Mindsiege (Mindspeak #2)(2)

I want you to grab hold of the knife with both hands.

My free hand joined the other, both trembling.

Raise the knife, Lexi.

I raised it, slowly, until I held the knife firmly over my head, shaking uncontrollably. I stared down at my target. Jack! This time, I screamed with my mind.

He sucked in a deep breath and rolled over onto his back, but still slept. The scent of his shower gel reached my nose, and I craved his closeness.

Do it, Lexi. Plant that knife deep in his chest.

I shook my head from side to side. My arms strained against my own mental resistance. Jack, I’m so sorry.

A sob leaked from my throat. Every muscle from my stomach to my chest and through both arms tightened as I prepared to do exactly what the voice in my head ordered: drive the knife into the one I loved.





Chapter Two


As if moved by a sixth sense, Jack shifted his hand just slightly to rest it at the base of my knee. The presence inside my head suddenly disappeared; I dropped the knife off the side of the bed, and Jack’s eyes fluttered open.

Jack peered up at me through thick lashes. His just-woke-up, lazy grin faded. “Lexi? What are you doing?”

I shifted off my knees and sat back. My heart raced. Jack’s sandy hair lay haphazardly across his forehead, messy in a good-looking sort of way, from a night of sleep. The realization that only moments earlier I had held a knife above my head pointed at his chest caused a shudder to move through my entire body.

“Hey.” He sat up and cupped my cheek. “You okay? What's wrong?”

“I just…” I glanced around the room for the person who had guided me to Jack with a knife—not expecting to find him of course—then back at Jack and his dark blue eyes. “Nothing. Nothing happened. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Jack lay back, breaking the physical contact I craved with him.

Very good, Lexi. The voice was back inside my head, or maybe it had never left. I didn’t know anymore. I could feel the unwanted presence just hanging out in my periphery. You cannot tell him I’m in your head. I can force you to hurt him. I will if I have to. Let’s keep this our little secret.

I massaged the pressure point in the webbing between my thumb and index finger. It was a method I used to relieve headaches, and this presence was definitely a headache. I would find a way to tell Jack, but first I’d figure out who the voice was.

Jack smiled. “Come here.” He slid his arm around me, and pulled me down to lie beside him, my back to his chest. His hand rested across my stomach. “You’ve been through so much.” He smoothed my hair back out of my face.

“We’ve been through so much.” I grabbed onto his arm and squeezed it. How could I possibly hurt the one person who had saved me time and time again?

I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

Lying there, I glanced down at the floor. The knife lay there, taunting me and my weak mind. I wanted to put a face with the voice that drifted into my mind like smoke. But the image wouldn’t form.

Minutes passed. My mind spun while concentrating on the voice that had entered my head and forced me to do something I would never choose to do consciously. Jack and I had been through so much, and he had stuck by me when he could have run. But how could he continue to stick by someone who practically murdered him in his sleep?

He wouldn’t. I wouldn’t let him.

Jack pressed on my stomach, tightening his hold on me. “What are you thinking so hard about?” he whispered into my hair, his voice groggy. “I can’t hear your thoughts, but I know you’re tossing something around. You still afraid someone is getting inside your head?”

I sat up, turned toward him, and nodded.

He pushed himself up. His face inches from mine. I won’t let anyone hurt you.

Reaching my hand to trace an imaginary line from his temple to his jawbone, I said, “I’m more afraid I’ll hurt you.”





Chapter Three


The smell of coffee greeted me when I walked into the kitchen after showering. Not my drink of choice, but desperate times called for whatever caffeine option was available.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Jack held Kyle’s arm out, twisting and turning it, examining it. Kyle winced from Jack’s not-so-gentle touch. I looked closer, and saw that Kyle’s hand and forearm were red and blistered.

“What happened?” I doctored a cup of coffee with creamer and two yellow packets.

Both boys looked up. The lines between Jack’s brows deepened.

Kyle shrugged. “Clumsy, I guess. I… I fell last night while putting a log on the fire.” He chuckled uncomfortably and gave his head a jerk to flip his brown, unkempt hair off his eyebrows.

“You fell,” I repeated, leaning into the counter. Kyle wasn’t known for his clumsiness. My eyes met Jack’s.

He fell and his arm landed in the flames, Jack thought to me. I could hear his sarcasm.

I walked closer and examined the blisters. You don’t think that’s what happened?

Let’s just say I’m skeptical.

Noticing how quiet the house was, I asked, “Where’s everyone else?”

Jack tilted his head toward the back door. I followed the motion to the back patio, where the rest of the group, the owners of this house—Georgia, Jonas, and Fred—were standing in a circle. I walked over to the door. Bringing the warm coffee to my lips, I peered through the blinds. Georgia crossed both arms. Fred waved his hands in front of him in an apparent debate with the others. Neither wore the thick makeup like they had the night I’d first met them. Jonas hugged his body with one arm, and with the opposite hand, brought a cigarette to his mouth. I zeroed in on the tip that brightened when he inhaled. Something about the vision of him smoking caused me to lose my train of thought for a few seconds. There was something familiar about the movement and the cigarette, but my mind was a little fuzzy.