Vengeance Borne by Amanda Bonilla Page A

here,” Libby said. “He’s blocking the pumps.”
    “Libby, can I borrow your car?” Jacquelyn asked, still looking out the window.
    “Let me think about that for a second,” Libby replied. “No.”
    “Come on, Libs. Please? I’ll bring it back in an hour or so.”
    “I have a novel idea. Why don’t you get your car fixed?” Jacquelyn turned around and Libby’s stern expression looked more like a mother’s than a friend’s. “Evan told you he’d work on it.”
    “I can’t afford it,” she muttered, still staring out the window at the RV and Micah. “If you don’t let me use your car, I’ll have to track Pete down and beg him for a ride. You wouldn’t do that to your best friend, would you?”
    “Don’t be so sure.”
    Jacquelyn stared at Libby with mock hurt. Deep down, she suspected that Libs was a masochist and would totally get off on seeing her endure the humiliation of swallowing her pride to ask Pete for a ride. Libby had definitely missed her calling. The girl loved her drama, she should have been a producer for a Real Housewives series. The RV started up and slowly pulled out onto West Lake Street, disappearing around the corner.
    Jacquelyn’s pouty face broke her resolve. Score one for her! “Bring it right back.” Libby tossed her the keys. “And you will gas it up when you get back.”
    “Promise.” She headed for the door. “Thanks Libby!”
    “If you’re going after the piece of ass,” Libby shouted as she headed toward the door, “I want details!”
    Another loud clang of tools from the shop made Jacquelyn wonder if Evan found that one funny.

    The drive to Trish Whitney’s ranch had never felt longer. Ten miles might as well have been ten thousand. The arrival of an unrealized Bearer couldn’t be a coincidence. Not with all of the increased supernatural activity lately. Jacquelyn touched her fingers to her cheek. Peeling back the bandage, she winced as it tugged her skin. A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed what she already knew: Micah had healed her with his touch.
    As the area’s head honcho, Trish was not only a top ranking member of the Sentry, but one of the most powerful Bearers she’d ever met. Nothing got past Trish, and Jacquelyn wondered if she didn’t already know there was an unrealized Bearer in the area. The question was: What did this Micah’s appearance mean? And how would Trish deal with it? And why did Jacquelyn feel so anxious about it?
    She sped out of town and punched the accelerator, pushing Libby’s old Tahoe faster down the highway out of McCall. With a total disregard for safety, not to mention traffic laws, she wove through the slower cars, passing a school bus and two dump trucks. The winding path of the highway down Goose Creek Canyon posed a problem and the slow moving semi in front of her could not be persuaded to accelerate past twenty. Not even with Jacquelyn’s persistent tailgating and shouts of “Get your slow ass in gear!” At the mouth of the canyon, just before New Meadows, she hit the gas and left the semi in her wake. Turning a hard left past the Whitney Ranch signpost, she barreled down the dirt road toward Trish’s house.
    Trish waited on the front porch, her silver-gray hair billowing out behind her in the breeze. The worry in her gray-blue eyes was enough to cause a swirl of butterflies in Jacquelyn’s stomach. She hit the brakes and the Tahoe slid to a halt at the front steps. The engine hadn’t even wound down by the time she jumped out the door, taking the porch steps two at a time.
    “What’s wrong, dear?” Trish took Jacquelyn’s face in her soft, aged hands. “I felt you coming from miles away.”
    “This is what’s wrong.” She presented her cheek for Trish’s inspection.
    “I see,” Trish said in the calm but facetious way that always set Jacquelyn’s blood to boiling.
    “Do you?” she asked, infuriated. “An unrealized Bearer did this.”
    A low whistle escaped from Trish’s