by Tina Donahue
“Where are you?” Pain and worry colored his brother’s words. “You should have been here by now.”
“We’re fine,” Zeke assured.
“Then what’s taking so long?”
“I want to make certain we’re not followed. We’ll be there in less than an hour. Is Isabel taking care of your leg?”
“She did what she could, then left. So did the rest of the women.”
Zeke didn’t immediately comment. He took a turn in the road, glancing about as he did, then asked, “Left to go where?”
“To help the other men, I suppose. Some of them were probably hit like Samuel and me. I’m in my room.”
“Alone?”
“They told me to sleep. Actually, they more or less ordered me to do so.”
That didn’t make sense to Liz.
If Zeke thought the same, he didn’t show it. He depressed the radio’s button and asked, “You’re okay, though?”
“Just some pain. The bleeding’s stopped.”
“Hang tight. We’ll be there as quickly as we can.” Zeke signed off and put his radio in the cup holder between the seats as though everything were all right.
Not even close. Something weird was going on back at his stronghold.
Liz recalled weeks ago when Zeke had first brought her there to heal Jacob, who’d been shot by Carreon’s men, those rounds having struck him in his calves and belly. Women of varying ages had kept a vigil outside his room. Among them had been Kele—young and so beautiful—her desire for Jacob, her love and concern for his recovery quite evident.
He’d been wounded again tonight, yet Kele wasn’t watching over him as she had in the past.
“What happened to Kele?” Liz asked, then blurted, “Carreon’s men didn’t—”
“No. She wasn’t hit. The last I saw, she was taking care of Jacob.” He hesitated, then added, “She fought Carreon’s men with us tonight.”
“You sound surprised.”
“No.”
Liz frowned at his obvious lie, then at another thought she’d had earlier when she’d been in Zeke’s stronghold. “How did his men even know where to find you and your clan?”
Zeke sighed.
The sound was more telling than words, the same as when he’d spoken of Kele fighting beside him and Jacob. “Oh my God, did she lead Carreon’s men there because she was pissed about Jacob wanting me? Is that why she’s not with him now? Did your clan banish her from—”
“They wouldn’t do that without asking me first. Kele’s probably helping the others who were injured.”
And his people were allowing it, especially without his blessing, considering that she’d brought a boatload of misery on them?
As Liz was about to ask, she saw the outline of Carreon’s mansion. Her stomach twisted, the pain so acute she couldn’t speak. The building’s decorative lights were still on, the same as when she’d come here earlier, hoping to stop Carreon even if it meant risking her life. All that had mattered was saving Zeke, his people, her father.
Zeke stopped the Jeep well back from the one she’d driven, then warned her, “Do not get out of this vehicle.”
“Let me drive the other one to your stronghold. I can follow—”
“No. I don’t want you driving anything. We’ll have to leave it here.” He spoke to her father. “Don’t let her take any of the weapons.”
“I won’t.” He scooted closer to the cache, his body blocking them.
With his assault rifle in hand, Zeke exited the vehicle and ran toward the other Jeep.
Liz leaned against the dashboard, dividing her attention between him and the surroundings. Her palms were wet, her belly churning at the prospect of Carreon’s men charging out of the shadows, weapons drawn, aiming them at Zeke.
Oh God, oh God, oh God, not that, please.
The area remained quiet, deserted.
Zeke entered the vehicle and turned the key to illuminate the dashboard without starting the motor. His features looked ghostly in the faint light.
“We can’t let anything happen to him,” Liz said.
Her father sighed as though he feared responding.
“We can’t,” she insisted, wanting to face him but afraid to take her focus off Zeke.
Her father murmured, “If anything does happen to—”
“Oh, please, don’t say that. It can’t.”
“I know, I know.” He softened his voice even more, the way he always had when Liz was a child and something had frightened her. A monster she just knew was waiting for her beneath the bed. A spider on the ceiling. A growling dog. “He’ll always have me to heal him. I promise you that.”
