FBI Psychics: The Missing Part 5

There was no answer though, not through that long night. Not the following morning.

By ten, she was itching to be with Cullen, and Taige couldn't wait anymore. She convinced Rose to let her borrow the Jeep. The drive to Atlanta was long and agonizing. She pulled over three times to try calling him again on pay phones, but there was no answer. She hadn't ever wanted a cell phone, but on that long, dreary drive, she wished she'd gotten one.

She ended up lost and had to pull over and ask for directions to Georgia State University. Then she had to ask for directions to his dorm. But he wasn't there. His roommate, some vacant-eyed weird guy with a grunge thing going on, answered the door and mumbled, "He left for home. Dunno when he'll be back."

So she had to leave again, get on the expressway and head north, going to the little town where she'd been invited to spend Christmas. She hadn't ever been to Cul en's home where he lived with his parents, but she recognized it from some pictures. It was huge, a sprawling three-story building made from what looked like creek stone, with huge windows and a driveway ful of cars. She had to park at the very end, and she made her way up the driveway on legs that shook.

Too late. Too late. Too late.

She knocked, and when Cullen answered, she didn't know what to say.

"You knew." His voice was stark and harsh, and it hit her like a slap on the face.

"No." She licked her lips and shook her head. "Not until yesterday."

"She was killed two days ago." He reached out, grabbed her arm, and pul ed her inside, pul ing her along behind him, ignoring the people who cal ed his name as he led her up one flight of stairs and then another. When he finally stopped, it was inside a huge room that was nearly as big as Rose's entire house. "Two f.u.c.king days ago, Taige. Some sick f.u.c.k grabbed her outside the mall, forced her into his car, raped her, and choked her to death. Why didn't you help her?"

Taige shook her head. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she felt sick inside.

Useless . . . "I didn't know in time, Cullen. I swear, if I had . . ."

She reached out for him, and he pulled back. He shook his head and said, "Don't.

Okay? Just . . ." He turned away from her, and his broad shoulders slumped as he covered his face. A harsh sob escaped him, followed by another and another.

With timid steps, she moved toward him. She touched his back, waited for him to pull away. When he didn't, she slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his back. "I'm so sorry, Cul en."

He reached down and grabbed her wrist. She waited for him to push her away, but instead, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face against her neck as he cried. "Shhhh . . ." she murmured against his hair, rocking him and stroking his back, his neck, wherever she could reach.

His hands roamed restlessly up and down her back as he cried. He clutched her to him, almost desperately. But as the storm of grief eased, he pul ed back. Pulled away completely. "What are you doing here, Taige?" he murmured, easing back from her. He walked away, disappearing through a door on the far end of the room. She trailed behind him, uncertain how to answer that.

"I . . . I wanted to be with you." She peered around the doorjamb into a bathroom that was easily three times the size it needed to be. It had a huge sunken tub on one end underneath a huge window. There was a separate shower that had two showerheads. The toilet was behind a little wall. Cullen stood at the sink, his hands braced on its smooth, glossy black surface.

He laughed, and it was a hollow, jagged sound that hurt her just to hear it. "Be with me.

Why?" he asked, lifting his head so that he could meet her gaze in the reflection. "You want to comfort me? Make me feel better?"

Taige didn't have any answer for him. She stood there, staring at him and feeling so d.a.m.n useless. Useless. It was worse than evil sometimes. At least evil accomplished its goal. Useless didn't accomplish anything.

"You knew she was already gone, didn't you? When you headed up here?" He looked away from her, as though he couldn't even manage to look at her reflection.

"Yeah." She had to force the word out, and it was like squeezing it out through a pipe lined with rusty nails.

"When it was too late. Why couldn't it come sooner, Taige? You've saved little kids right in front of my eyes. People that were total strangers to you. Why couldn't you save my mom?" he asked quietly.

He turned to stare at her, and his eyes seemed to burn clear through her.

"Cullen . . ."

He crossed toward her. When he reached for her, Taige held still, hardly able to move.

That intensity on his face-it almost scared her. His hands came up, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him when all she really wanted was to look away. Hide. Hide from the shame that he had dragged out from inside her. Useless. Failure . . . "You have this amazing gift. But you hide from it, don't you? You hide yourself and screw the people you could help."

