Rebel Heat

by Cyndi Friberg

  He slipped his hand under her tank top and her eyes flew open. One corner of his mouth quirked as he ran his fingertips between her breasts, first one side and then the other. His expression challenged her to object or admit she was enjoying his overly careful search.

  “Are you trying to find weapons or determine my bra size?” Rather than cutting, her voice sounded breathless and uncertain.

  His gaze locked with hers and his thumb brushed over her nipple. “Which would you prefer?”

  When she just glared at him, he moved on, going through each compartment on her utility belt. He stashed the things he deemed useful into the pockets of his black cargo pants and tossed the rest aside. He tucked her pulse pistol into the back of his pants and put her compact 9mm in the seam pocket of his pants. Finally, he unbuckled the belt and examined the inside surface. When he found nothing interesting there, he left the belt open across the grass to either side of her body.

  “Last chance.” He placed his hands on either side of her head then leaned down until their noses almost touched. “Turn it off and I’ll leave you here, unconscious yet unharmed. Continue to defy me and I will show you no mercy.”

  She scrambled for a believable lie then miraculously he provided one.

  He angled his head, whispering into her ear, “It has been a very long time since I had a female alone and at my mercy. The pleasure givers share their bodies freely with anyone who can meet their price. I find you much more arousing. Surrender now or it will be my pleasure to break you in very slowly.”

  A violent shiver passed through her entire body. Without pausing to analyze the cause, she met his gaze and let her lips tremble. “Please. I don’t want…that.” She glanced away, afraid he’d detect her deception. She could do nothing flat on her back, especially with her hands bound behind her. “I’ll do what you want.” Her voice broke and she prayed that he’d think she was terrified. “I’ll turn it off.”

  He grasped her chin and turned her head back around. For a long, tense moment he searched her gaze. The blue rings gradually subsided, leaving a darkness even blacker than the night. He pushed off the ground and climbed to his feet, then used her unzipped jacket to drag her up as well. “Do not provoke me.”

  It was sound advice. Unfortunately, there was too much at state for her to listen. She let her shoulders slump as if she were beaten. With obvious reluctance, his fingers eased up on her jacket.

  “I can’t turn it off with my hands tied behind my back.”

  She’d managed to sound pathetic but he still laughed. “I’ll be your hands. Tell me how to disable it.”

  Pivoting slightly to the side, she took a step back and gave him another moment to relax his guard. Then she centered her weight over her left foot and took a deep breath. She jump kicked him squarely in the gut then took off running. His loud grunt echoed in her ears. She saw a blur of motion, but didn’t look back.

  She raced toward the street and the waiting SUV, chaotic thoughts buzzing through her mind. She couldn’t join the fight as long as the containment field was active, yet it needed to be turned off soon so the Mystics could teleport the Shadow Assassins to the safe house. But she couldn’t risk deactivating it until she knew for sure all the Shadow Assassins were unconscious. At least locked inside the Suburban, she’d be less vulnerable. First and foremost, she had to free herself from the zip tie. If worse came to worst, she’d drive across the lawn and use the vehicle to knock Nazerel on his ass.

  She was almost across the street when something collided with her back, propelling her forward. She nearly lost her balance then was slammed into the side of the Suburban. Keeping her tightly pressed against the passenger door, Nazerel opened the door to the backseat then forced her inside. She kicked and twisted, banging her head in the process, all to no avail. She ended up on her stomach across the bench seat, hands still firmly bound at the small of her back.

  Nazerel climbed into the vehicle, awkwardly kneeling on the floor as he slammed the door shut behind them. Then he held her down with one hand and thoroughly searched her pockets with the other. He had to be looking for the keys. He’d already disarmed her.

  She squirmed and twisted, trying to slow his progress. She did not want to be alone in some secluded place with this monster! “You’re going to run away from a fight?” So much for not provoking him. “I thought Shadow Assassins never retreated?”

  “If you must know, I’m going to ram this vehicle through the shield.” A triumphant smile parted his lips as he drew the keys from her pocket.

  “You’ll kill us both.” She shifted to her side, but couldn’t sit until he moved out of her way. “It’s not a bluff. Driving into the containment field will be like hitting a brick wall. Neither of us will survive, but your men will still be trapped inside.”

  He glared at her. “Then tell me how to turn it off.”

  “You know I can’t.” They glared at each other in silence for a moment. Defiance escalated his aggression, so she smoothly changed tactics. “It has to end, Nazerel. Sevrin is never going to give you what she promised. Negotiate with Lor. It’s the only hope your men have.”

  His gaze narrowed, but he didn’t move. It was an educated guess. They’d been told by numerous sources that Nazerel and Sevrin were butting heads, but she didn’t know the specific points of contention.

  “Morgan, where are you?” Dekker sounded dazed and strangely far away. He’d broken protocol and used her real name. She looked down and muttered a curse. Her earpiece was caught in a strand of hair that had come loose during her wrestling match with Nazerel.

  Following the direction of her glance, Nazerel snatched the earpiece out of her hair and raised it toward to his face. “Morgan is busy right now. You’ll have to carry on without her.” He grabbed her jacket and searched the pockets—the only ones he’d yet to search—easily locating the small transceiver. Then he opened the door and threw her com unit out into the street, ignoring Dekker’s frantic response.

