Chapter 8

A month ago I thought I had a good bead on things. Sure, reality wasn't what it once was now that everyone knew that Preternaturals weren't just fiction. Still, I could deal with it. Now? Now I realize that the story is so much bigger than anyone imagines.

Not only is humanity at risk, but every Preternatural here and on another dimension. Okay, it feels completely sci-fi to have that thought.

And it's not the biggest change in my life. Unbelievably, I've fallen in love. I didn't think I'd ever find myself saying or even thinking those words, but here I am. Conner, or Rock, or whatever other name he wants to call himself—he's blasted through every wall I have and touched something I never allow to be touched.

My heart.

Two days had passed since Jazz and Rock returned from wherever they'd run off too. Barnette woke with his chin on his chest and his back in a cramp. With a curse he stood, hands on his back. He'd been camped out in the damn swamp for two days watching Burns' house, and since the brain-trust had carried Jazz inside there'd been no sign of either of them.

An annoyed snort accompanied the cracking sound of cramped vertebrae realigning as he stretched. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were doing. He knew Jazz. She was a lusty bitch to say the least and Burns was the kind of guy who would flip her switch. Big and muscular. Jazz didn't go for pretty boys or wimps.

He checked the time. Half past ten. Surely they weren't going to stay in the fucking bed all day. As if in answer to his wish, Jazz appeared. She stepped out onto the patio, raised her arms up over her head, and stretched lazily.

A moment later Burns joined her. Barnett grimaced as they embraced and kissed. Much more of that and they'd disappear inside again. No way was he going to spend the day in this fucking swamp.

The kiss ended and they reentered the house, hand in hand. Barnette stooped down to gather up his binoculars and the tarp he'd spread on the ground to protect him from the damp. Might as well head back to the hotel and pick up surveillance later.

As he was shoving the small john-boat into the water he heard a noise that drew his attention. Someone was leaving the Burns place on a motorcycle. He quickly shrugged out of his backpack and grabbed his binoculars. Sure enough, a bike was leaving. And from the looks of things it was Jazz.

Which meant Burns was home alone. A perfect time for Barnette to slip in and nab him. When the bitch returned it would be to an empty house and no clue where Burns was.

Barnette grinned as he imagined her wondering if lover-boy had skipped out on her. Maybe he'd leave her a little note. Rub it in that he'd snatched the brain right out from under her nose. That'd piss her off.

But what did he care? By the time she figured out he had Burns, he'd be so far ahead of her she'd never pick up the trail. At least not until he wanted her to. Then he'd settle the score once and for all with Jazz Boudreaux.

*****

Jazz was a mile away from her house when her sixth sense sprang to life. This time it wasn't her tracking sense but a warning of danger.

She scanned the road around her. Nothing in sight. So why were her inner defenses on red alert?

Her heart slammed against her chest as a new possibility entered her mind. Conner! Shit on a stick! She shouldn't have left him alone.

Executing a sliding turn in the middle of the road that would have done a stunt driver proud, she opened up the engine of the powerful bike for as much speed as it would give. Even at top speed, she was a good half hour away from Conner's house.

Sending out a silent plea that she'd end up with egg on her face and Conner would be safe and sound, she raced toward his house.

*****

Conner was safe. But as pissed off as he'd ever been in his life. Not only had he neglected to turn back on the alarm system after Jazz left, he'd forgotten to arm the security in his lab.

Now he sat at his desk with a giant of a man standing three feet away with a gun pointed straight at him who claimed to be there to take him to a man he was going to do business with.

That told Conner enough. Someone either wanted what he was working on bad enough to kidnap him or to get rid of him. Either way, it was exactly as Jazz had predicted.

"Here's the deal, doc," the giant said with a snide grin. "You 'n me gonna take a ride. And you ain't gonna fight me, 'cause if you do, I'll shoot you in the knees and drag your sorry ass outta here. And what's more, if you give me any trouble, and I do mean any at all, I'm gonna come back and wait on that bitch Jazz. And when I finish having my fill of her, I'll deliver her head on a platter. Now we straight?"

Conner's first inclination was to take his chances and have a go at the giant. He was big, but didn't look like he'd be too fast. But then there was the matter of the gun. No way he could outrun a bullet. He could, however, shift—and that might give him an advantage.

But what sealed the deal for him was what the man said about Jazz. It made Conner's blood run cold. The thought of that ugly hood's hands on Jazz was enough to make him see red. He'd bide his time and make sure this big thug never got a chance to lay a hand on Jazz.

"Yeah, we're straight," he said then asked, "You have a name or you just want me to call you Ugly?"

Barnette barked a laugh. "Call me Barnette, motherfucker."

"Fine, motherfucker. I need to enter the last of this equation while it's still in my head or whoever you're working for is going to be really disappointed."

"What the fuck ever."

