There was a connection between them, a silent, understood connection. Maybe because Becca, like himself, woke up every day facing death too. Only, unlike Sterling, who’d been doing so by choice, Becca had no choice. A cancer diagnosis had stolen it from her, and now Adam had too. She’d faced the cancer diagnosis alone. Her mother had moved to Europe, remarried, and lived in a happy bubble, which Sterling had a sneaking suspicion was why Becca had decided not to burst it with news of her cancer.
Slowly, Sterling eased onto the mattress, facing Becca, his legs parallel to hers. For several moments he studied the dark half moons of her long lashes resting on pale perfect skin, and with that image in his mind, he closed his eyes. His senses flared into overdrive, the warmth of her nearness invading him, consuming him, rolling through him like the wind, only more like a soft summer breeze. Silently, he vowed that Becca would not wake up her first day outside of captivity facing death alone. She would wake to face it with him. And it was then that he allowed himself the first peaceful sleep since Becca had been taken from him.
***
Only minutes after Tad had finally finished fucking Sabrina into a trackable liability, Iceman stood in the security booth of the warehouse, waiting as his personal bodyguard, JC Miller, inserted the DVD in a master panel that fed ten security monitors. Tall and athletic, JC was shrewd, calculating, a badass in all possible ways—a black belt in judo, a master with weapons, a lethal killer even before he became a Clanner.
He was also a necessary evil considering Iceman didn’t “ICE” himself. And he was smart enough not to ask why Iceman didn’t juice. He knew and didn’t mention it because Iceman had him by the balls—he was his ICE distributor, and he had records of every kill the man had made sealed in a safe, ready to deliver to the authorities. Knowledge assuring JC’s loyalty to Iceman in a way Iceman would never be loyal to Tad or Adam. Or anyone for that matter.
“Shall I dispose of Sabrina?” JC asked as nonchalantly as if he were talking about a bag of trash.
“Not yet,” Iceman said, stroking his clean-shaven chin and considered. “Perhaps there is a way we can use her against Tad.” The DVD footage started to roll, illuminating images of club Zeus that flickered to a woman he recognized from photos as Rebecca Burns. At the obvious urging of the Clanners, she headed to the back of the club. A second later, a man flashed across the screen in pursuit.
“Sterling,” Iceman said, lips thinning in a mixture of irritation and admiration for the bounty hunter who walked both sides of the law, a man he knew well and kept at a measurable distance. Of course, Sterling did not know he was Iceman.
“He shows up where there’s trouble far too often,” JC commented dryly, having long tried to convince Iceman to force an ICE addiction on Sterling. “We need to control him.”
“His free agent status serves us well,” Iceman stated flatly and pointedly added, “We have his resources at our disposal, and he’s not a risk as long as he’s properly monitored.”
JC’s jaw noticeably flexed, his gaze shifting to the monitors, and Iceman had a distinct impression he was soon to discover JC did not have Sterling as well monitored as he should. JC hit the remote, and another monitor flickered to life with new feed. “Tad didn’t see this footage. The manager of Zeus managed to keep the cameras inside the warehouse a secret, despite being beaten to a pulp by Tad and his goons. He’s been rewarded as you would expect.”
That meant paid and paid well. Iceman believed in extremes—learned that one from Pops. Beat ’em until they can’t see straight when they fuck up; lots of ice cream—translation, cold hard cash—when they did well.
The warehouse feed began to play—the two Clanners from the bar cornering Rebecca Burns, teasing her with the prospect of ICE. It was clear they planned to rape the woman, not give up their ICE. A code of conduct existed for Clanners, devised to stay off police radar, and this was not it. Their Clanner movement had been one of silence—a slow, sinuous takeover of the city.
As if reading Iceman’s mind, JC said, “They will be dealt with.”
Iceman didn’t respond. JC doing his job was expected—the man didn’t need to be patted on the head like a dog.