  Morgan cringed. Not only had he rid her of her only means of communicating with her team, he’d stripped her of their ability to track her. Each com unit was equipped with a GPS chip and hers would now reflect her location as the street in front of the Team South house.

  At least with Dekker awake and responsive, the rest of the mission wasn’t in jeopardy. She could focus on escaping or incapacitating Nazerel.

  “Hello, Morgan.” He looked at her with new interest. “Would that be Morgan Hoyt, leader of the human taskforce assisting the Mystic Militia?” He chuckled. “No wonder I couldn’t find you. I’d been looking for a man.”

  Morgan carefully blanked her expression. She hadn’t realized Sevrin knew anything about the taskforce, much less who was in charge. It had to be a recent discovery if she hadn’t even figured out that Morgan was female. “Morgan Hoyt is my boss. It’s an unfortunate, and confusing, coincidence.”

  “Sure it is.” He sat back on his heels and looked at the team house. The fighting appeared to be over, but the occasional sparkle of energy streams indicated that the field was still active. This had to be killing him. Nazerel was a man of action, a hands-on leader who ran headlong into danger.

  Hearing her own thoughts, she shook her head. That made him sound admirable and Nazerel was anything but. Hadn’t his threat to “break you in very slowly” revealed his true nature?

  He took a deep breath and apparently made up his mind. Without explaining what he intended, he lowered the armrest at the end of the seat and lifted her feet to the padded rail. Then he quickly bound her ankles with a zip tie. Releasing her was obviously not on his agenda.

  “This is a really bad idea,” she blurted.

  “What is?” He didn’t even glance at her face.

  “Anything that requires me being trussed up like a turkey.”

  “I don’t know what a turkey is, so I’ll take your word for it.” He pushed her down onto her stomach and bent her knees, then used two looped zip ties to secure her bound feet to the slim
metal pole protruding from the bottom of the headrest. There was a good bit of slack in the makeshift restraint, yet it kept her from rolling to her back or kicking out a window. “Remain quiet or I will gag you with my socks and, believe me, you don’t want that.”

  The hint of humor surprised her. She hadn’t realized Rodytes could be playful. Odintar was certainly grim and serious all the time. She watched Nazerel turn and twist his big body with surprising agility as he climbed into the front seat and slipped in behind the wheel. When had a Shadow Assassin learned how to drive?

  He started the engine and the door locks activated with a resounding snap. “Was that a malfunction?” He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see her without turning around.

  She tried hard not to smile. “Someone just shot out the tires.”

  His brows arched, but he didn’t reply. It took him a moment to figure out the controls, but they were soon on their way.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “I told you not to provoke me.” Their gazes locked in the mirror for one intense moment then he turned his attention back to the road. “You should have listened.”

  The cryptic statement echoed through her mind as each moment took her farther away from safety. Dekker knew she was missing, but he didn’t know Nazerel was collared. Dekker would presume Nazerel had teleported her away from the scene, which meant the missing SUV would likely go unnoticed until her team was ready to move to the second location, Sevrin’s lab. Morgan was on her own, at least for the time being. The obstacles were daunting, but she was miles away from giving up. She was no match for him physically, so their battleground must be mental and emotional.

  Nazerel was ruthless and driven. He also had a soft spot for beautiful women. His determination to warn Roxie Latimer proved that he could be protective. He’d been provoking Morgan with his overly thorough search, yet he was obviously attracted to her. Those were the qualities Morgan needed to exploit if she hoped to survive her captivity.

  He’d only driven for ten or fifteen minutes when he suddenly stopped. She raised her head and tried to look around, but her position didn’t allow her to see much. There didn’t seem to be any buildings, just a narrow swath of dark blue sky.

  “Remain quiet or you will be punished.” He got out so fast she didn’t have time to scream.

  Was he leaving her here? Then why was the engine still running?

  A car horn blared and then she could hear a second engine. The horn beeped again, more tentatively this time.

  She tugged and twisted, trying to assess the situation. What the hell was he doing? She wasn’t worried about being “punished”, but she didn’t want to endanger the motorist by revealing that he had an unwilling passenger.

  Someone shouted and then there was a long nearly silent pause. All she could hear was the engine and the frantic beating of her heart.

  The door by her feet opened and Nazerel sliced the zip tie connecting her to the seat with her pocket knife. He dragged her across the seat like a bundle of lumber then draped her over his shoulder. Her breath whooshed out as her belly connected with solid muscle. She tried to scream, but she couldn’t draw enough air into her lungs.

  If Nazerel switched vehicles, it would be much harder for her team to find her. Arching wildly, she caught a quick glimpse of the situation. The Suburban was more or less pulled over to the side of the road and a dark-colored sedan had stopped at an awkward angle. Had he stood in the middle of the street and forced the poor driver to stop?

  Where was the driver?

  Dread knotted her stomach and she tried even harder to look around. Each step he took drove his shoulder into her abdomen, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to see clearly. He opened the back door of the car and tossed her onto the seat. She quickly bent her knees, keeping the door from smacking her feet as he slammed it shut behind her. Then he hurried around to the other side of the car and slid onto the driver’s seat.

