"Yes. And we don't have time to discuss this."
"It's too big a risk for you to take." Because he damn well wasn't losing both of them. "Give her to me and we'll make a run for it."
"She doesn't have that kind of time." Saber ignored him, drawing air into her lungs and breathing away her fear of killing Patsy--her fear of losing Jess. The only thing that really mattered in that moment was saving Patsy's life. And she was Patsy's only chance. For once, she would try to use what gifts she had to help someone.
She felt the jolt as her own heart squeezed hard, shifting off rhythm. Her chest hurt, the pain worse than expected, but she fought it back and concentrated on her own rhythm, steady and true. Patsy moved weakly, bringing up her hand to cover Saber's. Fingers fluttered against the back of her hand, and Patsy's mind moved against hers. Tears burned in the back of Saber's eyes as she felt Patsy's acceptance of their merging. Rather than fight her, Patsy was trying to rise above the pain and fear to help connect.
For a moment it worked, Patsy's heart following direction, settling into a steady beat, but almost at once the jarring pain was back, squeezing down on both of them. Saber moistened her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. She had no choice. If she was going to keep Patsy alive, she was going to have to shock her heart back into a normal pace.
She put her other hand on top of Patsy's, the only warning, and sent the jolt sizzling through her body. The heart stuttered, bumped, picked up the beat, falling into a steady tempo once again. Saber waited, silently counting the seconds, aware of Patsy's heart and the ebb and flow of blood through her veins. She had no idea she was whispering until Jess touched her shoulder and she jumped, shocked that it was her chanting--please, please, please--aloud.
"Patsy?" Jess said softly. "Can you sit up?"
"Not yet," Saber said. "Give her a few minutes." The pain was beginning to recede, the tight bands in her chest easing.
We don't have the time, baby. I can hear them coming. I can hold the door against them for a few minutes, but they'll know we're in here. They could burn us out or simply stand at the top of the stairs and spray the basement with bullets. We don't know what kind of firepower they have.
She hated that he was right. She was exhausted, and her body still felt as if she'd been in a train wreck. Tell me what you want me to do.
Jess hated the utter weariness in her voice. He had to ask more of her, although he knew the drain of using psychic abilities. She had just risked her life to save his sister and she'd felt whatever pain accompanied a heart attack with the same intensity Patsy had. And Patsy...Patsy had been tortured and terrified, driven into having a heart attack--all because of him and his choices in his life. It was a hell of thing for a man to have two of the most important women in his life in jeopardy while he--a man who'd spent his life working to save others--was helpless to save them.
"Can you two make it to the vent leading under the house?"
Saber's swift intake of breath told him she knew what he planned. "We're not leaving you, Jesse. That's not an option."
"Saber, I'm trusting you to get Patsy out of here."
"Not without you. No way. I mean it, Jesse."
He reached out and snagged the nape of her neck, his fingers settling around her to give her a small shake. "Don't fucking argue with me when we're all about to die. Get Patsy and get the hell out of here."
She caught his arm with both hands and rested her head against him. "I can't leave you. I can't."
"Baby, do this for me. I need you and Patsy safe. I can take care of myself, but I can't take care of the two of you. Hurry. We're out of time."
Saber spun away from him and crawled to Patsy. "Can you walk?"
"If I have to," Patsy said, her voice strained.
Saber reached down and took Patsy's arm to help her up. Without looking at Jess she helped Patsy toward the screened vent. It was easier for her because she could "feel" where objects were in the dark. "If you aren't with us in ten minutes, Jess, I'm coming back for you."
"Make it twenty."
"The hell with that." She yanked at the screen until it pulled from the frame. In the dark, no one was going to notice it, not when Jess would be sitting down in the basement in plain sight like a sacrifice. She wanted to scream and throw things in protest, but instead, she pushed Patsy through the opening.
"Where's Jess?" Patsy asked.
Saber took her hand and yanked her forward. They had to go slow, bent over, and find their way. "We have to hurry."
