Page 5 of Legacy of Danger
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.
