by Alison Aimes
Rage pulsed closer to the surface. “What did you just say?”
Undaunted, fearless eyes stared back at him. “I put forth the theory that the pain in your gaze when you encountered the captives had something to do with your family and, from your reaction, I’d say I’m correct.”
Correct would be an understatement. Just looking at the others had ripped him in two. Holding the young woman as she wept, her salty tears falling on his skin, akin to a thousand stab wounds.
But he’d endured, because these people needed him and he refused to fail to be there this time around.
And the way he was keeping himself together? He wouldn’t admit it to her, but it had been the memory of the ice queen telling him he cared too much.
So, fuck it, maybe the assassin was right. Maybe keeping her from getting the weapon hadn’t been his only reason for locking that cuff around her wrist.
Maybe he’d wanted her with him. Maybe he hadn’t been in the mood to ask how she felt about his inclinations.
And maybe, though thank Janus she hadn’t tweaked to it, he’d also thought it was a good idea to prevent her from going off solo to face 223 and his men.
Because despite her extraordinary skills, no one was indestructible. Even marble could be shattered. And the idea of her suffering what his wife and these captives had was unacceptable.
But the hell if he was going to confess and give the assassin any more ammunition. The female was lethal enough as it was.
“We’re done talking.” Clenching her chains in his fist, he started toward the door.
“Whatever it was that affected you, I admire your ability to push past it and help them.” Ignoring the narrowing of his eyes, she kept talking as they moved. “I sense it isn’t easy.”
Shit. What did it say that the person who saw him best was someone who’d chained him to a wall? One he wanted to fuck over and over again until neither of them could walk straight?
“Enough.” He wrapped the end of her leash tighter around his knuckles. “Less talking. More moving.”
Especially since he wanted to make a quick stop at 223’s twisted workshop. He had a plan for expelling 223 and his men from the caves once he discovered their location, but an ax and some food packets wouldn’t be enough to get the job done.
A long sigh at his back. “Fine. We’ll wait until you’re ready to discuss this further. In the meantime”—she shifted gears with ease—“we’ll have to find makeshift packs to carry supplies and weapons. We’ll need far more than we can carry in our hands.”
He shook the chain, allowing himself a smug flare of satisfaction. “Captive,” he growled. “That’s your new status. Not the boss.”
“Are you suggesting my current status negates the soundness of my plan?”
He let out a sigh. “No,” he admitted. “It’s a good plan.” One that would hold the supplies he needed, too.
“Excellent.” Her voice dropped. They’d reached the door and were now waiting for the others to fall in line behind. “What do you intend to do with me once we reach your safe place?”
Despite himself, all sorts of dark, carnal images sprung to mind. Asshole that he was, he let her see each and every one in his gaze.
Rather than provoking fear, her pupils dilated. Her chest rose faster. “Intriguing.”
Lust slammed through him.
But before he could act, she stepped back as far as her leash would allow. “Intriguing,” she repeated, “but unacceptable.”
A loud click echoed through the room.
Dragath hell. He blinked twice, his brain trying to catch up with his eyes.
The chain at her wrist was unlocked.
She’d freed herself. With the key that was supposed to be in his possession.
“Where did you get that?” He broadened his stance, ready for combat.
She eyed his pose, expression cool as ever. “From you. I’m not a fool. I took it back the instant you put it in your pocket. It would have been completely illogical to let you possess such a critical tool.”
Was it twisted that her distrust and cleverness only turned him on more?
Or that he knew he’d only gotten what he deserved. Because he’d felt that brush of her fingers against his hip and been arrogant enough to think she’d been copping a quick feel.
Yet another bruise to add to his smarting ego.
They stared at one another.
“What now?” He didn’t want to have to kill her. But there was no way she was sticking around now—and he couldn’t let her go for the weapon while he rescued these people.
Head held high, queenly as ever, she let the chain fall to the ground. “We go. We follow the plan. I learn what these people know about 223’s hideout. But if you ever try to chain me again, it won’t end well for you, felon. I promise you that.”
His dick only got harder.
“You’re not going to retaliate?” Disbelief sharpened his tone.
“I see no need. Everything has worked out to my satisfaction.”
He grunted as if he’d taken a blow.
She spared the captives a quick glance. “We should delay no more. Shock will end soon and their compliance will lessen. Some may be concussed or infected. It would be wise to have them settled before we have to deal with any additional complications.”
Despite the fucked-up nature of the entire situation, his lips twitched upward as a brief eddy of something besides pain swirled through him. This female. So unique. So blunt and without a filter. So damn entertaining.
“Plus, it is easy to see,” she continued, “that you are not at the top of your game and it would, therefore, be nowhere near a fair fight between us.”
That sobered him real quick. “What are you talking about? I’m fine. I could take you down in an instant.”
Another long pause. “You weren’t fine when we met. You’re not now. From the little clues I have, I’d say you haven’t been for a long time. But pain is an excellent motivator. I will therefore not make the mistake of underestimating you. You remain a formidable foe.”