Patsy came with her obediently but she was beginning to be more aware. "Where's my brother?"
Saber kept dragging her along. It was difficult to determine the correct direction, especially since her mind was on Jess rather than on their escape. "Just hurry, Patsy."
Patsy suddenly swung in front of her and stopped, forcing Saber to do the same. In the dark, she reached out and touched Saber's face, feeling the tracks of tears. "He isn't coming with us."
"No. He could never have made it through here with the chair and he wanted us safe. I'll go back as soon as I know you're out of danger."
Patsy pressed a hand to her chest. "We can't just leave him. Those men..." She trailed off and a sob escaped.
"Shh. You have to be quiet. Jesse can take care of himself." Saber sent up a quick prayer that he could, wheelchair and all. He often looked as if he could, and he certainly had psychic gifts, ones that were a little scary when she thought about it. "In any case, it's too late. If we went back now, he'd think we were the enemy. Right now, all he's thinking is that anyone coming at him is out to harm us. That's his advantage--he won't have to think about anything beyond pulling the trigger." While she talked, she kept tugging at Patsy's hand, keeping her moving away from the basement and toward what she hoped was the wooded area at the side of the house.
They were forced to go to hands and knees to continue moving. Saber was used to closed-in places, but Patsy began to shake even more. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, trying to suppress the constant weeping. "I'm so afraid. And I hurt. There's so much pain."
"I know," Saber murmured, shifting her gaze back toward Jess, wishing she could be in two places at one time. "We'll get you to a hospital, but we have to keep moving, Patsy. I'm sorry. I know it hurts, but we don't have a choice."
They were near the screened vent. Saber could see it was much lighter outside. Dawn had crept in, pushing away the night and all cover. She stilled Patsy with a hand to her shoulder, cautioning her to stay quiet and not move. Saber carefully removed the screen and set it aside, all the while listening, trying to pick up any sign of their enemy. When it appeared quiet outside, she signaled Patsy to remain still and she slithered out on her belly, making herself small, cloaking her body as best she could so that she faded somewhat into her surroundings.
Thunder crashed in the distance and the rain fell in a steady downpour, soaking her instantly. She crawled through the flower bed, staying low to the ground as she moved out into the open ground. Once out from the shadow of the house, she spotted a guard near the back porch. He had one foot on the stairs and the other planted on a small shrub as he cradled his gun and peered into the house.
Saber sighed. She could have made it to the woods and safety if she'd been alone, but no way with Patsy. She had no choice but to take him out. Steeling herself for another psychic blast of violent energy, she began to scoot across the ground in plain sight, inch by inch, moving toward her prey.
His radio crackled, jerking him to attention. Suddenly he turned and sprinted right toward her. Saber held her breath and waited. A foot came down inches from her head, another barely missed her hand. Then he was over the top of her and running for the back door. She heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs and the back door slamming.
Jesse. They'd found Jesse. Shaking, she lay there, her face buried in the crook of her arm, her heart thundering right along with the weather. She tasted fear in her mouth. It didn't matter that she'd told herself he was lethal--he was in a wh
eelchair. What could he possibly do against anyone? He was trapped in the basement. Alone. Vulnerable. And she'd just left him. What had she been thinking?
Saber pushed up off the ground and ran back to get Patsy. Her vision blurred, but whether it was from the rain or tears, she couldn't be certain.
Jess sat in silence, breathing deep, trying to keep rage from exploding. Patsy--tortured because of him. Saber--suffering because of him. Damn whoever was behind this, because he simply wasn't going to stand for it. Let them come. He prayed for them to come. He was a spiritual man, and if he was condemned to hell for what he was about to do, so be it. He'd go and gladly, because this was unacceptable to him.
"Come on." He whispered the words softly. Come on. Whispered the words in his mind, sent them out into the universe to urge his enemies to find him. As if in answer, the door to the basement was flung open.
Come on, you bastard. Walk on in. Let's do it.
