Illicit Intuitions: Sensory Ops, Book 3 (21 page)

“I can’t believe you got me to like you.” Dana gnawed on her lip. Her eyes had gone as glacial as H’s. “I should’ve known you didn’t really care about him.”

“Think what you want about me, Dana, but I do care about your brother. I never intended him any harm, and I still don’t. Believe me or not, I’m the most determined person standing on your side ready to fight for him.”

“Fine. How do you think we should do this?”

“Connect with the water. Let go of your fear and anger and hatred. Embrace this place and invite it into yourself as profoundly as he does. Link to it with him in your mind the whole time.”

The task was easier said than done. Ava’s defenses weren’t strong and she’d only worked with H. She’d grown accustomed to the feel of him in her head. The sensation of his emotions—the ones he chose to share—sliding beneath the surface of her skin as smoothly as the loving caresses he’d gifted her with in bed.

Holding Dana’s hand to root them together, Ava kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the moist sand. Resisting the urge to hurry, she banished her barrier one element at a time, even taking down the bricks.

“You’re doing well, Ava.” Dana’s voice lilted with the soft encouragement. “Visualize the toxic negativity inside of yourself shrinking until they’re no larger than a grain of sand.”

Ava didn’t think about how quickly Dana had shed her negative feelings or what it may or may not mean. She instead did as Dana ordered. Minimizing one emotion and then the next, she built a small pile of sand inside of herself. “Now what?”

“I picture myself dropping them to my feet where I expel them from my pores for the water to wash away.”

Ava followed Dana’s suggestion. As the water rushed away, carrying with it her negativity, she felt lighter and more focused. The playfulness she’d found with H when they’d swum together flowed into her.
 

Arousal soughed through her with the tingling awareness. H had felt the same way that first day.
 

“Hmm.”

Dana’s sigh was a reminder they were sharing this connection, but she couldn’t break it or turn away any of the impressions coming to her. She would just have to hope the impressions stayed with those experienced on the beach.

“I’ve never known him to play.” Dana looked up at her and smiled. “You brought that out in him.”

“He’s had good reasons to not play.” He’d have the chance to play more when they found him.
 

Dana’s mind flashed to a stark room with no light. Floating. Not a room. A boat.
 

“Have you ever been on a boat with H before, Dana?”

“No.” She winced and pulled back. Ava gripped her hand stronger and stopped her. “Stay with me. You’re the experienced one of us.”

Dana leaned her forehead forward as if straining to be closer. Ava mirrored her move and concentrated fully on H. She conjoined her energies with Dana. Without words and as one, they projected the energy across the retreating water. It flowed back with a gush of impressions from H.

Through the distant connection with H, Ava searched his location. Glimmers of emotions from his captors slipped into her—vile ugliness and a hunger to hurt him.

Finally, with an exhausted smile of satisfaction, Ava dropped Dana’s hand and stepped back. With the connection to Dana broken, the images of H in her head vanished.
 

Dana grinned. Her eyes shone bright with tearful happiness. “How’d we do that?”

“I’m gonna go with instincts driven by fear for a man we both…care about.” She’d almost said love. But she couldn’t love him. Love was dangerous.

“Okay.” Dana scratched her head as they turned back toward the lab. “Can you find him? Can I go with you?”

“Yes and no. You’ll have your brother back soon, but I’m not strong enough to help him and ward off your emotions as well as those of his captors.” She slipped her arm around Dana and squeezed.
 

“Breck.” She spoke into her com. “I know where he is, and he’s running out of time.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dark.
 

Drifting.

Desolate.

H wriggled his hands and twisted his wrists against the knots binding him to the chair. His already-weakened shields were wavering, but he needed to find a way out.

They’d covered his head after knocking him out on the beach, but the sounds of waves sloshing beneath a dock and slapping the sides of a boat had woken him. The tops of his feet ached from slamming against steps as he’d been dragged below deck, but he’d allowed them to believe he was still unconscious in hopes of discovering their plans.
 

They believed the lenses existed and he had hidden them. Elise, the blonde from the study who’d recognized Ava, had been charged with searching the lab and retrieving the contacts. Janus’s attacks had been intended to sidetrack H so his attention was elsewhere. Now, he’d resorted to
encouraging
H to reveal where the lenses were hidden.
 

If they discovered he was once again the tool they sought, that the moisture in his eyes had triggered an unintended bonding and fused the lenses to him, there would be no escape for him. Hell, he wouldn’t put it past General Scott or his people to harvest his eyes for the intent of analyzing the contacts.
 

Two people had known about the lenses. Channing was dead. Ava had secrets, and though he’d first suspected her on the beach of turning him in, he’d quickly realized she hadn’t. Janus wouldn’t be asking questions if he knew what Ava knew.
 

No. If he knew the contacts were staring at him, he wouldn’t be employing torturous projections. He wouldn’t have locked him in a small room without windows or light in an attempt to throw him back into the childhood traumas that had sacrificed his shields the first time. He would inflict torments with demands of obedience and compliance.

Janus would return soon for another round of
persuasions
. H’s shields would be compromised without too much more effort, and then the truth would be out. Sighing, he gave up the futile hope of getting free from the bonds.

“New approach.”
 

Ducking his head and closing his eyes as a precaution should they have infrared cameras in the room, he lowered his shields. The mass of emotions from everyone above deck slithered through the cracks of the door. Good. Bad. Light. Dark. He absorbed the energy of the emotions and melded them into a pulsing energy ball. Releasing the energy within himself, he amped up his own abilities.

