Chapter 3
Vaughn slumped against yet another wall while Garrison came unglued in the hospital waiting room. Not that he cared what anyone else thought about his brother's behavior, but the fact that no other person wanted to approach within thirty feet of them came as a relief. Hell, Vaughn didn't want to be within thirty feet of this damned hospital. He wanted to leave so badly that his muscles twitched and skin crawled.
Back in that emergency room, the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol and snap of gloves combined with the sounds of whooshing and beeping, blasting him with a memory of Mom's last days as she fought cancer. How many years ago had that been? Four? Five? For his part, Vaughn had been too involved in self-destructing via alcohol-fueled brawls to be fully present for his own mother. Couldn't fix the past, but no way would he make the same mistake again. No more hiding.
Which meant, at some point, he'd have to fess up and tell Garrison his real reason for leaving the ranch last year. Not now, but soon. If he thought Garrison wanted to kill him now for deserting the family, wait until he heard about how thoroughly Vaughn had screwed up his brother's life. Now that was a conversation to look forward to. Start the popcorn, kick back, and enjoy the shit-show.
"Son of a bitch, what are you doing here?" A vein. A real goddamned vein stood out on Garrison's wind-roughened forehead, visible even beneath the brim of his hat. His younger brother's hands curled into hunks of anger at his sides. It would come as no surprise if Garrison punched him into oblivion.
Vaughn tapped his own forehead. "Shelby left a weird message with me earlier today and thought I needed to be here. You know how she gets feelings."
"Of course I know about her feelings. And your feelings. And all of our goddamned feelings. We're all a bunch of fucking mutants with our brains wired crossways."
Garrison hadn't been left out of the strange power lottery. No, he could reach into someone's mind and detect if they were lying. Seemed like a great gift, until paranoia and distrust made him avoid everyone.
In the immediate family, the four Taggart siblings had these special "gifts." But go a little further out on the family tree and there was a mess of... odd... cousins in Montana, where Mom grew up. Nosing around a little more, Vaughn had found stories about his maternal grandmother from back east and the interesting things she could do.
For the most part, the Taggart kids kept their powers hidden. It was hard enough growing up in the fishbowl of a small town without being freaks of nature.
Garrison took a breath. "Why return now? Why not a month ago or two?"
"No one called me before today."
"Lame excuse. Try again."
"Gar, it's late—" He checked his watch. "Or rather, early. We don't need to work through all of our issues right now. Let's put our energy toward Shelby and Eric in there." And as a bonus, Vaughn wouldn't mind figuring out why his power had just flared around that ER doctor, right when her moss-green eyes had pinned him in place. Maybe whatever had changed in his head when he flipped gears and protected Shelby and Eric had fried his ability to detect danger.
Or maybe interacting with that nasty, stinking glob out there had changed Vaughn's power. What the hell was that thing anyway?
Later. He'd figure it out later and then get rid of the thing.
His brother rubbed his neck. "Look, Vaughn. Can you just go back to the ranch and stay there? I want to be here with Shelby and Eric. And now that Kerr has sorted out his guide service guests, he needs to be here with her."
Ah yes, Shelby and Kerr's extra "twin sense." Feeling his sister's injuries must have rattled the hell out of Kerr. Almost as bad as what Shelby had suffered when Kerr had almost died in that IED explosion in Afghanistan.
Vaughn glanced around the empty waiting room as a prickle of his power came and went. "Why can't I stay at the hospital, too? We can all three wait."
"Because there is some bad juju going on. Long story, but the Taggart family is having issues."
"Issues? Is Zach still... normal?" Garrison's young son. His brother's pride and joy. And his biggest fear, due to the uncertainty of whether Zach would also manifest a supersensory ability.
"Yeah, no powers yet, thank God. Maybe it'll skip a generation. But we've got much bigger problems. Not sure how much help to ask for"—worry lines crinkled around his eyes—"since I don't know how long you're sticking around this time."
That comment hurt. And was also well deserved.
He continued, "But right now, the rule is that one of us has to be at the ranch all the time, in case—"
"In case what?"
"In case something happens," he lowered his voice to a hoarse growl, "like that thing you saw out there. Not sure what the hell it was, but it has our number. Son of a bitch. Too much going on." He paused. "You going back to the ranch will also give you time to see Dad."