He stayed very still, watching as the man crept down the stairs, gun in his hand, his gaze sweeping left to right as he quartered the basement. As he descended, the light from above faded and the man reached for the flashlight at his belt. Jess threw the knife he had strapped to his leg, as accurate as always, so that the man fell hard, gun clattering and head thumping as he slid the rest of the way down the stairs.
Jess pushed the chair close enough to check his pulse. Finding him dead, he snagged the man's arm and began to drag the body away from the bottom of the stairs. It wasn't easy maneuvering his chair while trying to keep hold of the body, but he needed it out of sight fast. The open door, silence, and the smell of blood would lure the others in. As long as they wanted him alive, he had a chance--more than a chance. He'd kill them all, because no matter what else happened, he wasn't going to let them get their hands on the women.
After retrieving the dead man's gun, he parked the wheelchair in the alcove where the heater was located and placed the gun on a shelf facing the stairs. He slipped from his chair and lifted the dead man into it. For the first time in a long while, he was thankful he was physically enhanced. As much as he worked out, he doubted he would have been strong enough to put a fully grown man into his wheelchair from the floor, but with the strength Whitney had given him, he easily lifted the body. He'd already picked out the safest place in the room, the darkest spot with the most cover.
He'd baited the trap, now he had to wait until they took it. The devil liked to make a man sweat, sending him images of Saber and Patsy in the hands of madmen. They were dead just for what they'd done to Patsy. He'd hunt them down one by one if he had to. And Saber...She'd suffered for him. He wasn't going to forget that look in her eyes when she'd known she was going to have to kill again.
The sound of the rain beat down steadily and the seconds crawled by. He heard the first soft footfall and then a second one.
"Henry? You down there?"
Jess remained silent, knowing the men wouldn't fail to smell blood. The open door was an invitation. He remained still, patient. He heard a whispered consultation. He simply lay there waiting. They would come because they had to. They had gone to the trouble of torturing Patsy for information. They would surely want him.
A figure appeared in the doorway, stepped hastily to the side in a crouch, sweeping the basement with a flashlight. Jess concentrated on the gun he'd left on the shelf. It rose in the air, levitating just about the height of a man's chest before firing. The flash was bright in the room, and the flashlight clattered to the ground. The man holding it clutched his stinging hand and swore as the room once again was plunged into darkness.
"Calhoun. We know you're in there. Come out into the open and drop your weapon." The voice came from outside the room.
Jess glanced at his watch. Saber and Patsy should be clear of the house. If he made a mistake, both should still be fine. He tested his control, felt the concrete under him shift slightly. The walls shimmered uneasily for just a moment. The stairs creaked.
"Calhoun, don't make this hard on yourself. Ben just came in and we've got your sister."
Your sister. Not both women. Saber would never allow them to take Patsy from her. If they had captured Patsy, they'd have taken Saber as well. They were lying. Even with logic telling him both women were safe, his heart still stuttered. He felt the floor quiver, always a problem when he was upset. Control was of vital importance when you could shake apart a house.
"Calhoun. Let's just talk."
The first man, already inside, began to make a cautious move to find cover. The gun hovering over the shelf fired a second warning shot, and the man brought up his gun and sprayed the basement with bullets.
"Stop! What the fuck is wrong with you, Stan? We need him alive."
The gun fell silent, although Jess could hear harsh breathing. The man giving orders stepped to the door's edge and flashed a light over the basement. He caught the splash of blood and the shadowy figure of the man in the wheelchair. Swearing, he tried for a better angle.
"I think you killed him, Stan."
"He was shooting at me. What the hell was I supposed to do, Bob?" Stan felt around for his flashlight. "The damn thing's dead. He put a bullet in it."
The two men remained where they were, observing what they could see of the body, taking care not to expose themselves to further gunfire. Jess had positioned the chair so only a part of it could be seen from the door, the rest hidden by the alcove. He remained silent. There was a third man still alive, and Jess willed him to enter the basement. He couldn't attack until the man was inside, but he remained stubbornly cautious.
"Get your ass moving, Specialist," the one near the doorway urged. "And you'd better hope you didn't kill the bastard. I'll cover you."
