by Bec McMaster
"Sorry." He brought her hand up to his forehead and then kissed her knuckles. "It's all right. Everything's going to be all right. Eden's here now."
It was a knife to the chest, for what if she couldn't do anything?
"Hey, Lily Bell." Eden eased onto the bed, wishing she could hug her. "How are you feeling?"
"Horrible," Lily rasped.
"I want you to take these," she said, handing over the prophylactic antibiotics she'd been given for herself. It was breaking protocol, and maybe they wouldn't help, but she couldn't do nothing. "One every eight hours, with food." She met Luc's eyes. "You'll have to wake her. She can't miss a dose."
"Done."
Eden checked the girl's vital signs, making sure she washed down the first round of medication. When Lily's eyelids started growing heavy, she took her leave.
The pair of them withdrew into the kitchen, though she could still see CJ sitting on the edge of Lily's bed, talking to her as he stroked her hair.
"There might be... something I could do." It had been mulling in the back of her brain ever since she spoke to Henry Chin, and she'd made him write down the details for her before she left.
Luc looked up hopefully.
"I said antibiotics wouldn't work. A general in the Confederacy manufactured this plague a year ago. I don't know how it got out here in the Wastelands, but I do know there's a cure."
His gaze sharpened. "Where?"
"That's the problem." She scraped one hand through her hair. "If there's anything left of the research, it's in Cortez City. And this is not a guarantee, but it's all I have."
Thoughts raced behind his dangerous blue eyes. "We could contact the survey camp. Force them to take a helicopter ride back to Cortez, and bring us back—"
"They're not there. One of their team members defected. He said the survey team pulled out and evacuated a week ago."
"That sounds awfully fucking convenient. They knew. They knew this was about to hit, and they didn't even send an, 'Oh, by the way....'"
"Not important," she said sharply. "The fact is, they have a cure. I can't contact them as our two-way radios only have a fifty-mile range, and I have no idea how to work their data towers with their... Fednet, or whatever they call it.
"I can go to Cortez City. I have a contact there, Miles Wentworth. He might be able to assist me." If she gave Wentworth what he wanted. "I'm not doing anything here one of my medical team can't do. All I can offer is palliative care and quarantine advice. I've got nothing else." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You've got fourteen days, roughly. Give me that time to see if there's anything in this story of a cure."
"Cortez City's right on the edge of the Confederate territory."
"I know. It will take me at least five days to get there. Five back, maybe. That gives me four days in the city to track down a cure."
"You can't go by yourself. You'll be crossing right through reiver territory."
Eden took a shuddering breath. "I could speak to the council. Ask for an escort."
"Fuck your council, Eden. You know what they'll say. Absolution likes to sit on its hands when they might have to do anything risky." He looked torn. "I could—"
"No. You're needed here."
"I'm a warg, an ex-bounty hunter," he said bluntly. "I can get you to Cortez."
"And who's going to look after Lily? Or Riley and the baby?"
"I'll go with her."
The words came from behind.
CJ. For a moment she'd forgotten he was even capable of listening to hushed whispers. Eden looked at him hesitantly. He'd filled out in the past few years, but she couldn't forget the fact he'd only just celebrated his twenty-first birthday. She'd offered to make his cake, but Riley wouldn't let her.
"Don't look at me like that," he said gruffly. "I'm a warg too. And your brother trained me when he went into exile for a year. He taught me how to hunt bounties, kill reivers, and avoid other wargs. There's nobody better at killing than Adam."
"I beg to differ," Luc muttered.
"I can keep you safe, Eden," CJ continued, taking a step toward her. "You need someone to watch your back, and Luc's right. I doubt you'll get any volunteers from Absolution. If you go back there the council won't let you leave. Let me do this. Please. I can't just sit here and watch her die. I can't."
He was barely an adult.
He might also be the only option she had.
And every moment counted. There was a ticking bomb in her head now, and it had fourteen days on it at the absolute maximum.
