by Fall, Carly
Justice (Book 9 in the Six Saviors Series - Rescue One)
By
Carly Fall
© 2015
Westward Publishing
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition
Editing by: Divas at Work Editing
Cover Design by: PJ Friel
http://www.pjfriel.com
“Justice is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used FICTITIOUSLY. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.”
The Six Saviors Series - in reading order:
The Light Within Me
Finding My Faith
Reborn
Beverly’s Rebirth
Destiny’s Shift
Tangled Fates
The Dream Walker
Atonement
Justice (Rescue One)
Titus (Rescue One)
Prologue
One Month Ago
Justice ran through the Arizona desert, sweat dripping from his brow, his breathing coming in short spurts as he dodged the cacti and sagebrush. He’d learned the hard way that both would hurt if they brushed against his legs, and the cacti needles would become embedded in his pants. As he knew from experience, that certainly wouldn’t be considered fun; only painful.
Thankfully, he didn’t travel through the desert during the summer. At one hundred and seventeen degrees Fahrenheit, those months had proved to be completely unbearable. Where the sun beat down on this area with such intensity, he would have sworn two years ago that he’d landed directly into the bowels of Hell instead of on Earth.
Taking a swig of water, he wiped his forehead with his hand, hoping to keep some of the liquid out of his eyes to avoid the sting that sweat could bring.
He trudged through this God-awful landscape looking for nothing in particular. Honestly, he simply wanted to get away from his crew of Rescue One and have a little time alone.
The red and brown dirt, large cacti, and small shrubs made for a hostile environment. Yet, with the yellow and red flowers blooming, it held beauty at the same time. With the extreme temperature swings, it didn't seem like a place anyone would want to visit, still, here he stood, a foreigner in a foreign land.
Glancing up at the sky, he guessed the time to be about noon. He’d been on the move since 5:00 a.m., and he should probably turn back if he wanted to reach shelter before dark. No, when the night fell, it would be imperative that he be indoors as his eyes would glow his true SR44 color the moment the sun fell over the horizon. Even though he stood in the middle of the vast wasteland, he couldn’t take the chance of running into a human with his eyes gleaming gray. Chances of that happening would be slim, but it wouldn’t be a bet he was willing to take.
With his black-as-night skin, did he grow hotter than his light-skinned counterparts, or did he just naturally run warm? He’d never discussed it with his group, but perhaps he should. If it were the case, then he probably shouldn’t spend so much time outdoors.
He fought back a wave of defeat, feeling as though this day had once again been a waste of time and energy, as had so may days before this. Bending over and placing his hands on his knees, he watched the sweat drip from his brow and hit the rock, disappearing quickly. He hated that he hadn’t come any closer to completing this simple mission. How many more days would they have to wait? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t let his frustration show. His crew depended on him to lead, and he needed to mask his disappointment and fears.
He stopped and turned around, taking in his surroundings. The strange beauty of the desert stretched as far as his eyes could see, making him think again of a wasteland, but his time here had also taught him that the empty, barren place teemed with life.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled out his notebook and made a note of the time and approximately how far he thought he’d traveled. He’d started tracking his adventures a couple of months ago. It didn’t serve a purpose, but had become a way to fight off a little of the boredom and document his time on Earth.
He couldn’t wait to get home to SR44.
A noise sounded to his right—a low, guttural tone he’d never heard before. Perhaps it could be a hurt coyote, or a Gila Monster? He hoped for neither, as both could turn dangerous in a moment’s time. Most of the time, Glia Monsters lived below ground, but he’d seen a few sunning themselves on rocks or moving through the desert dirt. Not only could they be deadly, but also scary as hell to look at with their black and pink or orange scales.
He heard the noise again and weighed his options. He didn’t want to mess with Nature. If something lay dying in the brush, he shouldn’t upset it, but allow Nature to take her course. However, as the sun beat down on him, he decided a slow demise out in this desolate place may very well be a fate worse than death itself.
Walking warily, he scanned the ground. He certainly didn’t want to tangle with a hurt animal.
The noise reverberated one last time, accompanied by a cough that sounded human.
A moment later, he found his mystery noise-maker.
A male lay among the sagebrush and tumbleweeds, as if he’d tried to cover his body with it, probably to shade himself. His bright red skin indicated he’d seen a few days of sun, and Justice noticed his parched, cracked lips. He moved so that his large frame blocked the sun’s glare from the male’s face.
Slowly, his head turned, and his eyes opened.
“Help me,” the male whispered.
Justice got down on his haunches and pushed away some of the shrubbery away from the man, his mind churning with questions as the sagebrush tore into his skin, small drops of blood popping up. He ignored the slight pain.
First, what in the hell was this male doing out here in the middle of nowhere? He couldn’t very well take him back to where he stayed, since humans couldn’t know about him or his fellow SR44ians. However, he could also tell that this male had been through a lot by his ripped clothing and dry mouth. As he rolled to his side, Justice noticed blood caked on the back of his jeans.
