Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(46)

“I don’t know!” Miles flared. “Maybe it’s because of the brain damage from Spruce Ridge. I was trying not to go crazy with the stress flashbacks. I worked on the shield day and night in the mountains, and it just so happens to ward off this guy’s particular style of mind-f*cking. What, does that offend you? You’re pissed about that?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, belligerently. “Yeah, I am pissed about that! I’m pissed about you distancing yourself, keeping secrets from us!”

“Look, man, I never meant to—”

“What about her?” Connor jerked his hand toward Lara. She’d stopped crying and was following the conversation, wide-eyed and attentive. “How’d she keep from getting fried?”

“I was fried,” Lara offered. “For a while. But then I got inside.”

“Inside what?” Sean swiveled his head, his bright eyes fascinated.

Lara jerked her chin at Miles. “Him. Inside his shield, I mean.”

Baffled silence, for some seconds, until Sean took it upon himself to break it with a low whistle. “Whoa,” he said. “Talk about titillating.”

“Shut up, Sean,” Miles growled again, and turned back to Connor. “It’s like she said. She, ah . . . got inside my mind shield somehow.”

“I’ve been hiding out there. I’ve done it for weeks,” Lara said softly. “It’s the reason I’m still alive.”

The car was deathly silent for a long moment. When Connor finally started up again, his voice was even colder. “So are you going to tell us when you got the mysterious superpowers?”

“Bullshit,” Miles said wearily. “It’s not a superpower, it’s just—”

“Yeah, yeah, we heard that. It’s just brain damage. Combined with random chance, and dumb, blind luck. You find the girl nobody can find. You give her a long-distance telepathic mind shield. You rescue her singlehandedly, without waiting for our help. Now you’re the only one who can get near that freak Greaves without getting mentally ass-f*cked. Are you bullet-proof now? Can you fly? And you never told us anything. It’s headaches, and hallucinations, and you’re considering taking the meds. Oh, poor me! Stress flashbacks! What the f*ck is your problem, Miles? When did you stop trusting us?”

“It’s not about trust!” Miles yelled.

“The hell it’s not!”

“Dudes. Calm down,” Sean soothed. “Now is not the time for a—”

“I practically got my head exploded, putting myself out there to save his ungrateful ass and rescue his girlfriend!” Connor raged. “I can yell at him if I damn well feel like it. He is righteously pissing me off!”

Miles glanced nervously at Lara to see how she took her new title. She didn’t meet his eyes.

Sean swiveled his head. “He’s just uptight because neither of us could help Davy,” he said. “Davy would be dead if not for you. That burns his ass, but I know he’s grateful, underneath. Aren’t you, Con?”

“Shut up, Sean,” his brother snarled.

“See? He still loves you.” Sean turned wistful eyes on Lara. “Everyone tells me to shut up. But you won’t, sweetheart, will you? You’re nicer than them.”

Lara looked up, shook her head. “I don’t know how nice I am. But I’m certainly grateful for your help.”

“Ah.” Sean closed his eyes, in exaggerated bliss. “So polite.”

Miles suddenly registered the sensation, tickling against his shield. “Slow down, and pull over,” he said. “Right now.”

Connor promptly did so. “What is it?”

“Telepath ahead,” Miles said. “Scanning the cars that go by. Greaves posted someone at the highway exit out of Kolita Springs.”

“Look at that. A brand-new superpower,” Connor said sourly.

Sean shot them a grim look. “Con and Davy and I don’t have time for a crash course in mind control against invasive telepaths.”

Miles thought furiously. “Breakfast,” he said.

The brothers gave him identical baffled expressions.

“Think about breakfast,” Miles said. “Fill your mind with it. Eggs, bacon, coffee, orange juice, hash browns, whatever. Full sensory panorama. You both like food. It should work. Don’t try to block, just let him read that and only that. Sex might work, too. Take your pick.” He yanked out his cell, and tapped in a message to Davy with the same directive. His phone burped almost instantly with a returning text.

spanish omelet xtra guac He looked at Lara. “You just stay where you are,” he said. “Inside. And get down, out of sight. Come to think of it . . .”

He slid off the seat and stretched out on the floor, beckoning to her with his arms.

She reached out, timidly. He grabbed, yanked. She lost her balance in the moving car, and toppled onto him with a soft thud.

He steadied her, forcing himself to breathe. She was half-straddling him. One knee on the floor, the other clamped between his. They thudded over a bump in the road and he reached up reflexively to cup her face so she didn’t bang her jaw.

And found he couldn’t take his hand away. Her skin was so soft. The bones of her face so delicate. She was struggling to breathe.

She felt familiar, in his arms. He already knew the shape of the bones in her face, the texture of her skin, her hair. Hell, he knew what she tasted like when he lifted her skirts and— Stop it right there.