"Adam's not—"
"Wasn't planning on getting back anytime soon," Luc said curtly. "You could send a message through the radio chain, but I daresay he's days away."
Eden released a slow breath. There was nothing worse than being unable to control her circumstances. She could react to any situation, but she hated the feeling. She preferred a plan. Control.
"We've got five more hours of daylight left in us." Then they'd be out there alone in the dark, where the monsters lurked. "I need supplies; gasoline, food, water, ammunition. Anything you can give me."
"You can have everything." Luc's shoulders slumped in relief. "I can mark out the route you'll need to take. You'll have to cross the Rim and the Great Divide, which means going via Rimside."
"Don't make any rushed decisions in the meantime," she said, patting his arm. "I need to make a radio call to Absolution. Let them know what's going on."
"Understood." His head swiveled toward her. "But if you're not back by the end of fourteen days, then I will do what I have to do to save my daughter."
"Fourteen days," she whispered.
"Fourteen days."
Chapter Three
"Excuse me," said a firm voice. "I want to hire a guide to take me across the Great Divide."
How polite, was the first thought that went through Johnny Colton's head.
It was the sort of female voice that stroked through him, enticing him with long-lost thoughts of community, when he'd stalked the edges of civilization and hungered to be a part of the human world. The sort of voice that turned a man's head out here along the edges of the Rim, where only the very desperate rode—bounty hunters searching for warg or reiver scalps; salvagers looking for scraps out here in the barren Wastelands; the odd Nomad biker turned smuggler; and those like him, who were trying to stay lost.
The sort of voice that conjured thoughts of a pair of well-shaped lips wrapping around the precise consonants, and leading directly to the idea of what else those lips might be able to wrap themselves around.
Fuck. Trouble had walked into the bar he'd chosen to dwell in for the past week. He just knew it.
Laughter exploded behind him as Johnny lifted his forehead off his arms. His blurry gaze locked on the slim figure standing in front of the bar.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," said the bartender, even as one of the other patrons whistled at her. "Nobody crosses the Divide. It's full of shadow cats and wargs. Not even the reivers go there and they're borderline psychopaths with a death wish."
"I don't have a choice." There was definitely frustration in the young woman's voice now. "And I'm sure there's somebody who'll do it... for the right price."
Son of a bitch. Johnny was cursing her for walking into his bar when the woman turned and he caught just a glimpse of the side of her face and the stubborn jut of her chin.
Everything stopped.
For a second the world froze, dust motes hovering in the air as Johnny's gaze narrowed in upon her, his heartbeat pounding thickly in his ears.
A tangle of golden-brown curls. A firm ass clad in a pair of no-nonsense jeans. Knuckles resting on a set of generous hips as she glared at the bartender.
He had to be dreaming, but that looked like Eden McClain. He even had the knot in his gut to go along with it.
Hell, no. His memory must be playing tricks on him.
Johnny reached inside his leather riding bag—or the one he'd appropriated from his old e
nemy, Adam McClain—and withdrew the faded photo of McClain's baby sister from inside it.
A sunny-faced girl smiled out at him, her mess of chestnut hair snagging in unruly curls around her face, and her green eyes reminding him of McClain's.
Sweat sprang up along his spine. Memory swept him into the past—
Johnny hauled the skinny young woman toward the hut his uncle, Bartholomew Cane, had picked out.
"What are you doing?" Eden McClain screamed, kicking out at him with her boot. "Adam! Adam, help—"
"You leave her alone!" McClain roared.
Johnny looked up at the woman in front of him. She'd turned away from the bar with a scowl, chewing on her knuckle. She was at least fifteen years older than the girl in the photo. Far more serious of expression, with a small crease between her brows as if she frowned often—or needed glasses, perhaps.
But there were the messy curls, knotted back in a loose bun on top of her head, and there were those dangerous green eyes, and there were— Holy fuck, Eden McClain had grown one hell of a set of tits.
It was her.
Had to be. He'd been staring at that bloody photo for two years, ever since he stole the bag from McClain and found it within, just another memento to haunt him.
