Wicked for You

by Shayla Black

  Chapter Three

  THEY seemed to trek for miles . . . and miles. Endless sand and desert, dotted only by brittle brush, even as snowcapped mountains surrounded them. Mystery felt as if they’d be lost out here forever. The thought of never seeing her father again chilled her veins with icy panic. The weather didn’t help. The desert at night was freezing.

  Axel had long ago ordered her to eat the sandwich her captor had left. He also put on his jacket and made her wear Alvarez’s. He had to be exhausted, too, but he just kept putting one foot in front of the other, looking up at the sky periodically, then checking an old-fashioned compass he’d pulled from his pack.

  “How are you doing?” he asked suddenly in the silence broken only by the sound of footfalls on the never-ending sand.

  Ready to fall over. Beyond exhausted. “Fine.”

  He smiled grimly. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a terrible liar?”

  Despite everything, she smiled. “My dad. Apparently, I’m not as good as the professional liars he works with. That’s what he calls actors. He stays behind the camera—rather than in front of it—more often now, but over the years, he says he’d heard every lie ever told.”

  “I’m sure. You sound fond of your dad.”

  She smiled up at Axel. “He’s really fabulous. The press isn’t always kind, and I know he’s had a well-documented love life, but as a father, I couldn’t ask for more. What about you?”

  “My dad did the single-parent thing, too. I’m the third of four boys, so he always had his hands full. But he tried to do right by us.”

  Mystery nodded. She didn’t want to pry, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t deeply curious about this soldier who’d saved her life. “Where’s your mom?”

  “Who knows?” He shrugged. “She wanted more excitement than a small town could give, so she left.”

  His conversational tone stunned her. That was it? “Do you miss her?”

  “It wouldn’t do me any good. Besides, it was a long time ago. You still miss yours?”

  Everyone knew about her mother’s death. It had been the stuff of tabloids since the police still classified it as “unsolved.” Some believed her mother had committed suicide. Others were convinced her father had murdered the wife he hadn’t wanted and couldn’t afford to divorce. But the DA had never been able to gather enough evidence to indict him—or anyone. Mystery wished she had someone to blame and hate for taking away the woman who had birthed and loved her. Her father had many faults—an eye for the ladies and a wandering dick among them. But he wasn’t a killer.

  “All the time. Maybe . . . it’s different for me. Mine didn’t leave; she was taken. I know if she’d had a choice, she would have stayed.”

  “Sounds like it.” He paused, sending her a direct stare full of honesty . . . and a surprising dose of concern. She wouldn’t have been able to see it out in the desert except the moon was full and bright tonight. “You know there will be a media fervor when we make it back, right?”

  She felt every pound of that pack on her back with each step, but she refused to wince. “I’m used to that. I was three when Dad won his first Oscar. It hasn’t slowed down since. The spotlight is all I’ve ever known.”

  Granted, she usually stood just outside its bright light, but the glare caught her every so often.

  “Interesting life.”

  “It’s whatever you get used to, I think.” She shrugged. “Everything is a trade-off. I’m not that fond of the limelight, but being the only child of Marshall Mullins opens doors.”

  “You going to follow in your dad’s footsteps?”

  People asked that a lot. She shook her head. “I’m not much for the whole . . . Hollywood scene. I prefer books. My dad thinks it’s funny, but I like mysteries.”

  He sent her a speculative glance. “So why were you at a nightclub when you were taken?”

  “I let some of my friends talk me into it.” And wasn’t she annoyed with herself? “I was also leaving. I’m sure they stayed for hours. Was my dad all right when you saw him?”

  Axel’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “He’s really worried; I won’t lie. Your disappearance shook him. He kept waiting for a ransom note.”

  “He never got one?” That surprised her.

  “Unless he’s received one in the last eighteen hours, no.”

  Mystery shook her head. “That makes no sense. I mean, none of this does. My captor didn’t say much, just kept me isolated. He didn’t mention any demands he or his boss planned to make. The weirdest part is, the morning I arrived, the bastard holding me drew blood.”

  Axel frowned. “He cut you?”

  “No. He took out a syringe and physically drew my blood like a phlebotomist, then said something about waiting a couple of days. I have no idea why or what that’s supposed to mean.”

  That frown of his became a downright scowl. “I don’t know, either, but I’m sure once your father hears this, he’ll look into it.”

  He would, but Mystery just wanted this incident behind her. She wanted to be away from Hollywood, the club scene, the press. She certainly didn’t want to fixate on some freak’s motives and try to find logic.

  “Yeah. Sure.” She tried to send him a wobbly smile.

