She gripped the ladder, put her foot on the first rung, then tossed a glance over her shoulder. “Enjoy the view.” She started up.
View? John took hold of the ladder and looked up. At a perfectly-shaped, denim-encased butt. He breathed deep and climbed.
The ladder was long but they moved methodically, pausing once to rest their arms. At the top was a round hatch. Eve tried the metal catches but they were tight. “You take a turn. Let’s swap positions.”
He shifted to the side and she shimmied down the ladder beside him. Suddenly he found himself staring at lean thighs, then the spot where they formed a juncture. John swallowed. A glimpse of a strip of bare belly. Then two small breasts and just a hint of cleavage from the vee of her vest.
She slipped a little and his face pressed into those high, firm globes. Every muscle in his body went tight and blood rushed to his swelling cock.
“Sorry.” She scooted the rest of the way until they were face-to-face.
Damn, her features intrigued him. His gaze moved down her arms to her tattoos. Those intrigued him too. He wanted to lick them, trace them with his tongue and see where they went.
She kept moving. Her shoulder bumped into his groin and he closed his eyes at the sensation.
“Can you reach the hatch now?” she asked.
Swallowing, John reached up. “Yeah.” He pushed and pulled on the catches until they loosened with a metallic groan. The hatch swung open.
Above he saw a patch of brilliant blue sky. He smiled. Hot damn.
He climbed up farther and straightened. He was blasted by hot air and what he saw made his gut clench. Shit.
“I am so happy to be out of this shit hole.” Eve climbed up beside him. “Oh, fuck.”
Desert sand stretched out all around them, as far as they both could see.
Chapter Two
This was just her god-damned luck.
Eve stared at the relentless, unending orange-red sand dunes of the Australian desert. Australians rarely ventured into the center of their country and its harsh desert. It usually gobbled up a few stupid tourists each year.
It was wild, harsh and dangerous. And better than an electric fence for keeping people out. Or in.
She glanced at John. At least she had tall, dark and broody with her. She had a thing for big, self-contained men and he counted. Wide shoulders, long legs, dark hair that curled at his collar and an outrageously handsome face. He was older than her, with gray that threaded his temples, but she liked it.
Almost as much as the hard chest and the ripped stomach that his torn shirt showed off.
“This is bad,” John muttered.
Eve glanced down the shaft behind them. “Between Keene’s crazy lab and the desert, I’m taking the desert.”
“All right.” He shaded his eyes against the sun. “Look to the north, past the dunes.”
She saw it. “Some sort of rocky outcrop.”
“We’ll aim for that, then reassess.”
The sun was headed west and would be setting in the next couple of hours. Eve felt its harsh strength on her arms. She didn’t care if her skin burned. After being in the dark for months, she welcomed it.
She stepped onto the sandy ground. When she looked back, John was pulling his ruined shirt off.
Mag. Nif. Icent. The guy had to work outdoors. His skin was a deep bronze and his muscles hadn’t come from pumping weights in a gym.
He held up the khaki scrap. “I’ll use this to wipe out our tracks. They’ll be looking for us.”
She nodded and started at a quick walk toward the distant outcrop.
It was farther away than it looked. Heat waves shimmered like sultry dancers in the distance. They moved quickly and soon Eve’s shirt was soaked through with sweat. God, she hoped they could find water. She scanned the inhospitable landscape. Otherwise they were screwed.
They headed up one of the large dunes. It was rough going, their feet sinking into the sand with every step.
Behind her, John continued to diligently trail his shirt through their tracks. The sun neared the horizon and the clouds above suddenly turned orange and red like they’d been dipped in paint and sliced open.
Beautiful. It almost made her believe the world was filled with beautiful things. Yeah, what a lie.
She stared ahead. “Getting closer.” The outcrop was actually part of a rocky ridge running off into the distance.
Behind them came the rev of an engine.
“Shit. Run, Eve. Get over the crest of the dune.”
There were only two more dunes between them and the rocks.
She took off like a sprinter from the blocks. John was a solid presence behind her. She ran to the top of the dune. She wanted to look behind her but didn’t dare. The engine noise was getting closer.
Had they been spotted?
At the top, John tackled her and they fell. Eve swallowed a scream. In a wild tangle of limbs, they rolled down the sandy slope.
They stopped at the base, John’s big body on top of hers. The sand was burning hot to the touch.
“Dig in. We’ll cover ourselves with sand and hope they don’t spot us.” He rolled off and they lay shoulder-to-shoulder. They worked hard, scooping the sand over their bodies.
Eve hated it. It felt like being buried alive, but as the roar of the vehicle got closer, she scooped faster.
Finally they lay there, with only their eyes exposed, staring upward at the bleeding sky.
An SUV crested the dune, roaring down the slope.
Toward them.
Eve held her breath until her lungs burned. The idiot was going to run them over!
She forced herself to keep her eyes open and watch. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes but she felt regret. She’d never achieved the one thing she’d wanted most. Freedom.
The vehicle tore past them with about a meter to spare.
Eve’s lungs deflated. She moved her arm to dig herself out.
Strong fingers clamped over her wrist. “Stay still a little longer. They might come back.”