Panic knotted within him. He was shit out of luck these days. Johnny drained the last inch out of the bottle of whiskey that had been sitting in front of him, and then tugged the black hat down over his eyes. Looked like it was time to move on, before she spotted him. That was one ghost from the past he was better off avoiding.
"I'll take you," called a husky voice.
Johnny froze.
Eden turned toward the stranger at the back of the bar, her black tank straining over those generous tits, and Johnny suddenly realized what every other man in the bar was thinking.
Fresh meat. A gorgeous, slightly vulnerable woman who'd just proclaimed to the world she was carrying enough money to make a desperate man cross the Divide.
"And who are you?" Eden demanded.
"Tom Agoura." The stranger grinned through his black beard as he pushed away from the table. "But you can call me Black Tom."
"Black Tom," she repeated dubiously. "And you can guide me and my friend across the Divide? We need to get to Cortez City in a hurry."
Black Tom's expression tightened at the mention of a companion, but then he smiled, all slow and lazy enough to make Johnny's fists twitch.
"Sure." Tom gestured toward the door. "Why don't we go meet your friend and discuss this matter in a more private setting? Then we can talk about price and what you're willing to pay. The Divide's a dangerous place for a pretty girl like you."
Don't get involved.
She won't thank you for it.
And neither of them had noticed him, here in the shadows of the bar. Johnny could let her walk out of here, let her walk right out of his life.
She'd never even know he was there.
Eden smiled. "Sure. But you'd best walk in front of me. My friend is a little twitchy with his trigger finger, and he's got ideas about the right way to talk to a lady."
Johnny held his breath. Maybe she didn't need his help. Maybe she would stroll right on out of his life, and her friend would keep her safe.
But Black Tom's smile held all kinds of sins, and Johnny's pulse kicked hard as something shifted beneath his skin.
He flinched and looked at the thick veins in his forearm. What the hell? The warg within him rarely flexed its muscles—he'd had control over it for over twenty years.
All the hairs on the back of Johnny's neck lifted as Black Tom headed for the exit. "After me, then."
Tom strode through the bar doors, sending them swinging. Eden didn't even look around as she followed him out.
And then she was gone, vanishing like the remnants of a beautiful dream, where Johnny could almost recall the details, but not quite.
A bullet dodged.
A collision avoided.
But if he let her walk out of here with Black Tom, then he knew he'd never forget this moment—the moment when his one last chance of redemption slipped through his fingers.
Sure it's got to do with redemption?
Johnny's eyes narrowed. His fingernails started to itch, as if they were trying to turn into claws.
Getting involved with Eden McClain was the worst idea he'd ever had. Her brother, Adam, might have forgiven him for his role in inflicting Adam with the warg curse, but she wouldn't have.
Not when she'd been the bargaining chip used to condemn her brother to hell.
"Fuck." He snatched his bag with a growl. "Of all the shitholes left in the world, she had to walk into mine...."
"I need a guide to Cortez City," Eden said, striding along in the wake of Black Tom. The Rim-side town was more shanty than actual civilization, and she couldn't stop her heart from rabbiting in her chest.
Two days down.
Twelve to go.
She just had to surmount this first hurdle. Once they found a guide, they'd be one step closer to a cure.
Even if Creepy Pants in front of her was giving her vibes. Bad vibes.
CJ will protect you. And if he can't, then you can make Black Tom realize you don't just know how to set bones.
Thanks to a certain protective older brother who'd taught her how to punch and shoot.
"My friend's waiting for me at the Blue Moon." CJ had wanted to come, but the whole damned town was rife with warg dogs. The enormous brindled beasts were bred for hunting the wargs and shadow cats that lurked in the Rim, and despite the fact CJ wore his amulet, they could smell the warg on him. The second they entered the town, the dogs had started barking and she didn't want anyone growing too curious about why.
Plus, she'd gotten a flat on her bike, and someone had to fix it.