  He continued his strong, sure cadence through the desert. Something about his face fascinated her. Big, kind of square, not at all refined . . . and she still couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t so much handsome as rugged. Mystery had grown up knowing many of the most gorgeous men on the planet. People had labeled her as one of the most beautiful celebrity children, which kind of creeped her out. Suri Cruise and those Jolie-Pitt kids qualified. She had her mom’s hourglass figure, a fall of dark hair that in no way resembled the sea of California blondes around her, and a wide mouth some Internet sites speculated would look great giving blow jobs. The individual parts of her didn’t add up to the most stunning sum, in her opinion, but whatever. What mattered was that she was alive.

  “We’ve gone five or six miles. Let’s stop for a water break.” He paused near an outcropping of rocks and sat his pack down, extracting her half full bottle.

  “I’m not thirsty. I can conserve awhile longer.”

  “No. It may be cold and dry tonight, but you’re still working up a sweat. You have to replace your fluids.” He thrust the bottle at her with a demanding stare.

  She sighed and took it. “Anyone ever tell you you’re bossy?”

  A faint grin crept across his face. “All the time. Some people actually like it, princess.”

  Mystery suspected that he alone understood the punch line to his joke, but she was too tired to care what it might be. Instead, she washed the taste of sand out of her mouth with a couple of swigs of water. He’d put a water purification tablet in the bottle before he’d let her drink it, and it had a strange chemical taste, but she could stomach it if that meant not getting sick.

  She handed the bottle back to him.

  He just shook his head. “Finish it.”

  Then he lifted his own bottle and polished it off in four long swallows. She watched his thick neck working, the Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he gripped the plastic with his large hand. Then the reason for her fascination with him hit.

  Besides being her hero, he was a man.

  Yes, she’d been surrounded all her life by members of the opposite sex, some even very attractive in that polished, Hollywood, metrosexual way. But Axel was a walking, talking billboard for testosterone. He oozed it, gave it off as easily as others exhaled carbon dioxide. It hung around him like a pheromone. He would never worry about whether his hair looked just right or if his pants weren’t perfectly fashionable. He wouldn’t care if he was seen at the right restaurants or what anyone thought of him. Axel was one hundred percent secure in himself and his masculinity.

  Mystery had never seen anything more attractive in her life.

  She swallowed against the sudden surge of awareness as he shoved his empty bottle back in his p
ack, then gave her an expectant look. Dutifully, she swallowed the rest down, wondering all the while what, if anything, he thought of her. Stupid, spoiled little rich girl?

  Wasn’t she?

  Refusing to let the thought defeat her, she handed her bottle back to him. “How long until the sun comes up?”

  “About three hours. You hanging in there?”

  “I told you I would.”

  “You’re not used to this, so if you need a longer break . . .”

  She shook her head. “I’m good.”

  His expression turned somewhere between amused and impressed. “Then let’s do it.”

  Axel led. She followed. But for all her big talk, Mystery was exhausted and nearing her limit. Every step made her feet ache, jarred her very bones, made her back cramp. Not for anything in the world would she confess that. Adrenaline and lingering terror had gotten her through the first couple of hours. After that, just talking to him had melted her discomfort. Maybe she could distract herself again.

  “The stars out here seem so bright.” She looked up at the night sky, stunned anew by the stark beauty. “It seems as if there are a million more here than in the city.”

  “No other light to dilute their appearance.” A small smile curled his lips. “It’s one reason I don’t mind the desert. Just me and that bright sky. No trees to obscure it. The colors are unlike anything else. This kind of landscape has a haunting beauty.”

  She’d never thought about it before, never really noticed. But Axel had a point. Yes, they were in a dangerous situation, hiking toward freedom. But it didn’t look as if they’d been followed. They hadn’t seen any scavengers or snakes. Out here, she could pretend for a little while that they were the only two people in the world. She could fantasize for just a moment that Axel could be interested in her.

  “Yeah, I can see that,” she murmured. “Did you grow up in the desert?”

  “Nah. I’m originally from Tennessee. I joined the Army and shipped out to Afghanistan. I saw a lot of desert over there. You learn to appreciate it or you go insane.”

  Mystery felt her gaze cling to him. She should probably stop staring and embarrassing herself, but she enjoyed the view of him too much. But he wasn’t just attractive. She really liked the way he rolled with the punches, accepted what was, and learned how to embrace the moment. Most of the men she knew, other than her dad, were creative folks with the artistic temperament to match. Very high-maintenance. Nothing seemed to faze Axel. He’d lost at least one friend today, yet that hadn’t sent him into a rage, a drinking binge, or a catatonic frenzy.