Conner typed in a quick string of commands that would route a message through his computer to his email account and from there to Jazz's cell phone. It would take a bit of time but was the best he could do on short notice.

He finished, made a show of putting a thumb-drive into a USB slot, and copied a bunch of worthless data to it. Once it was done, he removed the drive and held his hands out to his side as he slowly stood. He'd play along until the moment presented itself, then he was going to break this fucker's neck.

"You done?" Barnette asked.

"Got it all right here," Conner wiggled the drive back and forth.

"Good, then let's move. You're driving."

Conner led the way to the garage, selecting the Jaguar. Not because it was fast or even his favorite vehicle, but because he'd specifically mentioned to Jazz that he'd just LoJacked it with the latest technology and had even shown her the small remote he'd created that could tap into any LoJack system in the country, giving him constant access to the car's location.

He'd developed the remote as a test and intended to offer it up freely to every law enforcement agency in the country.

Right now, he hoped Jazz remembered it. He didn't expect or want her to come to his rescue. He just wanted her to be able to pinpoint him.

He climbed in behind the wheel as Big Ugly, as he thought of his captor, wedged himself into the passenger seat.

Conner started the car, drove to the entrance of the estate, and stopped.

"Why the fuck you stopping?" Barnette asked "You want me to choose where we're going?" Conner hoped the moron picked up on the sarcasm.

"Head south for the I-4 connection."

Conner turned left and headed south, keeping well within the speed limit. "You an old lady?" Barnette barked. "Speed it up."

Conner laughed. "Sounds good to me. But probably wouldn't work out too well for you if we get pulled over."

Barnette's eyes widened a bit then narrowed, his face flushing brightly. "You think you're fuckin' smarter than everyone, don't you, Burns?"

Conner cut him an amused look. "Yep."

Barnette let out a bellow of laugher. "That's fuckin' funny, since I'm the one with the gun."

Conner shrugged. "I guess you have a point."

"Fuckin' A!" Barnette's cheeks and chest puffed up. "Now quit the yapping and drive."

"You're the boss."

"Fuckin' A."

Conner smiled and turned his attention to coming up with possible scenarios that he might be able to set into motion if the right moment presented itself.

*****

Jazz parked the bike in front of the house. Something was definitely wrong. The front door was standing open. She longed for her handguns but a lack of weapons wasn't going to stop her from entering.

As quietly as possible, she entered the house, starting on the ground floor and searching every room. There was no sign of Conner anywhere, and also no signs of a struggle.

She hurried to his lab. Like the house, the door was standing open. She started inside when her cell phone buzzed, making her start. Ignoring the phone, she entered Conner's lab. Nothing.

Jazz took a seat at his desk and flipped open her phone to read the notification that she had a new text message. She accessed the message and read.

"Barnette dropped in. Am fine. Taking the Jag. Conner."

Jazz cursed and bolted from the seat. If Barnette had Conner that meant someone had either put a hit out on him or was going to try to force him into turning over his research. Either way it was bad news. And either way she had to stop them.

She took off at a run, across the courtyard and through the house. It wasn't until she reached the garage that she thought of Conner's message. He took the Jag! Turning, she ran back inside to the kitchen. He'd shown her the remote for the LoJack when they were having coffee. But where had he put it?

Blessing him for organization when she located it in a drawer containing extra garage remotes and spare car keys, she grabbed it and the keys to the Lincoln Navigator. With so many SUV's on the road, it wouldn't stand out.

She activated the remote as soon as she was in the SUV. Within seconds, she had a location. "Damn!" They had a good half-hour start on her. And where the hell were they headed? There was nothing in the direction they were traveling.

Except access to I-4. That had to be it. She considered it for a few moments. If they were headed toward Miami, they would have taken the turnpike. So rule out Miami. But that still left her with two directions to cover. East and West. West would take them toward Tampa and East toward Daytona. If she tried to cut them off in either direction and was wrong about which way they were headed, she'd lose time.

The best thing she could do was wait and see which direction they took. Waiting was not her strong suit, but if it meant freeing Conner from that psycho Barnette, she could do it. Parking the SUV at the entrance of the estate, she turned off the engine and waited, her eyes glued to the remote.

*****

Conner took the eastbound exit onto I-4. His mind was occupied with strategy and with trying to figure out who Barnette might work for. It couldn't be a government deal. They would have sent a more professional team. Unless they were trying to make it appear as if it were originating from the private sector.

Even then, they would have recruited someone a little smarter. Which left the private sector as the most likely source. With Barnette being what Conner would consider a rather low-class thug, and definitely for hire by the private sector, the most likely candidate was Fred Mindleton. But Conner was a bit surprised that Mindleton would resort to kidnapping. Maybe when bribes hadn't worked he'd gotten desperate. Still, it didn't quite play out. Mindleton wasn't that heavy into energy. At least he hadn't been. Maybe he'd taken on new associations.

