Dream - Dream Specter Part 18

"Stop bothering me! Isn't there some Army law about not tormenting the dying?" "You're not dying." Now that he'd ripped her clothing aside, Shane stared at the amazing fact that none of her wounds was life-threatening. Shock from blood loss was completely possible, but his eyes counted four wounds. One bullet pa.s.sed just under her collarbone and through the shoulder but just high enough to miss her lung. Another piece of lead had impacted on her sternum directly over her heart. The bone looked broken but had held enough to deflect the bullet away from the vital muscle beneath.

The calm manner as she lay on the floor caused him the most concern. She should be writhing in agony. Instead her blue eyes s.h.i.+fted about in a lazy manner that caused Shane to want to keep her talking. With the amount of blood she'd lost, slipping into unconsciousness could have deadly results.

"Now you're lying to me. There must be a rule against that, too."

"They're called regulations. But I'm not lying."

"Yes, you are."

"I'll bet you."

A bet? Christina considered his offer. Maybe she should live just to have the satisfaction of taking him to

the cleaners.

"How much?"

"A kiss."

He'd said it just to keep her attention sharp. Shane waited impatiently for his fathers' men to enter the

house. He could hear their boots on the planking of his porch. Just a few more seconds and he'd have a medic here to stabilize her.

"You don't even like me."

But now that she was taking the time to notice, Shane Jacobs had a really nice set of eyes. They were strong and steady. At the moment she found them strangely comforting. Who cared what he asked for? She was going to die, so she would never have to pay up anyway.

"Okay, it's a bet. Tell my mother not to wear black for a whole year. She looks really awful in black. Oh, and I really can't cook."

The confession made Shane grind his teeth together. He held his face molded into a calm mask that wouldn't distress Christina any further. "I noticed."

"You're a good sport." Her eyes flickered around the room before s.h.i.+fting back to his face. "But you are still a jerk."

Rising from her side, Shane left her to the care of his unit's medic. Jared and his mother might be the only true psychics present but at the moment Shane could literally feel the rage floating on the air. Two of their men were dead.

His men.

While Shane found his temper bordering on violence, his partner stood silently still. Jared stared at the attention being given to Christina. His eyes soaked up the details of the struggle that both women had endured.

"Will she survive?"

"I ain't never seen someone so d.a.m.n lucky in my life." Still shaking his head, the medic pulled his gloves from his hands as he headed for the kitchen sink to finish cleaning up.

Nodding his head in agreement, Jared turned his back on Shane's house. Why couldn't he feel her? Nothing but silence met him tonight. Moving across the s.p.a.ce separating him from his home, Jared sought out the most likely place for him to find a solid link with Rosh.e.l.le.

His bed sat in the dark, looking far too empty. The bedding was tucked and folded neatly. Jared hooked a hand into it tearing it from the mattress as he pulled it closer to his face. Rosh.e.l.le's scent lingered on the fabric. Pulling the scent into his lungs, he sought out the link that bound them together.

Nothing.

Tossing the bedding aside, he moved about the room searching from any item that might carry her image. The puzzle, the books even the deck of cards all felt like Rosh.e.l.le but none of them allowed him to see her tonight.

He had spent his life tracking. So why did his skill elude him now? Frustration rose up as Jared found his options exhausted. He needed a personal object to establish a link with his target. Rosh.e.l.le had very few possessions here.

His room seemed to scream out her absence. Turning his back on the house, Jared sought out the darkness. Without Rosh.e.l.le, the walls of the structure seemed to press in on him.

"Nothing?"

"You are stronger than I am, maybe you can find her."

It was not an admission that came easily for her son. Grace heard the rage that burned behind each of his words. Jared didn't want her help, but he would lower his pride to ask for it to find his mate.

Grace simply could have wished for more hope. She just didn't think she would succeed this time. Yes she held the advantage of experience but her son was every bit as strong as she was. But she would not refuse to try.

Returning from the house, she met her son's eyes with the same regret that mirrored in her own. Rosh.e.l.le had simply not lived in the house long enough to leave her image on any of the items. Jewelry, favorite grooming items, these were the sort of things that her abilities needed for that link. It was the sort of image that took time to imprint.

"Can you pull it off of me?"

"That's a very bad idea."

There was nothing good about tonight at all. Colonel Jacobs' comment wasn't needed.

"No, my son. I believe that Jacobs is correct. We can not afford to have you down."

