The big man rounded on Landon with such a look of hate that he fell back a step, but not before Wolf Amundson could grab him by the collar and—lift. Landon was left on tiptoe feeling even more ridiculous and helpless as his feet came half-out of his moccasin slippers and his pajamas rode up to expose his ankles to the wind. Around him the lake breeze soughed in the tall cedars and spruce edging the parking area.
“What did you do?” Amundson growled, his breath as hot and as coffee-stained as his teeth.
“I—I don’t know what you mean.” Landon steadied his voice and met Amundson’s glare. “And I don’t appreciate being dragged out into the woods in my house-clothes and made to look like Public Enemy Number One in front of your men.”
“How did you warn her?”
“Warn her?” He couldn’t hide his shock and Amundson must have seen it for his grip eased, allowing Landon to sink back into his shoes.
“How else did she know we were here?”
Landon pulled loose and shifted his Gore-tex jacket over his shoulders. The big man peered down at him as if he were a child, and it would be a rainy day in hell before he’d let this big oaf ridicule or blame him.
“Perhaps it was the noise your men made? They weren’t exactly silent. All those orders before entering the woods. And I can still hear your men even now.”
Actually he couldn’t. After the initial shock that they’d been spotted and his glimpse of Vallon, the six men had pursued Vallon and her companions with a silent ferocity that had been most unnerving. Still, he held Amundson’s eye and watched his face color and darken at the clear reference to Amundson’s need to take command of the operation.
But perhaps making Amundson an enemy wasn’t such a good idea. He swung to look at the scene. The Homeland Security black van and Amundson’s car blocked the exit from the small, private parking area. “Of course it could be something more mundane. Pressure plates in the drive. Motion detectors in the trees.”
Amundson nodded at the leader of the strike force and two men trotted off to check. Three men suddenly materialized out of the trees.
“Report,” Amundson barked before the strike team leader could open his mouth.
“They’re headed towards the old Seminary.”
“Then we’ll cut them off.” Amundson swung to the team leader. “Get the men loaded! She’s not getting away.”
Amundson grabbed Landon’s arm and half dragged him to the car. He shoved Landon at the passenger seat and he climbed in the car, arranging his coat, his pajama bottoms, his feet neatly on the floor. Then he glanced at Amundson.
“And that should worry me? My men will catch her before she reaches the seminary.”
Landon shifted in his seat, considering what he’d seen. A glimpse of Vallon’s blonde hair and pale face. But beside her had been someone who had left him so breathless it had taken everything he had to hide his reaction.
He glanced at Amundson. “Let’s hope you do.”
The two vehicles careened up the winding roads towards Juanita Drive, Amundson swearing at each curve, each corner where they had to slow.
Landon clutched the door handle and braced himself against the sway. “Accelerate into the corners, damn you. Centripetal force will hold us to the road and we’ll make up time that way.”
Amundson cast a glare his way. “You want me to catch her, do you?”
What could he say?
“Yes.” But if she were caught she couldn’t finish her investigation. A small price to pay for the chance to examine the stranger.
They reached Holmes Point Drive and sped up as the road widened and aimed through the last few curves to Juanita. Amundson’s cell buzzed. He fumbled for it as he swept the car into a sideways drift onto Juanita and slammed his foot on the floor northward.
“Amundson.”
His face clenched in anger, but then relaxed. He glanced at Landon and smiled so wide it made Landon feel like prey even as Amundson eased back on the gas.
“We missed them. They have gotten away.”
Landon waited because he knew there was more.
“But we know where they are going. She just talked to her friend the Detective. We monitored the call. They’re heading to Pioneer Square, and we’re going to beat them there.”
He eased the car in to the curb, did a U turn, then dug a police cherry out from under the seat and placed it on the dash. When he flicked it on the car filled with red strobe as he tromped on the gas. The black Town Car swept down the road, the van trailing in its wake.
“You have all our calls monitored.”
“Not all, but those in this case, yes.”
“Do the police know?”
A low chuckle that was answer enough.
“It’s not admissible as evidence, then.”
Amundson shrugged. “It is not evidence we want.”
And that was true, but Landon figured they weren’t quite talking about the same thing.
Because Landon Snow might not be able to cause change. He might not even be able to read landscapes or feel the pulse of the earth’s power, but he could read Gifted; and the dark man with Vallon possessed more Gift than he’d ever seen before—except in Vallon herself. But the man’s power was compressed and controlled beyond anything AGS Agents were capable of. So this wasn’t a savant with wild talents. This was a man with training and control.
Everything he’d theorized about. Everything he’d sought. And by his read of Vallon and the man who must be Xavier de Varga, there was a connection there. It had been there in the flicker of flame that seemed to connect them at the navel.
And that meant there was a chance to get close to him.