Primal Law (Alpha Pack #1)(9)

The woman was about two seconds from short-circuiting. She was tired and frightened as hell, and Aric's sorry attitude wasn't helping. Friend or not, if the red wolf snarled at her again, Jaxon would plant his fist in the moron's face.

Even if she was a criminal on the run.

"I'll explain that later." He gestured to the beat-up car. "You got anything important to bring along?"

She nodded. "My purse."

"Is that where you stashed whatever it is you stole?"

Her shoulders slumped. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"Get the purse. That's part of the talk for later."

Avoiding the bodies, she stepped up to the driver's door, opened it, and leaned in. In seconds she emerged, clutching the bag to her stomach. "Ready."

"What's your name?"

"Kira," she said hesitantly. "Kira Locke."

Kira. He liked it. The name fit her. "I'm Jaxon Law."

"What should we do with these guys?" Zander asked, interrupting the introductions.

Jaxon thought a moment. "We'll take their wallets so we can run their names later, do a background check. See who they worked for. Then we'll put them in the car, one behind the wheel, the other in the passenger's seat, and light a bonfire."

Aric grinned, his mood improved by the prospect. "My pleasure."

"Before you do, let me see if I can get a reading or two." Crossing to the nearest man, the one who'd shot him, he squatted and wrapped his fingers around the wrist, making sure to get part of the coat sleeve.

Objects and clothing often carried better signals than people. The impressions he could pick up from a dead person faded quickly, and the living sometimes shielded their thoughts whether they realized it or not.

In the background, the woman, Kira, whispered, "What's he doing?"

"Shh."

As always, he braced himself for the buzz in his brain, like a thousand angry bees. His vision grayed out, the ground beneath him disappeared, and he was falling, falling. And then caught, snared in a web of someone else's making. Sticky threads brushed at his cheek, snagged his hair and tugged at his clothes, but he no longer tried to brush them away in panic as he'd done when he was thirteen and his Psy ability had first manifested.

The strings weren't really there in the physical sense. Rather, he'd come to think of them as the tattered moorings of memories to their owners, ripped free and waiting for someone with his ability to grab hold and use them as a guide to the images he sought.

They were anything but consistent, and he likened latching on to one to catching a soap bubble without causing it to pop. The process was tedious, exhausting, and the quicker he grabbed a thread and made the reading, the better.

The first two slipped away, but he took firm hold of the third, following it to the end. Some memories were mere snapshots, but this one was a snippet of film, and Jaxon found himself looking through the eyes of the initial speaker-the dead man in his grasp. The man's residual anger, his trepidation, enveloped Jaxon.

"I'm telling you, this is not my problem. I don't give two shits what Chappell says, I'm not getting paid enough to deal with his freaky God complex!"

The middle-aged, average-looking man in the white lab coat twisted his lips into a condescending smile. "You're being paid plenty, and you'll do your job. Unless you'd rather volunteer to be his next subject." He reached for the phone on the counter. "I can call him right now and make him aware of your issues-"

"Try it, you nasty little f**kwad, and I'll break your neck. I didn't say I wouldn't do it, just that I'm not getting paid enough to take these kinds of risks. I'll talk with him myself, and you mind your own damned business. Got it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he spun and slammed out of the lab.

"Slimy creep, he's gonna call anyway. Shit, what am I gonna do about . . ."

"Jax!"

". . . and sooner or later the cops will notice . . ."

"Jax! Jesus, wake up!"

The thread snapped and he came back to himself gradually. Sounds of the city at night filtered in, along with the oppressive heat. And the fact that he was no longer kneeling, but slumped backward against a big body. Zander's voice was quiet and anxious next to his ear.

"Scares the hell out of me every time you do that."

"Sorry," he slurred.

"You okay?"

"Think so."

"Get anything?"

"Yeah, but I'm not sure what."

He'd have to think about it. Later. God, he was so tired. Always was after he went that deep into a memory. It was much different from the simple flash he'd gotten from the woman a few minutes ago. He wanted nothing more than to sleep until noon tomorrow. Like that would be an option once Nick got wind of their guest.

"Can you get up?"

No. His leg was screaming. "Yes."

"All right. Hang on to me."

Zander stood, hauling him to his feet, steadying him as he blinked away the rest of the fuzziness. Got his bearings. As their surroundings came into focus again, he saw his friends and their new acquaintance staring at him, obviously worried.

Zander patted his cheek. "Hey, you need a turbo boost from the Z-Man?"