Read Online Sweet Mercy by Naomi Stone - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Naomi Stone
Tags: Romance
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woman.”
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it left him in a sudden rush of relief. What was wrong with him? He’d have known if anything happened to her, wouldn’t he? Somehow, as close as they’d been, he felt as if she’d become almost a part of him.
“Who authorized her to go off on a mission?” he asked sharply. “We’re in the middle of something here—trying to draw a dangerous Talent out into the open. She can’t go jaunting off like that.”
“I’ll patch you through to Mr. Connolly, sir.” Before he could say a word David cut in.
“No one authorized it. Rachel can be too impulsive when she’s worried about her friends. Don’t take it out on Alice.”
“Sorry about that, Alice” Fluke muttered. “I still don’t like this. We’re trying to draw Johnson to us and instead Rachel goes AWOL—the timing of it bugs me.”
“We heard from Tom, he said he’d bring her back to the hotel as soon as they’ve resolved some situation with Tamara’s mother. Apparently she twisted an ankle. They brought her back to stay with Tamara, but report the woman’s pretty upset and say Rachel’s dealing with her now.”
“Guess I’ll save my lecture for Rachel when I see her.” Fluke wandered to the array of food spread out near the sectional couch. Nothing looked good anymore, despite the gnawing in his gut.
“We’ve got someone shadowing the woman Johnson put on your tail,” David continued. “She hasn’t left the lobby of the hotel since you arrived. She’s stationed where she can monitor the elevators.”
“Think I should go stir things up for her? What’ll it take to bring Johnson out here?”
“He may not be after you or Rachel at all—just making sure he knows where you are so you won’t interfere with whatever else he’s up to.”
“Dammit. I don’t like waiting around for him to make his move.” Fluke paced.
“We’re trying to track him down, but he’s good at flying under the radar. We need something to go on and so far all we’ve got is a guy in a coma and an unexploded bomb.”
“Any luck with either of those?”
“We’re bringing in a telepath-healer to work with Longo. When we spoke she told me this kind of reaction happens when something interferes with a puppet carrying out the puppet master’s instructions—like a computer freeze-up. She thinks she can bring Longo out of it by using a kind of ‘psychic reboot.’”
“That’d be a good thing. Keep me in the loop.”
“No guarantee Longo will remember anything useful. And we got nothing more from the bomb components—those that could be traced were bought by different people at different times and places all over the Midwest, with nothing to tie them to each other.”
“Guess I’ll go rile up Mabel.” Fluke headed out of the suite. “Let me know when Rachel checks in.”
“Sure.”
~ * ~
At least being tied to a dining room chair felt less uncomfortable than being trussed up like a Christmas goose on the floor, or being rolled into a rug, slung over Tom’s shoulder and dumped on somebody’s back porch. If only she had her specs she could call for help. If only she had a pair of scissors, or a really useful super power, like Elastic Lass… If wishes were horses…
Rachel stared around the unfamiliar dining room. Somebody liked floral motifs a lot. Bouquets of cabbage roses adorned the wallpaper and the drapes—which, oddly, remained tied back in the middle of the night, as if the owner had left in broad day and never returned to close them. Neatly arrayed flowery china filled a built-in cabinet just like the built-ins of hundreds of other dining rooms constructed around the turn of the previous century in South Minneapolis. Framed oil paintings of flower arrangements hung on the walls. She could see nothing of the rest of the house, but felt reasonably sure this place belonged neither to any of her friends or to Johnson.
Rachel tugged at the ropes securing her to
He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until it left him in a sudden rush of relief. What was wrong with him? He’d have known if anything happened to her, wouldn’t he? Somehow, as close as they’d been, he felt as if she’d become almost a part of him.
“Who authorized her to go off on a mission?” he asked sharply. “We’re in the middle of something here—trying to draw a dangerous Talent out into the open. She can’t go jaunting off like that.”
“I’ll patch you through to Mr. Connolly, sir.” Before he could say a word David cut in.
“No one authorized it. Rachel can be too impulsive when she’s worried about her friends. Don’t take it out on Alice.”
“Sorry about that, Alice” Fluke muttered. “I still don’t like this. We’re trying to draw Johnson to us and instead Rachel goes AWOL—the timing of it bugs me.”
“We heard from Tom, he said he’d bring her back to the hotel as soon as they’ve resolved some situation with Tamara’s mother. Apparently she twisted an ankle. They brought her back to stay with Tamara, but report the woman’s pretty upset and say Rachel’s dealing with her now.”
“Guess I’ll save my lecture for Rachel when I see her.” Fluke wandered to the array of food spread out near the sectional couch. Nothing looked good anymore, despite the gnawing in his gut.
“We’ve got someone shadowing the woman Johnson put on your tail,” David continued. “She hasn’t left the lobby of the hotel since you arrived. She’s stationed where she can monitor the elevators.”
“Think I should go stir things up for her? What’ll it take to bring Johnson out here?”
“He may not be after you or Rachel at all—just making sure he knows where you are so you won’t interfere with whatever else he’s up to.”
“Dammit. I don’t like waiting around for him to make his move.” Fluke paced.
“We’re trying to track him down, but he’s good at flying under the radar. We need something to go on and so far all we’ve got is a guy in a coma and an unexploded bomb.”
“Any luck with either of those?”
“We’re bringing in a telepath-healer to work with Longo. When we spoke she told me this kind of reaction happens when something interferes with a puppet carrying out the puppet master’s instructions—like a computer freeze-up. She thinks she can bring Longo out of it by using a kind of ‘psychic reboot.’”
“That’d be a good thing. Keep me in the loop.”
“No guarantee Longo will remember anything useful. And we got nothing more from the bomb components—those that could be traced were bought by different people at different times and places all over the Midwest, with nothing to tie them to each other.”
“Guess I’ll go rile up Mabel.” Fluke headed out of the suite. “Let me know when Rachel checks in.”
“Sure.”
~ * ~
At least being tied to a dining room chair felt less uncomfortable than being trussed up like a Christmas goose on the floor, or being rolled into a rug, slung over Tom’s shoulder and dumped on somebody’s back porch. If only she had her specs she could call for help. If only she had a pair of scissors, or a really useful super power, like Elastic Lass… If wishes were horses…
Rachel stared around the unfamiliar dining room. Somebody liked floral motifs a lot. Bouquets of cabbage roses adorned the wallpaper and the drapes—which, oddly, remained tied back in the middle of the night, as if the owner had left in broad day and never returned to close them. Neatly arrayed flowery china filled a built-in cabinet just like the built-ins of hundreds of other dining rooms constructed around the turn of the previous century in South Minneapolis. Framed oil paintings of flower arrangements hung on the walls. She could see nothing of the rest of the house, but felt reasonably sure this place belonged neither to any of her friends or to Johnson.
Rachel tugged at the ropes securing her to
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