With interest, Iceman watched as Sterling pocketed the IDs of the Clanners, even greater interest when Tad’s men appeared in the warehouse and then dropped to the floor, lights out in a flash. No indication as to why. Immediately afterwards, Sterling carried the woman away. JC killed the visual.
“Are they dead?”
JC shook his head. “They were knocked out about half an hour.”
“What weapon did this, and why don’t I have it?”
JC shook his head. “I’ve enhanced the footage every way possible, and there’s no weapon, at least nothing visible to the eye. I’ll get it, whatever it is.”
“Judging from Tad’s urgency to get the women, I’d say she holds the weapon. Find her, and bring her to me by whatever means you find necessary. Just make it happen.”
Chapter 12
Becca woke inside a dream, trying to blink the darkness into light, but there was no light, only damnable, inescapable darkness. She inhaled a surprisingly easy breath, a warm scent rippling through her senses, familiar to her dreams—the one she knew instantly to be Sterling. She relaxed into the moment, no longer fighting the darkness. She needed this familiar place, this dream that had led her through darkness far worse than that of her slumber. Becca searched for his image in her mind, sought out those teal green eyes, frustrated when it wouldn’t come to her. Greedily, she inhaled his smell again. God, she loved that masculine spicy scent.
Strong arms wrapped around her, and she smiled at the touch, the dream taking a shape in a way it never had before, solidifying. It was as if Sterling was there, touching her, holding her. Becca moaned at the feel of him next to her, long legs entwined with hers. His breath trickled along her lips, promising her seductive, hot kisses.
She ached for more, needed more. Her arms wrapped around his back, her hips curling against his, the thick bulge of his erection tucked against her stomach. Never before had her dreams felt this real… this erotic. She could feel him everywhere, feel the ripple of muscle beneath his cotton T-shirt. Her hands skimmed his back, his chest, the warmth of taut skin as she caressed hard muscle. His moan near her ear drove her wild. It was a low, masculine sound that sent a delicious shiver down her spine and tightened her nipples a moment before his fingers laced through her hair. He kissed her then, a deep hungry kiss that swept through her like a rain shower that turned to raging downpour. It was wild, unleashed. It was her dream, and it was going exactly how she wanted it to. She couldn’t get enough of him. He couldn’t get enough of her.
Somewhere in the midst of the sensual slide of his tongue, a glimmer of awareness formed outside the shadows of her dreams. She shoved it aside, not ready to wake up, allowing Sterling’s tongue to draw her back into delicious escape. It was a deep kiss, a passionate kiss, a kiss that made love to her the way she wanted to make love to him.
She arched into his hips, her fingers curling on a strong jaw, rough stubble pressing erotically against her delicate skin. The other hand rested on a bare, muscular chest, with springy hair that teased her palm. But still the light threatened, and somewhere in the distance, a horn honked, permeating the soft moans that she knew to be her own. The sound of that horn bounced around in her mind and faded into the pleasure of his tongue trailing hers. It sounded again. Loud enough this time that Becca stilled instantly.
Her hands pressed to Sterling’s chest—or her dream version of Sterling… She gulped as light flooded her vision then blinked as she stared at the location of her hands, the solid wall of muscle sprinkled with light blond hair. Her hips straddling his… and the distinct bulge of his erection pressed to the wet heat of her core.
Her gaze lifted and collided with a familiar teal green stare. Familiar eyes framed by a chiseled face and spiky blond hair. And then there was the ultra sexy dimple in the middle of a chin she h
ad a random memory of kissing. Oh God. It really was him. She was on top of Sterling.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?” she whispered.
“Feels pretty real to me,” he confirmed.
Her throat went dry, her gaze scanning the light blue scuffed wall and equally scuffed nightstand that were definitely not what dreams were made of. She was in a cheap motel sprawled wantonly across the man, and she had no idea how it had happened. She tried to slide off of him—more like launch herself away from him—only to find herself on her back with his powerful body over the top of hers.