Liz tensed at her father’s words. She found it difficult to pull in a full breath. Why had he said Zeke would always have him for healing? What about her abilities? She still had the gift. She’d proved it by healing her father’s ankle not more than a half hour earlier.
She was all right, damn it. He must have known that.
Liz blurted, “I didn’t pass out or fall asleep before.”
He didn’t comment.
“You know that, don’t you,” Liz pressed.
“We’ve all been under a strain tonight.”
What kind of an answer was that? Liz should have asked but couldn’t bring herself to do so.
Minutes ticked by. Zeke’s upper body continued to move as he either deleted the data on the GPS or disabled it.
Liz squirmed in her seat, wondering why he didn’t simply shoot it out and get it over with. Unless he was as worried as she that someone nearby might hear the gun’s report and race here even faster.
Come on, her mind pleaded. Hurry up.
Even if there was no one nearby at the moment, she sensed Carreon’s lieutenants moving closer, prepared to pounce. They’d take Zeke prisoner.
Worse, they’d send for Roberto.
At thirty, he was a man to fear, though the casual observer would never suspect that by his demeanor. Exceedingly handsome, Roberto had a calm, almost gentle manner despite his powerful body sculpted by exercise. Even with his muscular frame, there were no bulging biceps for him like Arnold Schwarzenegger or the Hulk. In a suit, he looked like a rising young star from Wall Street. A broker. Or perhaps an attorney.
The little finger on his left hand contradicted that notion. It was the only part of him that was physically flawed, the portion above the joint missing. Rumor had it Roberto had chopped it off with garden shears when he was only sixteen, wanting to prove to Carreon’s father that he could take anything. He wasn’t afraid of pain or death.
Torture was Roberto’s specialty. He had no qualms about using his skill on a woman or even a child. Making Zeke scream in agony wouldn’t bother him a bit. He’d force Zeke to reveal what the future held so Carreon could use the knowledge for his own purposes. Annihilating Zeke’s people, taking their land, enriching himself even further.
“I saw you bleeding, killed in the crossfire,” Zeke had said. “Your father too. Neither of you able to save the other. My vision showed Carreon’s men taking me prisoner, torturing me so I’d tell them the future. Do you want that?”
She wanted out of here. Now. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, tasting blood.
“He’s going to be fine,” her father said and touched her shoulder.
Just as he had when she’d been so focused on her memory of healing his ankle, reliving that moment repeatedly. Why? It had been a minor injury, certainly nothing like bullets near a man’s heart or in his gut. Yet her concentration on that one event had been so acute, Liz hadn’t responded to Zeke shouting her name. She’d heard his worry but hadn’t said anything.
Because she hadn’t wanted to or couldn’t?
Apprehension kept Liz from asking. She rested her hand on her father’s. “I can’t lose him, Papa.”
“You won’t.”
Liz squeezed his fingers, wanting to feel relieved, unable to do so. As long as Carreon lived, there would always be danger.
To the rig
ht, something caught her attention. Liz stiffened, expecting the worst.
It was only dirt spiraling in place, driven by the wind. A moment passed before she remembered to breathe. The dust devil hit and shook the Jeep. Its spray of pebbles and sand sounded like muted gunfire striking the vehicle.
Liz gripped the dash and turned back to Zeke. What was taking so long?
He leaned toward the passenger seat, fooling with something on it. She tried to recall anything being there, but—
Her thoughts paused at Zeke dousing the dashboard’s light. On his run back to their vehicle, he concentrated on the area surrounding them. His expression said they were still alone. For the moment.
Liz leaned over as he opened the door. “Did everything go all right?”
“Yeah.” He tossed the other vehicle’s keys next to his two-way radio. “All the data’s gone.” Once he’d secured his assault rifle, Zeke pulled away.
Only thirteen miles separated this location from his stronghold. Liz prayed they’d make it this time. She kept scouring the landscape, waiting for something awful to happen.
“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Zeke said.
