Vengeance Borne by Amanda Bonilla Page B

be required to glean anything meaningful from the bloody crime scene. Secondly, did she really want to know what strings Trish had to pull to keep law enforcement from the scene of a violent crime? Probably not. Jacquelyn wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity, though, and the fact of the matter was they needed to know, without a doubt, what had happened to Willie Carmichael. And since his Bearer’s magic was already screaming at her from across town, she might as well put it to good use. “Let’s stop by Golden Hills RV Park on our way. There’s someone we need to pick up first.”

Chapter 9
    MICAH HADN’T PLANNED on sleeping until three in the afternoon. After the Ativan wore off, he’d popped a Trazadone. Or two. Shit, he couldn’t remember. Real nice, dickhead. Way to assert yourself as totally independent from the drugs. He should have known better. Whatever. At least his emotional compass once again pointed north. The strange influx of unsettling emotion and sensation was gone. Thank fuck.
    The loud growl of a diesel engine made its way to Micah’s ears, growing louder as the truck pulled up alongside his RV. He scrubbed a hand over the short stubble of hair on his head and peered through the wooden slats of the kitchen window blinds. A tiny, dark-haired figure sat beside a rather regal looking older woman. She looked just as out of place in the crew-cab ranch truck as the brunette. He smiled.
    Through the slat in the blinds, he watched Jacquelyn jump out of the truck—she was so short, it was quite a drop—and walk with purpose toward his door. The serious expression on her face had him on edge and the hairs on his arms prickled. She was pissed.
    “Micah, are you here?” She rapped on the sturdy fiberglass door. “I need to talk to you.”
    Micah fixed a pleasant expression on his face, unwilling to openly show the worry slowly creeping up his spine. The door stuck when he tried to push it open and, only after a hefty shove, did it swing outward, bouncing off the exterior wall.
    “I must not be parked completely level,” he said with a laugh. “How did you find me?”
    “Please.” A smile tugged at her lips. “Your energy signature is so intense, I could find you from miles away. Plus, this is a small town, Micah. Not very many places to look.” The smile that threatened fled like sunlight hidden by clouds and Jacquelyn huffed out an exasperated breath. “I should be trying to ease you into this, but I just don’t have time. You need to come with me. Now.”

    Micah sat in the backseat feeling a little like a kidnapping victim. Jacquelyn hadn’t given him much choice in the matter. For as small as she was, that woman was strong . She couldn’t have been much over five foot three, and if she weighed more than a hundred and ten pounds, he’d be shocked. And yet, she dragged his six foot five, two hundred and twenty pound frame out of the RV and toward the waiting truck as though he was an uncooperative toddler.
    He had no idea where they were taking him, and introductions had been short. Somewhere along the lines of, “Micah, Trish. Trish, Micah. Now let’s go.” As he listened to the older woman ramble on in a no-nonsense way, he wondered when he’d get the opportunity to get a word in. But Trish’s authoritative tone didn’t give the impression that she was open to questions or comments at the present time.
    “A Bearer is an empath, more or less. Bearers possess the ability to not only feel the emotions of those around them, but he can take those emotions and draw them into himself…”
    “Or herself,” Jacquelyn interjected.
    “Or herself.”
    This woman, Trish, reminded him of his mom in a way. Bossy. Confident. One hundred percent in charge. Her smooth, melodic voice invited him to trust every word coming out of her mouth. Inviting trust and gaining it were two different things, though. Micah didn’t trust easily, but for some reason, he wanted to trust this Trish. He couldn’t