"How's he doing?"
Maybe he didn't want the answer, based on the downturn of Garrison's mouth.
"Poorly."
It was like an uppercut to the jaw.
"What do you mean?" Vaughn asked.
"He isn't doing well, okay? That's all you deserve to know right about now."
He opened his mouth again, but Garrison cut him off with a slice of his hand through the air. "Later. We'll catch up once I make sure that Shelby and Eric are okay."
Because someone had to take care of them went unsaid. Because my oldest brother fell down on his job.
Vaughn clamped his mouth shut. "Got it." He strode through the hospital doors. It was a still night, cold and harsh.
Colder, now that he was away from his sister and brother.
The separation shouldn't have been palpable, but their connection as Taggarts, as family, as individuals who shared a strange secret, all pulled at Vaughn like a tightening rubber band, painful and stretched to its limit.
When would it break?
* * *
The dirt road to the main buildings of the family ranch took far too long to travel, and the distance was more than he could measure in miles.
Early dawn glowed on the cloudless, cold horizon. The weather had cleared out, leaving a biting chill. Sparse snow failed to soften the wild rangeland Vaughn had called home for his entire life.
Until last year.
Until the biggest mistake he'd made in his life.
Unless you counted returning home, which might turn out to be an even bigger mistake.
His heart thundered in his chest. What had Garrison meant about Dad not doing well? Shelby hadn't mentioned anything in her tense, whispered message.
His gut churned. That might have been the last time anyone heard his sister's voice.
Christ.
As Vaughn guided the loaner car over a rise in the bumpy road, the wan light gave the ranch buildings a grim, flat appearance, like quiet ghosts rising out of the wild Wyoming land.
He blinked and rubbed his eyes.
The big barn was missing. In its place stood a skeleton of new lumber.
Off to the other side of the big ranch house and out buildings, cattle lowed in a small field. Wasn't it too early to bring them close to the house? There was still forage available on the grazing land. Too early for calving. What was going on?
Where were the three yapping dogs that usually ran amok–their family pets and working ranch dogs?
As the sky lightened right before the sun broke over the horizon, he caught a shadow of movement off in the trees beyond the field a few hundred yards from the house. A wince against the inevitable headache, a prickle on the back of his head, and his ability activated, senses on high alert. He didn't need to clench his fists to open his mind this time.
His power yanked his head around toward the tree line. He peered into the gray forest.
Nothing there. The ache in his temples receded.
Had he imagined it? Was he tired and hallucinating?
Since when had any of the Taggarts' abilities been wrong? Even when he and his siblings didn't want their powers to be right, no such luck.
He parked the sedan next to Kerr's old truck near the kitchen, where a window glowed with warm, yellow light. Waves of memories crashed over him: his mother and father fixing meals as they stood at the counter together, the cheery red-and-white tile floor, the loud chatter across the table while he ate with his three younger siblings. One time, there had been a food fight, followed by a terrifying walk to the barn that all the kids took with their father. The anticipation of doom was enough to set Vaughn and his sister and brothers back on the right path.
What about the hours of games, hiding in all the nooks and crannies of the ranch buildings? Or laughing their heads off at the worst tackle football games ever. Vaughn always won.
Despite the memories, nothing felt right. This wasn't a homecoming.
He had screwed up. He had taken the better of two rotten options and left all of this life behind more than a year ago. Done and done.
His own life had changed for the better in New York. Well, mostly. By using that power to detect danger, Vaughn's MMA star was rising quickly, although he'd declined to enter the UFC as a contracted fighter, because he had one or two ethics left. Extra ability equaled unfair advantage. But along the way, he had gained some wealthy friends.
And wealthy friends attracted women who wanted Vaughn solely for his connections. Damn it. Hadn't seen that betrayal coming. His danger detector hadn't made a peep when that particular Delilah walked into Vaughn's gym, embedded herself into his life, and then ripped it all apart when she spun around and sunk her talons into one of his wealthy friends.
Given why he'd fled the ranch, a woman betraying Vaughn was the most perfect karma the universe could dish out. After that disaster, he had stuck with what he did best: fighting and picking stocks.
