his BC glasses up on his face. "The man who decides if you live or
die."

Chills
ran up her spine, and her gut knotted. "I think I'll pass. Take me to the
barn."

Laughing,
Nerdman snapped the sticky stuff off her wrist and opened the door, which
creaked ominously. Tables laden with beeping equipment and flashing screens
filled the room. A dark-haired man sat at a desk, his brown eyes focused like
lasers on her.

"Please
come in, Miss Holmes," he said, in a pleasant, Greek-tipped voice.

"Do
I have a choice?"

He
twirled a pen between his slim fingers. "There's always a choice. You may
go back downstairs, but I warn you, my operatives are bored and looking for
sport, so doing so will be like tossing a cat into a kennel."

"Well,
then," she said, entering and slamming the door in Nerdman's face, "I
suppose there's not really a choice, after all."

"Smart
girl." He gestured to a chair across from his desk. "But then, I'd
expect as much from a parameteorologist whose parents were attorneys."

Rubbing
her wrist, she sat, when all she really wanted to do was beat the snot out of
the man. "Am I supposed to be impressed by the fact that you know all
this? Any lame phone psychic could snag that out of my head."

Suddenly,
her head snapped back as though an invisible fist had slammed into it. Blood
exploded from her nose.

"Let's
get one thing clear, Ms. Holmes, I'm not psychic."

Pain
throbbed, undulated through her sinuses until her brain ached. Blood flowed in
a slow stream from her nose, over her lips and off her chin, but she made no
move to stop it, even when he pushed a box of tissues toward her.

"No,
but you sure are a bastard."

He
smiled, stood and looked out the small window behind him. Lightning forked in
the distance, and thunder rumbled through the room. She wondered again about
Remy, and tried to tamp down the panic that held her in a tight grip.

Play
it smart, Haley. See what this guy wants, and then use it to save Remy.

Smart,
that was fine and dandy, but she cursed her lack of special powers, which might
have made her useful in this situation. As it was, she was helpless, nothing
but a liability, like Ender had said. Remy had told her he loved her, that he'd
die keeping her safe, and oh, God, she couldn't let that happen.

When
her mother died, her father had wasted away, and while she'd like to think she
wasn't as weak as that, she now understood the power of love. Her career had
always come first, because she'd believed love would dilute her passion for
weather, for her work. But Remy only strengthened it. Without him, her job as a
meteorologist would never be the same.

"I
don't suppose I can meet the man who broke into my mind?"

"Sadly,
he's now out of the country." The acid dripping from his voice told her he
wasn't as sad as he pretended to be.

"Why
am I here, Mr… ?"

"Mikos.
Apollo Mikos." He turned to face her. "You're here because Itor
doesn't have a parameteorologist."

"Maybe
that's because people in my field have ethics."

The
unseen fist slammed into her gut, and she doubled over, coughing and wheezing.

"I
have great control over the air, Ms. Holmes, so you might think about how you
answer my questions." He emphasized his point by wrapping an invisible
rope around her throat and tightening until her breath cut off and she fell to
the floor. The noose loosened, and she lay gasping, every breath like sucking
hot embers into her lungs.

"I-I'm
just—" She gasped, and swallowed blood that had drained from her sinuses
into her throat "—just thinking that torture might not be the way t-to
recruit people."

His
laughter rang in her ears, which already buzzed from lack of oxygen, as she
used her wobbly arms pushed up on onto her knees.

"We
don't torture everyone. I wasn't tortured, for example."

That's
because you were already evil, you asshole.

Yeah,
she kept that thought to herself and thanked God he wasn't a mind reader. His
hand appeared at her side, but she shunned it and stood by herself. Waves of
dizziness forced her to brace herself against his desk.

"We
have enticements." His long stride took him to a metal box roughly the
size of large microwave oven. "Do you know what this is?" He gestured
when she shook her head. "Come look."

She
staggered a few steps, and he opened the top of the box. Lights flashed,
needles on gauges flickered… and her step faltered, her coordination a victim
of her utter shock.

"My
God," she gasped. "That isn't… it couldn't be…

Apollo
grinned, and in any other situation, she'd have thought he was handsome. Vile,
but handsome. "It is. Itor's pride and joy. The IWX-1 Meteorological
Generator. It almost makes your boyfriend obsolete."

She
sucked in a harsh breath. "He's not my boyfriend. I barely know him."
It was stupid to lie, she knew, since psychics had probably already sifted
through her brain, but dammit, she had to try.

"Perhaps
not, but he cares about you. Which, of course, works for us."