Taige flinched as though he had slapped her, jerking away from him. She wished he would have hit her. She could handle being hit a h.e.l.l of a lot easier than she could handle this . . . this contempt. It cut through with laser-sharp acuity, tearing something deep inside, and she knew it was going to leave a scar. Some wounds didn't ever heal, and this was going to be one of them.

Nervous, Taige backed her way out of the room with some barely formed idea of escape circling through her head. But Cullen followed her, advancing each time she retreated, and when she backed herself up against a fat, wide couch situated under yet another window, he lifted his arms, bracketing her into place. "Nothing to say, Taige?" he asked softly.

Digging her fingers into the plush padding of the couch, Taige stared at him. Her throat felt tight. There was a knot in it that felt the size of a golf ball. It took two tries before she managed to force any words out. "I don't know what you want me to say, Cullen. I'm . . ." Sorry. It sounded so lame, so empty. His mother was dead, and she had nothing for him but some trite, meaningless phrase that anybody could say. Frustrated, she brought her hands up and smoothed them down over her hair. The wild curls sprang right back into place, but she was doing it more out of nerves than anything. "I've already told you how sorry I am. I know how this hurts-"

The completely wrong thing to say, she realized about two seconds too late. Cullen's eyes narrowed. His hand flew up, this time fisting in her hair so that if she did move away, she was going to have to leave some hair behind. "You know how this hurts," he repeated softly, his voice incredulous, as though he simply couldn't believe she had just said that.

Her voice shook as she said, "I lost my mama, too, Cullen. I lost my mama and my dad, and I was just a little kid when it happened. I didn't have anybody. So yeah, I do know how it hurts."

Cullen shook his head. "You can't know, Taige. Your parents died in an accident. Yes, a drunk driver killed them, but he didn't do it on purpose. And they didn't suffer. My mom?

He raped her. He beat her. He choked her to death. The entire time, she probably knew she wasn't going to get out of it alive. And I couldn't help her; I didn't know anything about it until she was already dead." He dipped his head low, putting his face right into hers. His eyes were turbulent and angry, and they fil ed her vision so that she couldn't see anything but that furious, tormented gaze. "And the b.i.t.c.h of it al , Taige? It's that I could have done something. Could have done something to help her, to save her. You could have."

"No," she argued, her voice low, furious with denial. She shook her head. There was a scream inside her close to breaking free, but Taige wasn't going to let herself scream. She wasn't going to give in to her tears; she didn't deserve that luxury. "No, I couldn't, Cullen.

I can't control how it works; you know that."

"What I know is that you've never tried," he replied. "You don't try to control it. You pretend it isn't even there until one of those dreams comes on you. You don't act-you react."

Anger finally worked its way through the sense of futility. She placed her hands against his chest and shoved against him, but he barely budged. "You don't know what in the h.e.l.l you're talking about," she snarled. "You don't."

"I know I'm right." He reached up and closed his fingers around her wrists and jerked her flat against him. "And so do you."

"Let go of me." Taige arched back, trying to work her hands between them and shove him away, but he held her so close, she couldn't do much more than squirm against him.

"Why?" He dipped his head. She braced herself. She saw the fury in his gaze, and the pain. Emotions like that blinded people to everything but the hurt and the pain and the anger. None of them were gentle emotions, and Cullen was caught in the grip of them.

But he didn't crush his mouth against hers. Though he held her tight, his hands were gentle. His grip was unbreakable, but he didn't hurt her. He brushed his lips over the top of her shoulder then up her neck to her ear. "You want to make me feel better, Taige? Is that why you're here?"

She swallowed. "I just wanted to be here for you," she said. Oh, d.a.m.n. Was that shaky, breathy voice really hers?

A broad, rough palm stroked down her side then slid under the plain black T-shirt she wore. "Then be here," he muttered. "Right here." He straightened and grabbed the hem of her shirt, shoving it up until it was trapped under her arms. He stooped and wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and planting her b.u.t.t on the back of the couch.