Pair his ability to avoid danger with financial decision-making, and he'd developed a reputation as quite the financial advisor with a hell of a track record, even over the brief period of time he'd been in New York City. He cultivated many of the MMA managers and organizers as his personal clients. Succeeding in those two worlds guaranteed that he had money and well-placed friends.
So, hell yeah, when Shelby had called him for help, he had pulled a well-connected favor and hopped a private jet.
But aside from saving her life, it had otherwise been a mistake, coming back to Copper River and opening all these wounds.
He paused. Well, maybe returning hadn't been a complete mistake. In his mind's eye, an image formed of the pretty doctor with those quick movements as she worked on his family.
At least he'd met someone new in town. Well, not met, actually. Got yelled at.
So, not meeting someone new at all.
Slamming the car door closed, he strode into the kitchen.
Kerr sat at the worn wooden table. His head and shoulders drooped as he gripped a coffee mug. Car keys rested on the table.
A tall, sturdy woman Vaughn didn't recognize had three skillets on the stove, all emitting mouthwatering aromas. When she turned, he rocked back on his heels. Her hazel eyes glinted with the same kind of gold flecks he and his siblings had. The woman's auburn hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. One corner of her mouth lifted.
Kerr cleared his throat as he waved a hand. "Vaughn? Ruth. Ruth? My brother Vaughn."
She closed the space between them with purpose and gave a firm handshake. "Ruth Turcot. I'm a nurse caring for your father until he... improves."
Vaughn reared back. Improves?
She continued, "You might see my husband, Odie, wandering around. If you do run into him, please tell him to stay out of trouble."
"Could someone tell me what the hell is going on here?" Vaughn's grip on his temper slipped.
The woman coolly raised an eyebrow and moved back a few feet.
"Better to show you," Kerr said, pushing to his feet with a grimace. He led Vaughn out of the kitchen and down the hall.
Gut churning, Vaughn whispered, "Who the hell is that woman? And what's the story with Dad?"
"A lot's gone on since you left, bro." Kerr opened the second to last door at the end of the guest wing hall.
Vaughn had always viewed his father as a powerful man, grabbing life by his two work-worn hands and forcing it to obey his steel will.
The only similarity between the father of his memories and the man huddled under the blankets? The thick, gray hair.
Vaughn's stomach muscles clenched like he'd been sucker-punched. He jerked his head back to Kerr, who merely shook his head.
Vaughn drew enough air to create words. "What the hell?" he whispered. Sure, Dad had been ten years older than Mom, but he'd always been the picture of health. The man in the bed looked... geriatric.
His brother's shoulder lifted and fell. "Stroke. Happened right after the barn burned and Hank Brand kidnapped Zach and Sara." At Vaughn's raised brows, Kerr added quickly, "Sara. Garrison's girlfriend. Anyway, Dad had a stroke."
Vaughn staggered into the doorjamb.
"Yeah," Kerr said. "And you know Dad. He didn't go to the hospital when he started having symptoms, waited too long making sure everyone else was okay."
Hesitant, he took one step, then another, toward the bed. "Dad?" he choked out around a tight lump in his throat.
The rustle of sheets and a creak of bedsprings pierced the silence. "Son?" One eye opened. The other remained half closed. "Is that you?" He reached an arm out. The other limb remained in place.
God, no.
"Vaughn?" Dad asked again, a quaver in that whispery-gravel voice.
Kneeling next to the bed, Vaughn gripped his father's forearms, the thin skin slack over diminished muscles. He swallowed. "Yeah. It's me."
"You're back." When Dad tried to reach out, he couldn't hold both arms up.
As an invisible dagger sunk into his heart, Vaughn leaned in and gave him a hug. Since when had his dad's shoulders gotten so thin? Since when had it hurt so much for Vaughn to pull air into his own lungs?
He inhaled. The familiar scent of Aqua Velva created a horrible churning in Vaughn's emotions. "How are you, Dad?"
"A little setback." The words came out hesitant, uneven. Slurred. "I'll be back on my feet soon."
"Sure you will." He pulled back and patted a bony shoulder. Suddenly, Vaughn needed to leave the room. Escape. "Uh, you get some rest now, okay?"
Dad's relaxed sigh sent him shrinking into the pillow. Melting.
Fading.
Waves of nausea pushed Vaughn back to the door. Then he spun around. "Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed.