“Easy, sweetheart.” His whiskey-rough voice rippled down her spine, making her limbs heat despite her resistance. “I have no idea what just happened, but I saw the sudden awareness and instant panic in your eyes. We were sleeping, when—”
“Why were we in bed together?” she demanded, as a brief flash of the two of them in a warehouse brushed her mind. A warehouse. Not a bed. “Why are we in some sleazy hotel together?” The phone slid across the nightstand and crashed to the floor. She jumped, adrenaline spiking through her at not only the crash, but the realization that she had caused it. Memories of the lab assailed her. Milton had died; they’d killed him. Emotion clawed at her. The tawdry flower picture beside the bed fell off the wall. She was shaking, invisible, prickling spears poking her forehead. The faded picture of Las Vegas to her right clamored to the ground.
Sterling arched a brow. “Aside from moving things around with your mind and being a walking, talking GTECH sleeping pill, are there any other surprises I should know about?”
Another flash of memory washed over her. The soldiers in the lab passing out. Flash-forward to the warehouse and an image of Sterling standing in front of her with guns locked and loaded when a group of Zodius attacked. They’d passed out, but he hadn’t. Sterling wasn’t like the other GTECHs, but he wasn’t human either. She didn’t know what he was—besides on top of her, making her crazy.
“You didn’t pass out.” She started to struggle, shoving and wiggling left and right, while pounding his rock-hard, too bare, too delicious chest that she had to get away from. “Let me up!”
“I have no idea why I don’t pass out when you put everyone else to sleep.” He shackled her wrist in front of her, holding her with ease. “Why is it that me not passing out like the other GTECHs is freaking you out, Becca? Because if I had, you’d either be dead or back in Adam’s clutches instead of here with me.”
“Instead I ended up in a cheap motel with no memory of how I got here!” He smelled good. He felt good. He was dangerous. She knew the devious ways of Adam, his boss—his friend.
“You’re alive,” he said.
“Because you need me,” she said. “Because Adam needs me.” The inference was that he was working for Adam. He was GTECH. Adam was GTECH. That was a dangerous parallel when Adam intended to destroy humanity. And Sterling had managed to show up every time Adam was hunting her, with his charm and seduction in full glamour.
“I am not Zodius,” he clipped out shortly.
“Yet here I am,” she said bitterly, “in bed with you, almost having sex, and barely remembering how it happened. Dreaming of you too, Sterling. I’m no fool. GTECHs have special skills. I know you’re messing with my dreams. I know—” She lost her words to the heat deepening in his eyes.
“You dreamed of me?”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I… yes, but—”
His eyes melted into hers a moment before he kissed her, a warm, wonderful impossible-to-resist kiss seeping through to her very bones. Too soon, and yet not soon enough, he tore his mouth from hers.
“That’s why we woke up all over each other,” he said softly. “Because we want each other and have since the moment we met fourteen years ago. If I’m brainwashing you, you’re doing the same to me.” He rolled off of her and left her shocked, panting, and wishing for that hard body back on top of hers. And angry. The man had just accused her of brainwashing him! He’d betrayed her, made her fear for him… made her trust him.
The picture lying on the floor flew across the room with a crash. The chairs at the table tumbled to their backs. She knew she was doing it. She didn’t know how, but she was doing it, and she hoped it made him afraid, like she had been on the street, fighting withdrawal.
He didn’t react to the objects in the room. Instead, he simply stood there at the side of the bed facing her, wearing a dark expression made more foreboding by the shadow carving his jaw. The lamp on the nightstand crashed to floor with the shatter of glass. A bag once lying on the stand landed on the bed between them, several vials of ICE bouncing onto the mattress.
Becca swallowed hard at the sight, her eyes lighting on Sterling’s, colliding in a standoff. Silence folded around them, their eyes locking in a stormy, erotically charged confrontation. She didn’t dare trust him, and he knew she felt that way. Those vials of ICE would give her a few days’ freedom without consequence. He knew that too. It was in that deep, hot stare of his.