"So why Cortez City? You trading with the Confederacy?" Black Tom sounded interested.
Sure, buddy. All the better for you to rob us when we try to cross back? The more he opened his mouth, the more he gave her the creeps.
But she'd spent two hours trawling this godforsaken town looking for a guide, and Black Tom was the only one who'd volunteered.
CJ could decide.
"Not exactly." Eden brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "They have something I want."
"Something you want...." Black Tom paused at an intersection, his murky green eyes raking the small shanties that surrounded them. "This way, sweet cakes. It's a shortcut to your friend."
Sweet cakes? Her eyes popped out of her head. No way. "It's Eden. Eden McClain. I'd prefer it if you used my name." She propped her hands on her hips. "And I think I'd rather stick to the main street."
Black Tom's grin seemed oily, but he held his hands up. "Sure. Sure. Just thought you was in a hurry."
I am.
He turned and strode on. Despite the name—Main Street—she couldn't help growing aware of how few people were out and about in the heat of the afternoon. A wizened old woman watched them with wary eyes as she clipped faded washing to a line, but there was no one else out. And if she cried out, Eden had the feeling no one would come running.
Eden's fingers grew damp, as she brushed them against the Taser at her hip. "So how much experience do you have? Have you ridden the Divide before?"
"Once or twice." He slammed to a halt as a pair of warg dogs burst into the street, fighting viciously over a bone.
The commotion caught her attention. Eden's head turned, tracking the dogs, and suddenly she was staggering back as Black Tom muscled her into a shadowy alley.
Shit. She staggered back into a wall—barely three sheets of tin nailed to a building—and reached for her hip, but Black Tom snatched her wrist.
He slammed his other hand against the wall beside her head, trapping her between his fleshy body and the hard tin. "I'm real fuckin' experienced, sugar tits, but the price suddenly changed." His gaze slid down to her cleavage. "I want the money and you can warm me up of a night...."
Eden took a slow brea
th.
No point screaming.
No one was coming to help her.
Slipping the Taser from her belt with her other hand, she pressed it against his gut and smiled up at him sweetly. "I am not in the mood, trust me. I'm dealing with a town full of dying people, a niece who's just come down with the plague, and I got a flat on my bike just outside of town." She pushed the Taser in nice and hard, gritting her teeth unpleasantly. "My friends are dying. My niece is going to die, unless I get to Cortez City and find a cure, and so you wasting my time? That's really, really irritating. The last thing I would do is even look at your disgusting penis, so back off before I make you pee your pants. Deal's off the table."
Black Tom paled, glancing down at the Taser. Holding his hands in the air, he took a step back. "You fucking little bitch."
"And," she said, a little louder, taking a step forward, "if you call me sugar tits or sweet cakes or bitch one more time, then I think I might just zap you for the hell of it."
An enormous hand came up, backhanding her across the face.
White exploded across her vision and Eden lost the Taser and the bag hanging from her shoulder. Her ears rang and she had a moment of disorientation before pain suddenly flooded through her jaw.
A hand wrapped around her upper arm.
The only thing that saved her was years of training.
Eden ducked under the grip, turning and disengaging as he reached for her. A punch directly to the solar plexus made the breath slam out of him. Ow. Eden stomped on his instep, fueled by adrenaline. It burst through her veins like rocket fuel.
She'd clearly taken him by surprise. Black Tom was a big, heavyset man.
But she was used to big. She was used to heavy. Adam had wrestled with her more times over the years than she could count, and her brother had at least two inches on Tom.
That didn't mean she was stupid.
A woman her size was better off with the element of surprise—and a weapon. And her ears were still ringing.
Eden scrambled for the Taser in the dirt, knowing there'd be no time to grab the pistol out of her bag.
Heavy weight came down over her back, and an oomph of breath slammed out of her lungs. A hand between her shoulder blades forced her face-first into the ground. Real fear began to bloom within her as she found herself coughing dirt in surprise. He'd recovered quicker than she'd expected.