A moral dilemma, indeed. Did he let the male die, or take him back to where he could help him, knowing that he would be exposing himself and his crew to who-knew-what?
He sighed and shook his head. Lifting the male’s head, he brought his canteen he’d pulled from his pack to the parched lips that gratefully accepted the water. As an honorable male, he couldn’t allow anyone to die out in the desert.
“Thank you.”
“C’mon, son,” Justice said, pulling the male to a standing position as he tossed the canteen strap over his shoulder. “What’s your name?”
“Titus. My name’s Titus.”
“Nice to meet you, Titus.” Justice bent down and lifted him over his shoulder. Standing at six-foot-five and weighing in at a solid two-hundred-and-eighty pounds, Titus would be a burden, but one he could handle. “We’ve got a long walk ahead of us. Let me know when you need to stop and rest.”
As he trudged through the landscape with Titus’ head and hands bobbing against his back with each step, he sighed. It would be a long trek to the place he called home.
Chapter 1
Present Day
Blake Birmingham ran his hand through his hair, waiting for the next punch. He’d either block it or he’d take it, but either way, it would hurt. Sweat rolled down his body. Every muscle burned like it had just been lit on fire. He tried to focus through it all, carefully watching Jovan’s feet and fists, especially the feet. When a size twelve landed in his sternum, it hurt like a mother—
Jovan lunged at him, his foot on targ
et for Blake’s forehead. At the last second, he ducked, sending Jovan off-balance. He quickly moved, jamming his fist into Jovan’s solar plexus, sending him to the mats with a loud thump. He waited a beat for a countermove, and when none came, he flopped down next to his friend.
“That hurt, man,” Jovan whispered, laying his forehead against the cool mat.
It has been three months, four days, and about seven hours since Blake had kicked his heroin habit, but he wasn’t counting. He’d never felt stronger, or more alive. He owed it all to his incredible support system—Jovan, who worked out with him relentlessly; Cohen, for his healing abilities; Beverly, for talking him through ups and downs and helping him accept his past; and of course, Sophia, his rock, and his soon-to-be mate. The ceremony would take place in eleven days, and he couldn’t recall a time he’d been more excited about an event in his life. Frankly, there hadn’t been much for him to be enthusiastic about before meeting Sophia, but he kept his past tucked away behind him, only bringing it out and contemplating it when absolutely necessary.
He wanted to focus on the future.
As half SR44ian and human—or a half-breed, as the Saviors liked to call him—he’d never fully comprehended the make-up of an SR44 male, until he’d met Sophia. The world of an SR44 male revolved around his mate and her happiness. As each of the Saviors found their mates, he watched them change and evolve into people he didn’t understand. Yet, he’d come full circle with Sophia—his world revolved around her, and her daughter, Megan.
“So Cohen will heal your boo-boo, and you’ll be better in an hour. Relax, man.”
“You didn’t need to hit me that hard.”
Blake chuckled, finally catching his breath. “I think you’re just pissed because I’m finally able to kick your ass.”
Jovan rolled over with a groan. “You’re probably right.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out.
Noah.
“It’s the big guy upstairs.” And that guy didn’t joke around. Noah, the leader of the Six Saviors, literally sat somewhere in the nine stories up in the missile silo from where he and Jovan lay on the gym mats.
“Ignore it.”
He set the phone down, his breath finally evening out. The shrill started up just a few seconds after it ended.
“You know you can’t ignore Noah,” he mumbled, bringing the phone to his ear. “What’s up, man?”
“You need to pick up when I call. I’m not phoning you up to ask you how your day is going or if you’ve cleared up your jock itch.”
He sighed. “Jock itch is better, thanks, and so far, my day has been great. Now, what’s up?”
“I need everyone up here in twenty. Jovan isn’t answering his phone, either. Is he with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Drag him with you and get up here.”
Blake set the phone down and struggled to his feet. He held his hand out to Jovan and pulled him upright.
“Let’s go, princess. We need to hit the showers. The royal pain in the ass awaits.”
Eighteen minutes later, Blake sat in the War Room with the other Saviors and Warriors—Hudson, Rayner, Cohen, Annis, and Jovan. They all migrated to their high-back leather seats around the large glass table like moths to their particular flame. Nico was M.I.A. Blake gazed over at Cohen, the Healer of the group, and Annis, their intertwined fingers making a beautiful mosaic of light and dark skin. Although pregnant, Annis had only begun to show. He sent silent thanks out that the anger and hatred of her choosing Cohen over him no longer rolled through his veins like poison, eating him alive. Smiling at Cohen, he found himself excited for their new family addition who would be arriving in the next six months or so.
Hudson sat to their right, dressed in a black t-shirt, black jeans, and his black hair pulled back in the standard ponytail. The guy looked like he’d just walked off the pages of GQ, and if he could describe a man as pretty, Hudson fit the definition. He also happened to be a ruthless assassin, a great cook, and a fabulous dancer, not to mention incredibly devoted to his mate, Beverly, a human, and their son, Killian.