Whatever the case, Conner didn't intend to let himself be delivered into whoever's hands were waiting to get hold of him.

As they neared Daytona, Barnette broke his silence. "I gotta take a leak. Take the Daytona exit and stop at the next station. We'll gas up there."

Conner shrugged and followed directions. When he pulled into a convenience store and parked at the pump, Barnette tossed him a set of handcuffs. "Cuff yourself to the steering wheel."

Conner complied, seeing as how Barnette had the gun held at his waist, pointed up directly at Conner's head. Barnette got out and ambled into the convenience store. Conner looked at the handcuffs. If he chose he could shift and be out of the cuffs in seconds. But he was curious about where Barnette was taking him so he dismissed the thought.

Barnette returned several minutes later and opened the passenger door. "Give me your credit card for gas."

"Sorry, don't have my wallet on me."

Barnette cursed, slammed the door, and stomped around the car to fill up the tank. Once he was back inside the car, he took the key to the handcuffs from his pocket and the gun from his shoulder harness.

With his gun trained on Conner, he handed Conner the key. Conner unlocked the cuffs and Barnette snatched them from him. "Head for 95 North."

"Mind telling me where we're going?"

"North."

Conner shrugged and pulled to the end of the parking lot. Someone was going to some trouble to get in a room with him. It was a mystery and one he intended to solve. So, he'd play along and sooner or later he'd figure it out. Then he'd come up with a way to dispose of Barnette.

*****

Jazz was glad she'd chosen to wait before going in pursuit. Once she knew which direction they were headed, she'd mapped a course that would allow her to get head of them if she pushed it. And now she was. She decreased speed so that they had eventually passed her and dropped back a half mile, leaving plenty of space between them and silently blessing Conner for having the Navigator's windows tinted as dark as was legal.

When they pulled over, she drove on by and pulled into the lot of a gas station next to the convenience store where she could see inside the car as Barnette heaved his big ass out and stomped into the store.

She almost made her move then but decided against it. Conner was safe and freeing him now wouldn't clue her in on who was behind this. The only way to stop it from happening again was to cut off the head of the snake in control. And that's exactly what she intended to do.

But she wanted to let Conner know that she'd gotten his message and was close. The question was how to go about it without clueing Barnette in.

She waited a minute after they pulled out then gassed up and got back on the road. Hoping that Barnette would not catch on, she stomped the accelerator, caught up with and passed them. Surely Conner would recognize his own car, or at least the license plate. And hopefully Barnette would not recognize her.

She took the first turn she came to, waiting for them to pass and then did a U-turn and got back on the road, moving into a good tailing distance behind them. Did Conner get the message that she was tailing them? How would she know? As she exited onto 95 North, an idea came to her. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Conner's number, hoping he'd realize her call was a ploy and play along.

It rang several times before he answered.

Conner's car phone rang. The caller ID registered the number as Jazz. Barnette saw the readout on the dashboard display. "No fucking way. Let it ring."

"If I don't answer she'll know something's up."

Barnette jammed the barrel of the gun into Conner's thigh. "You try anything funny and you'll walk with a limp from now on. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it,"

He punched the connect button on the steering wheel. "Conner here."

"You cocksucker!" Jazz's voice screamed over the speaker-phone. "You fucking rat bastard! You fucking ran out on me!"

"Jazz honey—"

"Don't fucking Jazz honey me. I went home and packed just like you said, and when I got back here, you were fucking gone and then I get that fucking kiss-off message on my cell and...you son of a bitch!"

"Jazz baby—"Conner got the message. He had the moment his car pulled in front of them. She'd been to the house, discovered him gone and had gotten his text message. Now she wanted to make sure he knew she was on their ass.

"Not another word. You hear me, you piece of shit? You might have played me once, but you sure as shit won't do it again."

"Jazz, if you'd just let me—"

"I won't let you do shit, you cocksucker. We're done. You got it? And where the fuck's my car? I want my goddamn car, Conner."

"I-I borrowed it. Got some errands to run, babe."

"I don't give a fat shit about your errands. I want my fucking car. And trust me, I'm gonna ride your ass till I get it. You understand?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Then get your ass back here with my car."

"Yeah, as soon as I can."

The connection went dead and Barnette broke out into a laugh. "This is fucking rich. You took her fucking car?"

Conner shrugged. "I like the way it looks."

"And that bitch is stuck back at your house thinking you're out for a joyride." Barnette pounded his knee with his free hand. "Fuckin' A!"

Conner made no comment and resisted the urge to check the rearview and side mirrors to see how close Jazz was behind them.

It both comforted and alarmed him that she was tailing them. Now it wasn't just a matter of protecting his own hide. He had to make sure nothing happened to her.