by Alison Aimes
Mirroring the kids’ examples, Jade waited for Marika to regain control without reacting or rushing to her aid. Grif, on the other hand, tensed further with each rough, gasping breath Marika took. The look in his gaze one Jade had seen a time or two in Ryker’s. The big man wanted to sweep in and whisk the young female away, protect her from the fear.
She shot him a warning gaze. He glowered back, but stayed where he was.
It wasn’t pretty or easy, but the only way Marika would begin to find a way through what happened to her was if she decided for herself what she could and couldn’t do.
Still, Jade found Grif’s protective impulse sweet. Was it her own growing connection with Ryker that made her think so?
Likely, though she’d never admit something so illogical to a single other soul.
“Any more of those dashi bars?” Rafi’s question jarred her from her thoughts. The boy was staring hopefully at the larger pile of food supplies. “I could share one with Hope and Melody if there are.”
His stomach was proving a bottomless pit. At least he was generous—and wise enough—to include the two girls in his offer. Plus, Jade knew exactly what he was up to: drawing attention from Marika until she was ready to try speaking out again.
“Here.” Jade tossed two his way. They’d have to make another raid on 223’s stores soon, but that kind of compassion deserved a reward.
“I…I have something else to say.” Marika’s quaking voice intruded once more. Rafi had bought her enough time.
Jade didn’t move a muscle, but every nerve jumped to attention.
When the woman didn’t resume speaking, Rafi squeezed her shoulder, his mouth full of bar as he spoke. “It’s okay, Marika. Remember what I told you. Jade’s an orphan, like us. She’s as twitchy about crowds as we are of her. She…she may seem scary, but she’s on our side. You can trust her. Just tell her what you told me.”
Jade had to lock her knees to remain standing. You can trust her.
“Every word the boy says is true.” The low murmur of Ryker’s voice steadied her. “I would trust Jade with my heart, my soul, my life.”
She blinked. Blinked again. Ryker’s public declaration knocking her even more off-kilter. That man. Would she ever get used to the way he both thrilled and terrified her?
She was barely able to admit what she was beginning to feel for him to herself and he was already declaring his emotional state to the world.
Respect and awe mingled with tenderness and need. Along with the certainty that what she’d feared and fought against was coming to pass anyway.
She was falling irrationally, and foolishly, for an impetuous, impulsive, affectionate, extraordinary man who made her feel as if she was no longer alone.
An extraordinary man who made it hard to contemplate leaving this universe without a sense of regret.
Forcing her mouth upward into a relaxed smile, she focused on Marika. “Rafi and Ryker are right. You can trust me.”
The trembling woman nodded, her gaze still glued to the ground. “I…I didn’t tell you this before, but”—her voice broke, but she swallowed and pushed on—“during the last season of dust storms, I was transported with a number of other slaves to the caves where 223 prefers to hide out during the storms. He has a work room there. Supplies. Pens. It’s…it’s where we’ve always been taken.”
Jade’s heart slammed against her ribs. Beside her, Ryker had gone still. Grif, too.
She cleared her throat, tried to sound soothing. “So, you know where he is?”
“Yes.”
Tendrils of hope unfurled in Jade’s chest. Her bombs would be put to use, after all. “And the layout? Could you describe it? Where the guards are stationed?”
“I…I don’t think so. Not in full.” The young woman’s shoulders drooped. “I didn’t see much. Just the pens where we worked and slept and the main work room where…where 223 and the guards used us.”
“That would be very useful information to know.” Though not enough, it was a good start. “Thank you for coming forward. That took courage. I’d like to go over what you saw. Take notes. Such information could be critical to our success.”
“O-of course.” Marika’s gaze connected with hers, holding for two heartbeats before drifting downward again.
Jade would take it as progress.
She exchanged a hopeful look with Ryker, a sense of wonder humming beneath her skin.
They were building trust, not only with each other, but with the others. She, who believed she had no abilities in this realm, was making inroads.
The unwelcome sense that she was entirely out her element and bound to screw up threatened to drag her under once more, but she fought it. She didn’t do doubt, and she wasn’t about to start now. They were so much closer to finding 223 and his weapon than they’d been in a long while.
“One more thing.” Marika’s words drew her attention. “I—I know where the tunnel used to transport us begins and ends. I know how to get in to their hideout.”
Jackpot.
32
Ryker couldn’t sleep.
Instead, he stood inside the cave entrance and watched the two moons’ feeble light try and break through the swirling storm, turning everything the color of a purplish bruise. Framed in the shadows, too, was a shuttle-sized Manteis moving slowly across the horizon, it’s sticklike body mesmerizing as it bobbed along, a lone figure, indifferent to the raging storm.
Ryker inhaled a big breath and wished the creature well.
The others were sleeping now, scattered throughout the main room and the narrower tunnel. But soon they’d wake and he and Jade would use Marika’s information to conduct a surveillance sweep, confirming the ex-captive’s intel and determining the best way to get the weapon and free any captives. They’d be searching for any sign of the operative as well.