  “What did you do with the driver?” Accusation sliced through her tone.

  “I snapped her neck and tossed her body in a ditch, of course.” He paused long enough to adjust the mirror so she could see his glare then set the car in motion. “She’s unconscious, yet otherwise unharmed. I even moved her well off to the side of the road so no one will run her over.”

  He was the criminal, so why did she feel guilty for thinking the worst of him?

  She was no longer bound to the seat, so she was able to squirm onto her side. From there she wiggled toward the edge of the seat then threw her weight sideways as she tightened her abdominal muscles. It was awkward as hell, but she was finally sitting. More of her shoulder-length hair had come free from the tidy bun. She blew a strand out of her eyes and looked around. There was nothing to see, open road and miles and miles of empty desert.

  “Disappointed?”

  It was impossible to miss the mockery in his tone. The jerk was laughing at her. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  What did that mean? Had he not decided on a destination or was he waiting for someone else to provide one? If he was waiting for Sevrin to direct him, he might have a long wait. If phase two went off as planned, Sevrin should be in custody shortly.

  She wiggled around a bit more, leaning against the door until she found a relatively comfortable position.

  “I’m sorry it’s so late.” The strange statement drew her attention back to Nazerel and she found him driving with one hand as he held what looked like a cell phone with the other. It hadn’t taken him long to adjust to life on Earth. “All right. I’m sorry it’s so early. This can’t wait for a more appropriate hour.”

  The other person spoke again, but Morgan couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “I understand.”

  Nazerel nodded as the other person continued.

  “All of that is acceptable, but I have additional requirements.” After a short pause, Nazerel continued in a language Morgan didn’t understand. She tensed. He had to be talking about her. What else could he mean and why switch languages? Would he leave her with someone else while he made the ransom demands? Did he even know how to contact her people without giving himself away? He’d managed to stay a step ahead of everyone ever since he arrived on Earth. She could not underestimate him. That would be lethal.

  Nazerel chuckled then muttered, “Something like that. I appreciate your help.” Then he set down the phone.

  How long could he hope to outrun the authorities in a stolen car? His fast thinking might have bought him an hour or two, but that was all.

  Instead of criticizing his strategy, she asked, “What do you hope to accomplish by kidnapping me?”

  “I’ll offer your safe return in exchange for being released from this collar.”

  “Can’t you just cut it off?” If he damaged the collar in any way, it released an electric charge that made a Taser seem tame, but she wasn’t sure if he knew that.

  “I would be incapacitated or killed depending on the model.” His dark gaze clashed with hers in the mirror then he looked back at the road. “I likely know more about this device than you do. My father was Rodyte after all.”

  His father was Rodyte. Did that mean he didn’t think of himself as Rodyte? Interesting.

  They lapsed into silence again as he drove on through the early morning haze. The dossier she had on Nazerel hadn’t contained many images, but the few she did have hadn’t begun to capture the intensity of his presence. She’d expected him to be large and muscular, all the Shadow Assassins were, but there was a strength of character in his features that the images hadn’t reflected and the collar couldn’t suppress.

  She was doing it again, granting him nobility when he deserved scorn.

  “They can’t turn you lose, and it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to kill me, so I’m afraid this is a waste of time.”

  “What I want to do and what I’m willing to do are often different things.” Conviction rang through his
tone and a shiver tingled down Morgan’s spine.

  Maybe she better leave well enough alone. At least for now. Unless she was ready to die, there wasn’t much she could do to sabotage him at highway speeds. “If I promise to behave, will you release my hands or at least tie them in front of me? This is killing my back.”

  His gaze narrowed as he considered his options then he shook his head. “Not yet. And you need to lie back down or I’ll have to blindfold you.”

  “With your socks?”

  An unexpected smile flashed across his features and then vanished. She’s barely registered the transformation before it disappeared, but the image lingered in her mind. His dark eyes shimmered and his harsh, angular features softened, well as much as anything about Nazerel could be described as soft. He looked years younger and infinitely more attractive. Attractive? Had she just thought of Nazerel as attractive? The awkward position must be cutting off the oxygen to her brain.

  “I mean it. Lie down.” He looked in the mirror to make sure she obeyed. “I’ll secure you more comfortably when we switch vehicles.”

  So that was what the call had been about. He’d arranged for an untainted vehicle. Damn. That would make them even harder to find. But who had Nazerel called? All of her information indicated that Sevrin was the one with all the human contacts; that the Shadow Assassins were basically at her mercy. Either Morgan’s information was wrong or phase two of their plan had failed. Unfortunately, the only one who knew for sure was Nazerel and he wasn’t likely to tell her.

  Left with no other option but to endure the discomfort and uncertainty, she stared at the back of his seat and concentrated on not throwing up.

  Chapter Two

  The sun had risen well above the horizon by the time Nazerel reached the exchange point. Not much of a destination really, just an emergency pull-over lane on the side of the highway. Phil Mortsen had already arrived and the compact SUV in which he sat looked perfect for what Nazerel had in mind.