Jess felt the beginnings of a smile. Yeah, dark hair in the doorway had it right. He was a bastard. He lived for this.
"Hooah, Sergeant." Stan started down the stairs and the second man moved onto the landing. His gun was steady on the body slumped in the wheelchair. Jess remained still, silently urging the third man to join the party. For a moment it looked as if it wouldn't happen.
"Keep the talk down until we have the bastard," another voice snapped.
Bob moved completely to one side, giving the other man, who was obviously in charge, the better position. Immediately he stepped inside the room as well, shifting to the left of his partner.
The door to the basement slammed closed behind them, plunging the room into darkness. The two men closest tried to open it, pounding and rattling the doorknob, swearing and kicking at it, but the door held fast.
The stairs and landing began to shake, gathering momentum until nails and screws began to pop out of the frame and drop to the floor. There were shouts. Stan fired his gun, the sound deafening in the small space. The flash blinded everyone even more.
"It's an earthquake," Bob yelled. "You're going to shoot one of us, Stan. Just hang on until it's over."
The shaking grew worse until the boards on the landing and stairs began to break apart. Stan yelled hoarsely as he fell and the two other men followed, one grabbing at the rail and swinging by his arm before dropping to the floor below.
"Son of bitch. Son of a bitch." Stan scuttled across the cement toward the wheelchair, his gun aimed at the dead man's head.
"It's a fucking earthquake, Stan," Bob shouted again.
"This is no earthquake," the one in charge snarled.
"It's him, Bob, you moron. It's him. I told you it was true. I'm killing the son of a bitch." Stan pulled the trigger several times, the bullets tearing into the body in the wheelchair. The body jerked with the force of the impact and the dead man slumped over, sliding down in spite of the belt holding him to the chair.
Stan crawled closer, moving around the protruding wall housing the hot water heater. Jess rolled swiftly into position, each move already mapped out in his head. His arm slipped around Stan's throat and clamped down hard in a half nelson. Stan thrashed wildly. He was a big man and his feet drummed on the concrete as he t
ried desperately to break the stranglehold Jess had on him.
"Stan! What the hell? Get a light, Ben. We need a light," Bob shouted.
There was an audible crack and Stan's feet went still. Silence settled into the room. There was only the sound of heavy breathing as the two intruders fought for air, adrenaline rushing through their veins.
"Stan?" Bob said again, this time his voice low, a conspirator's whisper. "Answer me."
"Get over there and check it out," Ben said in an undertone.
"Screw that. We need a light."
"Yeah, you find one. I dropped mine when your little earthquake took out the staircase." Ben's voice dripped sarcasm.
There was another silence. Bob sank down onto the floor, his back to the wall. His eyes were beginning to adjust again to the dark as dawn crept over the horizon. He could just make out the shadow of Stan's body lying on the floor beside the wheelchair and another body slumped in the chair. "I think they're both dead."
"Check."
"You want me to check?"
"Damn straight. Check so we can figure out how to get the hell out of here."
Bob lifted his gun and fired a round into the head of the man in the wheelchair. "I'm not taking any chances. If he was faking, he's dead now. Cover me, Ben, just in case." Bob began to crawl toward Stan, keeping a careful eye on the motionless man in the wheelchair.
Jess concentrated on the lightbulb Saber had unscrewed. The moment Bob was beside Stan, where he could have reached out and touched Jess, the bulb spun back into place, flooding the room with blinding light. Jess kept his eyes closed until the bulb reversed direction and the light went out after one flash. He was on Bob instantly, catching his head in his hands and twisting violently. Again there was a satisfying crack and Jess was back in the shadows.
Silence reigned. Ben sighed and pushed with his heels, sliding his body into the rubble left from the staircase. He crouched underneath what was left of the landing.
"So it's true. You are one of them." He shoved his gun into a shoulder harness and reached for a pack of cigarettes. "Don't kill me until I have a last smoke." He lifted his hands into the air, showing the pack and lighter.