It would be a first pass. Still, there would be danger. What’s more, Jade would be right by his side through it all. Risking herself. While the countdown beneath her skin continued.
His belly cramped. No way around it. Coming back to life and truly caring had its downsides. He was afraid. The echo of the agony he’d felt when Saralynee and his son had died still banging around inside his chest, a reminder of an anguish he never again wanted to feel.
It took the whisper of his name to send him swiveling around.
Only to find Jade’s wide eyes open and locked on him, the panic easy to see.
His own worries scattered, the primal need to destroy whatever had brought on that look trumping everything else.
Then, his gaze dropped and he realized exactly what had got his assassin so riled up. He hid a smile. “When did that come about?” He kept his voice low so as not to wake the tiny form curled in Jade’s lap.
“Hope came to give me an update on her father. Then, she said she was cold. I suggested a blanket, but”—her shoulders lifted in a near infinitesimal shrug—“she preferred this.” A slight sigh. “I haven’t moved for ages for fear of waking her.”
How wrong he’d been to ever call her a robot. “It’s okay to move around,” he assured her, shifting closer. “Kids can sleep through a lot.”
Eyebrow raised as if she wasn’t sure whether to accept his word or not, she moved gingerly, stretching out one leg, and then the other. When Hope only shifted with her, curling tighter against Jade’s chest, the woman relaxed. “I guess you know what you’re talking about.”
“Can I get that in writing?”
Her lips twitched. Made him feel like a god.
Sometimes it was near impossible to believe the sexy, expressive female next to him was the same perfect ice statue he’d first met. Covered in cuts and bruises, small smile lines forming at her eyes and mouth, she was more beautiful than ever. And he was crazy about her.
He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever. He knew their time together had been short, but he could already tell. They were meant to be. And he wanted a lifetime to convince her to believe the same.
> He moved to kneel beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “Have you ever wanted a child of your own?”
A long silence.
Shit. He’d moved too fast once more. She likely hadn’t gotten over his public declaration yet. Still, he wasn’t hiding anymore. He wanted everyone to know what she was to him. And, in typical Ryker fashion, once he went for something, it was balls to the walls.
Still, the panic that darkened her gaze didn’t surprise him. But the pain did.
“I can’t. I’m sterile.” She studied his face. “I guess I should have told you…before. I didn’t mean to keep it from you, like the mission protocol. It never occurred to me it might be an issue.”
“Because it’s not.” His chest squeezed. What was between them was still so fragile and new and he knew it would take a while before Jade would learn through actions, not just words, that they were a team. No matter what.
But he was glad they were getting this all out in the open. His assassin needed to know when he spoke about forever, he meant it.
“That’s a large part of why I was plucked from the orphan barracks and sent to the Facility.” The way she hurried to fill the silence told him exactly how uncomfortable she was with this topic. Jade didn’t just chat for the sake of chatting.
“Initially,” she continued, “they’d thought to make me a breeder, but once I was found to be sterile that ended.”
“I know a breeder. You’re lucky.”
“Maybe. All I knew as a child was that once it was discovered I was not breeder material, I was shunted to the side, given fewer resources, threatened with becoming a Council whore—but in my rage, I fought back. I actually knocked out two of my guards before they managed to hold me down.”
Pride laced her words, but his chest had gone tight at the image of a little girl with jet-black hair and too big emerald eyes fighting trained men three times her size. If only he could have been there to rip their throats out for her.
But he was here now.
“My aggression was suddenly seen in a different light,” she said. “One of the Facility leaders was there at the time. He thought I could be useful. So, he bucked protocol. Stole me from my breeder trainers and took me to the Facility. I thought my luck had finally turned.” A long pause. “Until training began.”
She swallowed hard and, in her silence, he heard all the agony and pain and loneliness she didn’t voice. “My new employers trained me to do what others could not. Even as a child, I hated it, but without it, I had no other role, no sense of belonging. All because I could not have kids and was defective. Strange how life works, eh?”
“You’re not defective.”
She shrugged as if unconvinced. Then, she looked down at the sleeping bundle in her lap. “It might have been nice to leave behind a legacy.” Her lush lips tilted upward in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But I never really knew what I was missing until now.”
The urge to give her whatever she wanted, to battle any demon that stood in the way of her happiness reared within, violent and primitive and fierce, but there were some things one couldn’t fix with a physical battle.
He ran his finger along the length of her jaw, his gaze boring into her, willing her to understand. “There are lots of ways, Jade, to leave a legacy and even more ways to create a family.” He leaned over Hope’s sleeping form and pressed a kiss to his woman’s temple. “All it takes is two.”
The spark of surprise and hope in her gaze made him feel a thousand feet tall.
Careful not to jostle her sleeping bundle, Jade caught his hand. Brought it to her lips. The soft rustle of her breath against his skin stoking the gut-churning need he always felt when she was near.
“I used to envy the way your feelings pulsed so close beneath the surface,” she whispered, “even as I feared being infected by such illogic. Now, I crave it with every breath I take and all I want is more. Of those sensations. Of your hands on me. Of you. Just you. With me, always. I don’t know the first thing about love, but if this wild, disorientating sense of being flung from a cliff is any indication, I’m falling hard for you, too.”