  “I never gave it much thought, but I suppose you’re right.” She bit her lip and hesitated asking the next question on the tip of her tongue, but couldn’t help herself. “Is Axel really your name?”

  “Nope. Troy.” He shrugged. “It’s a family name.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “No one has called me that since I was about nine, so I don’t really think about it. Once I started working on cars, my dad gave me the nickname and it stuck.”

  “Troy doesn’t sound like you.” She frowned. “Sorry. That didn’t come out right.”

  “No offense taken.” He scanned the empty horizon, seemingly always on alert. His sharp profile fascinated her. “What about you? Mystery is a very unusual name. Where did that come from?”

  She grinned. “Well, besides the fact that celebrities always give their kids weird names, my mom told this story about how my father did three movies on location in different parts of the world shortly after they married. It wasn’t really planned that way, but he didn’t get to come home much. She joked that it was a mystery how she got pregnant, and it stuck.”

  That made him laugh, a rich, deep rumble out of his chest. “I’m assuming she eventually figured it out.”

  Mystery rolled her eyes. “I suspect.”

  A few more minutes passed in silence. Axel’s hand swung right next to hers. Their knuckles brushed. She wished she had the courage and the right to tangle her fingers in his. Instead, she just watched him. He hovered protectively, constantly surveying her, their surroundings, the conditions. He made her feel secure. Nothing that had happened, nothing she’d said, nothing about her life freaked him out.

  People made movies about men like him. Actors fought to play his character. But as soon as the director cut the scene, Axel didn’t head for his trailer, which he’d demanded to be stocked with a cool-mist humidifier, Casablanca lilies, and a case of Red Bull. He just kept right on being exactly who he was.

  Mystery watched him—not the landscape—when she managed to stumble over a rock directly under her left toe. As she fell forward, Axel wrapped his strong arm around her middle. His other hand clamped around her wrist and dragged her upright, against his chest, so hard she felt every moment of his years of physical exertion.

  Mystery dashed a glance over her shoulder, blinking up at him. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “You all right?”

  Getting her feet back under her, she nodded. “Yeah.”

  Though her breathing still felt a bit uneven. Then again, he had that effect on her.

  “You’re tired. And you didn’t tell me.” He looked disapproving.

  She eased out of his embrace. Not that she wanted to, but leaning on him didn’t help them or prove that she could stand on her own two feet.

  Hoisting the backpack higher on her shoulders, she shook her head. “It’s just dark and I didn’t see the rock. We need to keep going, right?”

  “I’ve also promised to bring you back healthy. Tomorrow will be more difficult. Let’s rest.”

  But they had hours of cool darkness left. “No, I promised that I’d keep pace. I will.”

  He sighed. “Now you’re just being a stubborn brat.”

  Because she wanted to pull her weight? “This is me being resolved.”

  “At the risk of your well-being. I’m not having it.”

  Mystery wanted to ask him why he thought he was the boss of her, but she knew the answer. Without him, she’d very likely be dead. With a heavy breath, she shook her head. “Fine.”

  “Good. I’ll scout for a good place to sleep.”

  She looked around the expansive, open landscape. The moonlight put a silvery glow on everything, and it almost looked magical.

  “What about over there?” She pointed to a small trail just off to her left. “That looks like a dried-up riverbed.”

  He shook his head before she even stopped speaking, looking up to a cropping of rocks on the right. “See the grooves through the rock leading straight down into that gully? That’s the path from past flash floods. It runs off the stone and down to the low point.”

  She scoffed. “I don’t see flash flooding being a big problem here.”

  “It is,” he corrected. “In a good storm, it can rain six inches or more in an hour. All the water will race down the surrounding hills and collect right here in the old riverbed. People can wash away and drown like that in minutes.”

  “In a place as dry as this, doesn’t the soil soak up all the water before it can flood the low spots?”

  “This earth gets baked until it’s nearly as hard a concrete. Gravity rolls the water down. It happens really fast. If you’re asleep, you won’t see it coming. You’ll just be overcome by water and die.”

  As serious as he sounded, she believed him. “Okay, where do we camp, then?”

  “Up higher. Stand right here for a minute. Let me do a little climbing.” He dropped his pack and kept his rifle slung over his shoulder. Then, as if he hadn’t been walking in near-freezing temperatures for the last few hours, she watched Axel grip a rock, then put his foot on the one directly below and climb the side of a hill with the same ease he’d ascend a ladder.

  He was so physical and capable. She couldn’t help but admire everything he was and had accomplished. He was probably in his mid-twenties, but had already served two tours on one of the most dangerous battlefields in the world. His mother
had left. He lived away from his family. He’d lost a friend today. Nothing broke him. And Mystery admired his courage so much. She wanted to be that brave.