"Garrison said if you wanted contact, you'd call." His brother's face fell. "I wasn't kidding when I said a lot has happened."
"And now?"
Kerr eased the door closed as they exited, then pointed at the room. "Right now, that's Dad's condition. He talks a good game, but he mostly stays in bed. Although I have to say, Nurse Ruth has worked wonders motivating him."
"Who's paying for the in-home nursing?"
"Right now, the three of us are scraping funds together."
"Damn it. I wish I had known. I can pay for his care." Of course he could. Vaughn's meteoric rise as a financial advisor had netted him a six-figure salary and bonuses. If his power to detect danger created an unfair advantage, well, at least he could use the resulting bounty to help his family.
"Garrison said that you'd left for a good reason and would come back when it was the right time."
"If I'd have known..."
"Leave the past in the past." His younger brother scowled. "That's what I have to do."
Of course he did. "How's the leg?"
"Better. Almost ready to dance a jig." No smile. "You still fighting?"
Way to change the subject. "Sure am. Lots of MMA opportunities in the greater New York area."
"Still cheating?"
"It's not cheating. I'm using my full resources is all." He sniffed. "The headaches keep me from doing it too much."
A snort. "Well, that makes it all better, doesn't it?"
Vaughn followed Kerr back down the hallway, careful to keep pace with his brother's uneven gait.
"So what's the plan?" Vaughn asked as he inhaled the scent of hot, fresh breakfast—bacon and eggs—that drifted through the house.
"You stay here and protect the ranch."
"Why?"
"Because whoever burned down the barn—and it looks like the Brand family had something to do with that action—and stalked our family is still around."
"Stalked?" Another change in air pressure pushed Vaughn off-balance again. He resisted the urge to check his back.
"Yeah. Whatever that black... thing... was that was climbing over Shelby and Eric last night has shown up here as well."
"Wait. It's a separate problem from the Brands?"
"Think so. But who knows?" Kerr glanced around the empty hallway and whispered, "We're in a shit-storm over here, dude."
"Not good." Vaughn clamped down so hard his jaw ached.
Kerr ran a hand over his bright red hair, making it stick up. His kid brother's narrowed eyes rocked Vaughn back on his heels. "No, Mr. Obvious, it's not good. Between you and me, all I'm waiting for is the dust to settle and for Shelby and Eric to recover. Then I'm going after that creature myself."
"Alone? You sure about that?"
"If necessary. I have skills, too, you know."
Kerr's ability to never get lost, combined with his gift to literally disappear, could come in way handy in this situation. But kid brother solo versus that thing? Kerr might be resourceful and wily, but Vaughn had seen firsthand what that creature could do. No way would he let little bro go it alone. "Want help?"
"I want it destroyed." Kerr sniffed. "So, yes, I'd love some help."
"I'm on board with that concept." Vaughn spared a glance at the walls filled with childhood photos, starting with baby pictures and finishing with high school graduation portraits times four. "Garrison know you've cooked up this idea?"
A shrug. "No time to chat. I'm sure he'd be fine with it." The who-me? innocence didn't convince Vaughn.
"Got an actual plan?"
"Details are still in the developmental stage."
"Don't do anything if it puts more of us in danger."
"Danger?" Kerr leaned his shoulder against the bottom of the stairs bannister and studied him. "What? Are you feeling anything else threatening since being here?"
Besides the shadow sensation when he arrived at the ranch? And the impact of a certain doctor's beautiful green eyes that knocked him back a few steps? "If I did, I wouldn't admit to having fear. Makes me sound like a scaredy cat."
"No comment. However, you might want to take those instincts seriously. There's something bad out there. Everything is just... wrong here, man. I can't explain it. Nothing we're doing is working. Everything's broken."
"Like we're cursed?" Big news there. Vaughn had felt cursed his whole life.
Pausing at the entry to the kitchen, Kerr gripped the jamb and whispered, "Not exactly. More like we're being sabotaged or targeted."
"That's crazy."
"So you think." He entered the room and nodded to Ruth, who set a plate of steaming food on the table for Vaughn. Kerr kept on walking. "I'm going back to the hospital. Hold down the fort."
"What am I looking for? Stuff that is out of place?"
"No. That's small potatoes." Kerr turned at the back door. "Look for stuff that scares the holy hell out of you."