He was holding her close in the next instant.
Life hadn’t gone the way he expected. He’d never see his son smile or take his first wobbly steps. He’d never watch Saralynee’s eyes light with pride and contentment as she cradled their child.
But despite all the hell and all the regrets, something extraordinary had come into his universe. Jade.
And she was worth any risk, even the chance of losing her.
His fears from earlier calmed.
“You won’t regret it.” He spoke the pledge against her lips. “What’s between us is meant to last. You’ll see. We’ll be a family together.”
“Ryker.” Wariness flickered across her gaze.
He knew she still feared the future. Believed that someone like her couldn’t have what he was offering for the long term. But he was determined to prove her wrong.
“Whatever it takes.” His mouth moved toward hers. Just as her lips lifted toward his. A good sign.
“Do you hear that?” Though delivered quietly, the high-pitched voice had them both jumping out of their skin.
He looked down to find the tiny form cuddled in Jade’s lap wide awake, Hope’s eyes bright and tinged with amusement. It wasn’t every day she got to startle a giant soldier and a ruthless assassin.
He should have warned Jade that though kids could sleep through everything, they also woke at the least opportune times.
“Hear what?” he asked, his voice huskier than it should have been, his gaze still locked with Jade’s as he wondered how good the chances were that he could pass the girl off to the others and sneak away with his woman for a few last stolen moments.
“The wind,” answered the little girl. “It’s gone quiet.”
33
“I can’t see a damn thing from here.” Ryker’s low growl brushed over Jade’s skin like a caress. An unwelcome one. At least at this moment. Because her body was still overheated from all the extraordinary, beautiful things he’d said earlier. Nor had it gotten the message that there would be no release or fun forthcoming.
At least not of the sex kind. Killing was still on the menu.
She crawled an arm length closer to the ledge they were using as a lookout. “If we go any closer, someone may spot us.” She didn’t want 223 aware his lair had been invaded—until it was too late.
Hope’s observation about the wind had changed everything. With the dust storm coming to an end, 223 would soon leave the shelter. She and Ryker could not afford to lose the advantage Marika’s intel had given them. Or allow 223 the chance for a window to test out the weapon.
They had to act soon or many would die, both on Dragath25 and New Earth.
Thankfully, Marika’s directions had proven spot-on, and Jade and Ryker had slipped in through a well-concealed entrance in the side of a cliff near the settlement. They’d left Grif and Tyson in charge of the others and come solo, favoring stealth over numbers for this particular surveillance mission.
Weapons out and ready, they’d followed greenish-tinged, flickering lights that lined the ceiling down a crude, carved tunnel, thankfully without running into anyone, until it widened into a medium-sized cavern.
The open space had numerous additional tunnels branching off from its rocky, sharp walls. Its only other notable feature were the numerous chains bolted into the walls. The same kind of manacles that had once held her and Ryker. Their presence transformed the simple cave into a something far more ominous and depraved.
Her nostrils flared as if she could scent the rot within. Rumbling voices, shouts, and cries converged from every side, but it was difficult to tell from exactly where. The place they’d chosen to observe was busy, full of gang members passing through.
Unaware of the two forms perched above on the high ledge.
Marika had reported that the slave pens were through the tunnel to th
e right while 223’s work station was at the end of the third tunnel to the left. Jade itched to follow both at once. The idea that this was only a monitoring mission and she would be leaving both the slaves and the weapon sat like a weight on her chest.
But she had promised Ryker. Moreover, it was the logical approach.
To save them all in the end, they had to make sure the mission was a success. And for the mission to be a success, they had to come up with a scheme that would allow them to immobilize and abduct the operative, neutralize the gang members long enough to gain unhindered access to the weapon and the captives, and take out 223. To do that, they had to determine where to plant her bombs to trap as many gang members inside the tunnels as possible.
Slitting the throat of each and every gang member simply wasn’t plausible—though it was a nice fantasy.
“Why doesn’t the bastard come by?” Ryker cupped his hands around his eyes and peered down, all that hotheaded passion and emotion pulsing warm and vital against her side.
She didn’t know if he was referring to 223 or the Council operative, but the answer was the same. Wherever 223 was, the operative would be. Awaiting his chance to steal the weapon.
“Marika said the slaves were moved from their work area to their sleeping pen sometime in the late night, but that a few were always brought here first in case 223 and his most valued gang members desired a bedmate or two for the night. 223 will come. The operative, too.”
A series of shrieks broke the silence.
Neither she nor Ryker moved. They’d grown used to them.
“Another fight.” Ryker shook his head in disgust. “Four fools rolling around in the dirt while the other gang members throw their fists in the air. It’s like being back in the mines.” His fists clenched around the handle of his ax. “It would be so damn easy to take them down and storm the cave.”
The wait was getting to him, too. “But we’d be foolish to try,” she reminded him. “There are too many of them. Killing a few, while satisfying, would only alert 223 to our presence, put him on guard, and make our plans more difficult.”