They stayed there, silent, until the sound of the engine faded. All she could hear was the beat of her heart.
John sat up, dusting off his dark hair. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” She sat up too, spitting out sand. “That was close.”
He helped her up. “Let’s get some more distance between them and us.”
Once again, they headed for their destination, keeping a sharp eye out for Keene’s men. Soon, sand gave way to rock. As the rocks got larger, the path got trickier, and their pace slowed further. Eve found herself leaping from one rock to the other. Then they reached the largest boulders that towered over them.
Chests heaving, they both pressed their backs to the rock. It was hot from the sun and scalding on her skin. Somehow that helped her find a tiny snippet of calm.
“Come on.” John grabbed her hand and tugged her between two large rocks. They continued farther into the outcrop.
Safe. She finally pulled in a deep breath. Safest she’d been in…well, a really long time. She touched the wound on her arm. It stung like a bitch but the blood had clotted and now she just had a dried crust of old blood running down her arm like burgundy paint.
They kept a good pace, Eve following behind John. Her gaze kept straying to the way his jeans hugged his tight butt. The guy was put together very well. “So what kind of music do you like?”
His eyebrows rose. “You want to talk about music?”
She shrugged. “It beats silence or thinking about the fact we’ll probably die of thirst or be shot by Keene’s goons this time tomorrow.”
John’s lips compressed. “Linkin Park.”
She smiled. “Hey, me too.” She continued to pepper him with questions. Favorite food, drink, movie.
Night descended and stars blinked on in the sky like a wild scatter of party lights. The temperature was dropping but it was still warm. She breathed in the night air. Fresh and clean. On the horizon, the rising
full moon looked huge.
She heard a scuff of something on rock before a body barreled at her from between two boulders. A man in fatigues, holding a knife. His thigh bandaged.
Her gut spasmed. Why did it have to be this sadistic bastard?
Ahead another man charged into John.
Damn it. Eve ducked the swing of the blade.
“You freaks are going back where you belong.” Leon circled her. “And I’m going to punish you for wasting my time and making me bleed.”
She saw John and his attacker trading punches. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t going back. Ever.
Dropping low, Eve swiped out with her leg. Keene’s guard lost his balance but didn’t fall. She sprang back up, bouncing on the balls of her feet, her hands clenched. She’d never had formal training but after running away from home at fourteen and fending for herself, she’d learned to defend herself. It wasn’t graceful or pretty, but it did the job.
Another glance at John. No. His attacker had him down, pummeling him.
She crouched and scooped up a large rock, weighing it. Leon came forward again. She slung the rock, catching him in the head. He stumbled back and tripped on the uneven ground.
Eve sprinted toward John. He saw her coming. “Stay back!”
She had to help him. And to do so, she needed to reveal her biggest secret. Her stomach turned over. A secret she’d trusted to no one.
The guard leaned down and pressed his forearm against John’s neck. John coughed, struggling for air.
Eve came from behind and touched just her fingertip to the man’s shoulder. And let her power free.
He stiffened. Then he screamed. The sound bounced off the rocks and speared outward into the night.
Sensation shivered through Eve. It was so wrong that this power—a terrible, dark ability to kill—felt so good.
Suddenly there was a bellow and someone charged her from behind. Leon tackled her off the other guard and to the ground.
Eve rolled, ignoring the rocks scraping her skin and tried to find her feet. Leon caught her, dragged her up, her back pressed against him.
The edge of his blade kissed her throat. Fuck.
“Let her go.”
John’s steady voice. Darker now than she’d heard from him. She looked up into deep brown eyes that looked dangerous. His attacker lay sprawled on the ground, not moving.
“I have the knife, mate.” Leon dug it into her skin to prove the point.
A sudden sting and the sluggish seep of blood down her neck. She swallowed.
In a rush of strength, John leaped at them. He hit Leon in the face with a heavy fist. The knife was gone from her skin and Leon swiped at John. A red line appeared on his smooth chest.
For some reason, that made her angry. She slammed her elbow up, catching the man under the chin. His head snapped back, he turned to her, his eyes igniting.
He raised the knife. This time not to cut…to stab.
One thought carved through Eve’s head. All she’d wanted was to be left alone. Somewhere quiet that was hers, where she called the shots. Now she’d never have that small dream.
The knife swung down toward her chest.
***
John saw the flash of the blade.
He had milliseconds to react. He gripped Eve’s arm, his fingers digging hard into her skin.
The knife froze an inch from her chest.
She blinked, her green eyes huge in her pale face. The man stood frozen in front of them.
“John?” Her voice was a whisper. “You stole time.”
What the hell? He stumbled backward, his gaze glued to the man who was now a human statue. His mind raced. The blood rushed through his veins and thoughts swirled in a chaotic mess in his head. What the hell had they done to him?
Eve straightened her shoulders. “Thanks for saving my butt. Or maybe I should say my chest.” She managed a small smile, but he couldn’t react.
He watched her take the knife from the man, close it and slip it in her pocket. Then she reared a fist back and slugged the guy in the face. After, she slipped the man’s laces from his boots and quickly tied his hands together.
