Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(33)

“How the f*ck did you figure it out?” Connor sounded insulted. “We’ve been flogging this thing for months! We got nothing on Greaves.”

Miles let out a hollow laugh. “Dumb luck. You ready to move?”

“Fuck, yeah. Already moving.”

“This guy I’m following is one of her guards. I think he’s heading back to the facility where they’re holding her.”

Miles heard keyboard tapping from the other side. “Got him on screen.” Connor was too interested now to stay mad. “Going eighty-eight—no, ninety-three an hour. Big hurry.”

“He’s late for something. Something that involves Lara.”

“We’d be with you already if you’d left in your trace!” Connor bitched. “We’ll still be forty miles behind when you get to Kolita Springs, even if we push it!”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll still need you when you get there.”

“What does that mean?” Con’s voice sharpened. “What have you got in mind?”

“I’ve got f*ck-all in mind,” Miles admitted. “I’m not really using my mind right now. I’m staying stuck to this guy. That’s all I know.”

“Do not do anything crazy,” Con lectured. “Wait for us, Miles. Understand? You’ll just get yourself killed if you pull another—”

“I love you too, man. Thanks. I’ll put the trace back in as soon as my hands are free. Later.” Miles broke the connection, tossed the phone down. It rang, twenty times or so, then sullenly stopped.

He glanced at the monitor. Hu was gaining ground.

He gave the car more gas.





The sudden blow took Lara by surprise. She’d been focused on drafting a floor plan of the upper storey she had seen, then snapping pictures of it with the ridiculous, femmy little hot pink camera he’d dreamed up for her. And thwack—

She was crashed back into her physical self, into a chaotic hell of racking jittery pain. Screaming, shaking, convulsing—

It stopped, abruptly. She blinked back tears, trying to see, to think.

Greaves hung over her. His reddened face was not flattered by this angle. Wattles quivered under his chin. He brandished shock paddles.

“There we are,” he said. “That’s more like it. Where were you, Lara? Who taught you to shield that way?

“Nobody,” she croaked. “I just—”

“Don’t lie,” he chided. “Not because it’s wrong. Just because it’s useless.”

He slammed into her mind, like a freight train crashing through a plate glass window.

Oh, God, it hurt. He ripped, rended, tossed. She couldn’t scream, or even breathe. Only her heart kept beating, its rapid, stuttering thud echoing louder and louder in her ears as Greaves rifled and kicked randomly through her head.

“Oh, yes,” he muttered thickly, as if it gave him sexual pleasure from doing it. “Oh, Lara, yes. You taste delicious. So deep.”

He redoubled his assault, not as violent, but more lascivious, like a big, wet tongue, licking and probing. Memories were snagged and pulled out, unspooled, hungrily pawed over by that awful, slavering presence.

He was focusing on where she’d gone. Her shield. His telepathic strength was a smothering blanket, crushing her out of existence. Her lungs strained to expand. No air . . .

She fainted. Some time later, she floated back to consciousness to the sound of his voice, talking with Anabel.

“. . . of recent sexual activity. Which is impossible, of course, no?”

“Of course!” Anabel’s voice was indignant. “We never touched her, sir. No one has!”

“Good,” he murmured. “Good.”

Greaves looked down, and saw her eyes fluttering. He stroked her cheek. She did not have the option to flinch away. Her skin crawled.

“Aren’t you the naughty little thing,” he said indulgently. “Sexual fantasies. Mmm. Your dream lover is quite the studly godking.”

She couldn’t have replied if she wanted to.

“No fear,” he promised. “You’ll soon be too busy with reality for fantasies. And a healthy libido fits in nicely with my plans for you.”

I’d rather die, she wanted to say.

He heard it anyway, of course, and chuckled. “Feisty.” He unraveled her braid, running his fingers over her scalp. “Lovely.”

Anabel was coming at her, brandishing a syringe. Oh shit, no, no, no. “Time for your medicine,” she trilled.

The burning stab, and it happened, like always, but faster. The double vision, the pull . . . but this time with Greaves’ smothering presence clamped down on her. No no not you not you!.

Oh, yes was the answering thought, chiming back. Oh, yes, me. Always me. Fly as far as you can. You will never get away from me.

She fought, but he blocked her at every turn. She went shooting off into anywhere, no direction, no hope. A shriek of utter despair echoed through the bleak, empty spaces in her mind.

Greaves’ light, mocking laughter followed it.





It was still an hour till dawn when Miles saw signs for Kolita Springs. He’d stopped only once to screw a silencer onto his pistol and put the tracer chip back into his phone. He’d disabled the ringtone, though. They were welcome to trace him and chase him, but not to scold him. The SMSs were piling up. Not yet. Later, dudes.