At the other head of the table sat Rayner. On his home planet, he had been a Forest Dweller, living off the land. Here on Earth, he found himself one half of an amazing Navajo legend, the other part being his mate, Faith.
Jovan sat next to him, pushing his wet, shoulder-length blond hair out of his face. He’d yet to mate with Liberty, an SR44ian female, and with her diamond studded nose, her love of tattoos and motorcycles, her ever-changing hair color, and her no-bullshit policy—especially with Jovan—Blake often wondered if the guy had taken on more than he could handle. Jovan had been pushing for a mating date, but Liberty wouldn’t have any of it. She preferred things just the way they stood.
“Now that everyone is here, we’ve got a lot to discuss,” Noah said.
Didn’t they always?
“The murder rates keep going up in this city, and the police are at a standstill. It’s not like I can tell them that there’s beings from another world here causing this, so we’re going to have to deal with it ourselves.”
Just over two hundred years ago, twelve of the most horrible criminals of the planet SR44—the Colonists—had escaped and come to Earth. The Six Saviors had been sent shortly thereafter to kill them, and all had been given human bodies so they would blend in with life on Earth. What they hadn’t anticipated was the Colonists also taking on the human form, mating with humans, and their DNA being passed down through the generations, only to create more psychopaths. Blake happened to be one of those people sired by a Colonist, but thankfully, he had the ability to control his urge to kill. In his opinion, the battle could never be won, but they continued to wage the losing war.
“So, what’s the plan?” Hudson asked.
Noah leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
They had tried to deal with it by working with The Platoon, only to find out that their leader, Micah, had actually been in charge of the Colonist, Daniel, and his following of half-breeds who loved nothing more than to kill. It had been a betrayal that no one in their right mind could have seen. Noah had trusted the shitbag and Blake had ended up putting a bullet in his brain.
“Let’s try some patrols in Phoenix,” Jovan said. “If we can catch one of the half-breeds, we can find out where Daniel’s training them, and then find him. If we can cut the head off the monster—”
“So, what are you suggesting, Jovan?” Annis asked. “That we capture one of these people and then torture them to get the information?”
“Pretty much.”
Blake grinned at his honesty. Frankly, he wouldn’t have any problem with it, either.
“I’m sorry I’m late, Noah,” Nico said after pushing in through the glass door. “My apologies.”
“No sweat, man. We were just talking about beefing up patrols in downtown Phoenix.”
“We’ve been on patrol.” Nico sat down next to Annis. “The half-breeds are moving too quickly for us, striking when and where we least expect it. We need to clone ourselves.”
“That’s not going to happen anytime soon,” Noah mumbled.
“I wouldn’t sign up for that shit, anyway,” Rayner chimed in.
It had been this way for a couple of months now, since Micah and the Platoon had been decimated. They knew they had to stop the carnage, but they didn’t know how. They had been outnumbered.
“Well, I got nothing else,” Noah said. “Tonight, we patrol. Hudson, you’re with Blake and me. Nico, you’re our driver. We can’t just sit around here and pretend nothing is happening on the streets when our species is responsible for it. We keep patrolling until we find some solution that either puts the humans in charge, or we take care of this ourselves.”
Blake nodded as he met Noah’s gaze. He’d definitely need a good, solid meal after his workout with Jovan, and his stomach howled for some f
ood. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he noted the time at just after noon. They most likely wouldn’t leave until after dinner, so he also had time for some sleep.
As he stood, he wondered if Sophia would be up for a little cuddling, and if the stars aligned accurately and Megan was properly entertained, maybe he could get a little action, as well.
His great day might just get a little better.
Despite all the crap happening around him, it seemed nothing could bust his bliss.
Chapter 2
Blake woke just before dinner, his naked body wrapped around Sophia’s. He loved the rare afternoon like this when Megan was busy with another member of the household or playing with Killian, Hudson and Beverly’s son. He got his woman all to himself, uninterrupted.
Glancing at the clock, he sighed and rolled to his back while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Apparently, he had to clear his head of Sophia’s heady scent and quit thinking about her softness and the orgasm that had railed through his body a couple of hours ago. His cock thickened at the thought, but he needed to get his feet settled into reality. Hunger roared through him, so he had to eat again, then get ready for patrol.
“Wake up, gorgeous,” he whispered as he gently shook Sophia’s shoulder.
She stretched out next to him and looked over her shoulder. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“What a lovely afternoon.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Do we really need to get up?”
“Yes, we do. It’s almost dinnertime.”
She sat up, then stood. Thin, strong legs carried her small frame to the bathroom. When she emerged, she grinned, her honey-blonde hair framing her sun-kissed face. The smile melted his bones, and he grew gooey inside from the love she’d shown him. She’d been his rock, always there for him, and he couldn’t wait to mate her, to make her his for life.
“I thought you said we need to get up?” she asked as she pulled a sweatshirt over her pink bra.