Liz nodded absently. They’d just reached the vehicle with Carreon’s lieutenants inside. Several animals, possibly coyotes or maybe wild dogs, were crouched a distance away. Their eyes glittered in the available light. No doubt, they were waiting for the Jeep to pass so they could investigate the carnage undisturbed.
Without meaning to, Liz moaned.
“I had to do it,” Zeke said.
Beneath his apathetic tone, she heard soul-deep sorrow and guilt. He’d never wanted any of this. He’d told her how he hated his gift…how he wished only to live his life in peace. Something Carreon and his kind wouldn’t allow.
“I know.” She rested her hand on his forearm. “I don’t blame you. Please don’t blame yourself.”
He pulled in a deep breath that seemed to sap his strength, then sighed it out. “I don’t.”
Liar. He was a good man, generous and kind, risking his life repeatedly to protect those he loved. If he’d been born into different circumstances, he may have been a star athlete, his powerful build dominating the football field. Or he might have gone into law enforcement, pursuing his sense of justice that was as much a part of him as his coppery skin and dark eyes.
Brutality didn’t come easily to Zeke Neekoma, not even after all he’d suffered and lost. Liz hoped it never would.
As she had earlier, she rested her hand on his thigh. This time, Zeke covered her hand with his own as though he feared she’d remove it.
They drove in silence. Clearly, none of them was able to think of acceptable conversation. Her father cleared his throat. A nervous reaction to something that worried him? An unconscious one? Liz decided against asking, knowing he’d lie to her just as Zeke had about everything being all right.
It wasn’t. Wouldn’t be as long as Carreon ruled. He’d wrested power from his father two years earlier, ordering his lieutenants to assassinate the man. His brothers, all products of different mothers, had gone into hiding, knowing he’d have them murdered next. Carreon demanded a clear and permanent path to ruling his clan. Once he’d taken over, he ended the fragile truce his father had established with Zeke’s people. Carreon’s lieutenants killed indiscriminately, not caring if they slaughtered children, women or the aged.
Liz fisted her free hand, outrage and hatred urging her to strike something. To destroy Carreon, a filthy coward. Fear and paranoia ruled him, so he’d actually believed Zeke would do anything to spare his own life. That after Gabrielle’s murder, Zeke would no longer fight capture or imprisonment. He’d want only to save himself from Carreon’s depravity.
Liz swore at the bastard beneath her breath.
“What did you say?” Zeke asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
He squeezed her hand. “You can quit worrying, all right? We’re here.”
The mountain towered above them, its jagged peaks blotting out most of the sky from this position. Zeke drove around several boulders to a stand of trees, bushes and cacti, no doubt nourished by an underground stream. Threads of moonlight whispered over the vegetation, making it a study in light and dark with the shaded areas hiding what was within—the entrance to the clan’s stronghold.
The Others had built it during their brief time here.
Three of Zeke’s men were just inside the tunnel’s entrance, assault rifles raised. He slowed the Jeep, giving them time to recognize him. Once they had, his men nodded and granted him entry.
The tunnel was no less impressive than the other times Liz had seen it, the passage seeming to stretch for miles. Its twenty-foot-high walls were constructed of an alloy Zeke had said was from the Others, the metal unknown to the people on this planet. Near the ceiling, long tubes ran down each side, their blue-white light nearly blinding. The tires hummed with the vehicle’s speed, this ride as smooth as if they’d been on a newly constructed highway.
After what seemed like miles, Liz saw his clan’s other vehicles. Many of them bore bullet holes from tonight’s battle or earlier ones.
Unlike the first time Liz had been here, none of Zeke’s men came to the Jeep to greet him. The area was oddly deserted, dark reddish stains on the floor. Dried blood. She recalled the pools of it inside the stronghold, the spatters on the walls, doors shot out, the bodies of Carreon’s lieutenants.
She exited the vehicle when Zeke did, taking a moment to help her father.
He patted her hand. “I’m all right.”