He licked her nipple through the black cotton of her bra and then gently bit her. Taige arched, pressing against him. She reached for him, but he caught her hands, pushing them down and holding them at her sides as though he didn't want her touching him.

"Cullen . . ."

He shook his head. "Don't talk," he ordered brusquely. "Don't talk." He pulled her off the couch and turned her around, crowding against her body until she was bent over the upholstered back. His hands went to her waist, freeing the b.u.t.ton of her jeans, lowering the zipper. In one motion, he shoved her jeans and panties to her knees, and then she heard the rasp of his zipper. Taige twisted around to push her clothes the rest of the way off, but he fisted a hand in her hair and said, "Be still."

Then he was pushing against her. With her jeans and panties tangled around her knees, she couldn't spread her legs, and it made his entry rougher. She gasped and arched back, squirming against him as he pushed in, deep, slow, burrowing his way through her tight muscles until he had buried his length inside her. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. He muttered in her ear, "Tell me that you love me, Taige." His voice was low, hoa.r.s.e, and so tormented it made her heart clench painfully.

"I love you."

He rolled his hips against her, and Taige groaned, pressing against him, trying to ride the thick length invading her, but the awkward position made it impossible to do much more than squirm and rock against him. Cullen shifted her again, urging her upper body forward, once more bending her over the couch. Then he braced his hands on her hips, held her steady. He withdrew and then slammed into her, deeper, harder, stealing her breath away. She didn't even have time to gasp for air before he did it again, and again, taking her hard and fast.

There were no gentle kisses, no lingering touches, just his barely reined-in fury and the desperation that bled over into her as well. He held himself back until she came, and when Taige started to scream with it, he dropped even the pretense of control, battering her with bruising force, his fingers digging into her hips. The sound of his ragged breathing, her strangled moans, and the slap of flesh on flesh were the only noises, and then he came, his c.o.c.k jerking viciously inside her snug heat.

And just like that, it was over. He stepped away. Taige rolled her head on the back of the couch, staring at him through her lashes as he readjusted his pants. Slowly, she straightened. Her muscles felt like wax, and her legs wobbled under her as she pulled her panties and jeans back up. Between her thighs, she ached, and she could feel his s.e.m.e.n on her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely. He was standing by the window, staring outside.

Taige shook her head. She was a little uncomfortable, and she'd probably be sore later, but she wasn't hurt. "No."

He nodded. But still, he wouldn't look at her.

She wanted him to. She almost said it out loud, Look at me, Cul en. But she didn't.

"You need to leave, Taige."

His flat, unemotional words did a lot more damage than the roughness of the past few minutes, but she tried to understand. He hadn't been expecting her, probably had a house full of family, and other than his dad, none of them knew her. She wanted to be there, though. Wanted to be there for him, and it hurt that he didn't want that from her. "I'll call you tomorrow," she said softly.

Finally, he looked at her. He turned his head and met her eyes and said, "Please don't. I don't want to talk to you, Taige. I don't want to see you again. Ever."

FROM the window, he could see her, striding out to the Jeep parked at the far end of the drive, her head low, her arms wrapped around her middle. It was chilly out. She hadn't been wearing a jacket when she came in. Did she have one in the car? he wondered.

"f.u.c.k her like that, kick her out of your house, and now you worry she might get cold," he muttered. "Dumb a.s.s." He kept watching her, hoping she'd look back at him just one more time.

But she never did. She climbed into the Jeep and didn't even get the door all the way closed before she threw it into reverse. He heard the faint squeal of the tires even from here. He kept watching, even after she disappeared around the bend in the road, and for a long time after. He had no idea how much time had pa.s.sed when his father knocked on the door. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours.

Probably somewhere in between, because most of the cars in the drive were gone, and night had completely settled.

"Did I see Taige?" Robert asked softly.

Cullen nodded.

"She didn't stay long." Robert didn't ask any questions, and Cullen was glad of that.

How could he answer, anyway? Mom's dead, and Taige should have been able to stop it.

No, that wasn't going to work. He hadn't told either of his parents about the weird things that Taige had been able to do, hadn't ever figured out how to explain it.

When Cullen stayed quiet, Robert said, "Pretty long drive for her to make just to come by and say hi."