“Um…thank you?” This. Woman. Every time he thought he had a handle on her, every time he thought he had his grievances all lined up and ready to go, she did something that screwed up all his assumptions.
“Here.” Slipping her hand from a seam in her pants, she pressed something into his hand.
Shock slammed through him. He didn’t have to look down to recognize what it was. His palm, his heart, recognized the shape and weight in an instant.
The carving of his wife and child. The one he’d intended to give Saralynee as a gift the rotation their son was born. The one 223 and his men had stolen from him.
“Where?” His voice was a hoarse croak as his fist closed around it.
“I found it with your ax. Tossed aside like scraps.” Icy emerald eyes lock with his—hard eyes with a burning ember at the core he wasn’t sure how he’d missed seeing before. “No one deserves that. No matter who I am and what I’ve done, I would never sanction such a thing.”
Without another glance, she stepped over the abandoned manacle.
Chest tight, he watched the queenly roll of her hips as she moved toward the captives. The edges of his carving bit into his palm as he chewed over her words and wondered exactly how much she’d had to endure to become as motivated as she was.
And that plan not to feel? It got a little further away from him with every passing heartbeat.
13
“Just a little more.” Blinking hard to clear the dust gathered on her eyelashes, Jade used her body to herd the struggling older male another few steps, swirling debris nicking at whatever skin was left uncovered, the wind battering them from all sides.
The going was slow.
To keep from getting lost in the storm, their small unit was lashed together in small groupings with some rags Ryker had found and tied into longer leashes. The young woman they’d learned was named Marika clung close to Ryker at the front, while the kid Rafi
and the much taller blond-haired Tyson staggered along as best they could, determination in every painful step.
She’d been paired with Rufus.
“One step at a time,” she urged. He’d dropped behind the others almost immediately after they’d set out. The only thing that seemed to motivate him onward was the terror that she might actually lay hands on him. Hence the body corralling.
Because to remain out here too long would mean certain death.
Already another heavy boulder had landed only a short distance away, flattening everything beneath it in the blink of an eye.
“You can do this,” she urged. The others had already disappeared around the other side of the wrecked cell where she and Ryker had been imprisoned.
“I—I can’t.” Rufus sunk to his knees, his voice a thin wail of despair.
“You will.” Looming above, she gave him her steeliest stare. His tormentors had already taken so much from him. She refused to allow them to steal his life, too. “You will get up and you will move. You are stronger than you can ever imagine.”
Same words that had once been said to her.
“No. Leave me.” He’d curled in on himself, shoulders rocking as he sobbed, the jagged slave marking on his arm standing out in harsh relief. “I—I can’t.”
A momentary spurt of frustration. This was…hard. Ryker had made the comforting aspect look easy.
She crouched beside the weeping male. “You think you don’t want to live anymore. You think after all the shame and pain and humiliation it would be better to be dead. Maybe you are right. It would certainly be easier. Having to slog through life with the memories you’ll now carry forever is not for the faint of heart.”
His anguished gaze found hers.
“But anything worth having is rarely easy.” She stood up. Held out a hand. “All you need to do is take it.”
His eyes squeezed shut, his body shaking.
She thought for an instant she’d failed to reach him. Then, his hand whipped up and seized hers, his hold so tight her bones squeezed together.
She lifted him to stand once more. “They might have tried to turn you into a slave, but you’re a survivor. A fighter. No one can ever take that away from you.” Sliding her body beneath his arm so that she took more of his weight, she turned forward—and came face-to-face with Ryker.
The wind had hidden his approach.
Her heart beat faster.
He stood, legs apart to secure himself against the wind, his eyes dark and somber, the carving she’d returned hanging from his neck, its delicacy making his wide chest and rugged strength all the more apparent. His expression was one she couldn’t decipher.
Something crackled between them. Something different than the usual heat and hate. Something softer. A kinship neither had any business feeling.
“All clear, felon?” She was first to speak.
“Yes. Sorry.” He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “I came back to see why the delay. The others are waiting just beyond the settlement boundary. I’ll take him from here.”
“That is unnecessary.” And potentially insulting.
“But going to happen.” Small lines of frustration reemerged at the corners of his eyes and lips.
It comforted her. Brought her back to her regular footing.
Irritation rather than connection. Opponents rather than collaborators. That’s what made the most sense.
Ignoring her rejection of his aid, Ryker strode to the older man’s other side. The bossy giant then motioned her to take the lead.
Arguing in a raging storm seemed foolish.
She started forward—only to realize she’d given him her back without hesitation.
She had never done something like that before. Not during short-term assignments with other assassins. Nor with her employers.
Was this something akin to trust? Had their interlude affected her more than she wanted to admit? Or had the way he clutched his carving as if it was the most precious treasure changed her perspective?
No answers, but the fissures were growing. Nor was she sure how to shore them up.
She’d have to be very careful from here on out. Respect for the felon’s skills was fine, but anything more was dangerous.