“Good.” She wasn’t. With her arm linked through his, she walked with him to Zeke, taking his hand. “Why isn’t anyone outside like they were when you first brought me here?”
“They have injured to attend to.”
Of course. How could she have forgotten about that? The three of them moved as one to the stronghold’s enormous door. The width of a tank, it was made of the same material as the walls.
Zeke laid his hand on the control panel so it could read his palm and grant him entrance.
Liz waited for the remembered series of clicks, then the door sliding sideways, disappearing into the wall.
Nothing happened.
Zeke frowned.
She squeezed his fingers. “What’s the matter? Why didn’t it open?”
“It will.” He rubbed his palm against his jeans as though he needed to clean it of dirt and blood or wipe the sweat from it. Again, he placed his hand on the control panel.
The door didn’t move.
From behind them, the sound of a motor neared. Its brakes squealed briefly.
Alarmed at the thought of Carreon’s lieutenants, Liz turned and saw a van. The three men who’d been at the tunnel’s entrance exited the vehicle.
The stockiest of them—Ike, Liz recalled—studiously ignored her and her father as he went to Zeke. “What’s the matter?”
“The damn thing won’t open.”
Ike’s broad face flooded with concern. “You’re sure?”
Zeke inclined his head to the still-closed entrance. He’d once told Liz the barrier couldn’t be breached with blowtorches or the most powerful explosives on this planet. The damn thing was impenetrable…and they couldn’t get inside.
“Try again,” one of the other men said from behind.
Zeke had yet to move his hand from the panel.
“I’ve never stopped,” he said, then spoke to Ike. “Are all of Carreon’s men accounted for inside?”
“Yeah.” Ike stared at the control panel as one would an instrument they’d never seen before and didn’t understand. “We did a sweep. They’re dead except for the two we’ve taken prisoner.”
“Did you capture them anywhere near the computer systems?”
“No.” Ike frowned. “They were in the hall outside Jacob’s room.” His features went slack. “You think one of Carreon’s men actually changed the settings on this? When would any of them have had the time? Even if t
hey did, how could they have known what to do?”
“I don’t know,” Zeke muttered. “What else would explain the damn thing not working?”
Despite the mild night, perspiration broke out on the back of Liz’s neck and between her breasts, making her feel oddly chilled. Holding back a shiver, she looked behind herself, the endless expanse of tunnel, those sickeningly bright lights. Similar to a hospital’s ER filled with gore and death. “Are we trapped out here?”
“No.” Zeke lifted his hand. “You try it,” he said to Ike.
The man’s thick black eyebrows inched up. “You’re sure?”
Given how Zeke tightened his fingers around hers, Liz sensed his mounting irritation and worry.
He kept it well hidden from his men, his tone nonchalant. “Yeah, go on.”
Ike slung the strap of his assault rifle over his left shoulder, then placed his hand on the device.
The expected clicks sounded—one, two, three. Silently, the door slid sideways, disappearing into the wall, showing the stronghold’s interior. Mahogany walls, electric torches, Comanche blankets, Indian art, the staggering buffalo totem, its size matching that of the stronghold’s massive door.
Although it was now possible for them to go inside, Zeke didn’t move. Nor did Liz or her father.
Yards away stood numerous members of Zeke’s clan. The men were in back, the women in front, led by Isabel. An older woman who’d never wanted Liz here…who’d frowned on Zeke’s desire for her.
She and the other women had their arms crossed over their chests, their bodies blocking entry into their domain.
Chapter Three
At a speed reaching one hundred miles an hour, Carreon raced north on I-25 through New Mexico’s Chihuahuan Desert. The bleak landscape might as well have been on the moon, it was that barren, colorless in the thin moonlight.
Given the hour, there was little to no traffic, certainly none from his enemies. Nor did Carreon worry about cops on this lonely stretch of road. His only desire was to put as much distance between himself and Zeke Neekoma as possible.
Bastard.
Carreon pressed harder on the Escalade’s accelerator, pushing the vehicle to one hundred and five, one hundred and ten miles per hour.