She checked the other man. Sighed. “He’s dead. We need to go.” Green eyes swung back to John, watched him steadily. “John? You okay?”
No. He felt shaky, nauseous. “Let’s go.”
“You can let go of the steal now.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Just relax, let go.”
Relaxing was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever do again. He tried a deep breath and loosened his neck.
The world clicked back into place. Insects humming their night tunes, the desert breeze cool against his skin. For some reason, the full moon seemed incredibly bright. Keene’s man didn’t move, probably wouldn’t regain consciousness for a while.
“We can find their vehicle,” she said.
John weighed the idea. It was tempting. “We’d cover more distance but they’d easily be able to follow the tracks.”
She ran a hand through her hair. “So we keep walking. Do what they wouldn’t expect.”
“Right. I doubt they’ll search during the night, so we can get a head start.”
So they walked. Clambering over the rocks. Keeping up the pace. John felt a little shaky and an ache had started in his gut. Maybe just the blood loss. He didn’t want to think about what Keene had done to him.
“We need water.” He eyed her arm and neck. “And we need to take care of that cut. You’re still bleeding.”
She swiped a hand at her neck. Stared at the blood. “Where will we find water out here?”
“Not sure.” Thirst was a dry tickle in his throat. “Let’s take a look around.”
The rocks and spiky spinifex grass didn’t yield any secret waterholes.
“Hey, take a look at this.” She gestured to something on the rocks, bright under the moonlight.
John squatted. “Aboriginal art. The Aboriginal people have called the desert home for years.”
“I bet they could find water.”
John frowned, studying the images of people and native animals painted in a rusty-red earth tone. “They can. Across the desert are water sources, where water’s soaked down deep into the sand. They’re called soakages.”
She arched a brow. “How do you know this, Mr. National Geographic?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. About two years ago, I had an…accident. I lost my memories.”
“Wow. That’s crazy.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Sometimes I wish I could lose my memories. Start afresh. Believe the world’s a good place.” She sighed. “I’m guessing we won’t have much luck finding a soakage.”
But John continued to stare at the rock art. “I have an idea.” He snatched up a rock and started scraping at the dirt.
She watched him dig. Hope swelled, but as the hole got larger, his shoulders drooped.
Fingers brushed his shoulder. “It was a good idea.”
“Look.” He smiled. “O ye of little faith.”
“Holy hell.” She looked at the small pool of glistening water welling at the base of the hole.
“Grab a bunch of spinifex.”
She did and passed it over. He pressed it down on the water. The water welled up, the grass acting like a natural filter.
Eve scooped up a handful of water and slurped it down. He watched her throat work as she swallowed it.
She caught his gaze. “You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine.” The gnaw in his gut was growing.
She shrugged. “Let me take a look at that cut on your chest.”
He sat and let her press around the wound. Her fingers were long, elegant.
“Not too bad. Won’t have much of a scar.” She urged him out of his ruined shirt, dipped the end in the water and dabbed the blood off his chest.
John decided to concentrate on her. How her quick touches made him feel. Her
strokes turned longer, more languid. Every now and then, the pads of her fingers touched his skin. He felt the contact all the way through him.
“All done.” She turned a little, her face in profile.
Slim nose, cheekbones a model would pay for and lips that gave a man ideas. She wasn’t beautiful, not in the classic sense, but he thought her sharp, tough looks were somehow more appealing.
When she pulled her vest over her head, he nearly choked. “What are you doing?”
An arched brow. “I’m going to wash my cuts.”
Right. He swallowed. She had a black sports bra on underneath. Nothing sexy.
She splashed water over her pale skin and all he could do was stare. The roses and their thorns were truly beautiful, twisting around her arms and neck. They weren’t on her front but God, he wanted to know if they trailed down her back.
She cleaned the cut on her arm, then tried to clean the cut on her neck.
“Let me.” He grabbed her wet vest and leaned in to dab at her neck. Why the hell should sweat, blood and the scent of woman smell so good to him? He cleaned the diagonal line on her neck. “This should really be looked at by a doctor.”
“Right, I’ll just pop in to the nearest desert hospital.”
He ignored the sarcasm and took a look at her arm. It wasn’t so bad. But it was then he noticed the ridges of scar tissue under her tattoos. Once he looked behind the design and color, he saw how the scars crisscrossed her arms.
He traced one with his finger. She stilled like a deer. “He did this.” John lifted his gaze. “That bastard you left alive back there.”
She was silent for a moment. “Not just him. Others are from earlier experiments and tests.”
And she covered them up with something beautiful, something that she chose.
She tossed her head back, the movement almost regal. “I refuse to be a victim. They all want me for their own twisted little power games, but I’m my own woman.”
He traced one green vine, then reached a rose in bloom and circled its vibrant crimson petals. She shivered under his touch.
Something flickered in her green gaze. Something that matched the need growing in him.
Hell of a time for his all-but-dead libido to flare to life.
“We could end up back in that lab tomorrow.” She pressed a hand to his chest, her nails flicking over his nipple. He swallowed a moan.
The Anomaly Trilogy Boxed Set Page 26