Whispers in the Dark (KGI #4)(88)

At least she knew where she was now, thanks to her flight through the streets. The problem? It was several states away from Tennessee. Charleston, South Carolina, was a beautiful city. It really was. Just not so much right now when she had no money, no ID, no idea how to communicate with Nathan—it wasn’t as if she had his phone number.

Lord, but she was getting loopy, and if she didn’t get rid of the headache soon, she was going to vomit everywhere.

She was afraid even to think about reaching out to Nathan. The pain was already so overwhelming that anything else she did to intensify her agony would send her straight over the edge.

Still, she had to try. What other options did she have?

She stepped from the alleyway and then hurriedly crossed the street. She’d been in this situation before. Nothing had changed. She’d been running for a year. She could do this without freaking out. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself.

Focus, Shea. Just focus, damn it.

The problem was that before she only had to run. It didn’t matter where she went as long as she was able to melt in a crowd somewhere, disappear, lie low. Now? It wasn’t that easy. She didn’t want to go off alone again. She wanted to be back with Nathan and his horde of overprotective brothers and all their hulking team members.

She slowed in her walk. She’d felt safe with them, but she hadn’t been. Maybe that was her reality. Maybe she’d never be safe with anyone. She’d allowed herself to be reeled in by the fantasy of being able to rely on someone else. To have someone to protect her. Hope had been fierce within her after dealing with cold, hard reality for so long.

And the minute she’d let her guard down and allowed herself to depend on someone else? She’d been thrown over some psycho G.I. Joe wannabe’s shoulder and nearly tossed off a cliff.

Say it with me. Safety is an illusion.

Nothing like a good shot of optimism to boost her spirits.

Seeing an empty bench by a bus stop, she sank down onto it, watching warily around her for anyone who looked remotely threatening. She needed to clear her damn mind. She needed to figure out what to do.

She had no money, no ID. If she got stopped by a cop for any reason, she was so screwed. She had stuff stashed in a few places, but that didn’t do her any good when she had no way to get to it.

Damn it. Grace wasn’t talking. Shea’s head splintered when she even tried to call out for Nathan. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry like a damn baby, but she was too disgusted with herself to give in to that particular dramafest.

She sat for several moments and purposely blanked her mind. She rubbed soothingly at her temples and tried to shake off the aftereffects of the drugs they’d given her. It was the only explanation for why she couldn’t use her telepathy.

And then she panicked. What if it was permanent? Who knew what kind of crazy crap they’d given her? She quickly realized the absurdity of thinking such a thing. They wanted her abilities. They didn’t want to destroy them.

She sucked in air through her nose and then held her breath as she whispered Nathan’s name in her mind.

The stabbing pain nearly flattened her. She pitched forward, gulping desperately in an effort not to cry out. There was so much pressure in her skull, it felt like it would burst at any moment. Like a volcano. It literally felt like something was about to break apart in her head.

But then she heard him. A faint whisper, so light she wondered if it was wishful thinking.

Shea, where are you, baby?

Oh God, she couldn’t answer, could she? What if something did burst in her head? What if she had some freak aneurysm? What the hell was going on with her?

She rocked back and forth, trying not to let any sound escape.

“Miss, are you all right?”

Shea jerked her head around to see an elderly man sit down on the bench next to her. She nodded jerkily. “I’m f-fine.”

He gave her a doubtful look and she shot to her feet. She hurried away, knowing she probably drew more attention than if she’d just sat there, but she didn’t trust herself not to completely lose it and that would definitely gain her far more attention than if she simply walked away.

She hugged herself close and hunched down as she passed block after block. The streetlights blurred in her vision and she winced every time she inadvertently made contact with passing headlights.

It was like having a headache on steroids. The mother of all migraines. Every sound, every touch, every shard of light was so overwhelming that she couldn’t even process her thoughts. She couldn’t put together the simplest of plans and so she wandered through the city like some zombie.

She nearly stepped off the curb in front of a car when she was yanked backward. The hand on her arm was crushing, and she winced as she tried to pull away.

“Th-Thank you,” she tried to murmur but it came out as unintelligible garble. And then she looked up and her stomach bottomed out.

It was a face she’d seen many times in her nightmares in the last weeks. He’d beaten and brutalized her and been ruthless in his determination to extract the information he wanted from her.

Nathan had told her that it wasn’t just Grace these ass**les wanted. He was resolute in his opinion that they wanted her just as much. They’d taken too much care not to seriously injure her.

So if they didn’t want her dead, and had no intention of killing her, she had absolutely nothing to lose by making the mother of all scenes.