Pulling a link from another human being was extremely tricky. Grace only did so as a last resort. It would

sap the energy from that person, sending their body into shock and there was no guarantee that she

would get her link.

"Besides, I have never tried it on another psychic. It's very possible that one or both of us might end up in a coma."

"I like that idea even less." Jacobs voiced his opinion with a tone that indicated he wasn't going to budge.

"Fine! Christina?"

"Possibly, but I don't believe the girl has any strength to spare right now."

So they would do nothing. Jared moved away into the trees before his temper snapped. He needed his control firmly in place. His enemy was far too precise in his planning for Jared to make the mistake of engaging him with anything less than complete control.

There would be time for rage. There would be time for recompense. Rosh.e.l.le was his! The man's plan

for her must have changed; otherwise her body would be laying here with the others.

But this wasn't about Rosh.e.l.le. Even she knew that. Their unknown enemy wanted a confrontation with him? Well, Jared would be happy to comply!

Chapter Thirteen.

"Have you felt the fetus kick?"

Dr. Moosavi asked the question. Rosh.e.l.le ignored him. Instead she filled her eyes with the sight of her son's image that the sonogram machine displayed for her. She had performed the same task countless times for her patients, yet never truly understood the depth of emotion that came with looking on that new life as it developed.

"It would be helpful if you answered my questions."

Yes, Rosh.e.l.le imagined it would. But helpful for whom was the question. This man with his hooded eyes and his saleable morals wouldn't gain compliance from her. But her weekly checkups were extremely useful. Rosh.e.l.le was able to see her child as Dr. Moosavi dutifully measured the developing baby that grew within her.

But she wasn't about to give him any more information than his machines could provide. It frustrated the man, Rosh.e.l.le could feel the emotion and it delighted her. Anger in any form could be distracting.

Snapping her attention back to her purpose, Rosh.e.l.le shoved a wall up. A pair of light green eyes were watching her intently. Forcing herself to look at the sonogram monitor again, she filled her thoughts with the image it provided. Miller lost interest in her maternal emotions and put his energies into a magazine that sat in his lap.

Thyssen had almost gleefully introduced the sandy-haired boy to her. Miller was some manner of low-level psychic whose only true talent seemed to be in neutralizing all other psychic signals. The young man seemed to be very bitter about his lack of marketable talents. He detested Jared for being endowed with something that nature had denied him. He hated their unborn child for the same reason.

But he took unusual delight in performing his duties for Thyssen. He dodged her footsteps endlessly. Rosh.e.l.le was never separated from him by more than twenty feet. So far he hadn't seemed to be able to feel her abilities out. She debated the odds of attempting to contact Jared herself. The chance that Miller might identify her abilities kept her from making that attempt. Rosh.e.l.le could find Jared she was certain of it, but that skill was the only card she held. She needed to make sure that her timing was perfect before she laid it on the table. While the boy's vigil chafed, she wasn't in any immediate danger. Time was an ally Rosh.e.l.le could not afford to waste.

It was really very sad to discover more about what Jared was from his enemies. Rosh.e.l.le would have preferred to hear it from him instead. Oh, there were a hundred reasons why Jared had never leveled with her. But none of those seemed to matter just now. Rosh.e.l.le found herself listening to Thyssen simply because he could teach her about the man she loved.

The phone buzzed for attention. Rosh.e.l.le watched Dr. Moosavi answer the electronic device. It must be moving day, again. Thyssen moved her frequently. Rosh.e.l.le rarely laid her head on the same pillow two nights in a row. Except for the bunk she occupied on the small motor home that she was moved about in. The small bed was more of a cell. Most of the time they were in motion, she found herself locked into the bunk to prevent her from being seen by the other motorists on the road.

"Take her out."

"Alone?"

Rosh.e.l.le turned a menacing grin on Miller. Hesitation was written across his face in plain view. The boy was so busy resenting life he never took any time to build upon what he did have. His body was more fat than muscle. His capacity to whine about every discomfort earned him deadly looks from the armed escort that accompanied them.

"They are waiting for her now."

The disgust in the doctor's voice almost caused Rosh.e.l.le to giggle. Instead she jumped down from the exam table and simply walked out of the room. Oh, she knew she couldn't get far but it was so very delightful to hear Miller scramble to keep up with her.

