“No,” I said. I took in a lot of air, let it out slow, did it a second time. “I don’t faint.” I started walking, and really wished I were in jogging shoes rather than high heels, but you never plan to be kidnapped, so you’re never dressed for it.
I caught my heel on a chair leg, and Nicky grabbed my arm. All touch makes metaphysical powers more. My lioness snarled inside me, her power lashing out, and a slap like claws, saying, Get back!
Nicky staggered a little, but didn’t let go of my arm. He squeezed hard enough for it to hurt, and growled out, “That hurt!”
“It was supposed to,” I said.
“Let her go, Nicky.” Jacob was up with us, using his taller body to try to block the view.
Nicky growled at him, still holding my arm.
The lioness and I were in agreement, as we lashed out at them both. The visual was of claws slicing at them. They both reacted as if the pretend claws had weight to them. Jacob touched Nicky’s wrist. “Let her go, now, before we cause a scene.”
“She started it.”
“Bullshit,” I said.
Jacob made the other one let me go. They stepped back, gave me some room. But both their beasts were watching me. It was that feeling that you might get on the grasslands surrounded by all that gold, wavy grass, and you stop because you feel something watching you. I knew I had not just the men’s attention, but also that part of them that turned furry once a month was staring holes in me.
I heard, felt, smelled my lion’s thought. Make them fight among themselves, save the cubs. It wasn’t words, but it was emotion that translated into words, because I was human and I needed them. But the idea was good; we had enough power to make them fight among themselves—maybe that could save Micah, and Jason, and Nathaniel? But not yet; I wanted them to call off the first sniper from Micah. I needed to cooperate long enough for them to do that. I told my lioness, Patience , and she hunkered down in the long grass and began to wait. She was a stealth predator; they understand patience.
I was out the doors, slipping my sunglasses on against the bright summer sun. I stopped at the top of the steps.
“Keep going,” Nicky said.
“Shouldn’t one of you lead, since I don’t know which car is yours?”
They exchanged a glance, as if they hadn’t thought of it. I had shaken them, or the lioness had. I hoped that would help us. Nicky led the way and Jacob dropped beside me. I’d honestly expected it to be the other way around, but it didn’t matter to me.
“I’m cooperating; how about calling your sniper now?”
“When we’ve searched you for weapons, and we’re in the car.”
I let out a breath, nodded, and kept walking. I wanted to scream at them to call off their sniper, but they were recovering from the metaphysical surprise my lion had thrown them. They were gathering their plan around them again, sinking into it. I debated on whether I wanted them back in control. For now, I gained nothing by poking at them, so I followed skater boy to a big SUV. They had parked at the edge of the lot, so that thick trees and bushes were against the far side, so when they took me around to the passenger side, no one could see them frisk me.
“Lean on the truck,” Jacob said.
I put my hands on the side of the very clean SUV. There was a rental sticker in the window. I was thinking again, noticing things again. I could do this. We’d all get out alive, and that thought, that hope, was what they were counting on. Hope is a wonderful thing, but it can be used by very bad people to get you to cooperate until it’s too late. You think you’ll find a way out until it’s too late to save yourself, too late to save others, too late for anything that matters. Serial killers do that a lot, put a weapon on you in a public area, and then make you get into their car, promising not to hurt you. They lie. The general rule is that if someone puts a weapon on you in a busy area where you can yell for help, yell. Because once they get you alone, what they plan to do to you is a lot worse than getting shot, or stabbed, or a quick death. You never let the bad guys run the show, ever. I knew that. I really knew that, but I leaned against the truck and prepared to let them take my weapons. I knew I’d do what they wanted until they made that first call to the sniper on Micah. I had no other options—yet. And that bastard hope made me think I’d have another chance later to do more, even while the other part of me snickered cynically in my brain. I was acting like a civilian, and though I’d never worn a uniform of any kind, civilian was not what I was.
Jacob started patting me down, starting at my wrists under the suit jacket. He paused. “I can rip the jacket, or you can put your arms back and I can slip it off; your choice.”