Adrenaline pumped through her, liquid bubbling energy, her mind justifying the risk. This man was far more dangerous to her than anyone inside Zodius City. Because she wanted to trust him. Because she simply wanted him to the point of aching to feel him next to her. The intensity of the attraction was too much. It defied reason and supported brainwashing.
She had to get out of here, and she intended to make as much noise and cause as much trouble as it took to do it. The police would come. The neighbors would complain. Becca lunged for the ICE.
***
By the time Tad finished with Iceman, his team of soldiers had used the GPS tracking device they’d covertly inserted into Becca’s arm to locate her—a precautionary measure taken when Adam deemed it necessary to keep her out of the sex camps.
Tad appeared on the rooftop a mile from the motel where Sterling had holed up in hiding, a safe distance from the Renegades guarding the perimeter. A convoy of his men waited for him. Why he’d thought that Sterling would be dumb enough to take the woman to the Renegades’ highly sought after inner-city headquarters, he didn’t know.
His hand went into his pocket, feeling the vial of ICE there, hungering for a hit. It was his secret addiction and the source of some unique abilities that he had yet to disclose to anyone. No one even knew ICE had an impact on GTECHs. They foolishly thought it, like all drugs, had no effect on a GTECH. Even Adam and Tad planned to keep it that way. He didn’t want other GTECHs, neither Zodius nor Renegade, to dose with ICE. He wanted the upper hand, to stay in Adam’s sights, to become one of the leaders of the new world. ICE hits made him stronger than the average GTECH—faster too. But it was his other abilities, the unique ones that really made dosing the ultimate fix, the ride he needed to stay on top. His ability to—
“Sir,” the officer in charge said, breaking Tad out of his thoughts. “Red,” they called him, though Tad had no idea why and really didn’t care. “The Renegades have brought in a good dozen reinforcements.”
Tad grimaced. “It won’t take them long to figure out we’ve planted a GPS in her arm,” he said. “Scout out every Renegade’s position around the perimeter and flank each with two of our men. Alert me when we’re ready, and be ready to move on command.”
They couldn’t wait to act, or they would risk Sterling removing that device and escaping their radar. If Adam wouldn’t have killed him for doing it, Tad would have taken that bitch himself and made sure she could never escape. Now there were no options, because once that tracking device was gone, it was gone.
Rebecca Burns was going to have to die before she left that motel.
Chapter 13
Sterling knew the instant Becca decided to bolt; he saw the desperation to escape rooted deep in her eyes. So much so she didn’t seem to mind she was only half dressed, without a shirt or shoes. And he hated she was that scared of him.
With a few effortless strides, Sterling placed himself in front of the door a split second before a petite package of soft curves and fiery
determination barreled into him. Becca gasped at the contact, new to her ICE-induced physical prowess; she could crank up her speed, but apparently didn’t know how to apply the brakes. He wrapped his arms around her, effortlessly derailing her attempt, and that only served to piss her off. With a burst of renewed energy, she squirmed and shoved at his chest. The chairs behind her began to shake, and more and more it became apparent that her emotions triggered her abilities.
Sterling gave her a minute of eruption, letting her work out some of that energy and anger before he gave her some space. Shackling her wrists with two hands, he had the displeasure of a firm knee to the groin. He grunted and ground his teeth. “Now that was unnecessary,” he mumbled.
Her chin lifted defiantly, and she tried to repeat her offense. “Oh no, you don’t,” he said, wrapping a leg around hers, molding their hips intimately together. There was no hiding how hot and hard he was right now. Her eyes went wide with instant awareness at the feel of him pressed against her stomach.
Behind them the chairs clamored from side to side. “I’m assuming the chairs rattling around like that means you’re not so happy with me right now.”
“How are you even back in my life?”
“I’ve asked myself that same question. I don’t believe in coincidences.”
The Storm That Is Sterling Page 10