Until healing Ava the second time, he hadn’t realized he could absorb and morph the energies fueling emotions. He’d learned by trial and error how to deal with the darkness inside her.

Testing the connections he’d made with Ava, and the trust he’d placed with her, he pictured the waves beyond the hull of the boat. Thinking exclusively of the feel of Ava in his mind, he funneled the energy outward in a plea for her help.

His mind collided with hers and Dana’s. Their energies and thoughts blended, merging into a streamlined strand of silent film clips. Anticipating Janus’s return, H replayed the events he’d gone through since hearing Janus on the beach. He recalled the sensations of swaying as they boarded the boat and then being carried below deck. Counting on Ava and Dana to translate his projections into images and useful information, he concentrated on the details his mind had picked up in the dark.
 

It seemed more like a large yacht than a boat. Six men in addition to Janus and Elise were spread out above deck. And someone else, another prisoner, was below with him. A woman. Her signal was barely present. Her mind was weak, but her will to hang on, to survive, was strong.

Janus approached. A cold willingness to kill knifed through H. The will was Ava’s. And though he couldn’t dodge the new suspicions rising, he didn’t have time to dwell on them.
 

Ava’s and Dana’s connections to the beach—his beach—slid through his body like a transfusion of life-giving blood. He severed the connection to Ava and Dana, clinging to the ocean momentarily before reengaging his shields. Bracing.

Janus opened the door and stepped inside.

H was in complete control of himself, his abilities and his shields. He didn’t know what Ava and Dana would do, but he was ready to confront the bastard who’d stolen him. Twice.

“I expect you have decided to cooperate.” Janus closed the door and flipped on a glaring light, whereas last time he’d worn night-vision goggles to keep the upper hand.

“Are you too old to remember our history? You should know to manage your expectations.” H took in the layout of the room—the galley—in the span of a few rapid blinks disguised as an attempt to adjust to the light.

A dining table, bolted to the floor before a wraparound bench, sat a few feet away. The butcher-block counter was clear with the exception of the knife block mounted to the sidewall. He memorized the positioning in relation to him, planning for the moment Janus left him alone in the dark again.
 

“That same history should have taught you not to defy me.” Janus pulled a folding chair from a narrow cabinet, turned its back to H and straddled it. Crossing his arms over the back, he leaned forward. “There are two ways we can do this. The easy way—”

“Or your way.” H allowed years of suppressed derision into his voice. “I’ve heard it all before.”

“Fine. Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”

“Have I ever chosen the easy way?”

“Even as a kid you were arrogant. It will get you killed.” Janus projected a tentative hit of vile darkness.
 

“You’ll have to do better than that.” He absorbed it and tunneled the energy into himself. “The child you once tormented is gone.”

“That was simply a
taste
of what’s to come.”

“I know.” He didn’t know how long it would take for Ava and Dana to track down help, but thanks to their connection he was strong enough to play Janus’s games.
 

“Tell me where the contacts are.”

“I have made many contacts over the years. Please be more specific as to whom you are referring.”

“You know I am not referring to a person. I want the contact lenses you used our money to fund.”
 

“Your money, as in the funds from Whitestone?” H shook his head and scoffed. “That would be my money. Money I earned being subjected to experiments, schemes and assholes like you.”

“You son of a bitch.” An incendiary blast of rage exploded from Janus.
 

H caught the energy with his mind like a catcher would snatch a baseball from the air. Fiery shrapnel singed a path through his head and heart. He clung to what little he recalled of his mom, her sweetness, to minimize the swelling darkness. “If my mother had been a bitch you wouldn’t have had to steal me.”

Janus’s head snapped back. “You know that was me?”

“You still underestimate me.”

“You overestimate yourself.”
 

“Maybe.” H leaned his head to the side. A shot of evil glee sliced at his shields with a piercing pain, but he suppressed the wince. “So tell me about these lenses. Why do you think I know where they are?”

“Channing Harris’s secrets were not his alone.”

“Right. Didn’t his killer and her minions go to prison recently?”

“They weren’t the only ones. We know you consulted with Harris.”

“I’ve consulted with a great many people since General Scott let me go.” Blackmail for freedom couldn’t really be viewed as a choice, but it had worked in H’s and Dana’s favor.
 

General Scott hadn’t wanted the US government to know of his immoral use of kids. Specifically, his practice of kidnapping them for the purpose of brainwashing them to later become his assassins. Janus had been one of the first. They were trained to be untraceable as they went about killing world leaders and politicians.
 

H hadn’t found any proof he could take to the government to end Scott’s practices, but his knowledge, garnered after a
training session
with General Scott, had been enough gain freedom. He’d had to settle for the success of saving his and Dana’s lives. Now, with Janus’s return, the tide felt as if it was flowing toward change.
 

“Harris and I worked on a few projects.” The lie coated his tongue with bitterness and churned in his belly, but this was a case where the only person he could hurt was himself. Testing Janus’s reactions was necessary.

Janus’s temples throbbed. The veins in his heavily lined forehead bulged as he gathered himself for a projection.
 

H deflected the next shot of aggression. They would grow increasingly violent, and were it not for the recent recharge, he would be suffering. Without the proper defenses, he would be broken.
 

Broken like the woman he’d felt nearby.

Janus had been her tormentor.
 

“The contacts, Hermes.” Mocking scorn slithered through Janus’s voice. He’d loved stripping a stubborn boy of his identity.