A short nondescript hallway led her out of the building. The motor home was pulled up to a mere foot from the front door to keep any curious eyes from setting sight on her. The air was thick with smoke as the door opened. Turning her head, Rosh.e.l.le noticed that their escort was completely occupied with smoking a last cigarette before their journey began. The hired guns were forbidden to smoke inside the motor home to ensure a healthy baby.

The leering grins sent her way made her step up into the vehicle herself. Rough and unkempt, their deceit made her long for Jared's honor-serving sentries. Standing in the kitchen area of the motor home, Rosh.e.l.le noticed that Miller had decided to join the smoking ring.

Her eyes began a frantic search. Her privacy would last mere minutes and it was vital that she make them count. Several weapons sat out in plain sight; she rejected them immediately. The large nine-millimeter sidearms would be missed. A kitchen knife might go unnoticed. Pulling a drawer open, she hastily selected a wicked-looking blade that she concealed under her loose maternity top.

Rosh.e.l.le had no true idea just what she would do with the weapon, but it was better than nothing at all.

With one weapon secured in her grip, her eyes continued their search. She was so determined to find a weapon, she had overlooked the numerous communication devices at hand. Two cell phones sat secured to backpacks while a laptop computer was laid on the tabletop. Linked by satellite signals, all three could connect her with help.

That was if she knew whom to call.

Rosh.e.l.le doubted that the local police would be any true help to her. As organized as Thyssen appeared to be, it wouldn't surprise her to discover he could prove himself to be her legal guardian. As well as providing enough doc.u.mentation to prove to any responding patrolman that she was completely insane.

Precious time was ticking away as she struggled to find any number she knew that might bring help. Jared had a cellular phone but she didn't know the number.

But she did know his father's! Memory exploded as Rosh.e.l.le cast a look outside before she lifted one of the phones from the table. They didn't often get criminals at the Tri-county medical center but when they did, Brice Campbell took their care personally.

Staring at the keypad, she forced her brain to recall the number. The line connected while she cast another look at the doorway. Instead of the sheriff's voice, she connected with his voicemail. Uncertain just what to say, she muttered out what scattered bits of information she knew 'til the line disconnected her.

Struggling with her disappointment, she erased the call log before slipping the phone back into its case. The blade of her concealed knife was cold against her skin but it provided a warm sense of hope. She had bested this bunch before and she would again.

Her baby deserved no less.

Jared wasn't a stranger to colorful language but the curses that were coming from his father's mouth still caused him to look up. With his cell phone at his ear, his father's face reflected complete rage. Whatever message the man was listening to, it wasn't good.

Well, that was just another penny in their bank. The tension on the mountain was tight enough to strangle a person. Without a single clue they were left to waiting for a place to begin their search.

"Jacobs!"

Brice sent his voice up the mountain in a near roar before he turned his eyes on to his son. He extended the phone out as his face betrayed a troubled torment that he would rather spare his offspring but knew he could not.

Rosh.e.l.le's voice moved over his ears as a similar curse exploded from his mouth. Why didn't she call him? Even as he took in the details of her message, Jared faced the truth of just why Rosh.e.l.le was reduced to calling his father for help. She had no idea how to contact him. Not with a phone anyway.

Both Jason and Shane came in response to his father's shout. Jared handed the phone off as he headed for his home and his flight gear. Colonel Jacobs would have that line traced down within half an hour. Another curse hit his ears as Jason reacted to Rosh.e.l.le's plight.

Thyssen. Applying a name to his enemy brought Jared one step closer to killing him. Checking his pistol for readiness, he slid the weapon into its holster. If he were lucky, he'd get the chance to use his bare hands on the b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

The sight of his empty bed sobered him. The quilts were tucked into the corners and the blanket Rosh.e.l.le had knitted was spread out across the foot of it. The emptiness that the blanket emphasized caused Jared to examine his priorities.

If he were lucky, he'd be able to bring Rosh.e.l.le back home. Eight short weeks remained before their son was due to be born. This was not about a fight to eliminate his enemies; it was a struggle to keep his own family together.

His mission goal was to retrieve Rosh.e.l.le. If Thyssen got between him and his goal, well...then Jared could give into his primal urges. If the man evaded capture, they might well have to abandon their mountain home. At the moment Jared was willing to start over at any given point on the globe as long as he did it with Rosh.e.l.le. The strength of his emotions surprised him. Rosh.e.l.le seemed to have merged into his very soul. The idea of not recovering her was completely unacceptable.