Jim liked the way Gina challenged him. Holy shit. Little Gina Hanson had survived. Not only was she alive and kicking with Olympic Gold Medal accuracy, she was all grown up and a knockout in more ways than one. He had a hard time concentrating on what she was saying, distracted by her ultra-feminine form under that space-age black suit that hugged every hot curve.
“It’s almost dinner time. Let’s discuss this over a meal. What do you say?”
“I wouldn’t turn down food. Thanks for the invitation.” Gina smiled and it nearly took his breath away. He had to concentrate on business. Gina Hanson was just a kid. Or…she had been a kid when he’d known her all those years ago. With the way the Alvians had monkeyed with everyone’s DNA, nobody aged anymore—or at least not much.
The gap between them didn’t seem so vast anymore. After all, it was the mileage sometimes, not the years, and every human survivor had been through hell and back in the years since the cataclysm.
He made a few discrete hand signals to his top lieutenants and ushered Gina into the first ring. He wouldn’t let her any deeper into the complex until he was sure of her, but this would do for now. There was a room they’d turned into a conference room that could be used, and a secure bunk where he could house her for the night, if necessary. And he thought it would be necessary. No way was he letting Gina Hanson out of here now. She was a puzzle he wanted to solve¾with her Alvian clothing and claims of friendship with some secret ninja sect. Either she was completely batty or she was the messenger his friend Tory had claimed would come.
Nobody put much store in Tory’s visions. The poor woman had been driven insane when her baby had died, but she was still the strongest foreseer in his group. He heard her words, though he took them with a grain of salt. Half the time she rambled. The other half…well, he’d learned a thing or two from those rare moments of clarity.
There weren’t many women in his group, but he demanded they be treated with respect. Even crazy Tory. They fed her, gave her a place to stay and work to occupy her hands. Her mind was another thing entirely. Jim had heard there were mind healers, but he’d never met one. If he ever came across one though, he’d do anything to get some help for Tory. Nobody deserved torture like she went through on a daily basis, constantly reliving the death of her beloved baby.
Luckily Tory wasn’t among the group that brought food from below for the impromptu feast. Jim signaled his command group to stay. They all should hear what Gina had to say so they could discuss it later. Plus, each of his men had different talents. Pierre, for instance, was gifted at telling lies from truth, while Max had a touch of empathy that often came in handy.
Gina seemed comfortable among his men, though most women nowadays had reason to fear any group of strange males. Women were scarce and though he hated to admit it, a lot of men had turned into animals.
He knew Gina could defend herself. Maybe not against a crowd, but certainly against a few rogues. For that reason, perhaps, she didn’t walk with the fear Jim saw all too often in women these days.
She dropped her small pack on the table and pushed it toward him as she sat.
“Feel free to look through it. I’ve got some rations, water, a map and spare socks in there.”
Jim motioned to one of his men who flicked the satchel open with his mind. If it was booby-trapped nobody needed to lose a finger or hand. The bag floated into the air and was upended over the table. Out dropped the items she’d claimed would be there. Nothing more was revealed when Larry showed off his fine-tuned telekinetic skill, turning the bag inside out with his mind. He dropped it on Jim’s signal and Gina picked it up, using a pull of her own telekinesis to draw the bag and objects to her side of the table. Apparently she didn’t have—or didn’t want to expose—the same deftness Larry had shown.
“That was pretty cool,” she said, nodding at Larry. Gina turned the bag right side out the old-fashioned way and stuffed her possessions back with her hands.
Larry smiled at her, tipping the brim of his hat as Jim watched uncomfortably. The bastard was flirting with her and it irked the hell out of him.
“Back to business.” Jim shot a glare at Larry.
“Aren’t you going to search me?” The comically innocent blink of her big brown eyes set Jim’s teeth on edge. He had to hand it to her—she hadn’t lost that infamous mischievous Hanson sense of humor.
“I’d volunteer for that dangerous duty, sir,” Larry said immediately as Pierre and Max cursed him jokingly.
“Thanks.” Jim shook his head, not amused. “That won’t be necessary at the moment. Gina,” he warned her, “behave.”
She bristled, but the smile lingered. Still, she’d effectively broken the ice. The plates were passed around and food deposited in the center of the table as others brought it to the conference room’s door. They peered in, trying to get a look at the newcomer. This meeting was for command staff only and nobody else was invited to stay. They’d hear about it soon enough, once he’d had a chance to question Gina.
A commotion at the door drew all their attention and Jim cursed under his breath to see Tory there, her hair a mess, her eyes hollow. She was in one of her crazy moods. He hated seeing her this way. He tried to intercept her but Tory only had eyes for Gina.
“I saw you,” she accused in a broken whisper.
Gina stood, moving closer to the distraught woman. Her gentle words surprised them all. “I saw you too. Come here, Victoria.”
Gina held out her arms and the other woman rushed into them. Gina shushed her as she would a child when Tory’s body trembled and her arms wrapped around Gina, clinging for comfort. Gina put her hands over Tory’s head and murmured soothing sounds. Even Jim could feel there was something more going on. Tory quieted quicker than she ever did when she was in one of these wild moods, and Jim could reach no other conclusion than it was another of Gina’s talents at work.
“You’re a mind healer too?” He heard the note of awe in his own voice. Mind healers were rare. He’d never met one.
Gina met his eyes over Tory’s trembling head. “Only a touch. I’m a jack-of-all-trades psychically. Master of none. But I can help calm her until we can get her to someone who really can help. My brother Bryan was the truly gifted one in the family.” She kept her tone gentle and calm, stroking Tory’s wild hair into some semblance of order until the woman quieted.
When Tory pulled back, she was more lucid than Jim had ever seen her.
“I saw you in a vision. You’re going to bring the angel to us.”
And there she went, Jim thought with a grimace. Talking about angels again. A quick look at Gina’s face didn’t show the disdain he figured she’d feel at such a wild claim. Instead, she smiled kindly.
“I will, Victoria. If your leader here is willing to listen.” She cocked her head at him, sending a smile that warmed him straight down to his toes. Tory, too, was looking at him, a graceful blush staining her cheeks. She would be a pretty woman, he suddenly realized, if she could ever get over the horrors of her past.
“You need to listen to her,” Tory said as she let go of Gina and walked toward the door—toward Jim. Her eyes were earnest and thankfully sane. “She’s going to bring great changes to us all. They’ll be good changes—or at least—the chance for good. We’ll need to take a stand soon. She’ll help.” Tory looked back and smiled at Gina once more. “And the angels.”
Jim didn’t know what to make of Tory’s ramblings. He didn’t believe in angels. Tory seemed to be obsessed with them lately. And Gina didn’t seem to think Tory’s words were all that farfetched. Maybe it was worth thinking about. Perhaps the angel was a metaphor for something else. Sometimes visions played out that way.