“WE MADE IT.” The kid Rafi, full of the resilience of youth, staggered into the cave first. The others followed at a slower pace.
Jade surveyed the new space. Outside, the storm still raged, but blocked on three sides by the cave’s red, rocky walls and fitted with a narrow opening, the air inside was debris-free and absent of the punishing wind. Plus, the front entrance where they were gathered was wide enough to allow them all to fit and high enough to stand upright if necessary.
It was a sound choice.
Rufus slid to the ground the instant Ryker got him deep enough inside. The others followed suit, pressing their backs to the wall, their features pinched tight, dust and blood streaked across their exposed skin.
Almost as one, their faces turned upward, looking for guidance. For protection. For the assurance that from here on out they would be alright.
None of which I can give.
Especially since the Council rarely conducted business without a plan B.
Which meant that while her mission parameters might have changed, there was very likely another operative out there right now determined to carry out the assignment in its entirety.
The small cave suddenly felt smaller.
Unpeeling the rags she’d wrapped around her head and neck, she dropped them at her feet. Dust flew everywhere. Once it settled, she uncovered her makeshift carrier and, following Ryker’s example, got to work handing out water jugs, dried food units, and compressed emergency blankets that expanded when opened. 223 and his men had managed to accumulate quite a nice stash from whatever shuttles they downed.
“What happens now?” Tyson, the most composed of the captives, finally voiced what the others were wondering.
Having just passed out the last of the waters and blankets, she shrugged. “I—”
“You rest. Heal.” Ryker cut her off, no doubt fearful of what she might say. “223 and his gang are hiding out from the storm somewhere else. You’ll be safe here.”
“For how long?” This panicked plea came from Rufus. “They’ll just find us again and”—his voice broke—“they’ll hurt us. There’s nowhere to run.”
The young woman Marika wept, her body curling in on itself. Rafi’s gaze skittered away.
“You will be protected.” Ryker’s gaze found Jade’s. It appeared almost as if he wanted her to add to his statement.
But what was there to say if she did not yet have answers?
She couldn’t offer these people long-term protection. Or promise that they would be alright in the end. Life on Dragath25 was brutal and these people were too helpless to survive long on their own.
She would have to leave them once she discovered the location of 223’s hideout. They would have to face whatever came next without her aid.
Perhaps she had made the wrong choice and prolonged their suffering when it would have been kinder to kill them quickly?
“You are safe here,” repeated Ryker. “But any information you can offer about where 223 might be hiding will only help us help you.”
At the sound of the gang leader’s name, the captives shrank in on themselves, the scent of terror blackening the air. Marika cried harder.
“You’ve no need to fear.” Ryker remained undaunted, exhibiting impressive patience. “Whether you speak out or not, we will protect you. Before I came to this planet, I served in the Resistance and I—”
Rufus’s head snapped up. “You’re Resistance?”
“Yes.” Ryker’s pride was clear.
The mood in the cave altered. It was subtle, but there. Marika’s sobs quieted. Rafi’s gaze moved to Ryker and stayed.
But Rufus’s transformation was the most extreme. Face flushed, he plowed a hand through his matted gray hair and sat up straigh
ter. “I—I was Resistance, too.”
Ryker froze. “You still are.”
Jade returned to her seat by the cave entrance, a bit away from the others’ circle, but close enough to observe. Dampening one of the blankets, she wiped her face and body, cleaning herself as best she could.
“There are many of us here. Scattered throughout.” The older man’s voice was stronger, as if Ryker’s words had reminded him of who he once was. “All of us brought here by the Council and given over to 223 to be slaves.”
Jade sat up straighter. Her intel had indicated 223 and the Council had parted ways, but this appeared to be another falsehood her employers had fed her.
“They traded not just us soldiers,” continued the gray-haired man, “but families as well. Punished right alongside.” He flung his hand in the direction of the glassy-eyed young woman. “Marika’s the daughter of one of my old unit mates. She wasn’t even part of the fight, but the Council took her when they captured her father.”
“Janus hell.” Flesh cracked against stone as Ryker’s fist slammed into the ground. “We will find every one and bring them home. I swear it.”
“Most are already dead.” The old man’s shoulders sagged. “The few that are left won’t be easy to find. 223 and his men are too smart to keep us all in one place.”
“They’re not the only ones who need rescuing, either,” said Rafi, his voice tight.
“Resistance or not,” added Tyson, his tone measured, “they use us. For sex, for release, for entertainment. But mostly for labor. We are forced to gather minerals found at the surface and cultivate the few crops able to survive here. A portion of which 223 used to ship back to New Earth. Not for the starving population, of course, but for the exclusive use of supreme Council leaders.”
Jade’s stomach pitched. The revelation of a trafficking deal between her employers and a gang of rapists and murderers as sickening as it was hard to swallow. Bile burned at the back of her throat.
“The twisted partnership has been going on for years.” Rufus had found his voice once more. “223 biding his time, pretending to be cowed and cooperative and willing to work with the Council. Until recently.”