"Leave it alone, Dad."

Robert opened his mouth to speak, but then, as though he'd thought better of it, he closed it and sighed. "Taige lost both her parents young, didn't she? I bet she knows all about hurting and grief. Knows how it can make you do or say things that you don't really mean."

"What about things you do mean?" Cullen blurted out. He turned away from his dad and rubbed his hands over his face, wished he hadn't said anything. "Can it make you say things that you do mean, even if you shouldn't?"

"Go after her, Cul en. You've lost enough right now. You don't need to lose her, too,"

Robert said gently.

But Cullen couldn't do it. Or rather, he wouldn't. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes. Yes, he blamed her, she knew it, and he hated himself for it, but there it was. He couldn't change how he felt. He imagined Taige would even put up with it. Put up with him and deal with the guilt he made her feel and the pain he could cause her.

But, even though he was irrationally furious with her, he wasn't going to do that.

She didn't deserve his misplaced anger, and he loved her. Even more than he wanted to hurt her for failing him, he loved her. Chasing her away was the only way he could keep himself from hurting her, over and over.

His dad finally gave up trying to talk to him and went downstairs, leaving Cul en alone in silence. Feeling lost, he wandered around in endless circles until finally he stopped by the couch, touching the spot where he had been with Taige. He rested his hand against the padded back and murmured, "I'm sorry."

PART TWO.

FOUR.

May 2008 TAIGE stalked into the kitchen, releasing the holster on her shoulder with one hand and holding the cordless phone in the other. "d.a.m.n it, Jones, I said no. I am tired. I just spent four months in h.e.l.l because of you, and I'm not going back there just yet." On her way past the table, she laid her weapon down.

"Taige-"

She took a deep breath as she opened the refrigerator, staring inside for something to drink. Her belly was an empty, aching pit, but she had no desire to eat. Just a drink.

Preferably something strong enough to send her crashing into oblivion for the next eight hours. She wouldn't even mind the hangover too much, provided she had a little bit of peace before it hit.

"You aren't hearing me, Jones. I'm not your lackey. I am not one of your agents you can send running out for coffee or to go spy on the neighbors. You want my help; you have to ask me for it. You asked. I just said no. Now leave me the h.e.l.l alone." She lowered the phone and disconnected it in the middle of Taylor Jones's rant.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h. She couldn't stand him. He had tried to recruit her before she even got out of college, and when he didn't succeed, he sent others to try their hand. Taige had refused al of them, unable to stand the thought of letting them stick her in some specialized unit where they'd use her like some psychic bloodhound and keep on doing it until she either dropped dead from the strain or burned herself out.

Death wasn't the issue for her. Most of the time, she felt more dead inside than alive.

Even the burnout part wouldn't be so bad-no voices in her head, no more nagging dreams-but the pace those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds would work her at would have been something akin to the lowest level of h.e.l.l. Instead, she agreed to take part in special task forces where the workload was only on the first or second level of h.e.l.l.

This last, though, it had been the worst. Four months undercover in Chicago. And Chicago in February was cold. She thought she just might freeze her a.s.s before she managed to infiltrate that child-p.o.r.n ring. Three families, al of them upper-middle-cla.s.s, all of them foster parents to troubled kids. Troubled kids they drugged and then sold to the highest bidder. Whoever sh.e.l.led out the most cash got to do whatever they wanted with the kid, and for a little extra, they could even keep the DVD made of the event.

Without that extra cash, that DVD might make its way onto the Internet, and G.o.d only knew who'd see it out there.

It had taken four months and the overdose of one of the victims before Taige had been able to ferret them out, but finally, they were all behind bars. Whether they would stay or not was up to the judicial system, but at least Taige could close her eyes knowing she had done her part.

It might even help her sleep for a little while. A few weeks, maybe a month or two.

Then the guilt would start chasing her again.

She didn't realize she was standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open until she started to shiver. With a scowl, she grabbed a bottle of white zinfandel from the shelf and let the door close. She popped the cork and poured a gla.s.s, emptying it in under a minute. Then she fil ed it to the top again and made her way into her office, bringing the rest of the wine with her.